God. Are You There? It's Me, Sister NotSo.

I rocked my son a little longer tonight. He fell asleep in my arms and listened to his little puffs of sweet breath. He smelled so delicious after his shower with his big sister and myself. It was important for me to take that moment and absorb every last element of love I have for him.

Now. I sit in my bed with my daughter. She is eating popcorn and candy. She is watching the television as I type this. When I am done, she will brush her teeth, and I will put her to bed. I will snuggle her a little longer tonight. I will stroke her smooth hair and whisper in her ear how much I love her once she dozes off into dreamland.

And I really need God to be real. When I decided to take the step and explore the questions bothering me about The Church, I experienced so many emotions. One of those emotions was fear. All I had been taught was unraveling and lacked truth. There was one question I feared to ask myself, but I had to. I had to question whether-or-not God was real and that terrified me.

Not having God meant no eternal life. No seeing Husband NotSo in the afterlife, or my children, or my family. It meant this was it. Once we have taken that last breath, our being is gone, and after some time our bodies would rot into nothingness. Only memories and dust left.

After wrestling with my thoughts and praying over and over for God to be real, and summoning up every supernatural/spiritual experience in my life, I decided there is a God. However, there is the tiniest bit of skepticism remaining, haunting me.

God needs to be real because I found out earlier this week that after many blood tests and a bone marrow biopsy, my father has a form of cancer called myelodysplastic syndrome. Basically, his bone marrow is producing immature red and white blood cells, causing him to be fatigued and become susceptible to infection. Treatment will help prolong his life, but he may only have 2 - 5 years beyond his 69 years of life to live.

Never in a million years had I thought my father would die of cancer. He is the most self-motivated, determined, and until recently, healthiest person I know. I thought there was a great possibility he may even outlive me. I just can not wrap my mind around the fact that THIS is what is going to take his life. I always pictured him passing peacefully in his sleep after he had spent the day before building something for his house, or by spending the day skiing under a blue Snowbird sky.

I have cried. I have staved hysterics. I have been numb. I am angry. I am angry at cancer. I want to hurt it. I want it to feel the helplessness I feel. I want it to feel the fire of hate I have for it. I want it to feel my mom's pain and my father's pain. I want it to feel my siblings' broken hearts. I want it to suffer the highest amount of suffering possible, only to be revived, and suffer many times more. I hate it.

Please, God. Please be real. Please be my spirit father and please let there be eternal life. Please let me see my earthly father again. Please.

The Kids

I have been at a loss for thoughts lately. I have been a bit busy with vacations and playdates for my kids, so perhaps I have been distracted a bit. What's more, Little Brother Notso is going through a clingy stage or something, so getting anything done while he is awake is nearly impossible. For example: I took a shower (get your thoughts out of the mud) yesterday morning and he was crying outside the shower curtain. He kept pulling it away and getting wetter and madder. I finally just picked him up, clothes and all, and put him in the shower with me. You do what you gotta do I guess.


And I suppose that is where I am going with this post. My kids. One of the more difficult decisions of apostasy is deciding if what I am doing will be good for me kids. I don't feel like I was damaged at Primary age, but as I got into Young Womens, I can see the teachings during those years did influence the decisions I made as a young adult. It felt like I had to fit into the cookie-cutter mold that is taught: Graduate high school, start college, meet your future husband, get married young, have kids young, and never finish school. Yadda. Yadda.


My parents did tell me I could be whatever I wanted to be, but what I was hearing and seeing from church was different. There were very few mothers who worked in my ward. I saw big families, where the father worked, and the mother stayed home. I am certainly not bashing their decisions, but there is so much more out there once you take the blinders off.


I want so much more for my kids, for my daughter in particular. I want her to never feel like she can't do something just because she is female. If she wants to be a brain surgeon, great! If she wants to be an Olympic athlete, awesome! If she wants to be a pole dancer... Well... Not so great. There is only so much influence I can have at home, so having her in a church which teaches likewise, I feel somewhat torn.


I would love for her to have a relationship with God and understand the depth of the teachings of Jesus. If those were the main things taught on Sunday, I would be fine with that. Instead, we get bogged down the rules, commandments, expectations, culture, and whatnot. Even if I filter what she is taught, she is bound to absorb some of the stuff I don't want her to. What's more, she will see the patriarchy of the church = Men in important roles. Women in less important roles and not involved as much.


So I am left with the questions if it is fair for me to make this decision for her? Should I just take her to Primary? Should I just skip it all, and hope she follows my example at home?


I just don't want to mess my kids up. I want them to have all the confidence in the world to conquer the world. I want them to have compassion to give to the world. Whether-or-not The Church hinders confidence, I don't know. Whether-or-not keeping them at home hinders compassion, I don't know. Kind of a catch 22.

My Apologies

Sorry y'all. I am on a blogging vacay right now. I have been a bit busy lately, but I promise to return to the blogging world soon. Until then, happy summer. 

All Boys Club

Every Monday morning my MIL gets together with some sisters in the ward to make various food items. The past few times, they have made dinner items. Today they decided to make bread. The ex-RS President in the ward showed up with her grain, her electronic mill, honey, gluten wheat germ, and bread mixer... Obviously she is one of those gung-ho food storage types whom even had her wheat germ labeled as 03/03, the day she purchased it. Insert eyeroll here ---> _______ .

Another sister and friend of mine showed up too, so it was just the four of us ladies making wheat bread. Which was pretty good in fact. I made some honey butter to go on the warm bread and it was delish... See recipe below. So we chit-chatted about this and that. We laughed a little. I teased a lot. Overall, we had a nice morning making bread together.


One of the things we chatted about was my MIL recounting a ward activity that came up in a PEC meeting (aka. The No Vaginas Sunday Morning Gossip Club). Apparently, at a recent ward activity, one of the members' of the bishopric met a few of the old-timers from our ward who have since moved on and he really enjoyed meeting these folks he has heard stories about. So while The No Vaginias Sunday Morning Gossip Club was talking and planning, they decided it would be a great ward activity to have an "old-timers" activity. Meaning, they would invite these former ward members to join them in a dinner, probably pot-luck style, and reminisce about the good ol' days. I secretly wondered if this would also include having the men dress up as cowboys and women as saloon whores, and have their photos taken in a sephia tone as a memento of the evening.


The two men who were put in charge of said activity were the EQ President and the High Priest Group Leader, whom happens to be my FIL. The EQ President is a well-meaning guy, is quite funny, and I like him a lot, but to get him to follow through on something is improbable. So the burden of planning this shing-dig would fall on the shoulders of my FIL... yeah, right. When my FIL came home, as my MIL was recounting it to us, he told her of their plans and said my MIL would be in charge of it.


"Why would I be in charge of it?" asked my MIL to my FIL, as she recounted this tale to us ladies.


"Because you are the HPGL's wife and I wouldn't know what to do," was his helpless answer.


Hearing how this would all fall on my MIL's shoulders started to make me mad. Because of my sticky position in the family and the ward, I decided I had better not criticize what I had heard. Even though my negative sentiments would have been valid before my disaffection, stating them now would only mean I am a bitter, inactive member and it would not be received well. So I kept my mouth shut. What I really, REALLY, wanted to say was, "Well. That is what you get when you do not include women in important meetings concerning the members of the ward."


So, the two things that bugged me about the above interaction: One, I think it is completely absurd that in the year of our Lord 2011, women in auxiliary positions are not allowed in PEC. At very least, the RS President should be invited so she is fully privy to the needs of those in the ward. This would save time for the bishop, instead of needing to pull the RS President aside for their own special pow-wow. 


I do not understand why women are excluded from PEC and I do not see a good reason for it either. If you really break it down, the only reason I see women being excluded is because of typical male, sexist tradition (aka. no penis syndrome). Just because women do not hold the Priesthood or a penis should not exclude them from being a part of meetings which involve how the ward is functioning. The RS President is basically in charge of compassionate service in the ward. As part of that function, she needs to know the needs of ward members, otherwise that calling is moot and is difficult for her to fulfill.


And number two: I wonder how many times past activities have fallen on the sister's shoulders which were originally planned by the men who were probably fully aware they would be dumping their ideas on the sisters. It does not seem right that men should plan something, knowing they would solicit help from the sisters, without the input and insight of those sisters. It is like my husband making plans for us without my knowledge or consent. Doing so is rude, offensive and disrespectful. It only adds to the disillusionment we women hear every General Conference about how wonderful we sisters are and how special we are. If this were the case, these men would not turn around and disrespect us women by making plans without us.


I do not see why a woman's point-of-view is not wanted in PEC. A woman's insights and thoughts would only add to the well-being of the ward family, plus it would give another point-of-view. The needs of a sister in the ward can not be truly understood by the men if a woman is not there to represent her point-of-view. A man cannot truly empathize with a woman because he is, simply, not a woman. If we woman are so special and wonderful, why are we not offered the decently of being represented by a woman in PEC to get our view? If the church is truly, TRULY concerned about women, they would allow female representation to ensure they get the FULL PICTURE.


Bottom line: If the male leadership of the church really thought we women were so special and wonderful, they would include women in the PEC to ensure our needs were truly met. So there.


Now to sweeten things up:
 
Honey Butter
1 cup of softened butter
2/3 cup of real honey
3/4 cup of powdered sugar


Throw butter in a mixing bowl, add honey and powdered sugar. Mix for a minute, or until fluffy. Serve on warm bread you made with your ex-RS President.

And This Just In...

Coffee is good for your prostate! Just read this. So... If you have read the "Not-So Good Day" post before this one you are currently viewing, then, perhaps I will brew a pot of coffee at the beach week. We gotta keep our prostates healthy! Too bad all the cream and sugar go straight to your ass...

Disclaimer: I know your prostate is not part of your anus, but they are interconnected when getting a prostate checked. I also know, I do not have a prostate.

Not-So Good Day

As you have read, in the last ten months, Husband Notso and I have finally come to the point of letting our beliefs in the church go. Over the past ten years, or so, he kept some of his more radical thoughts to himself because he was afraid of what I would think. After some seeking and pondering and podcasting, we started an open dialog, paralleled our religious beliefs, and I learned things I had not known about the church. Many of these things were so disappointing and I was hurt. I was hurt because this once great thing and part of my life was not what it seemed to be.

Husband Notso told his parents and two brothers he no longer believed, which, of course, was not received well. Since then, we have gone through various phases of awkwardness, denial, indifference... All-in-all, I think they have handled it well, but slowly things have been trickling back to us through various conversations he has been having with different members of his family regarding our apostasy.

These "tricklings" have been extremely hurtful. We have been called "selfish", that we live in a world of "hyperbole" and, more specifically, that I "...would brew a pot of coffee..." at our family annual beach trip "...just for shock value...". If I were going for shock value, I think I would be more creative other than brewing a pot of coffee.

Even before all the $hit hit the fan, I have had an irreverent sense of humor, but now my irreverent jests are now "hurtful" and are out-of-place. It has been SO DIFFICULT keeping my mouth shut. I know speaking my mind would make things worse and would be unproductive. I have known his family since 1996 and it is like they do not remember what I am like or who I am.

I am still the SAME person. I am not EVIL. I do not and will not purposefully shove in their faces my new lifestyle. In fact, feel like I am going out-of-my-way to make sure I will not offend them in any way in order to make this situation less awkward. When I am around his family, I wear "modest" clothing, even though I have ditched the magic underwear long ago. I will not "brew a pot of coffee" just for shock value. Now, it is as if I need to prove to them I am a good person, when I already was a good person.


And I admit, I like my occasional Caramel Macchiato from Starbucks, but I am far from brewing pots of coffee in the morning. I am SO tempted to just go ahead and brew a pot at the beach and not drink a drop just to show them how stupid they are.

A Good Day

Today is a good day. The house is a wreck, but I feel like a got a lot done. Daughter NotSo had preschool this morning and I was planning on skipping it. I had gotten up late and I absolutely loathe trying to rush out the door when there are two children to get ready. Daughter NotSo seems to only have two speeds: slow and huh?. So it was already 9:30 in the morning, when preschool starts, and I said to myself, "Just do it!"


So I did it and it wasn't that bad. I didn't feel rushed or stressed. I even had time to make her a sack lunch. After dropping Daughter NotSo off, a little late, I hit the grocery store and bought stuff for us and our neighbors who had just had a baby. I told them I would be bringing them dinner and today I felt motivated to do so.


Son NoSo and I made it home and I started prepping the dinner, when my friend and other neighbor dropped her daughter off for me to watch while she went to teach her comm call class. Our daughters are the same age, so they play together and well at that. After a bit, we all loaded in the car to pick up Daughter NotSo from preschool, then home again, where dinner preparation continued and the kids played.


I want to do nice things for people, but sometimes it is so damn hard for me to comment. My MIL was in the RS Presidency of our ward for the last few years, so I was called upon many times to help her. I am happy to help, but when the children at home don't cooperate with what I need to accomplish, it can get stressful, and I feel pressure and anxiety in trying to achieve what I need to do to help my MIL out, or anyone for that matter. Hence my reluctance to comment to anything because in my head, it equals stress.


So why was today good, you ask? Today was good because I was able to make dinner for my neighbors and there was very little stress in doing so. I was able to enjoy the service I was preforming. I love the feeling of doing something nice for someone else. Not because I think I am wonderful, but because I need those good vibrations in my life. I have such a hard time being happy that if I can grasp onto any happiness floating our there, I will.


It is so important to me that I remain in the service of my fellow being even though I am not attending church. I am still a good person, with a good heart, and I want to do good things. Just because I don't commit to three hours every Sunday does not mean I am a bad person. The teaching of Christ I believe to be most fundamental in my life is loving on another. So many times we are more concerned with the rules, rather than with the person. Rules are made to be broken, hearts aren't. I am glad I was able to do something nice today.