An Oft Repeated Phrase

I learned, some time ago, about internal monologues.

I don't have them. 

I think and feel and react on a visceral level,

Feeling and picturing long before I apply my immediate experience to words, 

If I ever do.

That's not to say I don't ever think in words.

Often I bounce them around in my mind when I write.

I form words on the lips of my mind to see how they could be interpreted,

How they would sound if spoken outloud to an audience.

Never to myself.

Because I don't need words. 

I see that it would be useful if I had more words. 

Instead of vague upset, there would be more...

*Pressure in my mind, gasping for connection. Breathing, picturing...

Sitting in a chair, oppsite a therapist. Drawing connections between cause and effect...*

What's the word for working through things? Like in therapy? Resolution? 

I'll settle for peace.

Instead of vague upset, there would be more peace.

If I was constantly monologuing, I could be good with words. Unfortunately I'm not.

Instead I constantly speak and feel misunderstood, that I'm always unable to say what I mean.

With an empty head full of silence, emotion, and scenes, 

There are strengths to be had.

It makes hearing God much easier, as He doesn't need to compete, too much, for space.

Occasionally He might need to shove past song lyrics or witty movie quotes, which do stick,

But otherwise He can take the stage. 

Subsequently, I've learned to listen to the phrases I find in my head. Phrases like

"I want to go home."

That's not a movie quote. Not a song. It fits more into a scene. 

It's a desperate, sad plea from a girl feeling bullied at the sleepover. 

It's the first few days at girl's camp, uncomfortable, stretched, surface level friendships.

It's a phrase I've used outloud several times in my life, usually through tears.

"I want to go home."

It's odd to hear it in my own mind, a mind which usually gives no words to those scenes.

I hear it, I think, because it wants an audience. 

It is a phrase, not just an emotion, given words because it needs recognition. 

I am, however, an adult. I do, however, live, very much, at home.

"I want to go home."
I AM home. As I think it, I am sitting in my very own home. 

I don't need my mom. I don't need my hometown.

I don't need my twin-sized bed with the hand-picked lime green walls from my youth.

Who am I talking to? What do I mean? 

"I want to go home."

Abraham sojourned in a strange land. The Bible teaches us that he looked for a city.

"He looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God."

He looked for home. Despite all the material possessions he had, he did not have that.

The phrase comes more often to my mind, now, than it ever has.

"I want to go home."

I long for belonging. I long to be understood. I long for unconditional love, 

For a role, for a purpose, for confidence and support.

I long to be valued, to be seen, to be known, in a home shared, mutually, with God.

(Maybe this is why I need to move to Oregon...)

Foundations

This morning I found, posted in one of my "LDS Moms" Facebook groups, a lovely misogynistic quote. It was all about "not fretting" about the nation or the state of the world, and just focusing your attention on your children and your husbands. Because, after all, Satan wanted you to get distracted from THEM, your first priority. Don't you stress about America. 

So screw that. I reposted it to my private page, had a good little rant about it, then went about my day.

I had to run an errand in Salt Lake this morning, so I piled my children into the van, and off we went. I knew full well that our errand would take ten minutes, so I planned a list of things I would like to do in Salt Lake while we were up there. With toddlers, having fun halfway through a long car drive is an essential. 

Finally I decided that a Temple Square trip was in order. As the temple grounds themselves are under serious reconstruction, I decided it might be nice to swing by the Church History museum, run around and let the grandma missionaries fuss over my boys for twenty minutes, which socially, they're in desperate need of, then swing by Brigham Young's Beehive House, all while fussing about them with hand sanitizer. 

Why the Beehive House? Because I haven't been through the missionary-led tour there in years. I haven't been there since my deep-dive into polygamy. I realized that there was a part of me that desperately wanted to walk those halls, see those rooms, and look for the women in them. 

After this morning's misogyny quote, I wanted to find those women. 

I wanted to walk those halls and look to see if I could find the removeable plaque that Brigham Young switched from door to door to signal to his wives who he would be spending the night with. I wanted to remember the wives who switched the plaques from their own doors to a different wife's, because Hell if that man should decide when he got to go in and see them.

I wanted to remember Zina, who explained that, "A successful polygamous wife must regard her husband with indifference, and with no other feeling than that of reverence, for love we regard as a false sentiment; a feeling which should have no existence in polygamy." I wanted to walk Brigham's mansion, view his excessive riches and pride, and think on how he truly had nothing, for he was a man with all the wives in the world, and no love from any of them. 

Naturally, because of luck, literally everything on Temple Square was closed, including the Lion House (until 11AM), so I couldn't even get a freaking roll with gravy. Which was stupid, because their rolls with their gravy are semi-divine.

We saw no missionaries, went in no buildings, and instead watched the grounds crew putting away Christmas wreaths and replacing them with fake-fruit covered ones. The boys found this enjoyable, so we chatted with one of the guys, and watched them lower wreaths from the upper balcony via rope to the ground. When you're a toddler, it makes sense to drive an hour to see this kind of thing in action.

Then we went to watch the construction on the temple. They'd dug up all the ground, over 20 feet deep, to get at the foundations - foundations which would prove unstable given a shaking earth. 

And all I could think about was misogyny, which runs in deep currents through our history, through our foundations, and through our present lives, creating women who sacrifice their souls and potential for loveless, uninspired, thwarted futures of staying home, not worrying about the rest of the world, choosing to be "refined" and "tender" wives, to a system that grants them no power. Wives, who, after their divine, heaven-sent presider husbands' deaths, may quote, "He was worthy of the death he died."

I listened to my "liked" songs playlist on the way home, singing along to choruses singing, "Do what is right. Fight for the truth. Say something that means something to you. Invest in the love, Hope for the best. Follow what's in the left side of your chest." And "Whether you're a woman or whether you're a man, Sometimes you got to take a stand Just because you think you can. You got to run. You got to run."

And I found that a little more inspiring. 

Straight A Student

A parable came to me, the other day, after I heard a friend put words to something I have long felt, but not quite realized. The last several years have seen a faith crisis for myself. It all started with feelings of betrayal. My parable tells the emotions. My friend's quote sets the stage. 

"These are spiritual giants. These are people who did amazing things on their missions. People you can have a gospel discussion with. Young adults that will blow you away with their knowledge and their intensity and their passion for mormonism. And if we have made the church toxic for the products of its own "thing"? The church teaches us to be thoughtful and rational about our religion. To research and get an education. To be passionate, to be idealists. And then it will punish you. They will punish you for thinking anymore, for researching, for being an idealist, for actually wanting us to practice what we preach. For telling the truth."

*~*~*~*~*

PARABLE OF THE STRAIGHT A STUDENT

A girl went to school. She was assured she would pass if she got straight D grades, but she should try for A's and B's. This girl was not satisfied with D's. So this girl got to work. 

Year after year she found success in school. She got A's and B's through middle school, and by the time she reached High School, A-'s were about as bad as things got. She studied. She wrote. She read. Her last two years of High School she had one A- each year, the rest of her grades straight A's. 

Sometimes she beat herself up that she wasn't Valedictorian. She wasn't even close, if she was being honest. But that was her goal. She lived in constant disappointment with herself, that she had not attained the perfection she was looking for. 

She got a full-ride scholarship to college. She cried herself hoarse the first year there, when her full-ride scholarship went down to half tuition for only one semester, because she'd made a foolish decision to transfer some math college credits over to the school from high school, not realizing that it would affect her college GPA. She worked her butt off, got straight A's, as usual, and had her full-ride scholarship back by the next semester. 

This girl graduated, went on to get a job, and was told, at that point, that her professional conclusions and "diagnoses" were unwelcome. She was told her role in the company was to "sit down and shut up," and let the higher-ups determine work policies and procedures. Her fresh, new, knowledgable insights were unwelcome, as they challenged the status quo. 

Despite all her learning, despite all her striving for knowledge and attention to detail, her voice and conclusions were now unwelcome. It didn't matter what she knew. It didn't matter how well she'd done. It didn't even matter how dedicated she was to continuing with her obssessive work ethic. Her thoughts were unwelcome. They didn't want her education. They were happier doing what they'd always done, without her.

*~*~*~*~*

This parable, when told in the context of a student in school, is easy not to judge. We've all worked for companies that aren't interested in change, even if it's for the better, even if it's more profitable, or is more ethical in practice and policy. Even if it's in the best interest of the population being served. 

It's easy to assume this straight-A student might be conceited too, though, thinking she knows how to take over and fix everything, when, by your conclusions, she has no practical world experience, and might just be operating on impossible standards and perfect scenarios she was fed throughout schooling. 

But let's say she was employed by the education system itself. 

This was my experience with my faith crisis. I think I'm going to talk about it. 

I was a "Straight-A Mormon." I worshipped the For the Strength of the Youth pamphlet. I served in the highest callings a female of my age could. I spoke with God regularly. 

"We don't drink and we don't chew, and we don't go with guys that do." I was so into the For the Strength of the Youth pamplet that I didn't even go with guys. Fifteen year old asked me out? Ask me again in 3 months, when you're 16. My friends are kissing people? Are you serious? You're not supposed to be steady-dating until that guy is an RM, ladies! It's in the book!

I lost friendships over offering my well-intentioned "repentance" advice. I immersed myself in the scriptures, in trips to do baptisms at the temple. I went to college. I almost slipped and got a B grade in college, when a guy obviously liked my butt, but NO. I slammed a chess-set into his groin with the courage of Joseph fleeing Potiphar's wife, and dumped him the next day. 

Straight A Mormon. I lived with no regrets. 

Having my authority and valiancy questioned was A turning point. God told me to go through the temple for my endowment. If a command comes from God, you follow it, obviously! After a week of preparation, I proudly went to meet with the Bishop, and told him it was time, and I needed a recommend. 

He told me no. I told him God had told me to do it, and he told me no. I was prepared to slit the throat of a lamb at the alter if that was a part of the ceremony, but the bishop thought I might not be ready for everything that happens there. He came between me and God, and, through implication, told me I was mistaken about God telling me I was ready, because HE didn't think I was. God hadn't told me anything. 

I was just a woman, so obviously I backed down. Isn't that what you're supposed to do, when you say that you'll sustain them?

Upon graduating college, God told me to go on a mission. I'm a Straight A Mormon, so I turned down the job offer I'd just received, and went. Depression was eating me alive, my introversion was tearing at my soul, being with a companion 24/7, but I went. I did my best to obey every rule. I cried multiple times over dinner appointments taking more than the commanded 1 hour. It had felt right to stay, to love the members, but I had disobeyed the white handbook and the mission president. I wept for my perceived sins and weaknesses regularly. I just wanted to do what was right. 

After a year, God told me to go home. It was sudden, it was off-putting, and I was fearful. I was afraid I was weak. I was afraid I had somehow failed God, that he was disappointed in me. Was I a borderline D grade Mormon, when I was trying so hard to be an A? God assured me that my "grade" was fine, but that He had other plans for me. I told the mission president. He didn't say anything outright judgemental, but he also appeared skeptical when I told him that God had made this order, not me. No "Congrats on listening to the Spirit, even when it's hard and scary." Just an accepted resignation. It felt like, he too, believed that God had not told me anything, because he disagreed.

I returned home dishonored. It was no letter on my file, but it was in the silence. It was in not being invited to speak as return missionaries do, in Sacrament Meeting. It was no one asking how my mission had been, no one wanting to hear the stories that missionaries love to share. It was nothing. 

I got married shortly thereafter - probably the reason God wanted me home. I'm a difficult personality to match, and God certainly directed that match. My husband was a good man. But surprisingly, he wasn't perfect. This was no Valedictorian Mormon who was appointed by gender to stand between me and God. I'd never needed a mortal intermediary before. Why now, and why such an imperfect one, when before I'd had Jesus? 

God assured me that wasn't right. I was correct. The temple had it wrong. The church had it wrong.

My church taught me to talk to God, and it was something I did well. But now, it seemed, everyone, everywhere, wished that I wasn't, and shamed me for doing so, with quiet judgements thrown my way every time I got an answer from God that they disagreed with, that I was being faithless and deceived by Satan. 

My friend's quote, earlier, was right. I was very much raised in this Church, met all their goals, and was very much their product. 

But because I took the message as seriously as I did, and made God my guide, I was no longer welcome. I have felt ostracized. 

I long to participate. I long for the days when I was young, when my faithfulness was never questioned. Now my friends have told me, "I always looked up to you, when it came to religion. But I can't talk to you about it anymore."

Nothing I have to offer is wanted. It's a message received through silence.

I am a product of this Church, but I no longer want to be a Straight A Mormon.  Straight A Mormonism failed me, and called me a dangerous liar and a failure, because I did it too well. 

My goal, now, is to be a Straight A Christian, because somewhere along the line, the Church gave me the message, loud and clear, that the two were mutually exclusive, and that, to them, I have passed my "Sell By" date. 

Mean Girls

 I’m a Democrat, which means Utah County is a hard place for me to live in general. I also am an amateur historian. I am a Mormon, and as someone who loves history, I have some natural concerns about my religion’s history, truth claims, etc. But frankly, I’ve been able to move on and accept that my church offers a lot of good, and mistakes of the past don’t disqualify my church from still being a place of much good.

This year has been different, though. Democrats, like me, have been met with outright hostility. Getting gas in my car in American Fork, with my babies in the car, a couple guys noticed my Biden sign in the back, and took it upon themselves to deliberately block my car in and step inside the gas station. Not outright threatening, but I also couldn’t leave until they felt inclined to allow me to. (They had Trump flags, which is what makes me assume this is why it happened.) 

I have been afraid. My close neighbors, who are part of my Mormon congregation have a generous handful of Trump flags STILL flying. My mother is an immigrant, and filed for citizenship for the first time in over 30 years, last year, because she was genuinely afraid of what that man might do. I feel like my neighbors are willing to overlook the actual fear and tears that my family has shed because of Trump. But my feelings don’t matter to them. (It’s even on their flags.) 

I figured 2020 would be done soon, that I could continue to move on, and try to forgive my neighbors for turning a blind eye to the concerns of people like me, and other marginalized members of our society that have been suffering. I figured I could forgive and move on. Nobody’s perfect. Even Mormons.

But this last week FAIR Mormon released a dozen or so videos that reek of that same alt-right spirit of “screw what you think,” boasting about how “there’s an answer to everything, you anti’s!” (My interpretation.) I have never considered myself anti. But I also know they’re not correct. The facts they presented were misleading. They were not right, but more importantly, their spirit was not right. Once again, I felt like I was being shoved out, and told to leave my religion, because I’m not the same.

I’m not the same as my neighbors. I am not the same. And I’m being told over and over again, loudly, that you have to be the same, or you’re not welcome. We reject you, and you’re an idiot, and we don’t care about you or believe you, if you’re not the same. 

For the first time in my life I’m deeply considering leaving my church, because of all the bad fruits I see it bare. It doesn’t have to be perfect. I know that. But it should at least be good. And I’m not seeing that goodness.

I believe that our leaders should help people, not hurt them. I believe our leaders ought to be chosen for their ability to love, not their ability to enact influence over innocent people because of their own personal bigotries. I desire theologians, not businessmen. Leaders, not managers. 

Instead we choose to follow men who encourage us not to think. Cruelly they subscribe to the notion that “the end justifies the means,” all while assigning their own values and weaknesses to God, in essence, throwing God under the bus for the sake of their own image. 

For me, Utah Mormons have taken the ideal of “being correct” as their God, forgetting that God is Love. They seek for the comfort of being “right,” and anyone who disagrees with them can be completely ignored and discredited. Because Mormons do not seek for understanding. They choose to trust every word of the prophets. They choose ignorance over personal authority. This cultural attitude comes easily from a religion founded on truth claims of being "the only" truth, etc. It is so easy for people in this culture to assume that there is only one way to behave and believe that is appropriate, and it is whatever the current prophet teaches. But even prophets past have stirred up alt-right propaganda, doing their best to teach, from the pulpit, the evils of differing political parties and ideals. Many have failed to see the men behind those statements, seeing, instead, a prophetic political injunction. But as someone who is well aware of our church’s convoluted history, I feel no obligation to believe in only one truth, and only one correct form of belief. 

I want to move. I want my religion to work for me, but the only way I see that happening is by moving, gambling on fate to bring me to some happy, liberal, nuanced place. At this point, to move somewhere else would require so much sacrifice, however, with only a risked hope of the good outcome of being welcome in the doors of my church once more. 

It makes me so angry that I even feel forced into this choice by people of my own faith, because of their unwillingness to tolerate and appreciate differences lovingly. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I belong, let alone like I was valued, which would have offered me some form of self-actualization here.

Instead, choosing to stay in a church I already have different beliefs about, is only choosing to be ostracized. It feels like I’m choosing to subject myself to emotional and spiritual abuse if I stay, accepting others’ condescension and assumptions that there will always be something wrong, or “less than” about me. I resent my neighbors for that, when they don’t even see the self-respect and my own self-worth being sacrificed each time I try to carve out a space for me to stay with them. It is difficult to know what to do when you want to belong, but you’re told, through action, words, and cold shoulders that you can’t. 

I am the nerdy girl approaching the Mean Girls table in the lunchroom, because some of the girls at the table CAN be kind. But the Mean Girls don’t want me, one of them is whittling and whistling, and there are other nice tables...

Dishonorable Departures

I'm a Mormon. Obviously I'm the type of Mormon that still claims to be a "Mormon" despite the name having gone out of fashion in the last few years. I'm going to keep using it, though. I side with Gordon B Hinckley on this one. Besides. Any other statement of church affiliation is a mouthful. "I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints." is a bit much, when you're introducing yourself to your very Utahn next door neighbor, you know? Jesus is more chill than perhaps we give Him credit for. He's the kind of guy who doesn't care about the best seats in the synagogue and the respectful greetings in the marketplace, you know? He said so.

Anyway! I'm a Mormon! Having been born and raised as such, I've been sitting in church pews for over 4,000 hours. And that is being EXCEPTIONALLY generous, not counting seminary, institute, general conferences, firesides, personal study, THE MISSION FIELD, infancy, etc. 

The point is, I have been SCHOOLED on my religion. I know A LOT. And one of the things that I learned, over and over again, is that you STAY IN THE BOAT. Right? 

Brigham Young said it first: "We are in the midst of the ocean. A storm comes on, and, as sailors say, she labors very hard. 'I am not going to stay here,' says one; 'I don't believe this is the "Ship Zion."' 'But we are in the midst of the ocean.' 'I don't care, I am not going to stay here.' Off goes the coat, and he jumps overboard. Will he not be drowned? Yes. So with those who leave this Church. It is the 'Old Ship Zion,' let us stay in it."

This sentiment has been echoed in recent years by Elder M Russell Ballard, and Elder and Sister Renlund. The concept remains the same, and in these two cases, the analogy remains a boat at sea as well. Don't leave the Church. You are being short-sighted if you do, and you will find yourself adrift in a dangerous sea. Brigham Young added, confidently, that you would drown if you left. 

This is a message I grew up with, and believed in. The obsessive personality of my youth carried me in that Old Ship Zion, sailing the seas in the comfort of moral superiority. I felt sorry for those who were so short-sighted as to leave behind the surety of truth that came from following the prophet. 

In more recent years I have come to understand that it is not so simple. President Dieter F Uchtdorf said it perfectly, in his recent talk, "Come Join With Us." He stated, "One might ask, 'If the gospel is so wonderful, why would anyone leave?' Sometimes we assume it is because they have been offended or lazy or sinful. Actually, it is not that simple. In fact, there is not just one reason that applies to the variety of situations. Some of our dear members struggle for years with the question whether they should separate themselves from the Church."

Where others have cast abandoning the Old Ship Zion to be a quick, thoughtless decision, President Uchtdorf has the grace to admit that rarely is the decision so simple. 

David Ostler published a book last year entitled "Bridges: Ministering to Those Who Question." As part of his preparation for this book, Brother Ostler surveyed two different groups on many different questions regarding faith crises in the LDS Church. He interviewed local leaders, as well as self-professed members going through faith crises. (All of these faith crises members met the criteria of still trying to stay positively engaged with the Church.) Many of the conclusions laid out in his book are mind-blowing, frankly. For example:

I love this. Over 90% of local leaders agree or strongly agree that people have faith crises because they were offended. People actually going through faith crises? Only 19% felt that contributed. Not wanting to live the commandments? 84% of leaders assumed that was part of it, while only 9% of members felt that contributed. 

The surveys laid out through Brother Ostler's book (which I obviously highly recommend! At a Deseret Book near you!) show that there is a disconnect between people's lived experiences, and the way that leadership views these experiences. Uchtdorf is a good man, who has obviously talked with people, and understands that! (God bless you, you silver fox, you!) (True story, a elderly single woman on my mission had a huge crush on him, and swooned telling us how excited she was for General Conference. She passed away when I was in my next area. Heavens to Betsy, Uchtdorf, when you die, watch out for her!)

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah. The Ship Zion.

Where did we get the idea that people who leave the Church are just a bunch of lazies who weren't cut out for the Lord's work? Wheat and tares. Where did we get the idea that people who leave the Church are tares? 

Milk strippings. If you're Mormon like me, just hearing the phrase "milk strippings," you probably already know what story I'm going to talk about. Like me, you might have forgotten the guy's name was Thomas Marsh, but you know full well that his wife was skimming the good milk fat (milk strippings) off the top of the bucket and robbing the neighbor they were sharing with, right? When she was called out on it, Thomas Marsh was so OFFENDED he left the Church, now isn't that silly? Aren't people who leave the Church just so short-sighted and really looking for any little excuse to get out of the hard work of creating Zion?

Same with that Symonds Ryder guy. 

Again, another one of those stories we've been told time and time again about another guy just looking for any old lame excuse to jump Ship Zion. (Just saying, the spelling "Symonds" would TOTALLY fly in Utah today. Look at that unnecessary 'Y' and everything!) When was this article published? Oh, that's right. 

2017. And I hid the columnist's name for a good reason. Do you want to know it? 

Because Symonds Ryder didn't leave the Church because of his name's misspelling. Thomas Marsh didn't leave because of milk strippings either. Both of these men left the Church for, arguably, amazingly Christian reasons. (We've heard the 90% confidence that they were "offended" argument from the Church leaders. Do you want to hear their actual stories?)

Sidney Rigdon went off the deep end. He wasn't the only one, but he was the loud one. You probably remember that the Church faced a lot of conflict and difficulty in Missouri. You might see Church videos flash through your head of greasy bearded folk in taverns with guns, Haun's Mill reenactments, and eventually, yes, the "Extermination Order" by Boggs. Unfortunately, Boggs' Extermination Order came three months after Sidney Rigdon's, who was, yes, in the First Presidency. 

Sidney Rigdon stated, at a Fourth of July celebration in 1838: "...It shall be between us and them a war of extermination, for we will follow them till the last drop of blood is spilled, or else they will have to exterminate us; for we will carry the seat of war to their own houses and their own families, and one part or the other shall be utterly destroyed." So yes, Sidney Rigdon totally started it. In later years, even Brigham Young was known to have admitted that Sidney Rigdon was the source of the problems in Missouri.

The Danites were also active at this time. They were, in essence, a secret society with oaths, bound under penalty of death to obedience: "to support the heads of the church in all things that they say or do, whether right or wrong." Danites killed people. According to one, Benjamin Slade, even Sidney Rigdon admitted to killing a man, in a closed-door meeting of Danites. Rigdon had told Orson Hyde "It was the imperative duty of the Church to obey the word of Joseph Smith, or the presidency, without question or inquiry, and that if there were any that would not, they should have their throats cut from ear [to] ear."

Parley P Pratt sniped a guy and he and other Danites cut his jaw off. There was a Danite-led battle, called the Battle of Crooked River, which resulted in the mad-dog revenge killings at Haun's Mill, and subsequently, the entire Liberty Jail incident.

To quote Dieter F Uchtdorf again, and to give us some perspective now, "To be perfectly frank, there have been times when members or leaders in the Church have simply made mistakes. There may have been things said or done that were not in harmony with our values, principles, or doctrine."

That's putting it mildly, but it's appreciated. 

Remember Thomas Marsh? Milk strippings? Thomas Marsh was appalled by what he was seeing. (Rightly so!) Per historian D Michael Quinn, "Horrified by what was happening, the Quorum of the Twelve's president Thomas B Marsh prepared a formal affidavit against these Mormon depredations, for which he was excommunicated and classed as an apostate."

I had to take a breath after I wrote that. Did that feel wrong to you too? I think it most certainly was wrong. I think Thomas B Marsh did nothing wrong. I think he was incredibly brave to call out evil where he saw it being done. And for well over a hundred years, we have done nothing but slander his name and reputation in the church, by implying he was petty, shallow, and faithless.

They used to publish in the Deseret News the list of names of individuals who had been excommunicated. A friend once told me, "That is one of the most toxic things about the church. The church doesn't have an exit strategy that allows you to keep your dignity." When people leave the Church, willingly or unwillingly, they are given labels. Lazy. Unintelligent. Looking for an excuse. Tare. Apostate. Deceived. Lukewarm. Fallen elect. Agitator. Goat. Heretic. Intellectual. Cafeteria Mormon. Confused. 

Tell that to Thomas B Marsh. Tell that to Emma and Lucy Mack Smith. Tell that Oliver Cowdery. Tell that to Symonds Ryder, who saw the Church becoming aggressive and militant as well, and suspected Joseph Smith was trying to confiscate his property once he left on a mission. 

Quinn adds, "There was no loyal opposition within the kingdom of God... Dissent meant defection." 

President Uchtdorf has countered this in the modern era. "There is a place for you." he has insisted, with the understanding that questions, disagreements, and imperfections may exist in each of us. The Church is doing their best to counter the culture of old, where you were IN, or you were OUT. But we have a long way to go. 

We have to stop "otherizing," and have more faith in God, and God's ability to prescribe personalized prescriptions for each of His children. Christ gave us our commandments. Love. That is the greatest commandment, and the one which applies to us all.

I have hope. Some days I have more hope than others. Today I have a lot of hope. 

The more that we follow the commandments of Christ - namely, those two great commandments, the more mercy, grace, and love will abound. Because maybe the Church isn't a "ship." Maybe it's not so black and white. Maybe the Kingdom of God is within us, as Christ taught. Maybe when 2 or 3 are gathered in His name. Maybe it's less about the physical, structured organization, and more about the souls that pass through our lives on a daily basis. The Kingdom is in the eyes of those around you. Maybe people aren't "jumping ship" so much as they are looking for someone to recognize that they have been given their own ships that they carry with them, undaunted and undeterred by others'. 

Out of the Best Books

I went through some discount books at the store, the other day. All books were $1!!! I subscribe to the philosophy that "She who dies with the most books wins." So $1 books is the kind of salvation I can't pass up.

Well, of course I found some. One of them was a copy of Bhagavad Gita! Now, I know that Bhagavad Gita is considered scripture by Hindus worldwide, but I've never actually read any of it! I have read the Koran, enjoyed Khalil Gibran's The Prophet, and felt that I would be remiss - a criminal - if I didn't buy this book too! So I did, I brought it home, and I began to thumb through it. 

I found a beautiful thing in it! (Many, but one in particular that made me ponder.) What struck me about this passage was the familiarity it held, for me, as a Mormon. 

As a Mormon, I have learned and similarly taught others about there being three degrees of glory, in Heaven. I find comfort in this doctrine! These "degrees" are all kingdoms of glory - a sign of a loving God. It makes eternity not so black and white, Heaven or Hell. There is room made for varying degrees of goodness. 

In Chapter 14 of the Bhagavad Gita, we see a familiar vein. The Bhagavad Gita teaches that there are three "modes" of material nature, modes which "condition" living entities in their presence. Basically, this concept means that all living people are conditioned to one of three modes. They become and live in one of these three states. These three modes, or states of being, will dictate their futures upon their deaths. Three degrees of glory? I thought so.

I enjoyed reading of these three modes. In degree from lowest to highest:

Ignorance, Passion, & Goodness.

I've pondered on these three modes. I've pondered on which level I find myself living. Bhagavad Gita lists how these modes or ways of being are born, or how people come to be in the stage they are, and also lists the results of these modes - madness, fruits of action, happiness. While I have my disagreements with many aspects of the book, and all the parallels drawn, there are aspects and points made that I have found great value in.

Doctrine and Covenants 88:118 states: "Seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith."

What are these best books? Answers have differed and varied on the matter. What is "best?" What is "wisdom?" Do they really want us to teach out of "every" good book we find wisdom in, or is there a standard of what is "best enough" to teach out of? 

My son, Dexter, is a huge fan of the Dr. Seuss book "I Wish that I Had Duck Feet." After about the 500th read, I noticed something beautiful from this children's book. Big Bill Brown is the book's antagonist. As our main character takes upon himself many animal traits, such as duck feet, a whale spout, deer horns, a long long tail, we see him frequently describe how his having these animal traits will affect Big Bill Brown.

Big Bill Brown can't wear as many hats as our protagonist could, with deer horns. With a whale spout, our protagonist could play Big Bill Brown "off his feet" in a game of tennis. With a long, long tail, Big Bill Brown might tie our protagonist in a tree, which would be unfortunate indeed. But, with an elephant trunk, he could, in retribution, sneeze, and blow Big Bill Brown down. 

In the end, our hero deduces that none of these animal traits are just right for him, due to unfortunate consequences of each, so, naturally, he should just have ALL the traits together, and be a Which-What-Who. By having all these animal properties, though, he concludes that he would be a freak of nature, (my words), and would be thrown in a cage like an animal. The beautiful touching part I noticed?  

Big Bill Brown is there. And he is sad to see our protagonist caged too.

Oftentimes our enemies are not actually our enemies, AND, you should still feel love and sympathy for people in a bad spot, even if they were a little brat to you earlier. 

Similarly, I once heard a man pull wisdom, in a podcast, out of the Stephen King book "It." 

"It" is about an evil spirit demon "thing" that preys on small children, killing them in terrible ways, specific to their own individual fears, if I'm remembering correctly. (I tried to watch the movie. I did not like it. I have a hard time with Stephen King and what he does with child characters, as well as general horror/gore.) 

In the book "It," a group of children do their best to hunt down the monster It, and try to kill it. They almost succeed, and swear to each other that if It comes back again, they will reunite and take down the monster again! They apparently succeeded in getting rid of it for 27 years, when one of the characters, Mike, now 27 years older than his childhood self, notices the same strange happenings and murders of children starting to occur again. 

In pondering on how his calling his old childhood friends will be received, he writes, 

"How much will they believe? Enough to end this horror once and for all, or only enough to get them killed? They are being called. I know that much. Each murder in this news cycle has been a call. We almost killed It twice, and in the end, we drove It deep in Its warren tunnels of stinking rooms under the city. But I think It knows another secret. Although It may be immortal, or almost so, we are not. It had only to wait until the act of faith which made us potential monster killers, as well as sources of power, had become impossible. 27 years. Perhaps a period of sleep for It - as short and refreshing as an afternoon nap would be for us. And when It awakes, It is the same. But a third of our lives has gone by. Our perspectives have narrowed. Our faith in the magic, which makes magic possible, has worn off, like the shine on a new pair of shoes after a hard days walking."

The dedication of this book, written by Stephen King to his own children reads: "Kids, fiction is the truth inside the lie, and the truth of this fiction is simple enough: the magic exists."

The podcaster concluded: "When I read the dedication, it resonated with me. And one of the reasons it resonated with me was because it so perfectly described why it is that I have come to the point in my life, where I can consider the Book of Mormon to be scripture, without considering it to be historical. I can consider the Book of Mormon to be true without considering it to have actually happened in real time and space, with real characters playing out real events in real history. And that's one of the things that's so wonderful about this quote, is that it recognizes that truth can be told inside of a lie."

That hit me HARD. It was beautiful, and was something I absolutely needed to hear! Stephen King's "It" helped inspire me to continue to see the Book of Mormon as scripture. 

Take THAT. Best books? Words of wisdom?

It was for me. Yup. Creepy clown with a red balloon? The Book of Mormon is scripture. Joseph Smith Jr was inspired by God.

The best books might teach you about mindfulness, they might teach about the Zoroastrian fundamentals of "good thoughts, good words, good deeds." The best books might show you a hero who, despite no one believing in a danger he knew he saw, was able to defeat that danger, He Who Must Not Be Named, by trusting in faithful friends and the right old man's advice. He leaned on and relied on the works of others who had gone on and died trying to combat this same evil before him. (Harry Potter. I'm talking about Harry Potter.) There are things we can learn from the best books. 

What books are you learning from today?

Modesty

I saw a handsome man's butt the other day. I wasn't even related to him.

But I'll get back to that.

Today I listened to the latest podcast by At Last She Said It, a podcast run by some faithful LDS women with "ideas." (AKA - they're feminists.) I love these ladies, and have enjoyed listening to their podcasts, which seek to address "women's issues" in the Church. 

The latest episode was all about clothing, specifically, about how we address modesty with our youth, and especially with our young women. Now, with my history of Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, the For the Strength of the Youth pamphlet put out by our church used to be like a little mini bible to me, and that pamphlet had more than enough to say about Dress and Attire. With my OCPD driving my moral compass, and the drive I had to inflict my morals on those around me, I was quite a little "modesty Nazi" growing up. I've done all the arguing there is to be had, on modesty. LANP was once a battle cry. (Leggings Are Not Pants.)

But as I've gotten older, as my disorder has become quieter, and as I've come to learn that leggings are just danged more comfy to lounge around in, I've had to reevaluate what "truth" is, and confront the uncomfortable fact that in many ways, I was wrong. 

I once wrote a lengthy essay, many years ago, on modesty as a Zion principle - that our actions all affect each other, and if something unnecessary we are doing is creating difficulty for another person, maybe we shouldn't do that anymore. I hold that this is true in many ways. Look at masks. (My current moral hobby horse, I know.) It is unnecessary to fight the good anti-mask fight, and not wearing masks is making people get sick, so maybe you shouldn't fight that fight. Just wear the mask and help your community, because that is a principle of Zion - what is best for "us," rather than selfish living.

I wrote my Zion Modesty article while begrudging legging wearing. I had it on good authority from many men that I was good friends with that leggings, which hide nothing, were "tempting." I was worried about my boy friends! I inherited a pair of leggings from a DI bag a year or so later, which, to my chagrin, I found to be soft, comfortable and forgiving at the waistline, while simultaneously being the least restrictive option for kneeling and general unladylike behavior like driving with one foot on the seat, or lounging over an armrest, which I was fond of. So I wore them in the confines of my own home as a guilty pleasure. 

With motherhood and stay-at-home motherhood in particular, I found that comfort and lounging became high priorities for me. In addition to leggings at home, soon followed no longer wearing makeup, and generally becoming more comfortable in my own skin - accepting who I was, wrinkles, rolls, and all! I even wore leggings out of the house! I embraced Mom Life! And in that embrace I recognized my motivations. I didn't wear leggings because I wanted to tempt all the men in my vicinity. (If they're into Mom Bods, good on them!) I wore leggings because it was more important for me to be comfortable than to care what anybody else thought about me. I wore leggings because I was humble enough not to be concerned. And in recognizing that slovenly fact about myself, I realized that all those years ago, I had not given that benefit of the doubt to the other women in my life.

For me, the Zion principle never changed - but wearing leggings wasn't as "unnecessary" as I had once thought, and "tempting" men was something impossible to avoid, so, rather, coping mechanisms and healthy relationships and sexuality with others were more important to prioritize in teaching those youth. The slovenly lifestyle was necessary for me - it helped me embrace my "expanding" (YUP) Mom body, and realize that my worth was so much more than any perception by myself or others of my body, beauty, etc. 

Listening to At Last She Said It's podcast today, one story struck me as beautiful. The mom asked her swimmer daughter if she had a hard time being around all those other girls and swimmers, wearing a swimsuit all the time, including boys. Her daughter quickly replied "Not at all. I never feel better about myself than when I'm wearing my swimsuit! When I'm wearing my swimsuit, that's the one time it's about what I can do, not about how I look!"

Too often we inadvertently view bodies as just that - bodies. We view them as objects, not instruments. We lose sight of the person, the spirit, because of the shell. And I realized that shells matter a lot less than I used to give them credit for. 

At the beginning of this post I mentioned that I saw a handsome man's butt the other day. That's 100% fact. No lie. No trickery. I saw his butt. Well, just one cheek. 

I was at a tattoo parlor. (Hey, you don't know me!) (Or you don't know tattoo parlors...) ;) A joke came over the radio overhead, and a handsome gentleman stepped from the back of the store towards the front, into view. He was laughing, and started chatting with another guy, who was in the part of the parlor I was in about the joke. I remember looking over my shoulder and seeing him. His smile was contagious, as was his grin and easygoing persona. While joking with his friend, he made me love humanity.

He had on only underwear. Boxers. Purple, with one leg pulled up and tucked into his crack to expose one white cheek. Obviously he was getting some cheeky art done! But that was far from the first thing I noticed about him, and was far from the last thing I remembered about him either. His JOY was his defining feature.

It took me until my drive home to realize just what had happened. This gentleman had been OUTRAGEOUSLY immodest in front of me! And I hadn't been tempted to sin in the slightest! 

Over the last several weeks I have thought back on this man and his butt cheek several times. That sounds creepy, but it's actually not. I realized something very important about modesty! It's not about the clothes. It was never about the clothes. Clothing style is cultural and ever changing. (Even garments, my LDS friends. Even garments.) It's not about the clothes. It never was. And we need to stop pretending that it is, because it does women and men a great disservice, and gives us unhealthy views about each other. 

If we gender reversed things, seeing that man's butt might have really given me a hard time. If Mormon boys were raised on the same lessons Mormon girls are, and everybody knew what was being expected of them, I would have assumed that man was a sinner, for flaunting his body shamelessly in front of people. (He was getting a tattoo, so obviously he WAS a sinner, right, but I mean, apart from that...) ;) I would have seen skin in a private place that had been drilled into me that I was NOT supposed to see, and I would have felt shame for everybody, and embarrassment. I would have dwelt on that shame, and thought about that butt, and the shame, and the nakedness, and the perversity of it all would have the potential to drive me to some real problems. I might even be angry at him for not covering himself up better! 

But he did nothing wrong. He was a beautiful, happy man who made me feel hope for the world!

Yet in our culture, we can't seem to see women the same way. 

Instead we shame them for their bodies, then wonder why Utah has more plastic surgeons per capita than LA. Because we have raised children in a culture with an unhealthy obsession about women's bodies. Women's bodies which victimize us, betray us, and steal away our men's hearts!!!

The podcast also told the story of a woman who was tired of rushing to the mail before everyone else in the family, so that she could cut the underwear advertisements out of the paper before her family looked at it. 

Women's bodies are unavoidable. We should not insist on protecting men from women's bodies, inadvertently oversexualizing all of them against their will by default. Women are sexualized in all their forms and, heaven forbid, situations. I'm sorry, but women have to grocery shop. Women deserve to buy underwear. Women deserve to be comfortable in their own skin. Who are we protecting from who, and why? Is there not a better way to address the real concern? At what point can we expect men to be responsible for their own physical attractions? Physical attractions which, get this, even girls feel when looking at men, too. 

Frankly, I think we need to have more lessons on modesty for the men. How dare they shove those pectorals in our faces, with those suit coats squaring out and extenuating those broad, powerful shoulders... 

What a slut.

But wait...

...Maybe the Church is giving men the modesty lesson, and I've just been missing it. Here I was, thinking they were telling men to be clean shaven because they were anti-hippie, but maybe, just maybe, they know... They know how beards make us ladies feel...