Confessions from a Guilty Soul

Dear Readers,

When I was twelve years old, I was sitting in Bishop Robinson's office having a very serious talk about my future with the Church (the LDS Church, that is). I had been called into his office because a Young Women's leader of mine was concerned about some overly feminist questions and accusations I had brought up in our Beehive class. Bishop Robinson was and still is a favorite leader of mine; he was my soccer coach, as well as one of the most encouraging adults I knew as an adolescent. Because of that respect I had for him, I took it very seriously and to heart when during this meeting he told me that I was becoming a "cynic", and how that concerned him and my ability to stay a faithful member.

To this day, I replay that conversation over and over in my head. My Catholic friends think that they understand guilt, but I am quite sure at this point that guilt hath no friend quite like a Mormon.

Mormonism and my family go way back. I have ancestors that were members from the early beginnings of the church, that walked across the country to settle in Utah and later Idaho. One was a personal assistant to Brigham Young. They helped build and create towns and communities, settle land and to find a place for a people who had faced harsh discrimination and torment to finally find peace. My dad continues to do research on our family, defining our roots more and more. The stories are fascinating. The faith and diligence of my ancestors and other early members is both admirable and incredible. It is with guilt that I say, I don't think I would have lasted five minutes with this group.

When I was 17, I graduated from high school and moved to Logan, UT to attend Utah State University. I had never given much thought of leaving the church up until this point. Honestly, I think I stopped attending church more because it was an inconvenience to my sleeping in rather than it being a movement of conviction or lack of faith. I ended up becoming friends with non-members, because honestly they were more interesting than the members I met. Not long after that I moved to Washington D.C. It was at this time that it occurred to me for the first time in my life that being a Mormon was not a normal thing. Having been raised in Southern Idaho and making the short move to Logan, I had lived my entire 19 years in areas densely populated with Mormons. All of the sudden I found myself in a city that had more people than the entire state of Idaho, and very, very few of them were members. I was amazed at the ridiculous questions that were asked, the assertion that my people were part of a "cult", and the assumption that I was raised in a polygamist family. Honestly, it was somewhat upsetting, but at the same time it was very eye opening.

After moving to Boise, I went through a really rough period where I had little friends, a lot of responsibility (I was working 3 jobs and going to school full time), and a conscience carrying more guilt than an inmate on death row. I hadn't been going to church for quite some time, and I wasn't articulate enough to explain why. I was majoring in philosophy, so I was using all of the these big words to try and fill the void that was at one time faith. I ended up going back though, and in classic Heather fashion I returned with full intentions of being the best dang Mormon ever! I was going to a student ward, had a calling, and was trying to make plans to go on a mission. I even dated a return missionary. I was doing everything I could to insure that I would set a great example as a member. But the whole time, a little over a year, that I was trying so very hard to fit into the classic Mormon-girl mold, I was miserable. I thought it was a lack of faith bringing me down, but in retrospect I was miserable because I was trying so very hard to be a person that I wasn't at all. "Hypocrite" is the word used to describe the person I was.

After I left again, I took a different route then before. Rather than be a "jack mormon", I was going to make sure I was leaving for the right reasons. I read the Bible and Book Mormon in their entirety. I prayed constantly. I read articles and church publications. And I came up empty. At the same time, I started dating Shay. We attended a few non-denominational churches together, but I kept getting the feeling that I didn't belong, and that I was lying to everyone trying to be something I wasn't. The minute Shay and I stopped attending churches, our relationship flourished and we got along better than ever. We have raised our son outside of church, something that I've lost a lot of sleep over in the past. Anymore I realize that he wouldn't learn anything more about the things we feel are important at church, and that he is naturally one of the most loving and compassionate humans I've ever met.

I continue to do research into the LDS Church, for several reasons. I think keeping the connection to my family (immediate, extended, and ancestrally speaking) is important. I find early church history, particularly anything pertaining to Joseph Smith to be fascinating. I have no desire to speak ill of, or bare false witness to the LDS Church, its members, or its practices. I have a huge respect for their humanitarian work, a great admiration of their business and welfare practices, and will always be proud of my family and their involvement in their rolls.

I admire faith. I simply am not capable of having it. I've quoted this song before, but my friend Loren covered my beliefs and sentiments in a song he wrote that says, "I believe in the human bond, I believe in you and me, the love of a family...I find it a little bit hard to believe in the mystical." Bishop Robinson was right to be concerned about my questioning nature as a pre-teen. However, "cynic" was the wrong word to describe me. I don't doubt the intentions of people (well, most people anyway). "Skeptic" would have been a more appropriate word, as I am skeptical to the marrow of my bones. I am fortunate though. In my leaving the church, I was able to keep most of my relationships in tact. I did lose some friends, and I do have some family that insists on bothering me about it. My my parents, my sisters, and a few select friends have been willing to allow me to still be a part of their lives, and I will always be grateful for their love and support. I know it's not an easy thing for them, and it is for them that I write this blog.

It's weird to put all of this out there, not knowing who will read it and what their reaction will be. But I'm glad to do it, if for anything else to allow myself to get rid of some guilt and move on with my happy little life.

Sincerely,
h.