Truth be told

Many people think little O' Jen loves to confront.  Truth is...I hate it!  I hate it so bad that when I was in my 20's, I hated to return things to the store....even if the product was damaged before I even opened the box.  I had extreme anxiety over things like this.  I was so bad, my husband had to stage an intervention.  I had bought a curling iron.  I used it once...it sucked.  The words "Just return it to the store Honey"  sent me into a corner rocking & mumbling, covering my ears. So like a good husband that my man is....he drove me to Walgreen's, held my hand & MADE me return that stupid curling iron.  I remember wanting to vomit as I handed the cashier my iron...without a receipt!  (Oh sweet mercy...she's going to yell at me!)  And ya know what this lady said..."Ok.  Do you want cash or put it back on your card?"

So through the years my husband helped me overcome my social fears like no therapist could.  And soon I was a "return junkie."  Man, the sky would change color, I would return something!

But this new confrontation.....well.....I felt bad for the guy.  I wasn't returning a crappy curling iron...I was on the verge of returning my religion I bought all those years ago...without a receipt!

It's amazing how anger & frustration can make a person jump out of the safety of their own skin & ask the hard questions.  I got over talking with my Bishop.  Now....on to my next faze.....

Open my mouth & ask the question...

"Do you ever ask yourself...why am I here?"

My question to Brother High was bold & gutsy.  It was Christmas time.  Brother High & his family were viewing all the Nativities our church had set out for public display.  Right there in front of 509 baby Jesus's, I asked this great man....."Well...do you.?

This man stared at me, then eased himself closer to my face....leaning on his cane he said

"Every....damn....day."

I didn't know what hit me harder.  The fact that a very prominent, "righteous" member of our church used the word damn in front of 509 baby Jesus's...or the fact that he questioned!

Wait.......he ....questioned?!

My face must have registered shock.  Brother High laughed & put his hand on my shoulder "Sister, I swear there were times this church would kill me.  It's exhausting & draining.  It's hard work to be here at times. Sometimes I want to run away.  It would be so easy to"

But why do you stay?

"I stay because I want to. I stay for the gospel, not the church."

Brother High pats my shoulder & shuffles off. 

I stood a long time in the gym.  I couldn't move.  I stood anchored in the spot where Brother High had nailed my jaw to the ground.  Surly he was just joking.  Surly he was teasing.  Could a man like that...a man in his last years, who had served for decades in this church.  A man who lead & taught & held generations of a family together....surly he really didn't question.  Did he?

The encounter with Brother High gave me the fuel to throw caution to the wind.  Soon I became a question junkie.  I started questioning everyone.  No one was safe.  Heaven forbid I found you sacked out on the couch, avoiding class.  Or washing your hands in the bathroom.  I cornered & I pounced.  Asking over & over again the question that plagued me.  "Why do you stay?  How do you stay?  Do you question?"

The answers shocked me.  Everyone I asked...every...single...person told me

Yes, they question.
Yes, it's hard.
Yes, sometimes they want to run screaming.

After all these years in this church...after all the "Oh...I KNOW this church is true because the Holy Ghost testified to me that it was true.  And if you pray hard enough....." (cue the Mormon Tabernacle choir) 

Years of "Oh golly, this church saved my life!  Makes me a better person!  I never question because God answered my prayers!"

Years of not seeing the truth. Years of listening to only one side of a persons story.  Only hearing the pretty sales pitch of the church.

Years of feeling too embarrassed & alone....I finally hear the truth.

To live my religion is very hard.  Some things that have been taught to us...are hard to swallow.  We struggle to believe, to have faith, to have knowledge.  Everyone person I spoke to...must have felt I was struggling.  For everyone opened up to me in ways I never expected.

I found that these people, all at different stages of life & belief....wanted to believe.  Some, even without a shadow of a doubt KNEW the Gospel was true.  KNEW that Jesus Christ WAS the Savior.  But even for those hard line believers, THEY even had moments of questioning.  Moments of teetering.  Moments of..."what if?"

We are human. We are not Jesus Christ.  We will never be perfect in this life. We do not have all knowledge.  We all struggle.  Some of us stay in this church because we were born in this church.  Some stay because they marry into it.  Some stay because the Holy Ghost was so strong & fierce in their heart, they could never deny.  Some stay because they are lonely.  Some stay because they like to be challenged.  Some are rock hard in their belief & some are wishy washy.  Some members of this church are pure evil. Some members are too good to be here in this tarnished world.  Some are raging liberals & some are apron wearing conservatives.


2 years have passed since I told my Bishop to take my temple membership card & shred it.  2 years of wonderful "wondering" out in the shadows.  2 years of too tired for crying.  2 years of questioning.

2 years of asking all the right questions.

2 years and a new questions have emerged

"What have I learned & where do I go from here?"

Why do you stay?

Tell my Bishop I have no testimony...check.
Drink coffee on Sunday...........check
Let go of all guilt....check
Life goes on.....check
Breath a sigh of relief....check.


Well

Now what?

So...I'm in the church, not of it?  Yeah, that sounded about right!

Let me tell you friends....I felt like a dog that had just been sprung from a bath.  I was running around, shaking my wet fur to & fro then rubbing my body all along the side of the couch.  Yeah baby!  Liberated!

Now that I was free from my church-ly cares....I felt more at ease to piss people off, say whatever the FUNK I wanted to say & basically....be .....me.

Listen people....I knew at that point the church had NO WAY made me bottle up my essence & shove it down the couch cushion.  That was all me...trying to live up to what I THOUGHT a good Christian girl should be.  Forming an illusion in my mind of what was a Godly women. 

This symbolic break from my religion was a way for me to breath.  To give up paranoia, pain, confusion & the desire to please everybody.

I was starting over.   Instead of being a scared, wondering 19 year old...I was now starting off as a thirty something women that shot 4 babies out of her vagina while yelling HELZ YEAH BABY!  Dude...I was an old, married, baby shoot'n women looking for the truth.  I was light years away from 19.

Being a lady of a certain age....I tempered the urge to snort Blow & steal crap.  No...I must go about finding truth in a mature thirty year old Lady way.

Ok YES...I did drink coffee...& break the Sabbath by buying a McDouble....but you have to admit.....it was high time I did something cray-cray ya know?  Let lose a little.  Be badddddd.

After my bought of hooligan-ish behavior...I eased myself back into the real world.  The world of "Let's Pretend I'm Mature."

So now my quest began.  My quest of...."Am I alone?  Am I crazy? Should I stay or go." had now officially begun.

And for my first act of truth seeking.....I asked a very prominent, "high ranking" church man... "High Priest".... a question. A question I always wanted to ask but was to scared in my past life to ask it in fears someone would find out I was struggling.

"So Brother High.....do you ever ask yourself......"What the hell am I doing here?  Why do I stay?""

How he....and the others that I asked that question responded, threw me for a loop & brought me back down to Earth.

Beer Blessings

There is a joke I like to say about blessings.

 "If you need some blessings....drink a beer."

In the church we are encouraged to live healthy lifestyles.  No alcohol, no wacky tabacky, no coffee, no black tea.  Everything in moderation.  We can't drink, but we sure as heck can eat!  We love our food!

Anywho.  People who live in religion tend to become very paranoid....or was that just me?

 If I forget to pray over my food everyone will have the back house trots!

  If I don't pay my tithing (10% Sucka!  It's in the bible so don't be all like..."What?  Girl, I never heard of that!") my husband will lose his job & I will have to eat raw wheat for breakfast!


 If I skip church 1 Sunday I will have a crap week...& the dog will die & my husband will lose his job & I'll get the back house trots!!!!!

If I drink a beer my house will be sucked up in a tornado!

But truth be told.....many people who have left a church, drank that beer...they seemed to be blessed.  Blessed with money, better jobs, boats, nice hair & bigger boobs.

So my joke was always....drink a beer!  Car broke down & you have no $$?  Drink a beer!  You lost your job?...drink a beer!  Kid needs braces...drink a beer!

For so many years I lived with paranoia.  It started around 10 years old when my Mom got cancer.  I felt, as a young child, that somehow I could control how my mother felt by my actions.  If I wore a certain ring she would end up in the hospital.  If I wore my heart earrings she would get better.  Superstitious child grew up to become a paranoid adult women......who joined a religion!  Geez...you want crazy thoughts....try being in my head for a day!  God & paranoia walk hand in hand down the street!

So when I decided to walk away, I had a twinge of paranoia. 

"What if God punishes me & kills my whole family?"

Then I remembered my joke....drink a beer, blessings will come.

So I left in the most non-leaving way a girl could leave & I did

Not
drink
a
beer.

Because that would be lame & immature!  But I still left.

And wouldn't you know it?  Nothing bad happened.  In fact, I became lighter & happier & those paranoid thoughts...gone!

Most nights I didn't pray.  I didn't pay tithing.  I skipped church now & then.  I drank a coffee....on THE SABBATH!  Of course once I drank that coffee I laughed at myself for being a follower, a poser, a joiner & plain silly.  Then I dumped the gross coffee mostly full in a garbage can & realised how much I liked Postum & Teeccino.  And dang it....I was gonna drink Postum instead of coffee because it was healthier & I liked it!  Flame away baby....I like POSTUM! (chilled & drenched in evaporated milk/ condensed milk over ice....heck....yeah!)

                                            Hello my darling!  Everything tastes better in a mason jar!

I drank the proverbial beer & I was still alive.  My family was still happy.  I had wicked awesome friends.  I still had some of the same day to day problems.  I still was angry at God.  I questioned the existence of Jesus Christ.  I still cared about church issues. I was still me, just without all the religious superstitions that strangled me.  I felt free to question, to doubt, to be angry, then to forget it & move on.

And yes, I was blessed too.  My husband got raises.  I got a job.  My kids were awesome.  I traveled & played more with the kids.  And my hair......looked pretty damn fine if I say so myself!

See....proof my hair didn't fall out during my wondering out in the wilderness of disbelief!

Take this religion & shove it

In my religion we have a Bishop.  A guy who is "called" to counsel the people in the church.  He doesn't get paid.  He doen't have professional training.  He's just a regulor Joe.

My Bishop happens to be my friend.

People go to the Bishop for counsel or confession or to be given recommends to go into the Temples.  Bishops stand as "judges in Israel."

I decide to be a big girl & go to my Bishop......& tell him all that was eating me up.  And let me just say....for a girl who hates to disappoint people...this little stint I was about to do made me sick.

I had to do it.  I had watched a few friends slink away form the church never to talk to their Bishop.  Never even give the guy a chance to help.  I didn't want that.  Sure...I wanted the easy way out.  But over time I found that I needed to leave my childish ways behide....& be an adult.  An adult who wasn't going to run from things anymore.  Big girl........ meet panties.

But man.....all I thought was RUNNNNNNNNNNN!

On that day 3 years ago, I walked in....& quit.  Threw my hands up & quit.

My husband knew what I was going to do & had always been supportive.  He had seen how I struggled all those years.  He knew I tried.  He knew I gave it my all.  He also knew he coundn't help me the way I needs help.

So in I walked.  The door closes behind me.  And I sat face to face with my friend....who happened to be a Bishop.

And I let it all out.

And my dear friend did a really good job being a Bishop with a slight hint of friend. 

We talked...well more like I ranted, he listend.

I laid out my demands.
1.  Help me.

That's it.  Help me.

I did have guidelines.
1. I would not take my kids out of the church.  This was my problem...not theirs.  Even though there were times I wanted to be selfish & take everyone with me.....I knew for their sakes I had to temper that desire.  If they had problems with thier religion as they got older....well then that would be their problem...and as parents, we would help them out at that time.  But in no way did I want to stress them out by removing them from the only religion they had ever known.

2.  I would turn down a big calling that was handed to me a few days ago & keep my old calling I had held for 5 years.  I would do my best to do my job.  Luckly it wasn't that hard.....I was like...the church activity cruise director. I threw parties for the church....sweet!
    This new calling they wanted to give me was actually the catalyst for my change.  I realised how deep the lie I lived if the Bishop thought I would be faithful enough for this calling.  Time to stop being fake & time to let the B-Man in on my charade. 

3. I would support my husband in his calling....oh yeah...did I mention my husband was a Bishopric counsler?  He was one of the Bishops right hand men.  Yeah...that was fun!  Having a husband who sat up on the stand every Sunday while his wife dwindled in unbelif......so fun....ya'll should try that!

My Bishop seemed to breath a sigh of relief that I wouldn't just up & leave....& that I wouldn't drag my kids through my emotional, sprirtual mess.  But I could also tell I had hurt him & freaked him out.  Here was another one of his friends trying to walk away.

A few weeks after my talk with my Bishop....my husband was released from his Bishopric calling that he had held for 4.5 years.  I'd like to think his time had come up to move on....but I knew it was because of me.  You can't have a Bishopric memeber who's wife is losing her religion.

So here I was.  A memeber in name but not my heart.  My Temple recommend willingly given up.  My husband out of a calling that killed me for the first few years.

I stood hugging my friend the Bishop as he told me he loved me.  I knew he did.  I also knew he was ready to take on this task I had placed befor him.....of helping me find a testimony of my church....or finding it false.

Walking out the door I felt relief & hope.  To celebrate I hung out with my friends and church ladies for a day.....

At the Temple.

But this time I had no recommend to go in.  I was now...on the outside.

And I had not felt that relieved or free in a long time.

The Wall

I remember seeing "The Wall" out in the distance around the time I had gotten married.  There it was....a tall, brink a$$ wall far out there.  Leering at me with it's rust colored, dusty brick eyes.  "Awww yeah girl...one day.....your face is going to splatter against my awesome brink chest.  You can run girl....but ya can't hide!

Oh trust me...you can't hide from a massive brink wall my friend.  It will patiently stalk you, lumber up to you, back you into a corner & squish the poop out of you.

I was young, stupid & sometimes very cocky in my spiritual thinking.  Listen....you can't become weak if you do the right things.  If you read your Scriptures, pray daily, give tithing, go to church...basically if you lay down your life for the gospel...you'll be fine.  I mean....lets face it...those who can't take their trials or lose their testimony, are just aren't doing things right.  They obviously let Satan creep in to their brains.  They let Satan work himself into their thought & hearts.  But that wouldn't happen if they stayed strong.  People can overcome anything if they just work hard!

Oh yes....I...did.



Because that's what I was taught.  Trials will come.  Life ge4s hard.  But.......say this Hallmark card greeting with me.......

"God doesn't hand you anything you can't handle"


Come on...we've all felt that quote

(By the way...not in the bible.  Closest thing would be 1 Corinthians 10:13.  Or closer yet.....

"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much."

Mother Teresa

Even Mother Teresa felt overwhelmed....but don't compare yourself to Mother Teresa....cuz....she's freak'n Mother Teresa.... you are not!)

We've all heard some form of it spewed in church.  We've all fallen pray to that nasty little quote.  We've all felt small & weak because we couldn't get past the hurt of something terrible that has happened to us.

Sure...my Dad would seethe for years about my attendance in the church...But God will provide. wall

Sure....people really did/say nasty things to me in church.....But God will easy my pain. WALL

Sure....my husband & I had no $....but God will help us. wall

Sure.....I had my first baby & fell into the darkest depression of my life...But God will...wait....God?  Ummm God?  Hey, I uh....did everything you asked me too....could I get some help here? WALL

                                         God?

Sure...I dreamt of suicide nightly.....But God...will...maybe

 WALL

Every step of my life the wall follows.  Questions about early history of the church, current history, weird practices, theological questions...constant questions racking my brain.

Why did I join?

Why am I here?

Where is this testimony I have been working on for years?

Where is God?

Did Jesus really live?

wall
Wall
Wall
WALL
WALL

Everyone I asked these questions to always put me down

 (Of course it was never their intentions to put me down.  But would anyone say this crap to a women who spent years trying to get pregnant?!  Oh...well, I know when I have sex every other night I get pregnant.  I know when I get enough sleep I get pregnant.  I know when I stand on  my head after sex I get pregnant. Maybe you are not doing it right)

by saying "Well of course He lives! He listens! This is true! That is true!  I KNOW it's true because I pray!  Read! Go to church! Sing lame Primary songs to keep the Debil away!

Well La-DEE-DA!  Good for you honey!  But that still doesn't help me.  I still don't KNOW anything.

"Well did you pray?"

What?  Did ...you..just

"Well, you need to pray honestly.  Are you paying tithing.?

What the heck is your problem?!

"Are you reading the scriptures.  Answers will come if you read...how about attending the Temple, meeting, doing you callings, taking sacrament, doing your visiting teaching, bearing your testimony, volunteering, listening to wholesome music, confessing your sins, going to church classes, reading the conference talk, doing..."

STOP!  Shut....the....flip'N..heck......up!

"Well, with that attitude Missy...it's no wonder the Spirit has left you!  You'll never get your own testimony with an attitude like that."

AAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Headdesk! Headdesk! Headdesk!

That has been my whole 20 years in the church.

20 years & no....I KNOW this church is true.  I KNOW Jesus lives.  I know God is God.

nothing.

Nada

Zip

Fail

Flunk

Hang my head in corner.

My best....was not good enough.

                                WALL

3 summers ago....done. Over. Out

I left.  Walked into the Bishops office.  Handed him my special "I'm a good member" temple card & said....I give up.

Then I sat down across from him & said

"Bishop.  Meet....my Wall."

The 19 year old convert

Baptised.
Fresh
Clean
pure

I was now a member of a real live church.  I church I choose.  I church I hoped to one day fully know to be true.  I was happy & content.  Not a care in the world. 

I was surrounded by my old & new friends while I chatted after my dunking.  My father choose not to attend.  He said he could not support me in joining the church.  I couldn't blame him.  All the info he had about my church was from years back when he met some extremest fridge "members" back in the 60's.  They took him in after his rig broke down on a desert high way.  The gave him free room & board.  Fed him & fixed his rig for free.  He stayed a few days with the people.  Playing baseball with the kids & helping the men with their farm work.  He said they were kind, very poor, giving & polygamists.

He just could not support me in a weird cult.  No matter how much I tried to teach him what I was taught....the truth ..... he would have none of it.

And for the first time in my short life, I felt truly, utterly alone.

I pushed those thoughts away as I stood eating cookies with my new congregation. 
I...would enjoy my grown up decision with gusto!  I would eat cookies & cheese potato casserole with abandoned!  I had places to go, people to meet & a religion to adhere to.

The thoughts of loneliness & dread gave way to excitement & exhilaration

I was safe.
I was wanted.




I was a dumb as a box of rocks!

I fear it was my childish faith in the "arm of man" that brought me to where I was a few years ago.  Brought under & drowned in that sea of faithful but ignorant trust.

The night I was baptised a new missionary shook my hand.  He gripped it hard & stared me straight in the eyes.  He words to this day, etched in my brain.  But at that time, those words held no deep meaning.

"Sister...you must always remember.  The gospel of Jesus Christ is true...the people..... are not."

What the heck did that mean?  Well...I sorta knew what he meant.  But it wasn't until I walked through hell with these church people did I fully understand his words.

It took awhile to decode his meaning...which was pretty blunt.  I mean really...ya don't need a decoder ring from a cereal box to understand....GOSPEL = good.  People of earth = a$$hats.

I JUST DID NOT GET IT.

Not even when Brother Ay called those boys n*****s

Or I was called "sweet spirit" over & over again (sweet spirit means nice but ugly and/or slow)

Or when a young man told me he was disappointed in me when I could not fulfill my new calling (job in the church that is volunteer) teaching young children the Gospel...that I just was baptised into!  Even with the tears in my eyes & the vomit still on my shirt from having a panic attach in the bathroom after I fled in failure & humiliation from the room filled with children.

Or when I was taken advantage of for months by a man 7 years older (and wiser he might add) who had no right to touch me.  Who shamed me & messed with my head yet talked about his Priesthood power and how smart he was & how lucky I was to find him.

Or how I found out from a friend of mine, my name had been "written upon the walls" and I was known to a large group of young righteous men as a "snake"...a young women who used her charms (wait....wasn't I a "sweet" spirit few months ago?!) to lure young men to their carnal deaths....but yet all I had done was date the wrong man.  My virginity proudly intact after fighting off advances from that "righteous" Priesthood holding man.     

Or being insulted, demeaned, belittled & talked down to.

Or when I watched the father of the kids I was babysitting call his wife a stupid $itch over & over in front of his friends & his children.  And then to see him in the Holy house of the Lord....wha?!!!

Or listening to women tear into the flesh of their "sisters".  Watching the back stabbing, lying & venom spitting in aw & horror.

Or being just plain ignored.

Or the constant arguments from my father.  Our close relationship forever torn apart by my decision to join a cult. 




I would like to say I was strong in the arms of the Lord.  But at the end of the day,
 I was and will be, for the longest time

a lost, scared, hopeful
19 year old girl

Scales begin to fall

I....was blinded.

Here I was this August day
19
Living with my Dad
Innocent
Ready for an adventure

I joined a church filled with happy people.  People who took interest in me.  Guided me.  Fed me.  Entertained me.  Liked me.

At that moment I had rose colored glasses on.  A thin layer of shiny scales covered my eyes, my brain, my heart.  I had made a safe place for myself. 

I was safe from growing up.  Safe from going off into the world without a net.  This church...these people...would become my net.  I allowed myself to wander off in a crowd of righteous people.  They would guide me, place me on a path I needed to go....even if it ment jostling me about.

I was....safe.

Oh how beautiful those shiny scales made my life look.  How lovely the people.  How clean their lives.  Everything....rose hue.



A week after my baptism I drove to Great America with some friends & their parents.  I sat in the back of the steamy van as I listen to my friends Dad babble on about sports, weather & other mindless things I had no interest in.  It was so nice of this family take me out & about.  Adding me...the convert, so easily to their plans.  I was starting to feel like a baby bird that had been scooped of the ground & carried to a new nest.  Strange but safe. 

That day we ate lunch at our van.  We decided to spend the evening at the park to avoid the heat.  I still remember the ham sandwiches my friends Mom made us.  Yummy & soft.  Ahh, this is the life!

After all tidy & clean, off we walked, through the parking lot...heading towards a night filled with fun.  Up ahead of me I spot them.  2 young men...wandering through the parking lot after spending the day at the park.  They were tall. As they got closer, they become very cute.  Cute.....CuteRrrr...well Hello boys!  Dressed in t shirts & plaid long shorts.  Clean cut.  Tall....boyzzZzzz.

The moment before they pass me they smile & say Hello.  Were they looking at me?  Did my hair look ok?  I throw back a Hi & I ours eyes lock.  Boyzzzz.

Left foot......glance
Right foot....... "Ya know whats the problem with the world today?" My friends father loudly asks his walking brood.

Left foot....."No...whats' that Brother Ay?"

Right foot.....boyz pass me... I can smell their sweaty cologne...swoon.

Left foot.....  "What will mess up this world? 

Those

Damn

N****RS"







BAM!


My feet stop cold.  I feel like I have been punched so hard in the chest I can't breath.

"Damn n****rs" Brother Ay repeats as he marches ahead of me, shacking his head in disgust.

I had seen the boys heads whip toward me...righttt as they pass.  Brother Ay made sure those boys heard him.

I felt the ground slip beneath me.  I watched Brother Ay walk ahead.  He held a "high" calling in my new church.  He held the priesthood.  He had raised a nice family. 

He called those strapping, handsome boys...that..word.

I'm confused & bewildered.  I force my feet to march on the hot pavement. 

"Clink"....behind me....a scale had slipped off my eyes.

I march on to spend the day with my head spinning.  I don't enjoy my night at the park.  I feel hollow & weak.  I'm angry & disgusted.

I hear nothing but those hateful words.

I see nothing but the mask of pain on the young men's faces as they catch my eye....as my fellow member of my church calls them

unthinkable.

"clink"

Why I decided to become found

I was a good egg growing up.  I never got in trouble at school.  Well...ok...I did get detention ONCE in 6th grade for not turning in...get this....a paper for gym class.  I had a good excuse...I was in the process of packing my house & moving to a new town.  So one day, my last week of going to that little country school...I sat in detention.  Turned into more of a going away party for me.  My gym teachers thought it was hilarious.

Me....as the good egg.  And to the chagrin of my friends...very proper.

Smoking...was gross.  Watching...more like... smelling my parents smoke was enough to make me gag at the sight of ciggies.
Drinking....as a kid I went to lot of parties....I stopped drinking at age 6.  So I guess I did drink...yeah...another story for another time.  People who drank acted weird.  Besides...I knew it was bad for me...because in 5th grade I learned all about the dangers of drinking.  (This killed my Dad!  He couldn't have his customary after work drink w/o me being in his face giving all the facts of the hazards of drinking.)
Sex....I have no idea where I got the notion sex was special & reserved for married couples.  My parents never taught me.  School never taught me.  Church never taught me.....because I went to church only on the major holidays.  I just knew from a very early age that sex was special...weird...I know.

Maybe it was because my parents were older.
Maybe is was because I was raised in a barn
or because I saw Frank Sinatra in concert
or because I took ballet for 6 years.

I don't know why I never rebelled.
I guess I was born this way baby.

My rebellion came in the form of joining a religion.

I know...RIGHT?!  Who's does that?

This nutter....that's who!

Luckily I didn't have to leave a religion to join one.  But still my Dad was mighty pissed.   I don't blame him.  My religion can be perceived as wacky sometimes....well lets face it...all religions are wack!

I joined the church because as a 19 year old watching all my friends "grow up" & leave me behind...I was lost.

I joined because I loved the clean life style that was stressed.

I joined because I liked being in a community of people that did good things, & thought happy thoughts & helped people.

I joined because the guys...were really, really hot!

Needless to say... I joined for all the wrong reasons.  Come on people...I was freak'n 19!  I was barely out of diapers!

I studied the religion for about 9 months.  I went through 3 sets of missionaries.  I was stubborn.  I refused to join until I knew everything about it.

But soon...I just wanted to be apart of something good. I wanted to be ...a.....part.  A part of a family.  A part of a great work.  A part of a church community.

One day I sought out  my Bishop after church. (The Bishop is considered the "Daddy" of the group in that area.  That's the best way I can put it)  Bishop was wicked smart.  He never rolled his eyes at me all the times I dropped by his house to talk to him & his wife....which I did a lot.  Because I was kind of a stalker...& because I was a curious savage that couldn't get enough information crammed into my minuscule brain.  Well one day I asked him if it was bad to join a church just because I wanted to?  Just because it felt good at the moment?

 Could I join if I didn't have my own blazing testimony of the gospel.

His answer was  "You can borrow my testimony for a bit if you like.  But you must one day, find one for your self.  And that's not something I can give you.  Every single day you must work on finding your testimony.  And if you do find that you KNOW it's true...you STILL have to work to keep that testimony alive & healthy.  For you...gaining a testimony may take years.  It's not something that is just handed to a person.  That is very rare.  How real life works is, that after all the trials, tears, heartaches & joys...after all is said & done, then you see God's hand.  You will then know it's true.  But until then it can be a struggle.  And for you....it will be a long road....but it will be worth it."

I just sat there.  Trying desperately trying to soak up all his words.  Was I ready to be baptized into a religion that is all actuality, I knew nothing about.  I mean.....shouldn't I have gone to seminary or college to study up on this stuff?  Did I really have the ability to make such a huge decision...the biggest decision that I have ever had to make in my life?

The words "Faith is a hope in things not seen that are real." floated through my head.  I wanted Faith & Hope & hot guys in suits & community & friends & clean living & tithing & cheese casseroles.

I wanted these things.  I wanted things I didn't understand.  I wanted to take a leap of faith.

So I asked my Bishop...."I know I have no idea what I am doing.  I have been studying for 9 months & I feel I will never be ready.  All I know is I feel good & happy when I come here.  I feel safe here.....Can I be baptised even if I don't know for sure if this is the true & only church?"

My dear Bishop said "If you want, I will baptise you.  But do know...this journey will be hard...but it will be worth it.  If you have faith & feel you can work hard, then yes...you can get baptised.  You have to work every single day to be close to God.  If you agree...then it would be my honor to baptise you."

Little 19 year old girl who thought she knew everything...JUMPED at the chance.  I told him...I get baptised...today.  He was very cute.  Clapped his hands together & said "Tonight then...in 3 hours.  This is COOL!  This will be the first time I put a baptizum together is 3 hours!  Usually we have days to plan!  This is FUN!" 

So three hours later on a hot August night...I was baptised by my friend Lee Donaldson.

Here I go....feet first into the unknown.

Let me just say....I don't miss that stupid, naive as hell little girl....she is long gone!  For reality bit me in the butt the moment my hair dried!

Paranoid Ramblings...don't mind me

Well...I've gone & done it.  My family has jumped on the Dave Ramsey love fest.  We are working on the Total $ Makeover.  Woot.

So excited.

Can't wait...........to FAIL!

We have pinged ponged back & forth on debt reduction crap for most of our married life.  For the most part we have done well.  We have done well because my husband knows how to cook the books...wait...that didn't come out right.  We have done well because I take after my mother.  My father use to say "She could squeeze the poop out of a Buffalo coin."

I can squeeze the poopie out of a Buffalo coin....just like my mother before me!

I also am very paranoid about my financial security.

Paranoia has a place.  A nice place sitting on the fluffy chair in my mind.  Let's face it.....my husband owns & keeps me.  I...rely on his income.  I always have relied on others for survival.  First my parents.  Then my father.  And now...my poor husband.  Not only does he have the responsibility to keep me fed & clothed...but he has to keep 4 kids alive!  And a dog!

Some days he rocks in a corner.

and I point & laugh...SUCKER!

Then I take his place in the corner & rock.  Because relying on others...scares the poopie out of me.

Since I need a man to support me...I do my best to support him back.  Like not spending all his money on German chocolate, making him tasty meals, popping out 4 of his kiddos & well....lots of other thing that are not legal to discus.

Heck...I even went out & got myself a job!  A real job where I clock in & wear a uniform & attend meetings!  My tiny pay check is handed over to pay off something or another. 

That silly little pay check helps me feel....not so helpless.

Dang...I hate that feeling of being helpless. I think many women feel that way.  Women "trapped" in their home raising their children...watching their husbands work at a job he hates, day in & day out....giving up his dream (being a toy tester...yeah......dreams...successfully slaughtered!) all because he adores & loves his family more then that dream....of...testing..... toys.

Then I think of all those other women, who just like me feel helpless.

Women who's husbands...just walk away.
Women who's husbands care more about their dreams then the love of their family & refuse to provide
Women's who's husbands slouch over...dead.
Women's who's husbands bodies get ravaged by disease or accident.
Women who never had the pleasure of their man loving them enough to marry them.
Women's who's husband struggle w/ addiction.
Women's who husbands torture & beat them.

As a woman......I feel...powerless sometimes.  As an UNeducated woman I feel helpless.
What if my husband dies, leaves me, hates me, gets sick, get laid off, gets fired, gets jailed, gets drunk...on & on.

What if?

Damn you paranoia!

Oh well...I guess I will use my paranoia to get crack'n on Dave's debt beater-upper.....since I have nothing better to do then to rock in the

corner.

with my husband.











Being a toy tester would have been fun.