Brian says Hi

Say hello to my brother Brian.

 You meet him back in this post. Pretty messed up fellow.  A man I loved, then hated, then loved again. Brian was 15 when I was born & at 15 he started down the path of drug use.

I was 15 years old when Mom died.  He staggered out of his hole to visit us & to say goodbye to mom. 

 After abusing drugs for 15 years, he died...alone, penniless, with just the clothes on his back, a duffle bag 

& a picture of me....his only sibling.

I joined my church & started the search for my brother who died & was buried quickly without a care by his "father".  We never saw his grave & we never cared enough to remember his death date.  We only cared that he died after we buried Mom.

All my searches came up empty.  I was told I would have to wait to baptize my brother after 101 years after his birth date.  I ended up thinking that was just fine.  One day he would be baptized, but not now.

Recently my son visited our Church's family history center.  He told the story of Brian to the professionals.  They had heard my story years ago, but this time....Sister Salt Lake decided to pull her weight & get this boy baptized.  

My son EZ pulled me towards the history center & said Sister Salt Lake wanted to ask me more questions about Brian.

I sat infront of the computer screen & up popped my family history.  I was asked

Are you the only one Brian has left?  I assured them I was.  His mother was dead.  His father had been a raging drunk all his life & I had no idea where he was.  It was just me...his sister...and a lost, probably dead father. 

I watched as Sister Salt Lake typed away at the key board.  She turned to me & said "You have permission to baptize him."

Wait....what?  What about the 101 year rule?!

"They don't call me Sister Salt Lake for nothing!  It's my call....you are his only surviving relative, so he's in your care now."

It was a surreal moment to be handed his temple approval slip.  I didn't know whether to he happy (Yeah!  It's over!  All these years!)  or really pissed off (Wait...all these years of searching & now rules are throw out the door?! )

The look on my sons excited face sealed the deal.  He was pumped!

Today I took that slip of paper & drove 3 hours to the Temple.  The night before I gave Ethan a picture of Brian & reminded him that this man lived.  He was once living with me, annoying me, playing with me & begging me for forgiveness.  He slipped the picture of Brian into his book.  I slipped a picture of Brian into my purse...and off we went.

I battled with myself a little during the day.  My faith lacks.  I will forever question everything.  But I remembered the dream I had of Brian all those years ago...the same dream my husband had of Brian in white, asking forgiveness & saying he was happy. Besides....this baptism is just an offer.  If Brian wants it or not...whatever.  It's his choice.  If this church isn't true...whatever....we are remembering our dead & offering a hopeful gesture.

Today I mumble to Brian when got out of bed & again as I ate & again as I drove & again as I stood in the Temple,

Let yourself be known.  Just let me feel you if this is ok.  Maybe you are not there or maybe you don't care.  Just throw me a bone.  I'm tired of chasing you.  I hope you are happy.  Just know

 I remember you.

Where am I?

A friend asked me

"Hey you....what's with your blog?  When are you going to write again?  Dance puppet dance!"

Let me explain something here for you.

It is very hard for me to write.  To write a post usually takes me around 2 hours on average.  Yeah....I know....right?!  I can't not start writing then walk away & finish it later.  It's something I have to finish...or I end up lying awake at night thinking.

Trust me....for someone who can't turn off the voices...the last thing I need is to be thinking about a stupid blog when I should be drooling on my pillow! 

It's been alllllmost a year since the last post & a few groupies have asked me

Well?!  Where are you now with your beliefs?!  Tell ME!

So here is goes......

My name is Jen Jen

I was willing baptized at 19 years old into the church knowing full well I had no testimony or knew even half of the history of the church.

I am now 40.

21 year later, I still do not have the answers.

I also believe YOU don't have the answers.  You struggle in your own little hell, just like me. Maybe your struggles are with faith, sadness, guilt, lack of understanding, anger, depression  & exhaustion.  And just like me....

     You question,

     You avoid,

     You go on.

I go on. I stay in this church because I have to. I stay because I choose to stay.

I stay because I CHOOSE to believe in this magical, mysterious God.  I CHOOSE to believe in Jesus Christ.  I choose to drag my sorry butt out of bed each Sunday because I have children that need stability.   

Onward and Upward I like to say.  Most days...those words come out in a long sigh.  

Some days I tip toe forward, scared of losing my religion completely.  I force my feet to walk on hot coals, doing my best not to stand up & scream during a church lesson "This is pure donkey POO! I'm outa here! Peace out!"

Days like those....Days of Abandonment, the only thing that anchors me is my family & my husband that opens my cage that I am flinging myself against & allows me to roam like an angry, hungry tiger looking for anything to sink my teeth into.  I grab my religion in my beastly teeth & shake it violently back and forth like it was a helpless animal.  Days like that, I destroy my religion.  I tear into it's flesh & snap it's bones.  I shred it to pieces.  

I saunter away, tired but satisfied at destroying the thing that give me so much grief.

"Why the heck would you stay with a religion that grieves you, angers you & most of the time torks you off?!"

  Good question?  I will answer your question...with a question....cuz I'm deep like that yo!

Have you ever worked at something that annoyed you, stressed you & drove you out of your mind?

Job?

Marriage?

Child rearing?

Parenting your parents?

Exercising?

Crafting?

Schooling?

We all have had to do things to better ourselves.  Now when I was in school, I hated it.  Some days I was a jerk because of the stress.  But I knew I had to stick with it.  I knew it was somehow good for me to stretch my mind.  It was good to struggle. I knew enough to know, that if I dropped out, I wouldn't be any happier.  It might of made my life easier for a bit.  But then the dust would settle and all that would be left would be a  wasted opportunity...and new stress...and new anger...and a new struggle.

Sometimes we have to do hard, annoying, maddening things to better ourselves.  Sometime we don't even know if we will be actually better off if we do these things.  But we press forward with a hope that at the end, we will gather up all these difficult things into our glass jar of life and mix all the experiences up to form a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors.  

I used to fear that I would never gain a testimony of my religion.

Now....meh....so what?  All the years of stressing over this...and for what?  How has that made me better?  It hasn't.  It just made me angrier & more inpatient!

I used to have anger at my God.  I did everything right.  For years I willing did what I was told, read, prayed, worked & hoped. All these things and yet, God never saw fit to take away my doubt or fear that all this was a lie.  I felt like the kid that wasn't picked for the baseball team.  Watching everyone else be high five'd & welcomed into that little club while I sat there scratching my head agonizing over where I went wrong & how to fix it.

Now, I'm 40 and I can say...whatever.  I have accepted I will probably always question God & the heavens.  It's just who I am at the moment.  I will still do my best to stand strong for my family.  I will press forward, onward & upward....and one day hope to join that elusive team and get my high 5.

Until then

"Faith is not without worry or care, but faith is fear that has said a prayer"