Patiently waiting in Zion ...

If I said the words, "ward, stake, service project, relief society, young men's, young women's, and elders quorum" what comes to mind? When I was a little girl I heard the phrase, "never assume, it makes an ass of u an me."  I wish that little gem would have passed into the water here in Zion (aka Utah).  I grew up in Utah.  I was a kool aid drinking, culturally endoctrinated, true beleiving Mormon girl.  These words and phrases rolled off the tongue with understanding.  The group dynamic to which they attached themselves was the same of everyone else I knew.  That whole messy "assume" business never even entered my realm of thought.  I knew, I didn't assume, everyone was mormon in my world. I got married 17 years ago, in Utah, then I moved to Japan where everyone doesn't know what a ward is? WTH?!


For 17 years I lived outside of the culture that is mormon.  Moving to Japan was not s cultural shock of an actual new language, culture, people, etc. it was being OUTSIDE of a world where everyone was Mormon.  Suddenly throwing around words like, "oh, they're in my ward" received wide-eyed stares.  "Uh, you're ward, as in psych ward?" I was in the midst of getting my undergraduate in Psychology, you would think I would have put that together.  "Uh, no, my church ward ... you see ..." and then I found myself launching into a 20 minute description of how Mormons organize themselves with boundaries and wards and branches and stakes.  It didn't take me long to get the clue that unless I wanted to offer a 20 minute explanation of organization, I could rather just change the wording to a more universal understanding. 

I stopped talking about the "ward" and started talking about the "congregation", "young womens" was replaced with the words "youth group", and "relief society" was replaced with "womens group", etc. Maybe it was the beginning of the end for me ... or maybe it was the beginning of me letting go of a dangerous childhood assumption ... everyone is NOT mormon, they are not waiting to BECOME mormon once the missionaries FIND them, they MIGHT even be happy with their lives as they are ... novel.

A year ago we moved back to Zion.  This is another story as well.  I did not want to move back to Utah. I had spent 17 years out of Zion. My vocabulary, and more importantly understanding of the world was so different than how I grew up in the shadows of the wasatch. I looked at my 4 sons, then ages 13, 8, 3 and a newborn. I thought of how I had been raising them to think for themselves, to question their world when making sense of it, and in the process find a deeper love and meaning to the people with which they brought into their realm.  Religion was not a topic at our house.  We did not divide people into beleivers and non-believers. How would they navigate this world I knew existed in Zion?

We didn't just move back to Zion, we moved to Utah County.  Arguably, Utah County is ZION (caps for emphasis).  Home of BYU, and yes, the former famed sister wives, Utah County.  The day we moved in my mom wore her alma mater sweatshirt, (she's embarassing) BYU emblazoned on the front.  We had people in the neigborhood coming out of the woodwork like ants out of an anthill to help us on move in day. Jon started with his new firm, I registered the kids for school, and over the course of the next couple months ... waited. The people who showed up on moving day dissappeared when we weren't showing up at church.

I waited for my 13 year-old son to stop wiping his eyes dry when he thought I didn't notice he'd been crying because he was so lonely and desperate for friends he thought his world would end. I waited for my 8 year-old to come home time after time because kids could "never play". I waited for anyone from the neighborhood to drop by and say, "hi, welcome." I waited for a response, any response, when in desperation I sent out cookies to neighbors with attached, "hi, we're here, our names are, my kids ages are, and here's how to reach us" cards.  I waited, patiently, thinking it would get better, we had moved so often this place was just taking a little longer to acclimate. Right?

Months later I waited for the first day of school to be over and for my 8th grade son to walk back in the front door hoping the world had been kind.  He waited all summer for a phone call from kids who "said" they would call, but were always busy.  He started day one of 8th grade in a school with 2,500 kids, utterly friendless. I waited in the pediatricians office a month later only to be told my son was clinically depressed, angry, and had suicidal ideation. I waited, patiently, trying to hold back tears as I listened to my formerly popular, outgoing, happy son tell me he hated this place and it didn't matter if he even showed up at school because he was completely "insignificant"here.

I waited for my 9 year-old to make friends that were not just the two kids in the nieghborhood with parents who were not LDS. I knew this neighborhood was filled with kids ... where were they all?  I waited for some semblance of normal to come back into our lives, for people to stop assuming we were either Mormon, non members, or the worst thing possible in Utah, inactive mormons and to just ignore us assuming the latter meant we were obviously not friend material.  I waited in the doctor's office as he looked over the charts of my previous stroke history, and my current headache.  I told him I had a neurologist, a scheduled MRI, and this was not his perview.  But I waited, and listened, as he concluded my headache and strokes were the result of me not attending church. 

In his words, "how active are you in church, you are to young and beautiful to not have the blessings of the gospel (again, assume you know what this means, it means the mormon church, the religion, the faith, the gospel) ...".  I waited, screaming on the inside, thinking I had to be on candid camera because this could not be happening.  I waited to hear his hour long soliloquy on how if I went back to church I would not be held guilty for my "sins" (still trying to figure out what those sins are?) ... followed up by him slapping his hands together and proclaiming, "I want to give you a priesthood blessing right now, soooo bad!!" My eyes must have popped out of my head because he followed his proclamation up with the words, "oh, I mean, with another man and your husband here."  Seriously, where's the camera?

I waited at the bank as the teller told me since my husband was a veteran we could open a second "free" checking account so that we could put our "tithing" in it (again, assume, tithing, 10% of your income paid to the church) because that's what HE does with HIS tithing.  I waited for reality (or the LAW) to prevail as I volunteered as the elementary school choir director and the co-director suggested we sing Christmas songs about mormon missions, LDS church cultural events, etc. at a PUBLIC school. I had to explain why this was not legally okay.

I've been included, in the past few months, on a "neighborhood FB page".  I've waited for it to reveal itself as neighborhood anything.  I've openly posted and asked if it is a neighborhood or ward (see congregation) FB page.  I've been informed under no uncertain terms this is a NEIGHBORHOOD FB page ... as I patiently read accouncements with words like, "ward, stake, service projects" and phrases like, "we need to update the ward roster" followed by, "we should include everyone on the updated roster since they like to include "everyone" in the HOA" (this was after discusssion of organizing a welcoming committee for our neighborhood).

My 9 year-old has learned to navigate the waters.  He wears a CTR (see mormon jewelry you get when you are baptized at 8 years old ... it means choose the right ... which is totally fine ... what is not fine is he was told he had to be baptized to get the ring and be like "all the other kids") ring.  I'm waiting for the missionaries (see 19 and 20 year-old boys) to stop "dropping by" to "schedule" my 9 year-olds baptism.  He has a Dad, and a Mom, and a choice. I'm waiting for the missionaries to understand that when they have a child, having missionaries show up at the door and tell them they can baptize their kids and the parents don't need to be there for lessons or the baptism is NOT OKAY.

The 14 year-old goes to Young Men's (see Youth Group) in a desperation to make friends.  He's made a few, he's stopped crying, and sulking, and I think he's coming out of his depression. I've made a couple friends ... but religion is always a topic.  I'm waiting, patiently, to find that patch of comfortable like outside the state lines where your religion is not discussed.  Everyone worships as they see best trying to make digestible pieces of a vast spiritual universe manageable... and nobody cares how you religiously or non religiously navigate your direction to making sense of everything.  I'm waiting to not be lumped into groups that are post mormon angry, or questioning, trying to sculpt the religion of their past into a religion that fulfills their present day needs. I'm waiting for life to be lived and religion to be a wonderful part of it, not consuming it. 

Everyone says, "you're here for a reason."  I'm waiting for that reason to appear. Maybe it's to help introduce the idea to the masses that everyone isn't mormon, waiting to be mormon, inactive mormonm, or angry ex-mormon.  Maybe it's to help people understand even if you don't fit into one of those four molds, you, and your family, are still phenomenal and worthy of friendship and love.  I'm waiting ...