Nothing like an honest child

I was going through some Brain Quest flash cards with Katie and Maddy a few weeks ago.

One card was a picture of a church with a large cross on the top of it, with the question "What is this?"

I saw it, considered skipping it as I didn't want to have to get too much into it, but figured I'd ask my daughters anyway.

So I asked Katie, "What is this?"

She looked at it and said, "That's where people go to die."

I couldn't really argue with that.

It amazes me how much children absorb. It reminded me of how I accepted everything that was handed to me as knowledge and fact from my parents. Their 'hand-me-down' faith that I struggled to accept killed me a little inside. Church was where I started to die inside, every Sunday for 3 hours. (Not to mention Firesides, Seminary, Institute, etc.) It's where all the wonders and beauty of Earth, the Universe, science and nature were sacrificed and replaced with myths to explain all my questioning and reasoning away.

It wasn't until I accepted this wonderful Earth as the only place I will live, this family is the only family I will ever have and now is the only time to do good things and enjoy life, that I started to feel alive again. My children bring so much more beauty into my life. They are the only children I will have and now is the only time I have to love them. That doesn't diminish life, it adds to it.

And I am pretty sure Katie was referencing cemeteries, but it still made me smile.

I don't have any pictures of churches, so I posted a picture of Ruby Falls in Tennessee. Just something pretty to look at.

Still Waiting...

So it's been two months since I received the letter from the LDS church stating that I was going to be visited by members of the priesthood. And I am still waiting.

I actually forgot about it for a while. With my daughters birthday, a bout of sickness, and Eostre, I honestly admit that it escaped my mind for about 4 weeks. But I have yet to receive any form of contact from the LDS church. I drive by the local LDS church building every Sunday and have yet to be able to fight the urge to flip it the bird.

So now I am a little upset. It's difficult to explain the way this whole process has made me feel. They wanted me to reconsider leaving, without knowing my reasons why. They said they were sending folks over, but no one showed. And even though it seems so transparent now, I am starting to think that they have a kink in their system. Do they send that letter as a way to hold onto their numbers as long as they can? Do people just 'give up' when they don't receive their resignation confirmation? Or is this whole charade just another flaw in a flawed religion?

So I am off to write another letter. One that reminds them that I know my rights, that they failed to send me the confirmation I requested and that I am getting upset by their pious attitude and complete disregard for my rights. I want my name off their records. I want my children, if my parents blessed them behind my back, off their records as well.

I still don't understand how something that should be so simple, has to be so complex. I have actually considered going down to the LDS church, and handing another letter straight to the bishop. Sitting through their pointless interview and jumping through their silly hoops. But I know that it is against the law for them to refuse to take me off their records, I know that technically, the second they received my letter I was no longer a member of their church. All this added stuff is drama that they apparently need to feel better and I will not be a part of it.

One of the most wonderful things about being Atheist is the lack of drama and guilt.

Rainy Afternoon

Before my girls go to bed each night, we brush our teeth, read a story and take a moment to say one thing we are thankful for. That moment of thankfulness is the closest we get to prayer or meditation. We don't close our eyes or fold our arms, we just say a few things we are thankful for, which is usually ice cream, our bicycles or each other.

As an Agnostic Theist, who became an Atheist, I have never taught my girls to pray, and they have never heard of Jesus or a god, that I know of. So it caught me off guard when, as we were getting into the car at the grocery store, I caught Katelyn with her hands clasped and with her eyes closed, head towards the sky.

I do have to admit that it peeved me a little bit. It was starting to rain and now I had to deal with her talking to imaginary people. I kept my cool and asked my beautiful 4 year old what she was doing. I felt if she explained to me what she thought she was doing, I could easily promote healthy questions. She opened one eye, smiled and said, "Mommy, I am wishing really hard for the rain to stop, because I want to play outside."

It made me smile.

Bittersweet Memories of Georgia

It was 9 years ago this week that my mother kicked me out of the house for the last time. She told me I was an evil spirit, and she didn't want my negative influence around my three younger brothers. I spent that night on the phone to my long distance boyfriend, crying. He offered to come get me and bring me back to Atlanta, Georgia, to live with him. I had nowhere else to go, so I accepted his offer.

I quit my 3 jobs, dropped my college courses and packed most of my things. My mother ignored me the rest of that week. He arrived in California the first week of March 2001. We visited Disneyland, the Griffiths Observatory and a few other tourist places before hitting the road in my 1998 Chevy Metro.

We took the 40 through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Tennessee. Driving into Georgia, we hit traffic and sat for 3 hours because a Tractor Trailer carrying logs overturned. I remember listening to his mix CD and Cyndi Lauper as we sat enjoying each others company.

I still remember pulling into Atlanta. I remember how the sun was shining and how open I felt. We had driven all night from Memphis to make it to Atlanta. I remember parking and going up into the dorm rooms. He was a student at Georgia State University and lived in the dorms that were built for the 1996 Olympians. We were a short walk from Centennial Olympic Park.

As time carried on, I realized that I was alone in a new city in a new state. The first time I met my boyfriend was when he walked off the plane in California. And I did have him in Atlanta, but I was still getting to know him. That April, I was able to get a job at the Dave and Buster's in Marietta, Georgia. Shortly after that I got another job at the Cracker Barrel. We moved out of the dorm rooms and into our first apartment. I was working two jobs and he was going to school full time.

Our relationship was strong, but at times, awkward. I was in a transitional place in my life and it seemed as though he knew what he wanted to do with his life, but he wasn't sure how I factored into that.

No matter how I feel about him now, no matter what happened in the two years I was in Georgia, one night he did something that I will be forever grateful for...

He had done some research on the Mormon religion. And he found some things that didn't add up to him. I don't remember everything he brought up, but he pointed out the flaws regarding the referencing of horses, coins, and the blood lineage of Nephi. There are no traces of Jewish DNA in anyone native to the Americas. He challenged me, whether out of love or frustration, to question my beliefs. He asked questions I couldn't answer, it brought me to tears. He kept me up all night, showing me things online, asking questions, offering answers. When I told him I was done and didn't want to talk anymore, he kept on going.

Honestly, I was mad at him. I couldn't believe he could 'attack' me like that. I was supposed to be the love of his life and here he was, making me cry. I was surprised that night didn't lead to a break-up; we stayed together a year and a half after that.

I never attended a Mormon church while I was in Georgia. I did, however, attend a Baptist church every Sunday that we spent at his parents house out in Evans, Georgia. I never told him, but I really enjoyed it. I found it easy to question that Pastor, I wrote down things I didn't agree with. I looked up the scriptures he referenced and read and reread them. It became easier over time to start looking at the beliefs that were handed to me as a child, forced down my throat as a teenager, and to question them.

My relationship with him ended on uncomfortable terms. But my time in Georgia, my experiences there, I wouldn't trade for anything.

When I came home from Georgia, my parents welcomed me into their home. In order to live there, they required me to go to church. Their church... the one place I knew I didn't belong. I struggled to attend church for years after coming back from Georgia, but in the end, I knew that Mormonism, with all the guilt and the shame wasn't for me.

I miss Georgia. I miss the Magnolia trees in full bloom, I miss the friends I made there. And I sure do miss Pikachu, my one eyed cat. Because of my experiences in Georgia, I finally had the strength to question. And I will be forever grateful.

Mormon No More

I did it. I sent in my resignation letter. As of January 28th, 2010 I am no longer a Mormon. I walked away more than a year ago, but it's so nice to know it's official.

Wow. I am so relieved to be free, but there is a soreness I didn't expect to feel. It's weird and difficult to explain. I don't miss the blind faith, but I feel like the last piece of me that lingered from youth is now gone.

I wish they would have sent me a letter saying something along the lines of, "Hey, It was nice knowing you! We took you off the records of our church, have a great life. Best Regards, The LDS folks up in Utah."

Instead I got a letter stating that they "consider such a request to be an ecclesiastical matter that must be handled by local priesthood leaders before being processed by Church employees." WTF? Really? I mean, really? So now they are sending complete strangers to my house to talk to me about my personal decisions?

They also sent a cute little pamphlet called "An Invitation". A short little page of guilt, wrapped up like a loving request for my return. I think it's funny that they don't even know why I want to leave, but they are pious enough to think a small little request for my love, strength, loyalty and devotion is going to magically change my mind. Actually, that's probably why they are sending strangers to my house.

So now I sit and wait. I don't want to be mean to the poor folks they are sending into the lion's den, but I am livid that they would think I could be dissuaded. Like this isn't an issue that I've been debating within myself for the past year. Like the time and energy I put into my own research and study wasn't good enough. Or do they believe a perfect stranger wrote in on my behalf? Someone who knew my children's full names and birth dates? Someone who has a notary on payroll to be able to get it notarized in my name with no problem? I don't believe that.

I feel like they are trivializing my pain and intelligence. Do they think I don't know my rights? I don't do well standing up for myself in face to face situations. I am going to suck at telling them to go the fuck away.

This wasn't an easy thing for me to do. I know a lot of my Mormon friends who have fallen away from the church are still on the records. They may have embraced a new religion, or just don't believe in much of anything, but they never bothered to or even have wanted to have their name removed. That's their choice and I don't blame them. Honestly, some folks don't care if they are on the records of a church they don't support, it's just paper and holds no true meaning for them.

It's a bit different for me. I was reluctant to get baptized. When I was interviewed by the Bishop at 8 years old, I had to say I wanted to get baptized. My mother would have killed me if I said no thanks. Now as an adult I can go back and revoke that action that I gave into because of peer and parental pressure. It's not often that we can go back and set things right in life. And I needed to.

It was a difficult thing to do. I know that my Atheist friends may not understand how can it be hard to send in a letter to a pseudo-religion and resign. Looking at it logically, it shouldn't hurt, it shouldn't bother me and it should have been easy. But it wasn't. And there is a tenderness because of it. I just cut my family off on a new and more personal level. I just guaranteed that no matter what, my relationship with my family will never be the same. I think I may have pissed off some of my devoted Mormon friends.

I know I will heal and move on. I know this is what is best for me and my children. I know my husband respects me more because of it. I know he understands why I had to do it. I know that in the end, I will be stronger because of it. I already feel like I can breathe again, I no longer run the risk of excommunication. Which is also a silly thing to dread. But knowing that they have no power over me and I can sue if they try to take action against me, gives me a sense of calm.

I thought it would be like a birthday. You know, it comes and you don't really feel any different. But I do feel different. I felt a change in me when I walked away from Mormonism in November 2008, I felt a change in August 2009 when I came to the realization that I am an Atheist, and sitting here, now being free of Mormonism, I feel a change.

I love not being Mormon. I love being an Atheist. I love being a mother and I love being a wife. I love everything I am now. Last week I couldn't say that wholeheartedly. And now I can.

And I know when those unknowing gentlemen show up on my front porch, that I will be able to ask them to get off my property and never return in a kind and respectful manner, because that's the kind of person that I am, always have been and always will be.

My grandmother, my mother and I on my baptism day September 1988. (Thank you April for fixing the color on this photo for me!)

Losing my Religion

I have thought about my journey many times over the past few months. I have been trying to figure out where or how to start telling my story of loss. Many people say that people don't really ever truly believe in religion. They are tied to the traditions, pressured by the testimonies of their families and ofttimes their duality just gets the best of them.

I would hate to admit that I was ever gullible enough to ever believe in the pure crap the Mormon religion piles on you, but I am afraid to say I must admit I was.

It didn't help that the grandparents that I lived with until I was 12 were Mormon. It didn't help that all my cousins growing up were Mormon. All 52 of them, some through marriage. My 7 Aunts and 7 Uncles on my mothers side were Mormon and both my parents were Mormon.

It didn't help that I went to church almost every Sunday until I was 20. I went to Seminary every weekday from 6am- 6:50am, from my Freshman year in high school until Senior year. I went to Mutual every Wednesday night for a few hours. Went to Saturday morning service projects for a few hours each week, went to Sacrament Meeting and Sunday School for 3 hours every Sunday and Firesides Sunday nights for up to 3 hours.

In college I traded Seminary and Mutual for Tuesday and Thursday night classes at the LDS Institute of Religion. By which they just mean their religion.

I was a devout Mormon all through high school. I believed. I testified. I passed out Books of Mormon to my unsuspecting friends and fellow band members. I mocked people for not being righteous and I lectured my friends on their potty mouths. I was a pain.

How could I not believe? To hear the same thing over and over as fact. To hear adults testify to their truth. To be told that anything other than what the church writes about the church is Anti-Mormon Propaganda. It was difficult to be a doubter when surrounded by family, friends and leaders who were there at a moments notice to tell you that the devil was making you doubt.

But even with all that 'support', with all the indoctrination and peer pressure, my cognitive dissonance won out in the end.

My doubting began when my high school boyfriend broke my heart. I hadn't kept morally clean while dating him over the course of a year and a half. When he dumped me the summer after our first year at college, I was shattered. I dropped weight and chopped off my hair.

I went into the bishop to repent of my sins. He couldn't see me at church, so he asked that I come to his home. He was cold and preoccupied, even though I had made an appointment. He told me that I could never see my ex-boyfriend again, that I couldn't take the sacrament and that he needed to speak with me every Sunday for at least 3 months.

I called his clerk that week and set an appointment for the following Sunday. Sunday came, I skipped partaking of the sacrament and headed to the bishops office after the meetings and classes were done. He told me that he couldn't meet with me that Sunday, and that he would see me the following Sunday. So I went to the clerk and made another appointment.

The next Sunday came. I didn't partake of the sacrament and waited after church to talk with the bishop. I was doing really well on my path to forgiveness. I had started dating a Mormon guy and he was prepping to leave on his Mission to Galveston, Tx. I was reading my scriptures and praying daily. I even started writing poetry to deal with my pain and guilt. I was disappointed when the bishop blew me off again.

After 4 Sundays of being ignored by the bishop, I started sinning again. Not as bad as before, but still sinning. I didn't feel that my progress was being supported the way the bishop told me it would be. The 5th Sunday of not partaking of the sacrament, my mother noticed. When the bread and water (body and blood) are being passed, the chapel is silent. My mother took that opportunity to loudly whisper "You're not a virgin anymore are you?" after her face had contorted in disgust when she noticed I hadn't taken the bread. I just stared blankly at her. I was 19, felt it was none of her business, and I had no clue how to handle her. So I kept staring blankly. She stood up, grabbed her purse and scriptures and left. Yup, she left me and my brothers at church with no ride home.

It didn't surprise me. She had kicked me out of the house for being 5 minutes late for curfew. Then 5 days later asked me to move back in because my younger brothers missed me. When I had turned to her for comfort when my boyfriend of 18 months dumped me, she said, "Well, now you can date a nice Mormon boy.", then went to bed. No hug or comfort. And now she was punishing my brothers for my personal decision.

Walking home from church that Sunday, I started to realize how much perfection was expected in Mormonism. God made us with imperfections, why would He punish us for them? He made us with the ability to rationalize and think, why would He punish us for using said abilities? By the time my brothers and I got home, my testimony was shattered. My mother never comforted me or supported me through trials, pain and tribulations. Her love felt conditional. The bishop, who was supposed to be there to mind God's flock had totally ignored me for over a 1/3 of my repentance process. My mother and father were divorced at the time, so my father was absent and distant.

How could a God that loved His creations, His children, be absent as well? I felt ashamed for doubting God's love. But that walk home, with only my own reasoning in my head started a snowball that would continue to roll until 10 years later, when I walked away from Mormonism, then finally Theism altogether.

I attended church from that point on with my closest friend. We went to a singles ward. We stayed for sacrament meeting (which I never partook of the bread and water), then left to break the Sabbath by eating at a local restaurant called Islands. It became our tradition. It was honestly the only reason why I went to church for the next year, to hang out with her, talking about life and sharing some of the best hamburgers around.

Then my mother kicked me out for being an evil spirit and bad influence on my brothers and I moved to Georgia.

(The picture is my mother and I outside church one random Sunday in the mid-late 80's.)

New Year's Resolution

I normally don't make New Year's Resolutions. Mainly because I like to be a woman of my word, and I never keep them. It just gives me more reason to be disappointed in myself for no real reason.

But this year, I am making a few lifestyle changes. I am eating healthier and I am hoping to eventually get to the point of cutting out all white flour and sugar.

I am more aware of my community and hoping to volunteer more. As an Atheist it's sometimes tough get involved. So I have made myself a list of websites that offer some volunteer opportunities. I couldn't help but share.

www.craigslist.com

www.volunteermatch.org

www.servenet.org

www.change.org

www.idealist.org

www.networkforgood.org

www.volunteer.gov

www.helpindisaster.org

One day each year the non-religious participate in the National Secular Service Day.

www.secularserviceday.org

Please also remember that one pint of blood can save up to three lives. You can also donate platelets...

www.americasblood.org

And it doesn't hurt at all to get on the National Marrow Registry. If you can't register, you can always donate financially.

www.bethematch.org

I donated blood for the first time as an Atheist, and joined the National Bone Marrow Registry as an Atheist.

I know I have become a better person because of my Atheism. I love my country, my fellow human beings and my family so much more.

What could be better than a Sunday morning spent in the service of your fellow man?