A God Shaped Hole

I grew up being taught that the worst type of people on Earth were not the rapists, nor the murderers, but the atheists. My uncle on my father's side was an atheist and every flaw he naturally had as a human, was automatically blamed on his atheism.

He gambled.
He drank.
He didn't volunteer.
He never bought us birthday cards.
He got a divorce.
He wasn't loyal to his wife and married the lady he was rumored to have left her for.

::Gasp::

As a rational adult, I don't see how any of those things on their own or as a whole immediately call him out as atheist. I think those traits can apply to any human, even a Mormon one.

But I was taught that my uncle did those things because he had a god shaped hole that he was trying to fill.  He tried to fill it with vices and he would never fill them until he found the truth of the gospel.

My uncle was raised by Catholic parents. Italian Catholics. They didn't go to church the same way I did growing up. They went on Christmas and Easter. And possibly Ash Wednesday, if I recall correctly. That was it, short of a Communion, or wedding.

And, as a child, I almost felt like my grandparents must have failed him if the belief in god didn't even stick with him. My aunt was still Catholic and my father had been converted to Mormonism.  But they knew god was real, even if my aunt had everything else all wrong.

But not my uncle. He was a lost sheep. And because of that, my mother did not want me to get too close to him. Atheists are the worst, they can use their logic, reasoning and anti-Mormon propaganda to pull even the most devout of Christ's followers away from the gospel.

So I never got to know my uncle the same way I was able to get close to my Mormon family members. I saw him every Sunday night at my grandmother's house for our weekly spaghetti dinner.

My aunt would buy us gifts for Christmas and birthdays, and write his name on the card beside hers. My mom made sure to tell us that they weren't really from him, our aunt was just trying to be nice to him.

Granted, my uncle was only about 12 years older than I was. So when he didn't buy me a gift for my 8th birthday, I don't truly believe it was because he was a heartless, soulless atheist. I believe it was more than likely because he was a 20 year old college student, focusing on mid-terms and girls. But you wouldn't have received that answer had you asked my 8 year old self.

My mother did her best to make sure myself and three younger half brothers knew that everything wrong with my non-Mormon family was due to them not being Mormon.

Grandpa smoked because he didn't have the gospel.

Grandma drank coffee because she didn't know the truth.

Our uncle gambled because he didn't have the light of Christ.

Our aunt lived with her boyfriend because she wasn't Mormon.

Any good traits or strong examples they set for us, were swept under the rug. As though everything 'bad' thing should be attributed to them not having the gospel of Christ, and every good thing was just a silly coincidence, they were acting as a follower of the gospel and unaware, or was because they were trying to showboat.

But my uncle was always the worst offender. I sometimes think that it was because being an atheist prevented him from having a way to repent. Did my mother feel like he couldn't truly be sorry for any wrong doing because he never repented? Or did the option of repentance being non-existent, make him come across as a narcissistic asshole?  I am not sure. But I do know that he was the example of the type of person that was definitely going to hell.

Was he a rapist? Nope. (You can repent for that.)
Was he a murderer? Nope. (You can repent for that too.)
Was he a pathological liar? Nope. (Another 'repentable' offense.)

He was an atheist. And all my opinions of atheists were formed at a rather young age, all based on my mother's biases. All of which made it so much more difficult for me to come to terms with facing my own cognitive dissonance.  And made it damn near impossible to utter the words aloud, that I am an atheist.

My uncle is an awesome man. He is an awesome father and an awesome person. I hate how I was raised to see him in such a negative light, all because he didn't believe in a god or gods. I hate how I was raised to look at my Catholic family with such disdain for their beliefs. I hate that I wasn't raised to love them as purely as I loved my Mormon relatives. I don't understand how my mother thought that would be a wonderful idea. It only hurt me, disabled me, and stunted my growth as a good person.

Judging people, even people you love, based on something so trivial, is mind boggling to me.

I hope that I can raise my daughters to love freely, without having to view people through a kaleidoscope of labels.

Celebrating 4 years!

I have been free of the grasps of religion for four years now.

It wasn't instantaneous like I ofttimes enjoy thinking it was. It's been a slow work in progress. But four years ago today, in the darkness of my bedroom, I let that edifying thought parade through my head: I am an atheist.  I knew it was true the moment I allowed myself to dwell on it. And every day since I have let that sweet freedom live in my heart.

I know some atheists have always been non believers. I know some atheists don't call themselves atheists. Not every atheist is angry, not every atheist is nice. When I first came to the realization that I was atheist, I wanted to badly to belong to the atheist group, the atheist mothers, the atheist society of intellectual hierarchy. It took me a long time to realize that groupings just don't exist in atheism the way that it does in religion.

It was difficult to deal with the sudden and inevitable sense of loneliness. I was a stay at home mother in a brand new city, in a brand new state, in a brand new region of the country.  It wasn't the most opportune time to realize that I was atheist, one more thing to isolate myself even more than moving 2000 miles from home already had done.

Four years has gone by so quickly. Time has given me exactly what I needed in order to settle into my new, yet older, self. It was terrifying at first, a fact that I had finally accepted was now the elephant in my head. I tiptoed around telling my husband. Atheism isn't an easy thing to sugar coat. Especially when I had to tell the man who started out not Mormon, but had been baptized because of me. Yeah, I felt ashamed for deciding that the path I urged him to go down years prior was a path I no longer wanted to traipse along. We had brought two children into the world with the understanding that we were going to raise them to believe in a god. And now that they were already here, I was putting a immediate halt on any and all god talk, and wanted to throw it into park since I had decided on a completely different journey for them.

As scary as it first seemed, everything since that day has been beyond worth it. The response that I received from my husband was a humbling one. He said he has loved me since we were 12 and he would love me until we die and if there was life after that, he would love me then. He let me know that his love for me wasn't based on my belief in anything, he loved me because of so much more than my choice in religion. I felt silly being timid about telling him, he has always stood by my side, and I know he always will. My children were too young and I hadn't started indoctrinating them, so it wasn't a change for them. I do love hearing my children think about things rationally; debating ideas with two young elementary school children instead of telling them 'because I said so' has been oddly educational for me. (And them I hope). I never had imagined I would be that kind of mother.

As I have mentioned before, I found a lot of support online during the hardest period in losing my religion. I didn't decide to be atheist and then subsequently tossed Mormonism in one fell swoop.  My journey started as a young child of Mormon parents who built this wall of 'faith' up for me and as a twenty something my journey took a turn in a new direction with that wall being taken down one brick at a time by doubt and research.  The wall wasn't completely down before I realized I was an atheist. I looked for a god before I realized there isn't one. I tried to 'save' the building blocks of what my parents had put so much effort into building.  But once I realized that what they had built for me had no sustenance, I couldn't help but admit my atheism and continue to raze what little was left.

Now, four years later I am overjoyed to say that all traces of  the myths I once believed in are all distant, faint memories. Broadcasting my atheism is less of a fear and more of a thing of pride. And nothing brings me more joy than hearing my kids ask each other questions about how the world works, and when they don't know, they say 'let's google it' and come running over to me for help on the computer. 

I thought I needed a network of atheists to feel like I still belonged to something bigger than myself. But I found that isn't true. Atheists are everywhere. Non believers make up about 16% of America, maybe more, which is more than the percentage of Mormons. And as much as it gives me comfort to know that I am not alone in my non belief in gods, and I know I have been able to pull knowledge and strength from online atheist communities, I was able to find myself in the loneliness. Which I find comfort in, because even though I knew the loneliness would pass, I found relief in the fact that a god never appeared through it all. The loneliness I felt was pure unadulterated loneliness, so as I walked through the darkened room looking for a sign of a higher being, I found myself.  

And I know that without the loneliness, I would never have learned to rely on myself.  Which is something I never learned how to do in Mormonism.

Happy thoughts of acceptance

I was once a Girl Scout. I sold the cookies, went on the camping trips, earned patches and memorized 100's of campfire songs, mottos and ghost stories. I have very happy memories of making friends and belonging to something outside of church and school. So when our daughters asked if they could join their local Daisy group, my husband and I said yes.

Tonight was the night for sign ups and I met my husband and our daughters at their elementary school. We filled out all the necessary paperwork while the girls worked on crafts with the troop leader. My husband and I watched as the girls gathered around to learn the Girl Scout Promise. The girls held up three fingers, getting ready to recite the promise, and my thoughts went back to when I was young and I learned the same thing they were about to learn.  Then it hit me. I turned to my husband, but it was too late. I told him that the Promise mentions a god, and as I was saying that, the leader had the girls repeat that line, 'to serve god and my country'.

Now, my girls recite the pledge of allegiance every morning at school. I have told them that if they ever don't want to say the pledge, they don't have to. (My issue with the pledge isn't only with the mention of a deity.) They know they are allowed to decide, change their minds, consider and debate their own beliefs. They don't have to believe what mommy or what daddy does.

My sweet youngest daughter is fairly outspoken and I have tried time and time again to make sure she never pushes her lack of belief in a god, Santa, the Easter Bunny or monsters on anyone, especially her peers. She was already told by a well meaning friend that if she doesn't believe in Jesus, he will eat her. (To which I am sure she argued the point that not only is Jesus dead, but there are no such thing as zombies.)

But my youngest repeated the promise as her leader taught her, as did my eldest. A selfish sigh of relief came out of me; explaining our Atheism in the middle of the Midwest to a bunch of children and mothers wasn't high on my list of wants tonight. Then there was that pause in little M's eyes, that little hesitation and I knew in my heart that she was about to out us. I looked over at my husband and he began to blush. I knew that feeling as I could feel my cheeks getting red. Great, I thought, just great.

Little M looked at the troop leader and asked, "Why did you say god?" I took a deep big girl breath and prepared for the leader to turn towards me, and politely ask us to leave. I know that is not the Girl Scout way, but I do live in the place that is known for it's holier-than-thou religious folks. Then something amazing happened, the leader looked at little M and said that some people believe in god, but if they don't want to say god, they can say something else, or they can skip that part.

The heaviness in my heart lifted. I wasn't going to have to explain to crying little girls why they were kicked out of their troop on the first day. Then little M pushed on, she said, "I don't believe in god or Santa." My throat tightened, I didn't want my children to feel the sting of rejection from an adult, or for the other little Daisies to attack. The leader calmly explained to little M that it's okay for her not to believe in god, that some people are Christian or Jewish and that those people do. Oh thank FSM, the conversation didn't explode into a thousand tiny accusations and prejudices.

But anyone who knows my little M, knows she wasn't done yet. Her troop leader had mentioned Judaism and Little M took that opportunity to tell her leader about Hanukkah, and how she loves to light the candles. Her troop leader then asked Little M if she was Jewish. Little M said no, but that Hanukkah was her favorite holiday. The troop leader impressed me again, and said, "It's so great that you celebrate a holiday that is not from your beliefs, that is how we all can learn about each other."

My little M looked over at me with a big smile on her face. She was accepted for who she was, with no negativity or scorn. Little M and her shy, older sister were taught something that I couldn't teach them as their mother, that it's okay to not believe, it's okay to be yourself and it's okay to learn about other people, as we all learn from each other.

I know not every encounter where little M speaks up about her beliefs will go as wonderfully as tonight, maybe that is why I am so grateful, but I know that every time my child is accepted for who she is by people who are different from her, it's an amazing thing.

Be Out and Be Normal.

My post from We Are Atheism.

Hi! I'm Leia, and I am a mother and a wife. I love baking, sewing, needlepoint, reading, crocheting and music. I am a geek and probably always have been. Oh, and I am also an Atheist.

I was raised in a Mormon household. I was the stereotypical annoying religious girl in High School. I even gave most of my friends Books of Mormon with my testimony tucked inside. I was on the straight and narrow path to marrying a return missionary in the temple and having as many kids as I could pop out. But then a funny thing happened, somewhere along my path, I became an Atheist.

I can't truly pinpoint the moment I lost my firm grip on my religion. It was a process, a long process, that took years.

In college, I dated boys outside of Mormonism, which was frowned upon, and they helped me start to question things that I had always accepted on face value. I even married a non-member and even worse, we eloped to Sin City. I had become a 'Jack Mormon'. I struggled to stay active in the church, but I didn't really want to go. My husband attended more than I did and he wasn't even born and raised Mormon.

Then, it happened. A thing called Prop. 8. My family was on one side, and I found myself on the other. I felt at war with myself. I had been slowly changing over the years and almost didn't even realize it until my values and ideals were at odds with what my family and the Prophet were saying that god would want. That moment at my mother's dinner table I realized that I could no longer be Mormon. I could no longer be counted with them. I could no longer be okay with raising my daughters to follow blindly.

After that I tried so hard to find god somewhere else. I tried to find him in non-denominational Christianity, I tried to find him in Nature, Science, Buddhism... but he was no where. And then it clicked, and I was able to let go of the idea that he had to be somewhere.

I started reading atheist blogs, cartoons, books and forums. I started thinking for myself, coming to my own conclusions and something happened that I never, ever imagined could; I felt happy. Truly happy. Instead of brushing off questions by using a god based answer, I was really learning why rainbows appear and how Newton proved the spectrum of light, how evolution works and what natural selection is. And the more I filled my head with knowledge, the less I needed a god.

It changed me as a mother. I am still the geek I always was, but now I look at my children as the real miracles they are. They weren't predestined to me mine, but I am responsible for them, for teaching them and molding them into the freethinking people they will one day become. And that is so much better than any god reason that I have ever believed.

I keep my atheism to myself for the most part. I never really 'came out', because walking away from Mormonism, even though at the time I still believed in god, was enough to put major strain on the relationship I had with my family. I may as well have become a baby eating devil worshiper.

I told my husband one night, and he shrugged it off, he loved me for me, not my beliefs in a deity. My children know I don't believe in god and they go back and forth between believing and not believing in god, unicorns, faeries, monsters and Santa. They'll make up their minds when they are ready.