Yes. It’s churchy. But I don’t care, because I’m churchy. And this? This is lovely.
Please, at least make it to 2:48 seconds. Because what he says? It’s totally true.
And how he says it? I dare you to not believe him.
Some of you may not believe it right now, but it’s so true.
There will be a time soon that I won’t believe it. But I will watch this, and I will read this.
And I will know that it’s all good, or it will be eventually.
Happy Sunday.
xx
hi.
I need to say something and I hope you’ll listen with an open heart and open mind.
I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, LDS or Mormon for short.
I believe in Christ. In God. In Jesus Christ.
I know He is my Savior and He died for my sins.
I would never ask you to look to me as a perfect example of an LDS woman. Nor would I say I’m a perfect Christian.
But oh how I try. Oh how I want so badly to make my Heavenly Father proud.
I say prayers with my family every night, I say prayers with my husband every night and I say my own prayers every night and in my heart constantly. I pray for my friends. I pray for my family. I pray for my little kid. I pray that I won’t screw up. I pray that I’ll be safe. I pray that I will be able to help even one person that comes into my life.
Talking about God makes a lot of people uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable.
I didn’t grow up talking about God, let alone talking to God. When people brought religion up around me I always looked for a way out. Even now I assume that this is how other people feel about religion.
So I stay quiet unless someone asks me.
It doesn’t seem very fair to God. He’s given me all these blessings and I keep quiet.
I am happy.
I am so, so happy.
And it’s because I have my church and its teachings in my life.
I’ve known since the moment I hit my knees to pray for the very first time that there is a God.
And I could never, ever deny that He knows me and loves me.
Thanks for listening.
As you were.
I am a Mormon. And darn proud of it.
Today Cody and I made the two hour drive to Louisville, Kentucky to attend the temple.
Amazing things happened. You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you.
I don’t care if you believe what I know to be true or not.
I know what I know. And I love what I know.
What I know is that there is a Savior who loves and knows each and every one of us individually.
I know He knows all of our struggles, weaknesses and strengths down to the very finest detail and better than we will ever know for ourselves.
If we ever need help all we need to do is ask.
He’ll take care of the rest.
I know this to be true with every chin hair of my existence and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Tiny Gramma told me one night a few months ago while I was sobbing into the phone “I don’t know why I was a rabbit and you ended up a panda.”
If you’ve ever watched Planet Earth (which if you haven’t you have no business being on any sort of technology whatsoever) you’ll know that pandas are like the worlds most unluckiest pro-creators despite being devastatingly cute. (Much like me in both respects.) Why can’t cicadas or sloths have crappy odds at procreating? Because I’ve seen sloths and I’ve seen cicadas and trust me the world needs no more of either.
In the passion and fury of my post yesterday where I segued into the whole infertility thing without meaning to I didn’t really acknowledge that I live in two different infertile worlds.
One is online. Where people understand. People get it. People talk about it. And the people who end up pregnant understand how much it means to me when they take the time to tell me before it hits the twitter fan. For those of you who have done that for me? A thousand fuzzy kisses (uh, yeah. I need to pluck a little more.)
The other world is what surrounds me on a daily basis. I am a member of a church that pretty much puts Catholics to shame when it comes to multiplying and replenishing the Earth, especially when we have the option of using birth control. (And no, we’re not told to make dozens of babies. Families are just really really important to us, so a lot of LDS people choose to have a lot of babies before they turn thirty. Personal choice. Not religious decree.)
I have watched…wait for it…over 60 pregnancies in the last three years since moving to Indiana. These are just people that live by me.
In the past week I have had three pregnancies made known to me from people that are in my congregation. That is not counting the previous two that already existed or the other two that just completed their nine month run. I have watched at least a dozen women be pregnant twice since living here and just this week I have now seen someone pregnant three different times within three years. After some of your confessions yesterday I don’t feel so creepy that I’ve kept count.
Outside the stereotypes of my religion I am abnormal. I was married just after my 18th birthday (and am enjoying it immensely thank you very much,) had a child at 22 and sometimes desperately want another before I turn 30.
Inside the stereotypes of my religion I am abnormal. I have been married for eight years and yet I only have one child.
My mom didn’t even have me until she was 32.
I find myself wondering so often “Why am I so worried about this? Is it because I can’t? Is it because the people around me are procreating at breakneck speed? I’m only 27 followed closely by OHMYGOSHIAMALMOSTTHIRTY.”
I’m very conflicted about being stuck between the “normalities” of these two very different worlds. I’d like to just be comfortable in my own little world. But there’s not enough medication for me to do that just yet.
Two of my closest friends are having babies before July is over. I have received news of other pregnancies of Internet/IRL friends as well, all of them giving me hope that one day it will happen for me. And for their miracles I can’t thank Heavenly Father enough for answering the prayers I’ve poured out in their behalf.
Sometimes my happiness for others is diminished by the irresponsibility, disrespect or overwhelmingness of it all.
(Which BTW? Dr. SallyForth? My old OB had the option of different appointment availability for infertility patients so I never had to enter his office face to belly with a room full of unwed pregnant teenagers. You *may* want to look into that.)
God doesn’t need/want me pregnant right now. For whatever reason. Today I’m okay with this. Tomorrow could be different.
But no matter what? If you have a little floater down there in your uterus? I want to know about it. And I want to know how I can help.
I just hope you can understand that some days are better than others.
I’m learning how to deal with this.
And sometimes it’s just very very confusing.
Please don’t take the panda personally.
Amidst all this PC/religion/namecalling garbage a new kind of debate has aroused itself.
The religious/regional/cultural food debate.
I will admit that part of the reason I love living around a bunch of different denominations of Christians is the fish fry. Fish fries are proof that God loves us no matter what church we do or don’t go to and wants us to be happy, full of greasy fish, tartar sauce and cheap buns.
The other day I got this comment:
I’m offended because I’m Southern Baptist and we actually eat fried chicken, not fried fish…Ahem.
Lesson learned. (And she was kidding, lighten up people.)
The entire United States is unknowingly engaged in culinary battle. Take the KC/St. Louis BBQ battle. Or the Chicago/New York pizza battle. Utah is legendary for fry sauce (I MISS YOU FRY SAUCE) and Indiana boasts tenderloin as big as your head.
This brings me to Mormon food.
Green Jell-O. (Often with pineapple, Cool Whip, cottage cheese and/or shaved carrots. (Dude, I don’t eat the stuff, I just defend it.))
We have entire Mormon Cookbooks and entire restaurants dedicated to the fine art of cooking with cream of mushroom soup and sour cream. WE PERFECTED THE JELL-O SALAD and also spawned Jell-O products Jell-O didn’t even know Jell-O could be used for.
Some guy out there with a lot of guns thinks he can claim Green Jell-O in the name of the Lutherans.
As if the threat of a lot of guns is going to scare me away from the truth.
Mormons are the only reason green Jell-O is still in production.
Ever heard of THE JELL-O BELT? That’s right, an entire area known for its Jell-O love thanks to a high concentration of Latter Day Saints. Utah’s State Snack Food? Jell-O.
In 2001, after an astounding 14,000 people had signed a petition, JELL-O was made the Official State Snack of Utah. Another fact is that the people of Salt Lake City actually eat more lime flavored JELL-O than any other city in the world. (Source and Source)
In. the. wooooorld.
I really didn’t want it to come to this. But Mr. Gunfighter was adamant that he (exact words)
Never.
Loses.
In.
Combat.
Allow me to show you a pin from the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City.
Where’s YOUR green Jell-O pin GUNFIGHTER?
Watch out dude, because I think you just got your Jellass handed to you with delicious pieces of pineapple and a dollop of Cool Whip by a Mormon, the true lovers and proper owners of the Green Jell-O stereotype.
It was a beautiful day in Heaven.
All the new arrivals were loaded onto a bus at the pearly gates and taken on a tour of the many mansions in Heaven.
The bus driver, a surly man named Hank, welcomed everyone aboard and began the tour.
“On the right is the Catholics manion.” said Hank.
The passengers ooh’ed and ahh’ed over the ornate stained glass and gold staircases.
“Now up here on the left is the Southern Baptist’s mansion.” Hank said.
The smell of collard greens and fried fish was tempting to the hungry people on the bus, getting to Heaven is exhausting work.
Hank continued on showing off the Non-Denominational Christian mansion, the Seventh Day Adventist mansion and the mansion where people lived who didn’t really have a “religion” while on Earth. All were equally glorious, beautiful and ornate. Residents of each mansion milled about the beautiful grounds with residents from neighboring mansions.
It truly was Heaven.
Hank began to turn down a more secluded path, he killed the engine and put in in neutral. “Now I’m going to have to ask all of you to hold your talking for a minute right here and be reeeeaaaaallll quiet.” Hank said.
“Why?” whispered a small Rabbi from the back of the bus.
“Because,” Hanks voice was barely audible, “we’re about to pass the Mormons mansion and they think they’re the only ones here.”
*******
So this was told to me by someone whom I respect in my church. I think it’s funny. But with the recent “namecalling” debate what do you think? Is it okay because I’m the one telling it and am basically making fun of myself? Or is it worse because I’m the one telling it?
If it were coming from the mouth of someone who openly disliked the LDS religion would it cease to be funny?
Just curious.
DO YOU SEE WHY I’M SO PERPLEXED WITH ALL THIS PC GARBAGE PEOPLE?
I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
My church has even put out a formal request to the media about how and when to use specific references to the Church.
The official name of the Church is The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. This full name was given by revelation from God to Joseph Smith in 1838.—
While the term “Mormon Church” has long been publicly applied to the Church as a nickname, it is not an authorized title, and the Church discourages its use.
When writing about the Church, please follow these guidelines:
- In the first reference, the full name of the Church is preferred: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
- Please avoid the use of “Mormon Church,” “LDS Church” or “the Church of the Latter-day Saints.”
- When a shortened reference is needed, the terms “the Church” or “the Church of Jesus Christ” are encouraged.
- When referring to Church members, the term “Latter-day Saints” is preferred, though “Mormons” is acceptable.
- “Mormon” is correctly used in proper names such as the Book of Mormon, Mormon Tabernacle Choir or Mormon Trail, or when used as an adjective in such expressions as “Mormon pioneers.”
- The term “Mormonism” is acceptable in describing the combination of doctrine, culture and lifestyle unique to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
- When referring to people or organizations that practice polygamy, the terms “Mormons,” “Mormon fundamentalist,” “Mormon dissidents,” etc. are incorrect. The Associated Press Stylebook notes: “The term Mormon is not properly applied to the other … churches that resulted from the split after [Joseph] Smith’s death.”
Okay. *yawn* Are we all on the same page?
Good.
Nine times out of ten I call myself a Mormon. Or LDS. Five times out of ten Mormon is spelled wrong by the general public (Morman, which let’s face it, I have enough man in my life.) and three times out of ten when I use the term LDS, a joke is made about LSD. It’s also really close to FLDS (the polygamists, I cover that one here.) and the RLDS (also a completely different religion.) so for most people I keep it to the simple two syllable term, Mormon.
You’re not going to offend me if you call me a Mormon. If you precede it with four letter words ending in “ing” my feelings may bruise slightly. As long as you’re not trying to be hateful? Call me whatever you want. Same goes for most people I know who share the same beliefs as me, as long as you’re not being a jerk? We can take a joke and you can call us whatever is most convenient (which most of the time is Mormon.)
Now I can’t speak for other groups in the world. Everyone is going to take name calling differently. I have made the grave mistake of deeply offending someone by using the term “Jew.” It was not in a hateful or anti-Semitic way, however taken out of context I can easily see where I went wrong. At the same time I see other people using the term “Jew.” Even Rabbi Shmuley, (who’s totally on twitter HI RABBI SHMULEY!) used the term “Jew” in one of his tweets.
*sigh*
Is it one of those things where only those who are “in” are allowed to use the vernacular? *deep breath*
I hope you can understand why I’m frustrated. We’ve become so set as a society to take anything as an offense that we react before we think a lot of times.
Sometimes it’s easier to refer to someone as “the Jewish one” or “the gay one” or “the heavier one” or “the black one” or “the one in a wheelchair.” It’s not because we’re all Anti-Semites, homophobes, vain, racist or have something against handicapped people sometimes it’s just easier to point someone out with an obvious difference. You all know you have that one Aunt you refer to as “The Crazy One.” Every family has one. I remember at BlogHer last year trying to tiptoe around the fact that Heather B. was black. So what? She is! And she refers to herself as such on her blog.
But is okay as a white person to call another person black because I’m not? Because I don’t understand what it means to be black? Should I keep to the more politically correct term of “African American?” Is it even okay for me to refer to myself as a white person? Because deep down (okay, my nose) is a Greek person, and under that (my pale skin) is an Irish person.
Honestly I don’t like it when white (caucasian) people refer to themselves as “crackers.” It makes me uncomfortable, much as I would imagine the N term makes black (African American) people feel. (See? I can’t even utter the N word. But you know what I’m talking about.)
Why is race and religion and physical appearance such a big deal? Our president is black, I’d make friends with a Baptist just as quick as I’d make a friend with a fellow Mormon and frankly this whole Prop 8 mess? I speak for myself (MYSELF) when I say that I’ve seen more same sex couples take their unions more seriously than a lot of “traditional” couples. (I’m looking at you Britney Spears.)
We all have value, and short of those derfwads floating around the world who live to hurt people by calling them names like a six year old bully, most of us aren’t out to hurt anyone else.
So if I use the word “Jew” and eat bacon in front of a Jewish person it’s not because I’m a jerk or Anti-Semite. While I’ll do my best to keep my pork consumption to myself I won’t always remember. It’s not my lifestyle.
Just as if you cuss up a storm and drink three glasses of wine in front of me, it’s not because you’re a jerk trying to hurt or offend me, it’s what YOU are used to. (Or your name is Tanis.)
And if somewhere along the lines I offend you or you offend me? I’ll be sure to tell you like a grownup. Just as I’d expect you to do the same. Because the likelyhood that I meant to hurt you? Is smaller than a fish’s eyeball.
I have often been criticized for my choice of religion. I am also criticized for not fitting a certain stereotype within it. I make jokes about enjoying my Dyson, I sometimes think a hot toddy would put a nice end to a difficult day and I can fall victim to judgement and jealousy faster than the moosh can spot my hidden loot of Oreos.
All that being said I would not give up on my faith for anyone or anything.
Sure there’s times when it’s easier to stand behind my convictions with a burning testimony.
But there’s also times when it’s really hard. When something I’ve worked so hard for never quite seems to work out in the way I think it should.
Infertility is an excellent example of this.
There is a huge part of my heart that wants to be done with all the tests and waiting. But there is also a very rebellious part of my heart that knows it’s just not my time and it’s not up to me to say ‘when.’
There’s another kerfuffle currently brewing in my life that I have thrown myself and my faith head first into. I want so badly to see even just one tiny improvement. To know all the sacrifice, fasting, tears and hours spent on my knees in prayer has helped.
That we physically can’t take another persons pain, suffering or burdens upon ourselves is frustrating.
Some people are given too much. And it’s not fair.
I may not have the faith to move mountains right now, but I still have it.
And I hope it’s helping.
