Going “Home”

April 22, 2001, a day that could have been just “an ordinary Sunday” for most anyone else… changed my life in a pivotal way. Probably the synchronicity of events worked perfectly in my behalf. I had given birth to Harmony (my 8th child) the previous August and “taken off” the next two or three Sundays, enjoying being home alone with just my new little angel. Then, for most of the next few months, I was a regular substitute in either the youngest Primary classes, Primary Chorister, or with the nursery toddlers. I realized that being with these young children and sharing the pure, undiluted principles of “the gospel,” (basically, “be kind because everyone is your neighbor”, etc.) was what the gospel of Jesus Christ was really all about. That was exactly where “Jesus” would have chosen to be.  These children were warm, responsive and had “the Mormon Glow” (see my answer to this question if interested).  Although I did maintain my monthly Relief Society teaching calling for the sisters, most of my church experiences were, for those several months, with the pure-in-heart children.

However, after taking Parker (my 7th child, two years old at that time) to his nursery class on this particular morning, I realized that “Since I’m not substituting today, I guess it’s time for me to attend class with my age-peers.”  This choice allowed for a pivotal experience. Sitting near the back of the chapel in the Gospel Doctrine class, I saw my dear friends in attendance, watched a man I very much liked “teach” them from the “authorized” material, and yet I saw, superimposed over the scene, this “teacher” plugging pacifiers into the adult “students’” mouths and “lulling them off to sleep” with his words, words that came from a prescribed book from the “authorities.” It seemed to me that the members were zombies just sitting in attendance for their “weekly transfusion.”

As I sat there and allowed myself to just open up my gaze and look, really look, I was seeing the same scene I had seen multiple times throughout my life; and yet my eyesight now seemed to have changed. My dear friends were nothing but robots… lukewarm child robots with no blood pumping in their own veins, no life in their eyes, no passion moving them. My heart felt ready to break. I had seen them before, of course, I had sat through literally thousands of Sunday School classes. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, things seemed to have changed. Or was it me?

Stunned at this familiar scene that I was finally really witnessing, I watched… really watched… for several minutes. Then, in despair, I offered up a silent prayer, “Father, what do I do? What do I do?!”

“Go home,” I felt in answer.

In amazement, I did go home. But not immediately. Having never even ditched a class in high school and having given 1000% of myself to “the church” throughout my entire life, this moment was a real struggle within me as I initially tried to subjugate what felt to be a bizarre call to rebellion.  And, though I took it somewhat quickly, I unconsciously allowed myself to break it down into steps.

I went first to my (then) husband’s 14-year-old Sunday School class. Here was the same scenario acted out, just with younger actors and on a smaller stage. The seven or eight teenagers in attendance were anywhere but within their physical bodies sitting on those metal chairs. Looking around, I saw the glazed look of the eyes and the body language that communicated that they were merely “doing their time.”

David was teaching about Joseph Smith’s “first visitation”—an experience that, to my understanding at that time was a profoundly pivotal and thrilling experience that could give LIFE to anyone who listened with ears to hear and a heart to understand. Yet, David droned on in the same robotic re-hashing that these youngsters had probably heard scores of times before. After a few minutes, I smiled a weak “thank you and excuse me,” gathered up Harmony and my bags and… walked the few blocks home.

Putting my baby down to sleep, I stretched myself out on my bed and let sobs shatter forth from my body. My heart was breaking open, letting many years of unexpressed confusion and emotion flow out. I bawled. I pounded my fists upon the mattress. I sobbed sobs which had yearned for release for quite some time. Finally, I was able to speak: “Father, I would scrub toilets for the rest of my life if that would help you in your kingdom. Where do you want me? Where can I serve you the most?”

In answer, I received, “You can serve me the most where your heart feels the most comfortable” (repeated three times). I marveled as the words sank in… deeper and deeper. I pondered. I was “still” and waited… and as my heart warmed and expanded to allow understanding to open up to me, I “listened” to my feelings, my inner wisdom.

Where DID I feel comfortable? In the church that I had thought every day of my life was HIS? I had to admit, no. Although I had for all of my life desired to attend and serve within it, I no longer did. My attempts now felt fruitless.

I was then told, “Then I don’t want you there.”

I pondered on the myriads of opportunities that I had been given and accepted in my attempts to pour forth the intensity of my love, faith and enthusiasm for living what I believed with all of my heart to be “the true gospel of Jesus Christ” with its “saving ordinances” to my fellow brothers and sisters. (I had had my first “calling” in “the church” at 13 years old, as Primary Pianist.  I had since been Laurel Class President, had given the Commencement speech in High School Seminary Graduation, served and presided over thousands of young adults at BYU as the Stake Activities Director [in the now Provo Tabernacle turned Temple], been Stake Primary President at the young age of 25, served in several other stake and ward leadership positions over the next decade, completely supported my husband in his Bishopric and Stake callings, contributed whole-heartedly in each and every way I possibly could throughout my nearly 40 years of life.

I had intently and with real desire to KNOW and APPLY the jewels of the Book of Mormon to my life read and studied it dozens of times and over thousands of hours.)  I thought of the many times I had attended classes and activities with the prayer in my heart to be “His voice,” “His hands,” “as He directs.” So often I had sensed the apparent life-lessness of others in attendance, and yet I had felt and convinced myself that my love and passion could and really would help. Now, however, I had changed. And as I opened up to a literal course-change, it was with some trepidation and unknowing, yet with conviction and a reservoir of peace that empowered me. In awe and amazement, I realized that… I was not going back.

Needless to say, this caused no small stir within my world. After a few weeks of not attending and of gently requesting to the Relief Society President to be released from my teaching calling among the women, the Bishop called and asked to talk with me. He and others assumed that I must have had my feelings hurt in some way or another. I had not. I just simply did not “fit” in their church any more. I was realizing that my “church” inside me was far more real than any mortal sanctuary and its proscribed regulations.

I also realized, and claimed the right to have no “middle-man” in my personal and very real relationship with divinity. I wanted out of any and all “boxes.” I wanted the FULLNESS of truth… with no barriers, no walls. I wanted to know the REAL truth and to let that truth completely set me free.

I saw the handful of times that I had gone to my “Bishops,” “Stake Presidency” or “Temple Workers” with sincere questions and needs… only to feel that “they were just as ignorant as anyone else, only some of them placed themselves higher than others upon the hierarchy of mankind. The reason why not one of them ever had offered me a surer link to “God” than I had manifested repeatedly for myself by myself was because… none of them could! They were simply other human beings wandering blindly down their own paths, unaware of the pure and piercing lights of their own souls, thus, unable to be a light for me or anyone else!

Now, however, the bishop implored me to come back, stating that “many women in the ward had said that they didn’t feel the spirit any more without (me) in their classes.” I looked him deeply in the eyes and said, “Bishop, the women and the ward do NOT need ME, they need to find the Spirit for themselves. I will always continue to love them and desire to be their friend as long as they would like, but I am choosing to no longer participate in the church.” I pondered on what I should do with my church “membership,” but felt impressed to, “Let them do with you whatsoever they wish.”

My children each came to me within the next few days (although my oldest one did not for a few weeks) and asked if they could stay home with me and have me teach them on Sundays, each expressing their own “reason” and feelings. I always responded that, as always, I wanted them to tune into, listen to and follow their own divine direction, and that I would support the direction that they felt to go. Thus began some tremendously liberating and wondrously fun Sundays.

David, however, was intensely afraid and confused, expressing great anger. How DARE I give up on that which was the most important element in life… the “one and only true church upon the earth?!”

But, I did dare.  And, looking back, it is that very courage, that element that said, “I want truth at ALL costs!” that paved my way and prepared me for life “beyond.” That same daring continues to lead me further still.  I have NO REGRETS that I was originally raised with the gospel according to “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.”  Because I had not read nor sought “anti” materials, was not “offended,” and because I did not yet utilize the internet that swiftly then became available, I truly followed no one, but my own inner compass.  However, since that day in April, 2001, I have been led to further and further amazing truths that have shed profound light on, “the church” and the Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, Jr., the Endowment and Temple Work, Jesus Christ,  the “priesthood,” etc. etc. etc.  Truly, following with greater and greater confidence and clarity, “this little light of mine” inside has brought me the precious “pearl of great price,” and, yes, “the Truth, the Real Truth, has set me free!”

My joys, my understandings, my true relationships, my “Knowing” of “Jesus the Christ” and all those I had so earnestly sought to “Know” for those prior 40 years, has come to fruition.  Not within any man-made walls or sanctuaries, but within my own  physical frame, I have found “the peace that passeth all understanding.”  (All of that, and so much more, I will save for later posts.)  For those who need to be pacified, need “the milk of the gospel,” let them suck where their hearts feel the most comfortable, whomever their surrogate parent.    For me, I want to experience and understand the heights, the depths, all that was originally promised me.  No “robotic” life for me!  Although I want this for everyone else, too, I realize that we all have our own time table.  Though my “leaving” the LDS Church caused great rifts in many lives, I have since come to peace for those others as well, knowing that we each get that which we really, truly want.  For those who want that which the LDS Church offers, I truly support their feasting at that table.  For me, my heart now enjoys what to me tastes far more exquisitely delicious and needs no three-hour per week “re-fill” because I continually feast and am filled.