I woke up to rain. Lots and lots and lots of rain. It's okay, I love a cloudy sky and the cozy feeling of being all wrapped up in a sweatshirt or jacket and enjoying the cooler weather. The only bad thing was that my brother and his wife were driving up for a visit and the rain was horrible on I-15. They even mentioned they couldn't see the lines on the road at one point. Scary stuff!
Andee
This isn't a photo of my ankle, just a shot of something that looks pretty damn close...
Appearances have been very important to most of the Mormons I know. Not all, but most. It wasn't about being the most spiritual person in the room, it was about making sure everyone thought they were the most spiritual person in the room. Big difference. It's like one big game... being better than your neighbor, being in the spotlight for having the best... perfect family.
One of my aunts was queen of this style of thinking. On the outside looking in, she had everything set the way she wanted it. She had her own business, her kids got perfect grades in school, they wore the latest fashions, her home was decorated and spotless, and her family sat in the church pews every Sunday. It was all a show.
Little did anyone know that she was a giant control freak who made decisions for everyone in her family about everything. No one knew her husband dealt with things by taking a more than occasional dose of heroin. Their bishop certainly didn't know... and they passed their temple recommend interviews easily.
Everyone assumed she was the most faithful woman they knew. They thought she was loving, kind, generous, and above all a good person. They didn't know her as well as I did.
When my father was diagnosed with cancer, I was 18 years old and fresh out of high school. I had plans to go to college, but I wanted to put it off so I could be with my Dad until he was healthy again. College was always important to me, but it would always be there. There was a chance my Dad wouldn't. I didn't tell anyone my plans on postponing college, and my aunt asked me to stay with her while I checked out the college in her area. My Dad wanted me to take the trip, so I did it for him.
When I got there, around Christmas, she asked me if I liked pizza. Who doesn't? She was just trying to be a good hostess and I appreciated it. She told me that her kids would be home from their various after-school activities soon, and she always had dinner prepared for them. What a good homemaker. Another one of my aunts arrived, ready to "help" me transition from high school to college. I know they meant well, but I didn't need someone there to hold my hand. I truly believe they wanted to feel as if they were helping my father in some way. The whole experience of him being so sick made us all feel pretty helpless.
Miss Auntie Control's home was absolutely perfect. Nothing was out of place, dusty, or even remotely dirty. The Christmas decorations were something out of a Martha Stewart magazine, she probably made the wreath herself, out of pine cones she found from the tree she planted in the back yard... by herself.
When everyone arrived for dinner, my aunt (the control freak) turned to everyone eating at the bar/counter and mentioned how sorry she was that my father's cancer was terminal and that he only had a few weeks left to live. Here is the thing... she knew that I hadn't been told yet. My Mom and Dad made the decision to tell us after Christmas, and they wanted it to come from them. Both of my parents made it perfectly clear to her that my brothers and I didn't know he wasn't going to get better. They also made it perfectly clear that they wanted to be the ones to break the news to us kids. I guess she just didn't give a damn. Merry Christmas Andee, Happy Holidays, your Dad is dying. Would you like another slice of pizza? What a bitch.
I must have gone pale, or possibly looked like I was about to cry... but I refused to break down. She looked at me with obvious fake sympathy saying something like, "Andee... you knew... right?" She isn't a very good actress. Luckily, I am.
I played it off, and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction. I pretended like I knew it all along. She wasn't going to control me, or my reactions. It's funny, but within the span of 10 minutes I got a glimpse into the mind of a woman who didn't give a damn who she hurt, as long as she was the one in control. It was a tad bit scary.
The night went on and we eventually went out to do some Christmas shopping. I picked out a couple outfits that I liked (it's not like I was without a job and penniless... I was working full time, and helping my parents when or if they needed it. I was a grown up, making my own financial decisions) and she would make comments like, "Are you sure you want to spend your money on that?" or "Maybe you should wait to buy that..." Was it any of her business? Did I ask for her opinion?
We went to the local university and scouted the music program that I knew I would have wanted to be a part of. I only half-way went through the motions, knowing that I didn't want to get emotionally attached to the school because I knew I wasn't going to be able to go... especially now that I had the knowledge of my Dad's terminal cancer. Dearest Auntie began telling me what classes I should be taking, and what I should be planning for in my future. Whatever lady.
I was helping them wrap their Christmas gifts, and they started in on discussing the church and it's many blessings. The only reason they were able to buy such nice Christmas presents was because they paid their tithing, they said. The only reason they had such a nice home due to the 10% they paid every single month. I didn't want to cause trouble for my Dad and his sisters during this time, so I kept my mouth shut. Those who read this blog regularly know how hard that was for me.
The weekend eventually came to an end, and I drove all the way back home. It was about a 3 and a half hour drive. I spent the whole time crying, because I knew I would see my Dad that day... but would I see him the next?
My Dad ended up passing away on January 17, 1998. My Mom was distraught, and I can't even bring up a word that could come close to describing the mental and emotional state I was in at the time. My father was an amazing man. He wasn't perfect, but he and my mother taught me what being a good person means. I knew I would miss him, and I knew I wanted to make him proud of me.
Mom started attending church again. She was taking classes to become temple ready so she could get my father sealed to us in the temple. She told everyone on both sides of the family that it was important for her to do this. She was raised strictly in the church, and she felt at the time that getting to the temple was the only way to see her husband again.
A few weeks later we get a phone call from Auntie Control. "We are planning on going to the Manti temple. It's going to be on this date _____. We would like you and the kids to be there." I could have killed her. Really. She knew that my Mom was going to take care of things, but she had to get herself involved. She took that moment away from my Mother, and even though I didn't believe in the church (even then) I knew it would be good for my Mom to do it. It would help her heal and move on.
Mom, brother and I drove to Manti. We were unable to take part in the temple sealing because we didn't have recommends. Auntie knew this. Do you think she gave a crap? No. What were her first words when she saw us? "Since you guys can't go inside, it would be great if you could watch the little kids for us." What? Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to wait outside a religious building that you claim I am not righteous enough for, while you do work for my father, and on top of that you want me to watch your little brats? What the hell is wrong with you? What the hell is wrong with a church that would ask that (referring to the part where families are separated from the righteous and the sinners.)
A few months after I moved to Orlando, I got a phone call from my Mom. She wasn't sure how to tell me the news she had... but she found a way. My uncle, dear auntie control's husband, was found in a coma on the streets of Las Vegas. Police say he was attempting to buy heroin from a drug dealer, but the buy went wrong and the dealer shot him full of some kind of drug and robbed him. He was left in the Las Vegas sun for hours and hours before he was found. Luckily, he survived and is now doing fine. As far as I know, he has beaten his drug habit and I sincerely wish him the best. A few of the people I know said, "If I had to live with her, I would be hooked on drugs, too!" A little harsh, but sort of true.
What bothers me is that she and her husband walked into the temple grounds in Manti, she told me it would be "great" if I could watch everyone's kids while she went inside, and she didn't deserve to be there.
This is where the appearances theme fits in. She was more concerned with what other people would think of her than actually believing and following through with her supposed beliefs that the temple was for worthy people only. She knew she was hurting us by leaving us outside that day, and it didn't even phase her. She was fine as long as everyone thought she was the perfect person she pretended to be.
I am not saying that all Mormons are this way. I know this story and these events wouldn't possibly happen to other people in the same manner, but I truly believe that the church puts pressure on it's members to maintain that constant state of perfection. I know many people will disagree, and that is fine... but my mind immediately goes to the talk that Julie B. Beck made at General Conference last October. Here are a couple of my favorite quotes:
They bring daughters in clean and ironed dresses with hair brushed to perfection; their sons wear white shirts and ties and have missionary haircuts. These mothers know they are going to sacrament meeting, where covenants are renewed. These mothers have made and honor temple covenants. They know that if they are not pointing their children to the temple, they are not pointing them toward desired eternal goals. These mothers have influence and power.Is this what made my aunt turn into the mega-controlling uber-insane crazy woman who didn't care who she hurt? No. But it certainly didn't help matters, did it?
Latter-day Saint women should be the very best in the world at upholding, nurturing, and protecting families. I have every confidence that our women will do this and will come to be known as mothers who "knew."
The following is something I shared with my friends on PostMormon.org yesterday. The response to the post really helped me, and I thought I would post it on the blog as well... for those who happen to be TBM and read this blog, you might assume that this is the reason I left the church. That would be an incorrect assumption. I left due to racism, sexism, and countless other *isms* This is just one story.
The Mormon Temple In Manti, UtahThis is kind of hard for me to talk about, and very personal... so please bear with me...
In August of 1997 my Dad had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer and doctors gave him 3 days to live in the beginning. It was actually the day before Princess Diana died in Paris, France. The whole thing felt surreal. He fought like hell, and never gave up. My Mom learned how to help him with the feeding tubes and the trach that helped him breathe. She sat with him and planned his funeral and held his hand when he was scared. She was there for him, and she showed me what it was like to truly be a good person.
Before my Mom and Dad told my brother and I that Dad's cancer was terminal, I went to stay with my Dad's sister to get information for college. My parents told her that Brother and I didn't know that he was going to die, and to not mention it. He wanted me home safe before I had the information, and there was a long drive between dear Auntie's house and home. He didn't want me too emotional on the road. He was worried about me just as much as I was worried about him.
The first night at my relatives home, I was helping prepare dinner. We were making french bread pizza (I remember every single detail, down to the Christmas garland on the stairs and the too-perfect Christmas tree,) and she waited for everyone to gather in the dining room. She smiled and told everyone how sad it was that my Dad wasn't going to make it. She knew I didn't know... she knew my Mom and Dad wanted to tell me... she just wanted to be in control of the moment. My Mom will probably tell you that she has SERIOUS control issues. I played it off, pretended that I knew, played the part in a made-for-television movie... and I truly believe she was disappointed that I didn't cry for her. I did cry, I just didn't let her see it.
Her husband wasn't home yet, and when he came home the his kids were noticeably excited. He promised me a drive through the town so I could "see the sights..." and the kids were happy to be out of the house. He seemed like a good guy, almost child-like in a way. He didn't seem like a mature man or grown-up.
I eventually went home and told my Mom (on a walk) what happened. My Mom was very upset, and she apologized that I had to hear it that way. My Dad couldn't speak, so he wrote me a letter telling me he was sorry about it too, and that what Auntie Did was wrong. Nothing really mattered for a while.
When my Dad passed away, my Mom was understandably brokenhearted. She was raised in an extremely strict Mormon household, and felt the only way to she my Dad again was to become active again and do the temple work. I was never interested in going back to church because I had too many issues with it, but she knew I was behind her no matter what. Mom made it clear to everyone, on both sides of the family, that she was going to do this work herself.
In March of 1998 (or close to that time) Mom received a phone call from one of my Dad's siblings. They (including the very TBM aunt and uncle mentioned above) were doing Dad's temple work in Manti, and they wanted us there. Mom felt like she had been slapped in the face, but stayed strong. She wanted my brother and I to be there with her at the temple when the ceremony took place, even though we would all have to wait outside in the heat. Brother and I did that, and I will admit, I wasn't happy about it one bit... it pissed me off.
I couldn't help but feel judged not only by my Dad's side of the family, but by the very church they promised was true. They didn't know me at all! I hadn't even smoked a cigarette in my life, never hurt anyone... never shot a man just to see him die. 
Well, we endured. We babysat the countless number of cousins along with one lonely aunt who had left the church a long time ago and married a never-Mo. She was always very sweet to me, and a friend. She rocked.
Finally, the family members walk out of the temple and down the street where everyone had parked their cars. They had huge smiles on their faces, and promised that they "knew" my Dad was going to accept the gospel. It pissed me off, because I didn't buy it. I was angry for a very, very long time. They didn't know me, OR my father. They had no idea what he would want or what he would accept. They just wanted to make their experience more faith-promoting. It made me sick.
I eventually moved to Orlando, and one night my Mom gave me a call. She said, "Sydney... you will never guess what!?!" She went on to tell me that Mr. TBM uncle was not only a heroin addict, but had also been seeing prostitutes. Mean Aunt was leaving him, but the kids were on his side. They felt she was too controlling, and some of the kids were in state custody because they didn't want to live with her without their Dad being there. I was in SHOCK! They were so goody-two-shoes, perfect family, everything in it's place... it came out of nowhere to me.... and then it hit me. This guy was probably high on heroin while he was in the temple, and I was outside waiting like some chump!
Where was the gift of discernment here? I have heard story after story of some priesthood holder feeling a presence of someone who isn't worthy, and stops the ceremony until that person leaves. Why did my Aunt and Uncle even have temple recommends? They were obviously not very honest people!? Shouldn't the bishop's discernment have kicked in somewhere??
I know the power of discernment is stupid and it doesn't exist. When I asked a Mormon missionary on LDS.org about this, the only thing they would say was, "Gee I hope your Uncle is in treatment and feeling better soon."
Has anyone else had thoughts about the power of discernment, either at the temple or not? Why can't people see this for what it is? A Hoax!?!?!?
I was watching television and I heard the same old Target commercial jingle for the 20th time when it hit me. It's almost Christmas. I know I have been posting about Christmas for a long time, but the date actually crept up on me quickly. It's not like it was when I was a kid and I crossed each day in December off my calendar to countdown to Santa Day.
Tomorrow I am going to Salt Lake City to have dinner with my Mom and my brother. I am excited to see them, and happy that I get to actually have a holiday meal with people I love. It's been seven long years since this has happened. While I wish I had more money for presents for them, I know that spending time together and letting them know I love them is the most important thing.
After dinner we are going to temple square to see the Christmas display put up by the temple. Mom and I want to take an official tour of temple square to see what they tell people on the tour, and I will report back what I find. I joked with my Mom that we might just be zapped by lightning when we step foot on the temple grounds...
Maybe... just maybe... I will get a camera for Christmas and I can start adding my own photos too! I hope Santa got my letter. I am going to leave him some peanut butter bars and an ice cold beer just in case he needs a bribe!
The lights at temple square.
The lights at temple square, Salt Lake City.