It was shocking, being immersed into a different culture. We always assumed that all of the states were similar. We were wrong. There were vast differences between the people of Minnesota and Utah. It was like we were in Scandinavia when we talked to locals. Phrases like, 'dontcha know' and 'you betcha' were riddled with Swedish accents. It was like we were in The Farmer's Daughter and our world was surrounded by clones of Loretta Young. It was like we were in a spa, talking with a muscly masseuse with long, blonde braids.
When we first arrived, Grandma took us to a bakery. She was excited to have us try some fresh treats. At the end, the cashier asked what kind of a 'baig' we wanted; did we want a plastic 'baig' or a paper 'baig'? While we started walking to the car, Sarah asked, "Grandma, what's a baig?". Grandma burst out laughing, scaring all of us. She explained that it was an accent, that the cashier asked what kind of a bag we wanted. We were confused. Why didn't they just say bag like the rest of us?
"I pledge allegiance to the FLAG of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." I used to shout the word, flag, so that everyone could hear it. I didn't like that they said 'flaig' and refused to say it with them. I informed my friends that they were saying their words wrong, the ones that ended with 'a' and 'g'. I tried to teach them to say it correctly, but it was surprisingly hard for them. They couldn't say it the way that I did; they only accomplished saying it in a posh manner, 'baug'. Some of them even held their heads higher as they attempted to say it the way that I did. One friend really thought about it and asked, "Well, what do you call a bagel? Do you call it, boggle?"
In Utah, I was surrounded by Mormon families. I didn't realize until later that it created extreme pressure for some of my friends, everyone being LDS. I remember one of the girls in my class saying that she was Mormon, even though she wasn't. She said that she just wanted to fit in, because everyone else was Mormon. One of my classmates said that he couldn't play with someone because they weren't Mormon. This is by no means what the religion teaches; it's the religious culture that can be scary. I had never heard of an Atheist before, until one kid in my class refused to say The Pledge of Allegiance. He explained that he was an Atheist, that he didn't believe there is a God, and that he doesn't think it's right for him to say it when he doesn't believe it. I told Grandma about my Atheist friend and was surprised when she simply nodded. Grandma told me about her friends and explained that not only was it doable, to have friends from different religions, but that it was good for me.
I met a lot of her friends. She had so many that came from different backgrounds and religions. One thing I learned from watching Grandma and her friends was that they loved to learn. She wanted to know everything! She wanted to learn about different religions and lifestyles. She had mountains of cookbooks in her study with recipes she experimented with. She consumed books on culture and art and romance. She wanted to see the world, taste it. She thirsted. She was brilliant. She took us on her adventures. She took us to museums and old book stores. She bought us bags of books to read. She let us wander to pick what we wanted to read. She took us to the library and left us to our own devices as she sat nearby. She let us dream. She took us to gardens, flower gardens. She took us to rivers and had us wade in them. She took us to new and different restaurants, ones where you had no idea what you were ordering or eating. She took us to the farmer's market often; we walked by every stand and asked people what they were selling and how they made it. She took us to farms. She took us driving, showing us landscapes and architecture. She took us to concerts. She would hastily apply her lipstick, rubbing a little on her finger to put blush on her cheeks. She would rustle through the rows to her seat, her over-sized, tattered coat trailing behind her. She was dedicated. She wanted us to learn. She wanted us to thirst.
I used to ask Grandpa to play for me. We would take turns playing. I loved it when he would come and sit near me while I played. He would often fall asleep while I played through Grandma's music. We didn't have to say anything to each other. I would start to play and soon enough, he would make his way to the music area and sit down. When we moved to the other house, he would tell me that he missed my playing. He said that I could come over whenever I wanted and play on their piano. It was nice to be missed. He plays the clarinet so beautifully. We used to sit around him and listen to him play. It was magical. The best part of him playing was that it felt like he somehow left us, that when he played, he had an experience. You could close your eyes and listen to him for hours. Even though I was taking music classes at school, he gave me clarinet lessons on the side. He always told me that I needed to work on tightening my mouth, that he had to work on it a lot when he first started playing. The tighter the mouth, the better the sound. One time, my teacher complimented me on my playing and asked if I had learned from anyone. I explained that my grandpa works at the university and that he gave me some pointers. I later found out that my teacher was one of Grandpa's students when he first started working at the college.
Grandpa wanted to take us to the park. We piled up in the car and went on our way. We were headed for 'the hide-and-seek park'. This was where Mom and her siblings used to play. They played hide-and-seek here, hence the name. Grandpa said that we had one stop on the way and pulled in front of a doughnut shop. Yes! I love doughnuts!! I wasn't prepared to have that love tested. Grandpa took us in and we bought a dozen of them. We got six exciting ones. Maple, jelly-filled, sprinkled, cream-filled. There were six regular, glazed ones. It was an exciting time; our mouths started to water. We sat at a table in the park and Grandpa informed us that we weren't allowed to leave the park until we finished the whole box. We were stunned, but still on an excitement high. I thought it would be easy. I downed my first three easily. But, the fourth doughnut was difficult. The stickiness in my mouth wasn't pleasant anymore. I started to get thirsty. The fifth doughnut was even worse. I started to gag. Sarah and Kristi had admitted defeat, but I wanted to keep going. Holding my stomach, I brought the sixth to my mouth. It was the second to last doughnut. I started to chant in my head, like I was about to cross some finish line. But, I couldn't do it. I felt like throwing up and I knew that this sixth doughnut would tip me over the edge. Grandpa smiled and grabbed the last two doughnuts and ate them. We didn't play in the park. We wanted to go home.
I think Mom was scared to leave us with Grandma and Grandpa. She had a hard time growing up with them and she left the house as soon as she could. She told us that Grandpa liked things to be quiet. She told us that sometimes, he gets impatient and when he's angry, he yells. She wanted us prepared. She figured that, though he was older, he would still be the intense father she grew up with. Thankfully, he wasn't. He still liked for things to be quiet; so, we stayed out of certain areas in the house. And, I can remember only two instances that Grandpa really yelled at us. One time was a misunderstanding; he thought Sarah was disobeying him when she was actually obeying what Grandma told her to do. He later apologized to Sarah for his yelling. The other time was when I was watching TV instead of helping Grandma in the kitchen. He was gentle with us. He was kind and patient. Grandpa drove us everywhere. He, like Grandma, wanted us to experience everything. I remember dreading some of our meals, because he brought home creepy-looking meat and smelly cheese. He tried to get us to eat blood sausage one night. I couldn't do it. He was infamous for his treats. He loved making pound cake and would often make two, one for our house and one for him. He loved going to the bakery and would often let me pick what we'd bring home. He asked me about school and friends and music. We talked every day. He was actually interested in my life and who I was and wanted to be. It was different, having a man accept who I am. The men in my life always wanted more of me, more that I couldn't and wouldn't give. It was nice to have someone be there for me; Grandpa's stability helped me survive. I knew I could count on him. I knew that he was on my side. He didn't make me choose between Dad and Mom; he wanted me to choose my own path. I knew that he loved me and that it was unconditional, and that was a first. His love didn't depend on if I did what he wanted me to. His love was real. I wish my mom had grown up with him like that.
One of my favorite memories of living by Grandma and Grandpa was that after we moved into the house next door, he would shovel the snow every day after it snowed which was usually every day of the week. He shoveled a pathway from their house to ours. He even shoveled through neighboring yards, making a safe and clean path for us to walk down the block to our bus stop. I don't think he really asked them if he could shovel through their yard; he just stayed close to the edge of it and created the path for us. He would sometimes drive us if it was really cold, keeping us warm in his car until the bus came. It was reassuring, waking up and seeing him outside shoveling for us. For a while, he couldn't find his regular hat; so, he'd wear this bright pink fisherman hat while shoveling. He was a dedicated man shoveling in a neon hat.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Awakening: Open Mind, Open Heart
I'll never go back. I can't go back.
I stopped going to church regularly over 3 years ago. Besides the few times I would go when visiting family, I did not attend. My thought process was that I had a lot of unanswered questions that I felt were never going to be answered. I felt that the church didn't have answers and that I had to accept that. I couldn't accept that. It's hard to explain, my needing to have my questions answered. Put simply, I could not rely on faith, because I did not have it. So, I left thinking, "I'll never go back. I can't go back."
In high school, I started to lead a double life. I think I had always led part of a double life while growing up. My parents separated when I was 8. I was shocked. My mom had taken us out for a treat and when we came home, he was gone. My dad had packed some of his belongings and moved out. After that day, my life crashed; I felt myself crashing down into a 10 year spiral of depression, anger, stress, and lies. I will not go into detail about my childhood post-separation, because I spent a lot of it as a confused and sad little girl. I don't like to revisit it. But, high school. High school was where I wanted to be free. I wanted the freedom that my friends had, but I had a strict home. So, I lied. And surprisingly, it came easily to me. I really think it's because I used to tell my dad what he wanted to hear when he asked about my mom. I wanted him to be proud of me; so, among other things, I would lie and tell him that I was on his side when in reality, I didn't want to be on a side.
In high school, I was a leader in the church and I loved it. But, I didn't have a firm testimony. I wanted to party with my friends, and I didn't understand why I couldn't do both. So, I secretly did both and I felt liberated. I grasped that freedom hard, so hard that I didn't care about or even realize the consequences of what I was doing. I didn't realize how unhappy it would make me feel, opening up this double-life jar of lying to everyone closest to me just to get these quick, short moments of 'happiness'. I became someone, something that I never want to be again. I lost relationships and friendships, because I was out of control. And after it all, after looking at all of the broken, scattered pieces of myself, I was left with nothing but the want of a new beginning.
College. BYU-I was fun! I got to make my own decisions and I answered to ME. I got to spend time with LDS members who are my age, a vast improvement to the one LDS girl back home in my grade. But, I still felt different. I still had questions that I was scared of asking. I still had issues that I thought I already knew the answers to, answers that didn't sit well with me. And, besides that, I felt myself turning back into the person I was in high school. I didn't want to be that person anymore, the person who didn't follow the teachings but pretended to. I didn't want to pretend anymore. I didn't know if I would ever recover from it, especially because I still struggle with being truthful about how I feel. At that point in my life, I felt that having all of these rules I had to follow as a member of the church made me judgmental of other people. And I hated that, mostly because I constantly felt judged. While I hated dealing with people like that, I had to hold myself accountable for doing the same thing. So, not only was my testimony weak, but I was weak. I stopped going to church 3 years ago. I turned my back on it and didn't think I would return.
Then, something changed in me. I'm not sure what it is. I think it might be that I want a family in my near future, and I constantly worry about what I'm going to teach my children. Leaving the church didn't make me an Atheist or anti-Mormon. I still believe much of what I was taught in the church. I think it started when my sister, Sarah, told me that she's going on a mission. I was stunned when she told me she wanted to go. It was hard for me, because we have always been so close. We're the closest out of all of my siblings; we're best friends. And, after I shared my struggles with the church to my family, she had revealed to me that she was struggling too. I knew that when I left, I would feel alone, because all of my family members are still active in the LDS church. I prepared myself for it. I even went a little overboard with my preparations. But, I did not prepare for someone to not only understand my side of things, but agree with them. I was elated to find out that I was not alone. But then, just as quickly, I was alone again. Though she had struggled, she persevered, worked on herself and found her testimony. I am so happy for her. She's a different person now, more content with who she was, more real. Despite my fear of loneliness, I love who she is and how happy she is. And, her new found happiness made me wonder what had changed. So, we talked; we talked a lot. We discussed all of my issues and questions. We talked about how angry I was, angry because I felt like people blindly followed/accepted teachings that didn't have answers, that didn't make any sense. We talked for a long time and Sarah didn't have all of the answers. She still understood and agreed with a lot of the problems I had. But, the difference now:
"Lei, I don't understand why we can't do certain things. I don't understand or have an answer to it, but I want to go to the temple. I want to be married in the temple, and in order to do that, I have to let those things go and accept it. If God doesn't want me to drink coffee, then I won't. If He doesn't want me to go to an R rated movie, I won't. If He doesn't want me to get a tattoo, I won't. I also have to accept that people are human beings. The church is always true. The doctrine is true. You have to let go of how some of the people are..."
The difference is that she accepted it. She accepted that there are a lot of little things she doesn't understand and probably won't ever understand. She accepted that people make mistakes, but that's their decision.
During one of my family visits, Esther had the sister missionaries over for dinner. They shared a message that struck me. I had started to open my heart to the church again. And, this message brought everything into perspective.
Doctrine and Covenants 64:9-11:
9. Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
10. I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.
11. And ye ought to say in your hearts - let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds.
I was blown away, stunned that this, out of everything they could have shared, they shared this. I felt my anger start to melt away as I knew that this message was for me, that God sent this message to me. Peace replaced the anger and resentment that I had felt for the last 3 years. And, I didn't realize how tiring it was to be so angry. I need to forgive.
A few months later:
I still have problems and issues, but I want to resolve them. I think that's the difference from what I did before. This time, I WANT TO RESOLVE them and I am motivated. I am keeping on open mind and an open heart. I have always said that I do not want to go back to church until I am in a good place. As I said before, I want to be firm; I want to be strong. I want to hammer out these issues so that I don't keep them inside, because I've already done that, and I don't want to go back there. I talk to Sarah every week. Each week, we have a new prompt - usually it's a question that I have - and we discuss it after we both do research. It's been going well.
I talked to TJ about going back. His response was that he's been wanting to go back to church for a long time.
I have started to have a testimony again. It is small, but it is mine and it is real.
I know that God is real. I know that He hears me and answers me. I know that He loves me.
I stopped going to church regularly over 3 years ago. Besides the few times I would go when visiting family, I did not attend. My thought process was that I had a lot of unanswered questions that I felt were never going to be answered. I felt that the church didn't have answers and that I had to accept that. I couldn't accept that. It's hard to explain, my needing to have my questions answered. Put simply, I could not rely on faith, because I did not have it. So, I left thinking, "I'll never go back. I can't go back."
In high school, I started to lead a double life. I think I had always led part of a double life while growing up. My parents separated when I was 8. I was shocked. My mom had taken us out for a treat and when we came home, he was gone. My dad had packed some of his belongings and moved out. After that day, my life crashed; I felt myself crashing down into a 10 year spiral of depression, anger, stress, and lies. I will not go into detail about my childhood post-separation, because I spent a lot of it as a confused and sad little girl. I don't like to revisit it. But, high school. High school was where I wanted to be free. I wanted the freedom that my friends had, but I had a strict home. So, I lied. And surprisingly, it came easily to me. I really think it's because I used to tell my dad what he wanted to hear when he asked about my mom. I wanted him to be proud of me; so, among other things, I would lie and tell him that I was on his side when in reality, I didn't want to be on a side.
In high school, I was a leader in the church and I loved it. But, I didn't have a firm testimony. I wanted to party with my friends, and I didn't understand why I couldn't do both. So, I secretly did both and I felt liberated. I grasped that freedom hard, so hard that I didn't care about or even realize the consequences of what I was doing. I didn't realize how unhappy it would make me feel, opening up this double-life jar of lying to everyone closest to me just to get these quick, short moments of 'happiness'. I became someone, something that I never want to be again. I lost relationships and friendships, because I was out of control. And after it all, after looking at all of the broken, scattered pieces of myself, I was left with nothing but the want of a new beginning.
College. BYU-I was fun! I got to make my own decisions and I answered to ME. I got to spend time with LDS members who are my age, a vast improvement to the one LDS girl back home in my grade. But, I still felt different. I still had questions that I was scared of asking. I still had issues that I thought I already knew the answers to, answers that didn't sit well with me. And, besides that, I felt myself turning back into the person I was in high school. I didn't want to be that person anymore, the person who didn't follow the teachings but pretended to. I didn't want to pretend anymore. I didn't know if I would ever recover from it, especially because I still struggle with being truthful about how I feel. At that point in my life, I felt that having all of these rules I had to follow as a member of the church made me judgmental of other people. And I hated that, mostly because I constantly felt judged. While I hated dealing with people like that, I had to hold myself accountable for doing the same thing. So, not only was my testimony weak, but I was weak. I stopped going to church 3 years ago. I turned my back on it and didn't think I would return.
Then, something changed in me. I'm not sure what it is. I think it might be that I want a family in my near future, and I constantly worry about what I'm going to teach my children. Leaving the church didn't make me an Atheist or anti-Mormon. I still believe much of what I was taught in the church. I think it started when my sister, Sarah, told me that she's going on a mission. I was stunned when she told me she wanted to go. It was hard for me, because we have always been so close. We're the closest out of all of my siblings; we're best friends. And, after I shared my struggles with the church to my family, she had revealed to me that she was struggling too. I knew that when I left, I would feel alone, because all of my family members are still active in the LDS church. I prepared myself for it. I even went a little overboard with my preparations. But, I did not prepare for someone to not only understand my side of things, but agree with them. I was elated to find out that I was not alone. But then, just as quickly, I was alone again. Though she had struggled, she persevered, worked on herself and found her testimony. I am so happy for her. She's a different person now, more content with who she was, more real. Despite my fear of loneliness, I love who she is and how happy she is. And, her new found happiness made me wonder what had changed. So, we talked; we talked a lot. We discussed all of my issues and questions. We talked about how angry I was, angry because I felt like people blindly followed/accepted teachings that didn't have answers, that didn't make any sense. We talked for a long time and Sarah didn't have all of the answers. She still understood and agreed with a lot of the problems I had. But, the difference now:
"Lei, I don't understand why we can't do certain things. I don't understand or have an answer to it, but I want to go to the temple. I want to be married in the temple, and in order to do that, I have to let those things go and accept it. If God doesn't want me to drink coffee, then I won't. If He doesn't want me to go to an R rated movie, I won't. If He doesn't want me to get a tattoo, I won't. I also have to accept that people are human beings. The church is always true. The doctrine is true. You have to let go of how some of the people are..."
The difference is that she accepted it. She accepted that there are a lot of little things she doesn't understand and probably won't ever understand. She accepted that people make mistakes, but that's their decision.
During one of my family visits, Esther had the sister missionaries over for dinner. They shared a message that struck me. I had started to open my heart to the church again. And, this message brought everything into perspective.
Doctrine and Covenants 64:9-11:
9. Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.
10. I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.
11. And ye ought to say in your hearts - let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds.
I was blown away, stunned that this, out of everything they could have shared, they shared this. I felt my anger start to melt away as I knew that this message was for me, that God sent this message to me. Peace replaced the anger and resentment that I had felt for the last 3 years. And, I didn't realize how tiring it was to be so angry. I need to forgive.
A few months later:
I still have problems and issues, but I want to resolve them. I think that's the difference from what I did before. This time, I WANT TO RESOLVE them and I am motivated. I am keeping on open mind and an open heart. I have always said that I do not want to go back to church until I am in a good place. As I said before, I want to be firm; I want to be strong. I want to hammer out these issues so that I don't keep them inside, because I've already done that, and I don't want to go back there. I talk to Sarah every week. Each week, we have a new prompt - usually it's a question that I have - and we discuss it after we both do research. It's been going well.
I talked to TJ about going back. His response was that he's been wanting to go back to church for a long time.
I have started to have a testimony again. It is small, but it is mine and it is real.
I know that God is real. I know that He hears me and answers me. I know that He loves me.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
About My Dad
Let me just start by saying that I know my father loves me. He cares about me. He wants the best for me. As a child, he was a perfect parent. He thought everything that I accomplished was interesting and fun and he played games with me; he paid attention to me. I've heard that realists are attracted to dreamers and vice versa. My mom is definitely a realist. My father is the dreamer. I remember when they were getting a divorce, it was a very scary time for my younger sister and me. I think it's because we didn't really understand what was going on. We couldn't really even comprehend what was happening. There was so much more fighting towards the end. Sarah and I used to hold each other and cry in bed while we listened to them yell in the next room. My father says that women are very emotional; I have seen my father has cried more than any woman I know. It was natural for us to think that my mother was this bad person, because we could hear her yell while we heard my dad cry.
My years of dislike for my mother were brought forth because of my dad. I know that there would be hard times if he had not have intervened, but he made our relationship with our mom very difficult. He would take us away from the house even though my mother did not want him to. He would lock us into rooms. He told us that our mother was very sick and twisted, that she needed God's help. We would pray for her to get better while she was banging on the door. We would pray in the car while she didn't know where we were.
Let me tell you how my mom was finally able to get this divorce. She had told bishops about how my father treated her. More verbal abuse than physical from what I understand. They never really believed her, because my father can be your best friend when he wants to be. That's what he was most of my childhood. She recorded him screaming and swearing at her. She presented this to our last bishop and he finally believed her. He spoke to my father about it, and later my father said that the bishop was having an affair with my mom. I don't think my dad will ever admit that he treated my mother badly. Even with evidence of a tape, he refuses to acknowledge what he had done.
I don't think any child should be involved in their parent's issues. No child should be put in the middle like we were. No child should have the weight of responsibility for divorce on their shoulders. No child should be told to hate one of their parents. No child should be told to steal from or lie to a parent. If my mother or my father makes a mistake, they will be judged by God. They will answer to Him, and I won't answer to Him for my parent's mistakes.
I was horrible to my mom. For some years, I treated her the worst I have ever treated anyone. I stole money from her, because my dad applauded it. I yelled at her all the time for taking me away from a harmful and sick situation. I lied just because I could. I made her life so miserable. Looking back, I regret the way things were. I regret how much I had damaged our relationship by listening to my father over her. Just recently I have realized how breakable my mom is. I rarely saw her cry during the divorce. I saw her angry, but never sad. I thought that meant that she didn't care. She planned this; she wanted me to suffer. She did this on purpose to hurt me. And now, I've seen her joke. My mom doesn't have humor, well, good humor that is. She's quirky. Sometimes, she finds naughty jokes funny. I was so annoyed when she joked. I was embarrassed. And now I realize: when had she become funny? When did she get personality? She started to dress differently and care more about her hair and make-up. Again I think about this situation: she's changing to be the way she wants to be. She's smiling a lot.
I won't ever know how trapped and caged my mother must have felt. Living with my father for a short time was the worst experience I have had living with someone. I have had first-hand experience talking with my father, having him say something, and then saying moments later that he never said that. I have competed against my dad in sports and it was a blast. I have heard him lie on many occasions. I have had many talks about how God is love with my dad. I have witnessed his verbal abuse. I have had cherished experiences with my dad. I have seen his physical abuse. I know that he is sick.
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