I think we all have one question that starts it off. One question that leads to another that pretty much can snowball until it's just too hard to manage.
That question for me was what the heck is this predestination of families?
Basically my parents were supposed to have intercourse at a certain time to make sure me (in all my genetic characteristics glory) would come to earth?
I can't wrap my head around that. (plus it's gross to think about)
And all those moms who just know they are going to have 5 kids and there names will be Axel Brayden Carlie Daxton and Emma. In that order. They have it all figured out? What am I missing?
It just makes no sense.
Monday, February 25, 2019
Thursday, February 21, 2019
The Beginning
I only listened to three types of music growing up: Christmas music, Oldies (if I was in a particularly "worldly" mood), and Church music. I never swore, and the one time I "stole" a free paper bag at the checkout line at the grocery store I went home and bawled and repented for a good two hours. I was 9 years old at the time. My mom told me I always had an angelic glow and friends and family nicknamed me Molly Mormon. It was a name I wore with pride and honor.
It wasn't like I was exactly perfect. I had my secret sins that to this day bring incredible shame, but I always repented for those heavily and did my best to stay as clean and pure as humanly possible. I sat on the front row in seminary and institute, memorized scriptures, served a mission, married in the temple, and dreamed of one day being the General Relief Society president. I even kept a journal of my spiritual experiences labeled "The Book of Molly" (*name changed to protect privacy).
Being a Molly Mormon was my identity.
Fast forward to the present day. I go to church regularly and currently have an LDS mom blog. On the outside I act like the good mormon that I have always been, but deep down things have changed. I have questions. Like deep and hard and unanswerable questions.
The questions started when my husband and I were experiencing infertility and knew that we would need to adopt. We prayed that we would be able to be matched with a birthmom, but I felt horrible praying that someone would have to mess up just so I could be a mom. And that got me thinking about how my future children were supposed to come from a different mom. Was it predestined that a girl would get pregnant out of wedlock just so I could be a mom? And did I do something wrong that prevented me from getting pregnant? I had a co-worker give me the advice that she had to repent before she could get pregnant, and maybe I should try that too.
Questions slowly started entering my heart. Why did Emma Smith stop going to church after her husband died? Why did it take Joseph Smith four years to translate the Book of Mormon? Why was the Book of Mormon written in the same linguistic style of the Bible? Why would Nephi be commanded to kill someone? And let's not even get started on polygamy....
I feel so much guilt because of wanting to know the answers. Being ignorant just doesn't feel right anymore. I can't pretend that I don't wonder about things- especially church history. I feel like I am turning my back on all the sacrifices my ancestors made to join this religion just because I am questioning. They left homes, families, jobs- everything- to come to America to be with the Saints. They suffered tragedies beyond belief but never openly doubted or left the church.
I read my first "anti"ish book last week about a wife of Brigham Young and couldn't put it down. I devoured 600 pages of a different perspective and learned church history that was never taught in all my years of seminary and institute.
If my family knew that I had questions it would CRUSH them. How could I, the bright glowing angel of the family, bring about darkness like this.
But my journey has begun. Whether I like it or not, I have taken a step into the unknown future. If I choose to stay or leave, I will never be the same.
Molly is now a black sheep.
And it is scaring the *&^$# out of me.
It wasn't like I was exactly perfect. I had my secret sins that to this day bring incredible shame, but I always repented for those heavily and did my best to stay as clean and pure as humanly possible. I sat on the front row in seminary and institute, memorized scriptures, served a mission, married in the temple, and dreamed of one day being the General Relief Society president. I even kept a journal of my spiritual experiences labeled "The Book of Molly" (*name changed to protect privacy).
Being a Molly Mormon was my identity.
Fast forward to the present day. I go to church regularly and currently have an LDS mom blog. On the outside I act like the good mormon that I have always been, but deep down things have changed. I have questions. Like deep and hard and unanswerable questions.
The questions started when my husband and I were experiencing infertility and knew that we would need to adopt. We prayed that we would be able to be matched with a birthmom, but I felt horrible praying that someone would have to mess up just so I could be a mom. And that got me thinking about how my future children were supposed to come from a different mom. Was it predestined that a girl would get pregnant out of wedlock just so I could be a mom? And did I do something wrong that prevented me from getting pregnant? I had a co-worker give me the advice that she had to repent before she could get pregnant, and maybe I should try that too.
Questions slowly started entering my heart. Why did Emma Smith stop going to church after her husband died? Why did it take Joseph Smith four years to translate the Book of Mormon? Why was the Book of Mormon written in the same linguistic style of the Bible? Why would Nephi be commanded to kill someone? And let's not even get started on polygamy....
I feel so much guilt because of wanting to know the answers. Being ignorant just doesn't feel right anymore. I can't pretend that I don't wonder about things- especially church history. I feel like I am turning my back on all the sacrifices my ancestors made to join this religion just because I am questioning. They left homes, families, jobs- everything- to come to America to be with the Saints. They suffered tragedies beyond belief but never openly doubted or left the church.
I read my first "anti"ish book last week about a wife of Brigham Young and couldn't put it down. I devoured 600 pages of a different perspective and learned church history that was never taught in all my years of seminary and institute.
If my family knew that I had questions it would CRUSH them. How could I, the bright glowing angel of the family, bring about darkness like this.
But my journey has begun. Whether I like it or not, I have taken a step into the unknown future. If I choose to stay or leave, I will never be the same.
Molly is now a black sheep.
And it is scaring the *&^$# out of me.
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