Stories of Others
Who Have Left Mormonism
Greetings to all of you! Like many others have said in
previous posts, I too was unaware that such a group existed and how badly I needed to read
your stories and be able to tell my own. It's a long story, but I'll try to keep it to the
"Reader's Digest" version :)
I joined the LDS church at the age of 14 through the urging
of a high school friend. I am the only member in my family. At the time I was receiving
the missionary lessons, my mother and brother listened to them with me... my dad usually
hid in his bedroom. Ultimately my mom and brother declined to join. I was not very popular
in school, but among the LDS youth I found an instant kinship. I went to every youth dance
and activity I could fit into my schedule. And I was serious, *boy* was I serious about
God and religion, which of course meant the LDS church. Every piddly little babysitting or
lawn-care chore I did and got paid for, you'd better believe I took ten percent of that
out and tithed it. At age 15 I taught Sunday School to 7-year-olds. I also went on a youth
temple trip (no mean feat since at that time I lived in Detroit and the nearest temple was
in Washington D.C.!) I prayed daily. I attended church meetings faithfully. I fasted
*every* fast Sunday, and gave my heartfelt testimony...I really believed...
I met my future husband one Sunday in the church parking lot.
We dated (chastely, might I add!) for a year. We were married in the Washington D.C.
temple. I was 18, he was 23. Six months after that, we moved to a new city and joined a
new ward. The welcome wagon (or EYE, if you prefer :)) was fully functional. We got a call
our first week there inviting us to church. One of the first questions they asked me was
"Do you have any children?" I laughed. "Gosh, we've only been married for
six months!" I replied. At the time, I was 4 months pregnant with our first son. My
husband was an exemplary holder of the Melchizidek priesthood. He was the kind of man who
would roll out of bed at 4 am on a Monday morning in January to go to the hospital and
give someone a blessing, then go on to work. My husband and I visited the ward patriarch
when I was about 8 months pregnant, and he received his patriarchal blessing. I had
already had mine as a teenager. His blessing told of the many wondrous things he was to
take part in and accomplish "HERE UPON THE EARTH" Now pay attention to that
part... it figures prominently later in the story...
We left the patriarch's house, after having been informed in
somewhat ominous tones that the child I was carrying was "of the last
generation" Pretty spooky, eh? Two months later, I gave birth to a healthy baby
boy...Eight months after that, my husband was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer.
Well, color me amazed! This just wasn't fitting in with the plans God supposedly had for
him to accomplish great things HERE UPON THE EARTH... The reason why I am beating this
particular phrase into the ground is that the first thing church elders tried to do when I
brought up the question of why this promise was given then not fulfilled, was to say
"perhaps the blessing speaks of his duties in the Spirit World..." My husband's
illness lasted about about 3 and a half years altogether, and most of that time he was
able to function normally in all respects. He held various positions in the ward,
continued to work and pay a full tithe, etc. Late in the game when he became more
disabled, he and I were treated atrociously by members of the ward. Sure, on Sunday
mornings when we arrived at church, elders fell all over each other vying for the
privilege of lifting his wheelchair out of the trunk, or of lifting him out of the car and
into it (an easy task which I needed no help with) but when it came to things which
demanded just a *wee* bit more of them, it was a different story... For a while I had an
arrangement with the RS that one of the sisters would watch my boys (in the meantime we
had found time to have another son!) for one day each week. Mind you, this was during the
last year of my husband's life when he was virtually helpless and I was his sole
caregiver. One day each week, a different sister would arrive at my home in the morning,
pick up my two kids and take them home with her, then return them after about 8 hours.
This lasted for about four weeks. At that time, the RS president came to my house. She
said, haltingly, "I don't know how quite to say this, but... well, the sisters are
coming to your house each week to pick up your sons, and they say when they arrive that
your house is pretty messy...and then when they return in the evening, it's still very
untidy... and, well, frankly, some of the sisters are wondering how wisely you're using
this time..." I could tell you how deeply I was hurt by this, but that would take
forever and a day, and I did want to keep this brief..
Another example, then I'll move on... A man I knew as a
teenager, in fact he was briefly a youth advisor/YM pres. when I joined was now (at the
time of this story) the bishop of the ward I had been baptised into. For financial reasons
(Oh, did I mention on top of everything else we were dirt poor??) I was considering moving
closer to my parents' home so they could assist us a little bit with the care of our
children. I had also hoped I could lean a little on the members of my former ward for
help. But alas, it was not to be... In a telephone conversation with the bishop (my
ex-youth advisor) I mentioned that my husband was terminally ill and that I had two sons,
both under age 5. I had naively asked if perhaps the RS would assist me in finding child
care since it appeared that I was soon going to have to go to work to pay the bills. The
bishop sounded cold and vaguely annoyed as he said "The Relief Society is not a
babysitting agency..." Again, I was too hurt for words... I am not a slacker and I
never have been.. what I was asking for was an arrangement in which I could *trade off*
babysitting with another sister or something like that... As my husband's condition
worsened, a part of me continued to hope and pray for a miracle... My husband endured
endless blessings "to be comforted" but no one had the courage to bless him to
be healed. But wasn't healing supposed to be one of the signs that follow the True Church?
Finally I castigated one of my husband's friends for his spiritual wimpiness...
Anyway, this friend of my husband's, a High Priest, did bless
him to be healed, but it was to no avail... My husband died peacefully in his sleep, at my
parents' home, the day after my father had told me he (my father) "couldn't take it
anymore" (my dying husband's presence in his home) and that we were going to have to
"figure something else out" Heh..hahahahahahaha... OK...
Well, maybe that *was* the blessing taking effect... anyway,
kids, the fun was not over yet... Of course, everybody in the ward was properly mournful
and sympathetic and sent cards, flowers, meals, and all that..My dear husband's headstone
reads "Adam fell that men might be; and men are that they might have joy." But
now back to the "fun"... about a year after my husband's death I began receiving
letters from a man whom I had dated before my marriage, also an LDS convert. At the time
of this story he was attending BYU... the letters he wrote hinted at quite a bit of
emotional intimacy, and he stated that he would be visiting Michigan in a few months and
hoped to see me. He also stated that I was "the only one" he had told he was
coming to Michigan. Well, he arrived as advertised, about 3 months later, but he wasn't
alone. He bought a female "friend" along from Utah who later turned out to be
his fiancee. After he told me he was marrying her, I told him I no longer wanted to write
to him, see him, etc... not in a mean way, but I was firm about it. He showed up a few
days later on my doorstep, tearful, asking why I "shut him out " of my life like
that... Excuuuuse me? Did I miss something here...? Bottom line is, (I am not trying to
brag here!) he desperately wanted to rekindle a relationship with me, but because I had
that terrible stigma of being a Temple Widow, aka used merchandise, his LDS
"conscience" forced him to choose someone else. That is about the time I wised
up. I read in one of the "unofficial" Church books "Doctrines of
Something-Or-Another" by Joseph F. or Joseph Fielding Smith, I forget the exact book,
something about how "Yeah, if you really want to, men, you can marry a temple widow
(Really bad paraphrase here :)) but if you want a family that will last for eternity, then
you must get a wife who has not been previously sealed...or else all the children you have
with her will end up belonging to her and her sealed husband, etc..." And then I
could see this happening to me over and over again... I meet a nice young man (I was
widowed at age 23), we date, we start to get serious, he's the kind of guy who I would
consider a good father figure for my sons, a priesthood holder, we talk marriage, he
really likes me...but... AND THEN THE SIRENS GO OFF!! TEMPLE WIDOW ALERT!! "She's
kinda cute, but she's poison, boy, spiritual poison," Joseph F's (or Fielding's)
voice would whisper to him from the grave, and then he would walk away... This is the
reward I earn for tithing every penny I ever made from age 14. For ten years of faithful
church attendance and fulfillment of responsibility. For being a virgin on my wedding
night, for never being unfaithful to my husband, for striving to comply with every church
ordinance and rule to the best of my ability...I am branded an Untouchable, and left to
raise my children alone... Because of the incredibly high level of self-esteem I was left
with, I entered immediately into a mentally and physically abusive relationship, but
that's *another* story...
Again, I apologize for the length of these
posts, and I thank you so much for listening...
Love to you all,
Serratia
