Don't wear a white dress, or how I came to realize that I'm not a convert

Last night, I stopped by to see my dear friends, the Hodges, on the way from delivering my mini to his camping trip. I meant only to drop off some flowers for my friend, but was ushered in and Mindy started to ask me more about how I was feeling about the prospect of being baptized. Her husband, Adam, had served a mission for the LDS church and has a strong testimony of the gospel.

Adam thoroughly impressed me with his knowledge of the Catholic faith. I quickly came to feel comfortable asking him some of the questions I had that had been on my mind over the last couple of days.

When the sisters had come by my office to talk to me, Sister Marino had read the covenants that are involved in baptism, but Sister Creswell had also shown me a list of interview questions. I didn't remember what all of them were, but  one of them especially had been troubling me. That was the question about paying tithing.

There are two things that trouble me about tithing. The first, is that I am struggling single mother. I recently got a raise at work, but that raise not only put me into a different tax bracket (my paychecks are only about $50.00 more than they were before), but it changed the dynamic of the health insurance plan I had for Julian. Because of his history with some asthmatic tendencies (which have not manifested for nearly three years), the cost for his new insurance will be at a minimum $200.00 a month, therefore in reality causing my income to decrease. I am still paying on my own medical bills for some surgery three years ago, have student loans I'm supposed to be paying on, and a myriad of other bills. I am committed to making sure my son attends college regardless of cost, and I am also determined that I will get at least a Bachelor's degree. I have no idea how I am supposed to now spend around $300.00 per month in tithing. I just simply cannot do it. And, to be frank, because I tend to be so NON materialistic, I just have a hard time comprehending that money is so important that my standing as a good member could be compromised simply because I cannot afford to give 10% of my income to supplement the activities of an organization that has far greater resources than I do.

The second part is a moral dilemma for me. I cannot, in good conscious, give money to any organization that uses some of its funds to pay for the lobbying of legislation to which I am morally opposed. A few years ago, as the state of California was first voting on the issue of legalizing gay marriage, the LDS church financially supported the opposition to that bill. While I understand that my personal views of this particular issue may not be in line with the official stance of the LDS church, I had my beliefs about this hot topic confirmed by the scriptures (the specific verses of which I speak are found in Mosiah, Chapter 4). Not only that, regardless of the religious view on it, I have a very strong belief that there should be separation between church and state, and my growing distaste for politics has only made that belief all the more immovable.

I have always had a deep respect for the welfare system of the LDS church. I, in fact, have been a recipient of the benefits of it - both as a child and as an adult. So I asked Adam if there wasn't another way to offer tithing - whether it be through donations of non-monetary items such as food or other sundries, or perhaps even more importantly through time spent volunteering. I absolutely believe and understand that the works that they do to help others could not exist without the funding that the members provide. I do believe all living beings have a moral responsibility to help others, and I believe I need to make an effort to do service whenever I am able. I find that when I am doing service for others, that my spirits are raised and that I feel closer to the Savior. But I do not place the same value in money and material things that many people in this country do. And I have a hard time believing that God puts such value in it, either. My conversation about this with Adam brought me some comfort about this matter, although I will need to explore it further and ask some of my other LDS friends about their thoughts on this.


Adam also explained, at my request, about the actual baptism and confirmation ceremony. We enjoyed some laughter, as he shared with me that baptism must be done by submersion, and that if any part of the person being baptized does not go under water, the ceremony must be performed again. He advised me to NOT wear a dress. Of course, I always wear dresses. It is how I am most comfortable. My thoughts immediately turned to how I could tuck my dress and manipulate it so that it does indeed get submerged entirely. Really?? This is what I am worrying about?

The most amazing realization came to me as I talked with the Hodges. I have always hated labels: I hate when people try to put me "in a box" or to categorize me. I am just me. I'm not like anyone else, although I certainly share similarities with all other people, and share a LOT of similarities with some. But I most definitely resent people that try to reduce the complexity of people by putting them into a simple category, whether it be by race, creed or any other facet of one's personality.One of the terms I have always hated was "convert". I hate that it implies a paradigm shift of a person's beliefs, because that thought is terrifying to people. One example of this is something that was said to me yesterday, as I was "coming out" to one of my closest friends about the fact that I had been attending church and am considering baptism. She expressed to me that she had some fear and trepidation about how to act around me, and about how much different everything would be. I told her I hoped she could love me enough to trust that NOTHING would really change. Sure, I wouldn't be engaging in some of the behaviors I once would with her, but in all honestly, those behaviors had already changed outside of this choice, and so the difference wouldn't be the dramatic change she was thinking. She went on to tell me of another friend who was a "convert", who had completely changed in attitude and demeanor toward my friend once she had "converted".

So the term "convert" had made me feel uneasy. I hate the word, and hate the label. But the realization that came to me last night as I discussed my beliefs and was explaining that really, my beliefs were not changing; I merely had learned that many of the lessons I had received confirmed beliefs I already had: they confirmed things I have always known to be true in my heart. I realized that in all actuality, I am NOT a convert. A convert is one who changes from one thing to another. That is not what I am! That is not what I have done! Not in this, anyway.

The Invitation

Yesterday afternoon,  I was surprised when my sweet "little sisters" paid me a visit at work. It wasn't the first time they had done so, so I wasn't shocked, but they came in bearing treats: a plate of brownies that Sister Creswell had baked. They came into my office and sat down, and immediately I noticed that Sister Marino's eyes were puffy and swollen. I was concerned and asked if she had been crying. She told me that she was just tired. Sister Creswell piped ialkn that that she simply had trouble sleeping the night before. I introduced them to Tim, and to Maria, who came in to pick Tim up. We chatted for a few, joined by Cooper (Cory Cooper is a coworker) and enjoyed the treats.

After a while of small talk, Sister Creswell got very serious and said they needed to talk to me. She injected that they had good news, and she got a little teary eyed.

She then went on to ask how I was doing, and how I was feeling about everything. To be honest, my memIory of the actual lead in to the main part of this conversation is a bit fuzzy, because of the overwhelming nature of it all. But she mentioned baptism. I told her that I knew this was coming; that I could tell that they were headed in that direction at the end of our lesson the day before. She told me that I was mistaken, because they couldn't talk about it until this point. She explained that although they had been given permission to instruct me, I would have had to return to my geographically designated ward in order to be baptized, however; they had received a call the night before that had said that because I had been a part of the Murray 22nd ward and because I had spent so much time with the sisters, that I could continue there. Until this moment, they had not the jurisdiction to invite me to be baptized, but now they could. This was the reason that they couldn't sleep the night before - they had  been so excited by this news!!'

It really isn't possible to describe the feelings that overwhelmed me. In fact, it took many hours before I could even retell the events. First and foremost, I felt so much love and gratitude for the amount of effort that they (and Doug, the bishop) had put into advocating for me, and for the right to instruct me. I was absolutely bewildered by the fact that they were so moved and so excited to be able to invite me to baptism. I realize that sounds strange, as part of being a missionary is most certainly to help non-LDS folk get to that point. But for me, whose own mother can't/won't expend effort to be a part of my life, it is always a rather extraordinary experience to have people that are not only willing, but that are actually active in being part of my life.

Of course, I would be lying if I said that all of my emotions were positive. In that moment, I was completely overwhelmed with fear, as well. As mentioned in my previous post, the Catholic background has left me with the preconceived notion that I must spent a great deal of time preparing and proving my worth. There are just so many questions I have - so many reasons why I feel I will never be "good enough" to be a part of ANY religion.

The thing is this: Sister Marino is here on borrowed time. Her mission call is for a mission in Brazil. She is only here due to problems with procuring her visa. And so she will not be here for much longer.

I want to be clear about the fact that I will not proceed with baptism until I know that the time is right. But, I have now acknowledged that I feel that it is part of my path. And the philosophy of the LDS religion is different than that of the Catholic. It is one that teaches that through baptism and confirmation, one's faith is strengthened. However, these beautiful spirits have been my guides through this investigation, and there is definitely a desire (and it is so strong that it nearly feels like a need) to have them be a part of that monumental event.

I reminded them that we had not finished the lessons, and asked when they were talking about. Sister Creswell told me that they were thinking that May 24 would be a good day. That's only two weeks away!!!! I openly voiced my hesitation. My dear sisters comforted me, telling me how strong they know my spirit to be, and how they know that I am ready. I expressed that I didn't even know what was expected of me. Sister Marino read to me the three covenants that I would be making. They were all three things that have already become a part of my life. Sister Creswell told me that if I didn't feel ready, that I did not need to feel pressured. She assured me that we  could easily complete the lessons by that time if we spent a little extra time together, but she also stressed the point that I should not do anything I was not ready to do; that if I needed more time, I could take as long as I needed.

I really feel like I am not doing this story justice. I'm missing some of the most beautiful things said to me, and I feel like I have some it out of sequence. I keep wanting to add in parts from other stories like Sister Creswell telling me that she knows the spirit has answered their prayers to be able to help me, like when they had other investigators that they were supposed to meet after Sunday School a couple of weeks ago, who didn't show up which allowed them to attend Relief Society with me. They knew as well as I do that without their asking and going with me, I would almost certainly not have attended, and would have missed out on one of the most beautiful lessons to date. I think that this was such a profound and huge moment, that my mind simply cannot process it perfectly, and so I'm throwing in a bunch of other thoughts, conversations, etc. I feel like it is impossible to capture the essence of this question they were posing, and of the depth and significance of this moment.

I'm so grateful that God sent these beautiful souls to be a part of my life and my journey. Regardless of the specific details (and dang it, I am really frustrated by my lack of eloquence or even memory of this most special experience!), I was asked simply to pray about May 25: to know if that is the right time for me to take this step. There was no pressure whatsoever (save for that I have placed on myself due to the imminent departure of half of this special pair) to rush into anything. And so, pray I will, knowing full well that I will indeed get the answers to my questions.

The Experience That Began My Testimony of the Book of Mormon

I really feel like my spiritual journey took a turn for the better with the dawn of 2012. I was in the middle of a very unfamiliar and uncomfortable situation: I was unemployed, and my mother and youngest brother had been staying with Julian and I for two months (and would be there for another 2 1/2), and I realized how quickly I was approaching my 40th birthday. I have never been one for serious New Year's Resolutions, but I made a promise to myself to be in the best holistic shape of my life when I turned 40. For me, this meant that I wanted to be actively working on all aspects of my life, including (or perhaps mostly) my spiritual being. At this time, I had only rediscovered my belief in God just over a year ago (that story will be forthcoming in part two of my "In the Beginning..." story), and was of the mind that religion was not part of my path.

I must explain one thing about my lack of belief in God. Over time, I came to have a knowledge of a higher power, because too many people had come into my life to bless it with something that I needed, just at precisely the right moment. I understood the significance of this and could not deny that there was a connection between the needs I would have and the people that would show up to meet those needs. I called that power "the universe" and thought of it in rather Jungian terms as being a connection to others through a "collective unconsciousness". I saw it as a connection of all of the collective energy that flowed through the universe - as a connection not between conscious thoughts, but through the unconscious thoughts and energy. As I became able to describe that belief, I became acutely aware of a "gift" I had that was absolutely overwhelming: it the was uncanny ability to manifest my needs. Now, I'm not talking about corporeal needs such as money, but when I needed a blessing, such as extra strength to get through a particular trial, I found that if I put a conscious acknowledgement of that need out to the universe, I would always (and almost immediately) receive what I needed. It was rather overwhelming to discover this "gift", but it would play a huge part in my return to God.

Back to 2012. I had just committed to work on my holistic improvement. As part of that, I prayed to God to give me what I needed to keep that promise. As the year started to pass, I started exploring spiritual philosophies. My relationship with God was ever-growing, through my daily conversations with him. I was surprised to find that my "gift" had another component: I could not only manifest things that I needed, but could be blessed with things that I wanted. Now you have to understand that my life experiences have led me to be the kind of person that believes that anything worth having must be gained through one's own labors. So I wasn't asking for things to be delivered to me outright, but rather needed some divine help to be of a mental and spiritual state that I could recognize opportunity when it was presented to me. And so, when I had the courage to speak to God not only about my needs, but about my wants, I was shocked to learn that He would deliver them to me, in the same nearly instantaneous fashion with which He delivered my needs. It was both humbling and embarrassing, really, because I certainly did not feel worthy of His attention. One last note about this: my receiving both my needs and wants has always been contingent on my being very specific about what I wanted/needed. I couldn't just ask for strength: I had to specify what the strength I needed was to be used for, or what specific question I wanted answered. Specificity was the key.

Flash forward to last week. I had a meeting with Doug Orton, who is the bishop of the Murray 22nd ward where I have been attending church and "investigating". Doug had introduced me to the sister missionaries that were assigned to his ward (I apologize if my use of the word "assigned" is improper. Perhaps I should use the words "called to serve", but I'm not certain on the proper vernacular here) a couple months prior, and I have been receiving lessons from them for several weeks. My meeting with Doug (Bishop Orton) was arranged so as to allow me to speak with him about some concerns I had about my ability to reconcile my life and my beliefs to the teachings of the LDS Church. These had to do with things like my conviction about letting my son make his own choices about his spiritual path - things that I felt would best be answered by someone other than my "little sisters" as I called Sister Creswell and Sister Marino, simply because of their age and lack of life experience. I went into my meeting with Doug with an outline of my questions, but nearly immediately he gave me an answer to one of my questions that negated the need for me to ask many of them. He said to me that all I needed to know was if I had a testimony about Joseph Smith being a true prophet, and if I had a testimony about the truth of the Book of Mormon. He instructed me to pray about those things, and I assured him that I had been.

Two days later, I met with the sister missionaries. They asked about my meeting with the bishop. I told them about his instructions. We had our lesson (which, as per what frequently occurs, turned out to be a side-tracked conversation about just one aspect of their lesson), and at the end of it, Sister Creswell asked me if I was praying to know that the Book of Mormon was true. I told her, as I had told Doug, that I was indeed praying for that. Now, my prayers are most often very informal in nature. I believe that as my Father, I express myself best to God through conversation, such as the conversations I share with my son. It is during those conversations I get to know and understand my child the best, and so I know of no better way to communicate with God than to speak to him humbly, from my heart, in a "normal" conversation. My prayers are usually a conversation with God in which I first and foremost express my gratitude for the myriad of ways that he blesses my life, as well as ask for blessings for those that I love and know need His intervention.

So the morning following the lesson with the sisters, I was showering and talking with God. I expressed my joy and gratitude and as I moved on to the part where I ask him for things, I realized that I was asking him to know the truth and to be guided to a path of righteousness (I doubt I used that exact word because I hate that word - it feels too pretentious to me - but that is the easiest way to describe what I was asking for). it hit me like a ton of bricks that despite what I had told Sister Creswell, I had not specifically asked to know that this gospel was true. So, of course, I asked him to make it known to me if the words of the Book of Mormon were true. 

As happens in "normal" conversations, my talks with God sometimes get off-topic as my mind wanders (and, as I believe, He sends the Spirit to me to begin to answer my prayers - yes, He answers me *that* quickly!), I began thinking of some of the things in the bible and religion that I didn't understand. For some reason (not understood at the time) my thoughts turned to Abraham, and I wondered why God, who allowed his own son to be sacrificed for our sins, would ever ask Abraham to sacrifice Isaac. How could my loving God ask that of anyone?  I know I couldn't make that sacrifice. But then it was all clear: He did make that same sacrifice, and it must have hurt him beyond description. He needed to know if any of his children *could* make the same sacrifice that He would have to make. Maybe it wasn't a test of Abraham's faith so much as His need to understand if any of His children could make the same sacrifice, because He was asking Christ to make that sacrifice for us!! At this point, I redirected my thoughts back to finishing my conversation with God, and I finished my shower, feeling closer to Him because I understood something about Him I hadn't before.

I immediately laid down on my bed and grabbed my scriptures for my morning reading. I was reading from the book of Jacob, and picking up where I had left off, I started with chapter 3. As I finished that chapter, I only got as far as reading the little introduction to Chapter 4 when I began shaking, because the introduction said, in part, "Abraham's offering of Isaac was in similtude of God and His only begotten". Less than five minutes after I had asked God to let me know if the scriptures I was reading were true (and in all actuality, the answer started coming immediately because it was instantaneously that my mind wandered to Abraham, and I know that was the Spirit guiding my thoughts to that story), He sent the Spirit to direct my thoughts, and He provided an understanding of why Abraham was asked to make that sacrifice, and then he confirms the truth of the Book of Mormon by revealing that my new-found understanding was explained in the scriptures!!! He IMMEDIATELY answered my prayer to know if the Book of Mormon contained truth!!!

In the interest of wrapping this post up so I can get to work, I will spare you the pages I could write about the light and giddiness I felt at that time, although if you ask me about it in person, I will gladly share those details with you. Suffice it say that I immediately had to share this experience with a few people that have been an integral part of this journey, because my joy could not be contained. But this experience strengthened my testimony and gave me even further confirmation of His love for me and of the special gift He has given me to have immediate answers to my prayers. And again, I can only express gratitude to Him, for words fail me that could even begin to express how beautiful and faith-strengthening this experience has been.

In the Beginning.... (part 1)

…I was born into a “good” Catholic home. I was baptized when I was about a month old, by Father Merrill at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church – the parish where I spent youth. I attended church every Sunday. My aunt used to sing, and I remember many a Sunday after church (while spending the day at my Gram’s, as we did every Sunday after church) listening to my Janie playing her guitar and singing. 

My Gram’s name was Mary: Mary being the traditional name given to a family’s first-born daughter in honor of the mother of Christ. My grandmother, I have said with only a minimum of exaggeration, would have been the first American pope had she been born a man. The woman lived, breathed, exuded and died her religion. She was separated from my grandfather for over 40 years but never divorced him, despite encouragement even from Catholic clergy, because that was not what was taught.

At the age of eight, my catechism peers received their First Holy Communion, but my mother decided that I wasn’t ready, so I had to wait an additional year. Because of this, when my mother decided I was ready, I had to have an interview with the priest. I remember how frightened I was, as I entered his apartment (which was in the church building) to be interviewed. It was during this meeting that I had my first stirrings of doubt about religion, because I was completely aware of the fact that I was giving him all the “right” answers. Now, some of the questions he asked where about what I felt in my heart, and I remember thinking that it didn’t matter what I felt, rather that this – like a test in school – most assuredly had “right” answers. I knew exactly what I was supposed to say, and I knew that I didn’t know what I felt in my heart.

Being raised in Salt Lake City meant being raised in the land where Mormon pioneers had escaped persecution in the 1800s. The population of Utah is predominately Mormon. For my entire life, I faced various degrees of exclusion from social activities, cliques at school, etc., due to not being a member of the LDS church. My mother moved us frequently during my childhood, and at every new school I faced the routine of feeling left out, and not having the opportunity to bond with my peers as the majority of the friendships between my peers were formed through the strong bonds that they formed at church. I had no means of getting to “fit in”. I looked different (at that time, the ethnic diversity that is prevalent in Utah was not present), acted differently, and believed differently. It was very difficult to never fully feel like it was possible for me to “fit in”.

 

By the age of 13, I was past the age of regular Saturday morning catechism, but not quite old enough for confirmation class. But since my mom taught catechism, I was usually present in the Hacienda (name of the building where they held religious classes). One Saturday, the kindergarten teacher didn’t show up and the priest (I can’t remember his name) recruited me to fill in as the teacher. I don’t remember what I talked about, but I remember that he didn’t give me a lesson plan and that I had no idea what I was doing. The following week I did not go to the Hacienda, for whatever reason. The next day in church, Father asked where I had been. I told him I just had stayed home, and he told me that I was the new teacher for the kindergarten class because the former teacher had just resigned. Surely he couldn’t be serious?!? I was only 13! However, far be it for me to tell a priest no. I showed up the following Saturday and was suddenly part of the catechism teachers, where I remained for a few years.

In addition to teaching, I was active in the church in several other ways. I followed family tradition through the use of a powerful voice to be a lector (one who reads readings from the Old Testament during mass), was cast as Our Lady of Guadalupe for several years in the church play. When I went to live with my Gram at the age of 16, I started attending her parish, St. Patrick’s. I started taking the class that my Gram taught to adults who wanted to convert to the Catholic faith. In this class, I was able to ask a lot of my questions and listen to perspectives from others about their different journeys. It was enlightening, but the more I heard, the more I questioned.

The following year, my best friend (and boss, who was about 18 years my senior) took the RCIA (Rite of Catholic Initiation for Adults – the aforementioned class my Gram taught) and decided to become Catholic. She asked me to be her sponsor for her confirmation. I agreed to the honor, although I knew that inside, my struggle with religion was growing, despite my continued activity in the parish.

I moved out of my grandmother’s house about 2 weeks before I turned 18. I moved into a mobile home with my best friend, Christopher. Christopher was a life-long member of the Mormon Church. He had served a mission for the LDS church (he had only been back from his mission a few months when I had met him two years prior). It was when I was living with Chris that I attended my first LDS church service, which happened to be a Fast and Testimony meeting. The experience left much to be desired, as it consisted ENTIRELY of a ton of children standing up to bear their testimony. At this age, that consisted of the young children’s older siblings whispering the words to be repeated into their tiny ears. It lacked sincerity and conviction, and only fueled my growing discomfort with organized religion.

 

I was roommates with Chris for only two short months. His parents, who thought I was very delightful, were most anxious to see their son settle down and start a family, as young Mormons (and especially return missionaries) are encouraged to do. Chris was, unbeknownst to me at the time, struggling to deal with his homosexuality, but knew that he could not in good conscience marry a woman (and our relationship had not been romantic in nature, anyway), but I could tell the emotional agony he felt because his parents treated him as if were living in sin because he lived with me but would not pursue a relationship with me. I couldn’t stand watching him hurt, so I found a new living situation and moved out.

By the time a year had passed, I had quit going to church entirely and had slowly allowed myself to accept the fact that I didn’t believe in God. I had engaged in countless conversations with my atheist uncle about science over the years. My brain could not comprehend the omnipotence of a God, and so I threw my eggs in the basket of the scientific process and the need for concrete proof to ascertain the existence of everything. I have always hated labels – any simple word that tried to categorize human based on commonalities with other humans. As such, I hated the term “atheist” and did not often use it, but that is what I believed I was. It was a strange dynamic, but it hurt my heart to “lose” my faith. It was a comforting feeling to believe that there was a supreme and divine Creator that had designed us in his own image and that He was looking out for us. But I just couldn’t get my head around it.

Christopher and I went through a period of distance and we didn’t even speak for about six months. When we started spending time together again, he was able to come out to me and our friendship once again became one of the most important relationships I had. I don’t remember how it began, but for a brief time we began attending the Universal Unitarian church together. We even attended a brunch that the pastor, Rev. Tom Goldstein had in his home for potential converts. I found solace in the Unitarian services because the sermons and readings barely even mentioned God, let alone have a particular doctrine that had to be accepted. It was a beautiful experience, but it confirmed that religion did not have a place in my world. I soon met a man that was first adult boyfriend. He was an atheist, and by the time we moved into an apartment together a few months later, religion was completely removed from my life. I didn't like to talk spirituality, and did not usually identify as an atheist, but that is basically what I was for most of my adult life to this point.

I will likely make edits to this post later, when I get a few of the things I really want to get posted as a framework for this blog, but this is the first part of my story out of and back into my connection with my spirit and with spirituality. The fact of the matter is that I never lost spirituality, I just paid it no mind for a very long time and when I first reconnected with it, I called it by another name. I will end this post here, as this really is the synopsis of my journey out of religion and out of touch with spirituality. For a great many years, I would never have claimed to be a “spiritual” person. The next segment of this post (which may not come until I post a couple of posts from my most recent experiences, while they are fresh in my mind) will discuss my reconnection with spirit and self.

The Lesson of the Four Principles

In the Catholic Church, there are seven sacraments, which are special blessings or gifts from God. They are (in order of their reception): baptism, reconciliation (confession), the Eucharist (Holy Communion), confirmation, marriage, holy orders (becoming a priest – only a man who devotes his life to God can receive this one), and anointing of the sick (last rites). In order to receive each sacrament, there is a great deal of preparation beforehand. There are theoretically certain criteria that must be achieved, including a minimum age for those that grow up catholic.

Today my sweet little sisters talked about the four principles of the gospel (they indicated there are actually five, but only talked about four): faith, repentance, baptism, and confirmation. It was fun because they had forgotten their little cut-outs for the visual lesson and were trying to decide what to do. I half-jokingly suggested that they act it out, and so we did. Their analogy was that I was driving a car and came to a big puddle. As I pondered how to get across, a carpenter came up and said that he would build me a bridge to get across for free. I accepted and drove across. Next I came to a bigger puddle, and the carpenter again came and said he would build a bridge for me, but this time would charge me $4.00. I accepted and I drove across. Once across, I approached home but before I could get from my nearby parking place into my home, I had to have a path to follow and once that path was laid, I could complete my journey and be welcomed home by those waiting for me.

Sister Creswell then explained that the carpenter was Christ. He was always there to help me. As I started my journey, He was there to help me. I continued along with his help, but there came a time when He asked me for four dollars, and each of those dollars was one of the four principles. Once I agreed to pay that price, he guided me and lay the straight and narrow path that would lead me to my eternal home with Him. They started talking to me about these things, and said that some of them might be scary; that I might think I am not ready for them, but that they are all intertwined and come from faith that through baptism and the confirmation of the Spirit, that my path will be guided.

Although I went into these lessons with the clear understanding that I did not plan or expect to be converting any time soon, they are deeply moved by my faith and my growing testimony of the scriptures as well as by the truths that are taught by the LDS faith that are truths I have always known within my own soul. I did not expect to have the thoughts and feelings I have experienced with regard to my experiences with this (or any) religion. But as our time together drew to a close, I became very nervous. I got what I believe to be a message from the Spirit that they are preparing to ask me to be baptized.

Coming from a strong catholic background, it is very hard to shake certain ideas, one of which being the idea that sacraments are something that must be slowly prepared for an earned. My mother had refused to let me make my first communion when the rest of my peers in catechism (religious school) did because she deemed me not ready (even though I had more “book smart” knowledge than anyone in my class). Preparation for confirmation was excruciating, because the teacher I had spent much more time telling us stories about his experiences – none of which could be related to my adolescent life.

The sisters talked of covenants made with God, and referred to baptism as the first one. To me, the idea of a covenant is so much more than a mere promise. It is a sacred oath, and should not be made lightly. I take the giving of my word very seriously, and so the thought of making a covenant is something that I feel must be made with the purest of heart and absolute intention of not breaking it. Marriage, in my eyes, should be a covenant. When I married - although admittedly I should have not done so with Dayn – I could have and would have honored that vow, had he done the same. So to make a covenant with God, for me, is to be made only with the knowledge that I will not break it.

Now, obviously, as a Catholic, being baptized at about one month old, I could not make a covenant like that. But Catholics believe it is a sacrament; a gift. It is not a covenant. I am not certain what Mormons believe about their “traditional” baptism at age 8 – because I do not think a child can comprehend the seriousness of what a covenant should be. But as an adult convert, where choice is absolute, I think there is a much greater responsibility to be prepared to receive baptism and confirmation.

So I am struggling to reconcile the Catholic notion of baptism and confirmations as something that is earned, yet a gift (any maybe they say it is a covenant, but my greatest impressions were not about a promise to God, just about the blessing from God) with the notion that I could be baptized with so little preparation, especially when it is a covenant. This seems to be the ultimate test of faith; one I am not sure how to handle.

Until recently, I had never “given the devil his due”. What I mean by that is that although I believe in his existence (and my belief in his has been in tandem with my belief in God, so to believe in one was to accept the other), I have never really given him credit for the things that he has done to influence me. I have taken on full responsibility for my own actions. But the truth is that I know he is working against God – but not by making me do “bad” things; but rather that he introduces influences that are subtle enough for me not to see them for face value: things like fear and my constant “need” to over-analyze every single thought, action or feeling I ever have. Fear is by far and away the most harmful influence in my life, and it is very clear to me that my all-consuming fear has been his efforts to get in between God and me.

And here is the truth – the words I have not yet dared utter: I know, and have for a period of time now, where my path is going. I know I will be baptized. I know it as sure as I know I am writing these words. But, I am struggling. I am struggling to feel worthy of it, when I feel like I have so much more to know. I just had to ask someone 5 minutes ago what a fireside is. And it is just a name for a certain talk. No big deal if I didn’t know it. But my experience is that I must be prepared. And indeed, if this is a covenant rather than just a gift/blessing from God, shouldn’t I be EXTRA prepared??  Is it not wrong to enter into a covenant that I don’t understand? How can I promise to be a member of this church when I don’t even fully know what is expected of me?

Of course, that is not my only fear. I have a deep seated fear of the public/social ramifications of the baptism itself, not to mention the distance it will create between myself and the last few vestiges I have of a “family”, because not one of them will understand or respect my choice. I know my “friends” will respect my choice (at least to my face, although I’m not naïve enough to think they will maintain that respect behind my back). And while ultimately, I need only know within my own soul what is true for me, it is terrifying to try to imagine how truly alone I will be at that point (because no matter how alone I have felt thus far, there have always been people that supported me no matter what that I do not think will support me in this). I’m terrified about what this will do to my relationship with my son. I’m terrified to be acknowledged in church as being new member (and part of me resents that it has to be a public “spectacle”, even though I understand that is not what they are trying to do). Mostly, I’m afraid of failing. I have spent so much of my life away from my Father that I don’t want to mess up again. I don’t want to let him down.

And this brings us all back to faith. The lesson today touched on faith and how no one has perfect faith. But faith has eluded me for so much of my life. To have faith has always meant to be let down.  I put faith in so many people who only ever hurt me, like my mother and siblings. And yes, I realize and do believe that God will not let me down – he will not disappoint nor hurt me. He need not prove that to anyone, but he has proven it to me. Every day that I wake up and make time to pray and read the scriptures it is blatantly obvious. But fear has only ever been my constant companion. I’ve come a long way in the last year and a half since I vowed to banish it from my life. But Satan lives, and he is cunning and disguised, and he will not give up so easily.

My “homework” was to read 2 Nephi, Chapter 31, to “find” the fifth principle of the gospel. I just read it, and the fifth principal is eternal life. It is living forever in the glory of God in His kingdom. It is the tenet which has most attracted me to my investigation of the LDS faith. It is thoughts of an eternal life (with an eternal family) which I desire more than any other thing. It is enough to give me the faith that I can enter into a covenant of baptism with God because I can’t imagine anything I wouldn’t do to obtain it. And even as I write these words, it is a testament to the influence of Satan because I feel the fear once again take my heart. The fear that I am not worthy of that eternal life. The fear that even if I obtain it, that I will be alone, because to be baptized is to possibly lose what little family I do have. And I am aware that my faith is being tested.

I am comforted knowing that God has blessed me with the gift of immediate answers to my prayers. So I will pray. I will pray for protection from Satan’s influence. I will pray that he bless me with family that I may not be alone through eternity. I will pray that he strengthen my understanding that my faith need not be perfect. It just need be. And it is. And for that, I am truly blessed, and will give Him thanks.