20 October, 2013

I always wondered if I would ever go back...

 Since my first encounter, at 17; when I contacted the LDS missionaries in hopes of 'converting them'; my desire began. What that desire was, til this day I'm not sure. But a desire has existed.

A desire, to somehow, every day, for the past 11 years, bring up that church; that faith; that religion; that belief. Whether in hostile conversation with an ex member, whether with compassion and empathetic understanding with a current member, or somewhere in between the two - it finds its way.

People hear I went to school in Utah; or I am wearing a Utah Utes shirt/hoodie/whatever - and they laugh. I've been told on more than one occasion they didn't realize Bustedtees.com was selling Utah/Mormon shirts now.

Am I truly that worldly, to be not of that faith? Do I resemble too much of those I desire least - to be recognized for a 'Mormon'?

Regardless... I never thought I would actually go back - and then, after moving to Frederick 2.5 years ago; on a whim, I finally took it upon the missionaries (who of course I have somehow always managed to be in contact with even during my heist of 'anti' days... but I digress) I finally took up the offer (which I truly feel no missionary thought I ever actually would) to attend church. You can read about that journey; well at least... the aftermath/etc by typing in "Mormon" in the search bar; which also includes my 5 year subsequent  atheist journey after leaving the church in 2005.

Even after everything happened last October (which... I promised the local bishop of the ward I'm technically in, who truly is amazing, forgiving, and compassionate & loving of his members) that I wouldn't write about him, or our ward specifically. Which I understand now. But without detail; after everything that transpired October 2011; 2 years ago... I never, ever saw myself going back.

It wasn't that I didn't still believe it; I truly feel when I was baptized that 2nd time; my entire heart was there, ready to go ... but it was because I allowed my pride, which I know I struggle with having none of - but I somehow allowed my pride to jeopardize my faith. Regardless of what happened; of what was said, of what was true vs. untrue; reality vs. unreality - there were things that I did; that I shouldn't have. And what matters most; is that I was too prideful to ever confess that.

When my 'anam cara' ( In Celtic tradition, an Anam Cara is a teacher, companion or spiritual guide. With the Anam Cara you can share your innermost self to reveal the hidden intimacies of your life, your mind and your heart. This friendship cuts across all convention to create an act of recognition and belonging that joins souls in an ancient and eternal way) was here in September; my heart skipped a beat. I felt I had to portray to her (whom I had not seen in 3 years); that though I was probably falling apart internally; that I wasn't. I was conflicted beyond belief.

It's not that she would judge me; she puts up with me regardless of my point. Sure, she probably knows a lot about me - and at times, better than I know ( or will admit to ) about myself - but she doesn't judge. She loves me, despite my faults, flaws, and misfortunes. She. IS. AMAZING! She is such an example... that all said; that's another post, another time.

But; she recognized 'it' in me, before I was even ready to admit 'it'. I, trying so hard to portray anything other than 'it'; doing precise things, saying exact words, whatever and however - to portray that 'it' meant nothing to me - she still saw it. Yet in her own loving way; she made the brief comment that she saw it, never brought it up again, and waited for me.

Fast forward a month - and here I am. What. The. Heck.

What the heck!?

Heavenly Father surely knows me; and he knows my weaknesses and my strengths. He knows that I'm a slap in the face type of gal; and unfortunately, that has been true fervently so with my testimony and walk.

So, in his ever loving and compassionate manner - he throws those slaps aka curve balls in my face - to remind me, He is real. His Church exists. And it's there, merely waiting for me to come back.

And yet, I run.

I tried to explain to the local Bishop; that regardless of my beliefs or understandings... Regardless of a testimony or not; it was easier for me midst everything, to run. To go back to what I knew - and to what I knew would 'have' me.

I am not knocking my church for having me. I am not knocking any church for believing in forgiveness or acceptance. But; when you're convicted of something, and find it easier to run - so that you do not have to confess your faults, your mistakes... well then, I suppose I am knocking only my own hypocrisy.

Who knows what I am trying to say. I always jump the gun; and I am so exhausted from doing that for 28 years; that's not what I want. But how do I find out truth and reality, without first giving myeslf fully, and 100%.

My friends; I'm not saying anything. I'm not even sure what I am trying to say.