Sunday, September 4, 2011
For instance, a long, long time ago...like in the 90's...I was out breaking the Sabbath with my Born Again Christian boyfriend, my Dutch Crush, a French guy, and my friend Leslie. The five of us left the resort where we all worked for a weekend getaway to Yellowstone National Park. As is customary when I break one of the Top 10* I totally had car trouble...as in the car totally and completely ceased to work. Since this was during the pre-cell phone era, Born Again and I hitchhiked to the nearest payphone so I could call my father and have a little car talk. Unfortunately no one was willing to pick us up and hitchhike us back to the car. So we started walking. About 15 minutes into our lengthy walk, I suggested to Born Again that we say a little prayer. So we stopped at the side of the road, and with our thumbs facing oncoming traffic I uttered a prayer of false remorse for having fun on Sunday and asking for assistance. Not a single car stopped. So we kept walking. A few minutes down the road we rounded a curve only to see a large sign with an arrow pointing directly into the middle of the forest, "LDS Church Meeting This Way". I punched Born Again on the shoulder and said, "HA! You can't escape the Mormons!!!!"
Long story short, there were oodles of happy tree hugging Mormons just itching to help out a fellow sister*...especially a sinning sister...and within minutes my car troubles were solved and we made it to Old Faithful before sundown.
Greatest thing: The LDS Church is everywhere AND Mormons really like to help out and keep each other in the fold.
Worst thing: The LDS Church is everywhere AND Mormons really like to help out and keep each other in the fold.
This became very apparent this week. I have spent the last 2+ years in the same ward*, and no matter what I do that ward continually put me in leadership positions. Since swearing, inappropriate dating relationships, a poor attitude, and preaching feminism didn't get me released* from those leadership positions I had one option: move. So move I did.
Now, it's rather common knowledge that Mormons are moving machines (it's trait that was engrained in us the moment our ancestors decided to drag their lives out to Utah in handcarts). Someone needs help moving? Skip Two Guys and a Truck and go straight to your nearest Mormon. Chances are they can round up at least 2 trucks and 15 guys all willing to get the job done. Except this Mormon felt really awkward asking a bunch of married guys to come help move my delicates and personal affects. So I did it myself (with some help from the roomy and bestie).
When I went to church on Sundee I was accosted by several people all asking when I was going to need help moving. "Never," I said with a smile.
Next the Relief Society President* told me that the bishop wanted my new address so he could transfer my records* over to the new ward. I laughed and told her that I wasn't giving my address out to anyone, especially the ward*. She laughed like I was kidding. I wasn't.
So she sent me an email three days later informing me that she was serious and that the bishop had once again requested that she get my address. So I once again informed her that I wasn't giving my address out. I told her to tell the bishop to send my records back to SLUT* to be put in the "lost and doesn't want to be found" pile and that after a much needed church break I would go to my new ward* and have them request my record be sent back to the Minn.
My plan to keep a low profile for a few weeks was also sabotaged by my Minnesota bestie...bless her heart* for being so on top of things. Since I am moving into her old ward, she took it upon herself to spread the word to all of her ward friends that I would soon be in their congregation. I was cool with this until I went out of dinner with the bestie and couple of the wardies*. It only took a few minutes for the Mormon ties that bind to start suffocating me. I really do believe there is a fine line between "friendly" and "overbearingly freakish" when it comes to welcoming someone into a new ward. I'm an independent loner who likes her space, LOTS of space. So incessant questions about where I live, what I do, when I'll be attending church, who I'll sit with, what I'll be wearing, my talents, my job, blah, blah, blah...I start to get really overwhelmed really quickly.
That encounter solidified my decision to spend a couple weeks visiting other churches. Today it was the Catholics. Next week it will be a 1.5 hour Sunday morning Christian rock concert at The Church of the Open Door, and who knows where I'll be the week after that. When it comes to churches, the sky's the limit. Oh how I love basking in other faiths' craziness and escaping my own.
Posted by Carrie at 10:00 AM