Church people.

 

Gary & Jan Skubal with my parents at the Oakland

Temple on the day they were sealed

My introduction to Mormons* as a child:

*I am aware that Russell Nelson, the current prophet of the church, has asked that we do not refer to the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as "Mormons", but it is a term I grew up with and I associate no negative connotation with it.  And I mean no disrespect when I use it.  I was a Mormon, I have people that I love that are still Mormon - it is a word that has meaning and identity to me.  

I guess I can pretty much attribute my parents' initial interest and willingness to listen to the missionaries and learn about the church to the Skubals.  Jan and Gary.  Jan was a friend from high school, who my parents stayed in touch with after high school.  They were Mormon.  They lived in Fremont, California, where they all went to Irvington High School together.  Their influence was always felt and they had a pretty picture-perfect family.  It's easy to see why my parents viewed them as happy and content and having the answers.  After my parents joined the church, the Skubals were somewhat regular visitors to our Spokane home.  Their kids were similar ages to us, so we played together and camped together often.  The Skubals were the first Mormons I recall knowing.

Camping with the Skubal family, early '80's

I had friends from church, though none of them went to the same elementary school as me.  So I only ever saw them on Sundays and at primary activities. Jodi Wood, Michelle Boucher, Francisca de Jong, Jessica Bates.  These are names I remember.  Jodi lived out in the woods and she and her sister could have been models.  Michelle had a German mother with the coolest accent and she taught us in primary for a while.  I remember her telling us how much better Germany was than America - so much cleaner in Germany.  Her dad, who scared me, once scolded me for trying to cut some food on my dinner plate at their house:  "God gave you fingers before he gave you a fork!  Just use your fingers!"  Francisca was exotic.  She had lovely, dark skin and thick black hair.  She and I laughed a lot and I considered her a good friend.  Jessica was the bishop's daughter.  Blonde, curly hair and blue eyes.  Her dad was a dentist and lived in a big house in a nice neighborhood.  I stayed the night there once, maybe during one of my parent's weekend temple trips.  At dinner, we were about to pray and the entire family stood up and then kneeled at their chairs.  No TV.  We could play board games.  Jessica was not as kind as she let on at church.  I remember wanting to go home.  

I mentioned the Buchanans in a previous post (medicine-hating, sugar-loathing, garden-growing Mormon hippies that didn't believe in sheets on their beds or combs for their kids).  We spent a Thanksgiving or two with them - at a rented cabin in the woods and eating a turkey they probably killed the day before.  I liked the cabin, because it was out in the woods and sometimes there was snow.  But I remember disliking the food and being cold.  The Heinz (spelling?) family is also familiar.  The dad was loud and robust and laughed a lot - until they lost their son to some infection or meningitis.  I was too young to understand.  But he laughed less after that.   I babysat for the Lees up the street.  They were old.  I was actually babysitting their grand-kid, I think, because they had a kid that wasn't responsible or something.  They gifted me a book on finding love, filled with a bunch of quotes from apostles and other church leaders.  Thinking back on it, that seems a strange gift for what had to be a 10 or 11-year old girl.  I still have the book somewhere.  

The list of Mormons I knew as a child is short.  I both don't remember many and I don't think I was exposed to many beyond church.  That changed as I grew older.  However, the Mormons I did know as a child usually struck me as kind and friendly.  I perceived church people as both giving and righteous.  Had we not joined the church, I imagine my exposure to adults would have been significantly less.    

The Mormon community I have grown to know:

As a 49-year old, I can safely say that I know a lot of Mormons.  And I can honestly say that 99% of all the Mormons I have ever met in my entire lifetime have been good, kind-hearted, well-meaning and faithful people.  Period.  I will always believe that.  My issues are with the institution and the doctrine and the system, not the people. 

Having said that, I have decided that there are certain things that motivate people to go to church, specifically the Mormon church. I feel like all of the Mormons I know are motivated to sit in the pews by one of these things: 

1. Belief.   Simple.  They believe.  They 'know' the church is true, they 'know' Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that he restored the one true and living church onto the face of the Earth.  Done.
2. Indifference.  This sounds harsh, I know.  But hear me out.  There are so many people that go to church, and I was one of them for a while, while their heads and hearts are filled with doubt.  They are aware of some of the troubling issues with historicity and they are aware of the harmful rhetoric that causes people so much pain - but they go anyway.  They accept that the institution is imperfect, that it is not what they thought it was, but it's not enough to keep them from going.  They are willing to set aside those things or ignore them, and do what they know and what they are comfortable with - going to church and raising their hands to sustain.  It's what they know, and despite the problems, it's what they choose.
3. Fear.  So many members have mentally checked out of the church, because they don't care or because they no longer believe - yet they keep going.  Because they are afraid of who they are if they are not Sister So-and-so.  They are afraid of what friends and family will think.  They are afraid they will lose their families, both here on Earth and in the eternities.  They are afraid they will lose their status - as the perfect Mormon, or the golden child in the family.  So - even though they don't subscribe to the doctrine or believe in the teachings, they go - because not going is terrifying. 

My parents were believing members, to my knowledge, until they day they died.  My father, even as a chronically-ill and financially broke man in his later years, went to church and paid his meager tithes until he couldn't anymore - and it was always a source of shame for him.  He did not wear his religion on his sleeve, but his faith in the promise of eternal families was very real.  He spoke very matter of factly about seeing his deceased siblings and his parents again. I recall him sharing, on multiple occasions, a dream he had about dying and standing in line to get into Heaven, and looking back to see the rest of us in line behind him - and how happy the thought made him.  My mother was equally faithful.  She loved reading the historical fiction books the church published.  She got into genealogy big-time for a while and would give me names to take to the temple.  She did the temple work for her parents and other relatives.  Her health and the COVID pandemic did not allow her to attend church regularly for the last couple of years of her life, but I know that she kept in touch with her ward leaders and her visiting teachers.  

The church was a huge part of their life for over 40 years.