La Virgin

So today I lit a Virgin Mary candle. I'll tell you why.

First, I wouldn't have actually had the candle except for a new friend (a post-Mormon) brought it to me as a hostess gift when we had her family over for dinner. It was a whimsical gift. Without much significance between us except that (actually, I forgot the story she told me when she gave it to me - something about a giant Virgin candle). I like it. Jim hates it. Because it reminds him of his mission. Which is not a good thing in his mind. Anyway, because of his distaste, I keep it out of sight.

But today, Jim took the kids on an outing so I could get some work done, and I was all alone in the house. It was nice, but I was feeling stressed and panicky over the mere quantity of homework I have due very shortly. And there was a moment where I was crying because I no longer have the same old comfort in the form of a Dear-Heavenly-Father-help-me-do-this prayer for moments like that. I just can't do that sort of prayer anymore. So I thought maybe I should meditate, and take Jana's candle suggestion. I tidied up the room so I could feel calm and order in it. I got out The Virgin Mary candle, lit its new wick, and dimmed the lights. I sat probably for only 5 or 10 minutes thinking of the flame and the things I was happy about and the things I was hoping for. And it was just enough to get me calm, and ready to tackle the obstacles ahead. Then I put The Virgin away.

Thank you to Jim for taking the kids. Thank you to you readers for your comments, which are both useful and comforting. And thank you to Virgin Mary's light for guiding me from panic to calm.

On having a strong husband and other ramblings

One of my biggest fears surrounding my faith journey out of the church (doctrinally), is that I've just been following my husband. If you know Jim, you know that he is vocal and persuasive. He's a strong, dominant voice wherever he happens to be. And if I agree with an idea, I'll give it a try. In my experience, Jim's easy to agree with. On top of that, we talk about everything. We've always talked about everything. We are each others' constant sounding boards.

Now, it wasn't ALL his influence, to be sure. My Mormon study group friends and women's book group constantly left me with increasingly interesting questions to mull over.

(Does this post sound like I'm trying to convince myself of something?)

When I compare the follower-faith-journey-dilemma to my soda drinking habits, it makes me depressed. I honestly don't believe that I would drink diet coke every day if it weren't for Jim. I swear he started it. As soon as he had diet coke in the fridge on a regular basis (instead of that nasty code red mountain dew), I was doomed. I would have one occasionally. Then find myself, just because it was THERE, having one with my lunch every day. I would worry out loud about it and he would say that everyone needs a vice. It used to be that if it weren't already there, I wouldn't drink it. Now, if there isn't any left in the fridge, I'll be the one buying more! And I kind of hate that I do it. But it tastes so good to me.

But is that comparison even fair? I look at drinking lots of soda on a daily basis as an unhealthy practice - not good for people in general. But is leaving the religion (doctrinally, if not physically) you were raised in a bad thing? It probably seems like a bad thing according to your parents, and to those who fully believe. It is totally a bad thing according to the teachings of the institution itself. And when a Mormon has doubts about her doubts, her upbringing is so deeply ingrained that she thinks it's because she's slowly being led through the mists of darkness towards the great and spacious building.

The thing is, I like where I am, especially when I think of the person I was 8 years ago. Even though it is anxiety-producing place, often full of uncertainty. But still, I know what the course I've taken might look like from the outside. Like I'm blindly following my husband out - or like I'm following in a sort of passive way, to avoid marital conflict. That image really bothers me. And it makes me question my beliefs and decisions. I ask myself if that's what I'm doing. I imagine scenarios where I have changed my mind about things, and ask myself how I would feel NOT being on the same page as my husband in my beliefs.

There is just something in me that wishes I differed from Jim on more things, so I could feel more certain of my independence - in the direction of my spiritual path, and in making decisions that have to do with me alone. Or can any of my decisions really only have to do with me? I just wish it were easier for me to see the individuality and authenticity.

Going backwards

Sunday, before the bishop came over, I was already feeling weird about stuff. Weird because usually when I imagine myself trying to "go back" to believing things I used to be so sure about, I couldn't even conceive of it. But I don't know if my imagination was working overtime or what, because I kept picturing it throughout the afternoon. Or maybe I was just pinning down a memory of what I used to feel and think about spiritual things. But the thought would come to me: What if I decided I believe some of this religious stuff again? (key word: some) There are things I could never believe anymore, but could I believe enough to fit back into a rhetoric with God and Jesus in the center of my spirituality? And imagining this sort of thing was freaking me out. Because part of me doesn't believe that's possible. Part of me doesn't want it to be possible.

I wonder if my soul or spirit or some psychological part of me is yearning to have something back, even if it's just prayer revisited or some personally tailored ritual that will at least bring back some spirituality. Because that could be what I feel is really missing. I think I'm a lazy person. I know what is good for me and what I need to feel good most of the time, but don't want to put too much effort into anything that isn't exciting to me. The church made my spiritual life a given. It was already thought out and totally available to me like a to-do list and instructions; it was just a matter of fact. Now that I've let go of the church, I probably just need to get into gear and figure some spiritual things out for myself for once. And make time for them. Like meditating. It seems like a great option. I had a fantastic experience at the Sophia Gathering when (is it Judy?) played her flute while we meditated. But it's a lot like exercise to me (something I don't find very exciting so I don't find much time for). I think about it but rarely carve out time for it, let alone figure out some routinen that will work for me. Another thing I did a bit of lately (before classes started for me) was read Mary Oliver. When I look back on it, that seemed kind of like a spiritual boost. So, what are your suggestions? Experiences? Routines?


For the record, I feel good this morning. In fact, I haven't felt this good in the morning for a while. I didn't wake up with a headache and my mind seems unclouded. I wonder if some of that goodness has to do with letting myself write and connect this way. Thanks for reading.

A talk with the bishop

I never knew it would feel like this. Taking the path I've taken. I mean, when you imagine feelings it is not an accurate sort of thing because it is based on limited experiences. I talked to the bishop last night. Jim and I did together. He came over a little after 9:30pm and we had some small talk. Then, with some nervousness and sincerity, he asked us about our faith. Jim very eloquently told his story. I stumbled through unorganized pieces of a narrative I haven't really constructed. I wanted to be open and honest. I returned my questionable temple recommend to him partly with relief and partly with regret. Not that I ever want to go to the temple again - I think the regret had more to do with my getting it in the first place (was I dishonest because of the mental gymnastics I had to do in my interviews back in January?). I was uncomfortable. But I had no other desires than to make myself plain to him. No matter what it meant he would do or think about me. And now I feel more anxious. Which is not what I expected, but it is what it is and I must deal with it now. My secret doubts are no longer secret to my bishop.