Believing the Best

When you hear a rumor about a friend or colleague, do you assume the best or worst about them?

I believe it’s human nature to believe the worst, but could be swayed to believe the opposite.

Recently a rumor went through my family that placed me in a situation far from the truth. The person who spread the rumor needed me to fit their narrative.

The rumor stung but what hurt the most was the realization that people close to me chose to believe the rumor before speaking to me.

I want to fight the urge to believe the worst next time I hear a rumor about a friend. I will give them the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise.

Saying Goodbye to my Mom

I rolled over in bed, grabbed my phone and made my way through a dozen messages that had arrived earlier that morning.

None of the messages were very long, but it was clear something was wrong. Each one was a puzzle piece that taken individually didn’t make a lot of sense.

Mom wasn’t feeling well. 
My dad was taking her to the hospital. 
Should the kids gather at the hospital? 
My dad needs help. 

I leaned over to see if Kim was awake. She wasn’t and I decided to let her sleep. I sat back in bed and thought about my mom. We’d driven up the week before to celebrate her birthday. She was frail but alert. Her spirits were high as they always are when she’s around her children and grandchildren.

Maybe 20 minutes had passed, and I decided to wake Kim. “My mom isn’t doing well. I don’t know what to do.” As I contemplated making the 5-hour trip from St. George to North Ogden, a message from my sister arrived:

“Mom is gone.”

It seems fitting to hear of my mom’s passing by text message. I’ve lived a state or two away from my parents and siblings for the past 20+ years, and I’m accustomed to hearing news about the family via text, email, and phone.

I stayed in bed for another hour trying to make sense of the fact that I will not see my mother again. She lived 69 years which is about 30 years longer than doctors figured she’d live once they diagnosed her with Lupus and a host of other ailments. The Prednisone that gave her energy to raise five children made her bones weak. I would have needed an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of all her medications. Of course, each promised to fix a condition, but at the cost of nasty side-effects.

As I’ve reached middle age, I’ve accepted that family relationships are complicated, sometimes messy, but usually worth the effort. The relationship with my mom was no different. But most of the challenges we’ve had over the years have faded leaving mostly good memories firmly in my mind.

As I wrote her obituary, I reflected on the many times my mom was there to provide advice or encouragement. But mostly my mom was present. She didn’t work outside the home so she was able to attend hundreds of my baseball, basketball and football games. I recall playing a spring baseball game in Bear River in near-freezing temperatures. When I came up to bat, I turned around to see my mom sitting on the aluminum benches behind home plate wrapped in a wool blanket. She was the lone fan in the stands on that frigid day.

When I’d return home from dates, I’d find my mom kicking back on the couch reading the Ensign or her Book of Mormon that had seen better days. She’d ask how my evening went, and we’d talk well into the morning. She was always there without being a helicopter parent. My dad bought her a Kindle a few years ago, and we’d send her books on occasion, and then discuss them during visits to her home. My oldest son inherited her Kindle this past week. Before I reset it, I noticed she’d made it 86% through the last book (Educated) we sent her before she passed away.

I inherited a love of listening to music from my mom. When I broke my arm in 7th grade, she was going through a Neil Diamond phase, and I quickly learned every lyric to the Jazz Singer soundtrack. She didn’t like a lot of the music I listened to in high school, especially groups like Ratt, Motley Crue, and Whitesnake. But I did get her into George Winston and attended one of his piano concerts at Abravanel Hall in Salt Lake with her while I was attending the University of Utah.

The morning after we’d celebrated her birthday, we had breakfast with my mom and dad before heading back to St. George. As the hostess seated the 9 of us around a table near the back of the Black Bear Diner, my kids scrambled to sit closest to their grandma and grandpa. Kim and I sat at the opposite end of the table. During breakfast, I wondered why I’d let the kids take the seats closest to my parents.

I’ve thought back to that breakfast many times over the past month. That was the last day I’d see my mom, but I didn’t know it at the time. Why didn’t I take a seat down at the end of the table next to her? Later that morning, I’d say goodbye to her while she sat in a wheelchair at her home. I leaned down and put my arm around her. She kissed my cheek like she has for many years.

This evening, I put some books on my son’s Kindle he inherited from my mom. He loves to read Harry Potter and the Fablehaven series. I noticed the black canvas cover on his Kindle was well-worn and asked if he’d like me to order a new one.

His answer let me know I’d made the right decision at breakfast: “Nope. This one smells like grandma and will remind me of her each time I read.”

Goodbye, mom. I love you.

Is Truth Optional?

A number of events over the past couple of weeks has me contemplating the importance of truth. Specifically, how important is truth when it comes to storytelling, history or religion.

Augustine-Quote

A few weeks ago, Kim and I attended an event where Carol Lynn Pearson discussed her book, Ghost of Eternal Polygamy. I haven’t read the book but was interested in the topic because polygamy was one of the first major issues I had with my church.

I knew Brigham Young married a lot of women, but I was shocked when the church admitted that Joseph Smith married at least 30 women, some as young as 14 and about 10 who were already married.

The bigger question I’ve considered is this: Is it worth investing my time and resources in a church that plays so loose with the truth?

I wish the LDS church had come clean with all the unsavory parts of their history before the internet came along and forced their hand. Put it all out there. And then allow each person to decide if it’s worth the investment the church asks of them.

One of my frustrations since leaving the church is that some friends and family assume I was looking for any reason to leave the church. They assume I lost my testimony or could not resist that Starbucks iced mocha.

But I didn’t lose anything. I gained knowledge and can speak to the history of the church in much greater detail than I could as a young missionary. I was willing to go wherever the truth took me, even if that meant out of the church. I didn’t select my desired destination and then search only for evidence that supported my decision.

That’s what I’d like my friends and family to understand. Truth matters more than feelings. Every member of every religion feels their church is the true one. Good feelings can come from reading a book, watching a movie or listening to music. How some religions tell their followers that feelings substantiate truth is absurd to me.

Especially when you say you are the only church on earth that has all the truth.

Be willing to demand the truth. And let it take you wherever it leads. In the long run you’ll be better for it.

On Children by Kahlil Gibran

A good friend from high school sent me this poem. I love it.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Standing Outside the Temple

My grandparents on both sides of my family lived in Bountiful, or about 30 minutes from our home in Ogden, Utah. We visited them often. My grandpa Tingey was the first person I knew who owned an Atari 2600, and I spent many hours sitting on my knees at a wobbly card table playing Asteroids, Combat and Blackjack.

While the Tingeys were Mormon, my father’s parents were not, and I understood this at an early age, because they committed a major sin: they drank coffee! I loved to smell the coffee as I entered their home, but was reminded how breaking God’s health law could have a lasting impact on my body and soul.

Tingeys would attend special church milestones such as baptisms and confirmations. When I turned 12-years old and was ordained a deacon, the Tingeys gave me a leather-bound bible for my birthday and a matching Book of Mormon for Christmas. My grandmother took the time to write a note on the first page of each book stating how much she loved me and how she hoped I’d get closer to Christ by reading each book. She was a loving grandmother who made me feel like I was the most important person in the world when we sat around her dining table eating Snelgrove’s ice cream.

While we spent more time at Tingeys, we also visited my other set of grandparents; the Nordquists. They lived in a humble brick home not far from Bountiful High School that had a steep driveway to the side of their home. When my father would park the car, I’d open the door and race up the stairs to ring the doorbell. My grandma would always open the door, and then call to my grandfather, who was often watching 60 Minutes or All in the Family in their dark basement. My grandma Nordquist was an amazing cook, and if we were lucky, she’d make roast beef with mashed potatoes with gravy. They also kept Coke in bottles in the basement. That might not seem like a big deal to most, but some Mormons in the 70s and 80s believed that beverages with caffeine were against the Word of Wisdom. My parents didn’t purchase Coke and neither did the Tingeys so getting a cold bottle of Coke was a real treat!

My grandparents have passed away, but I think of them often. And lately I’ve been thinking about how I treated my grandpa and grandma Nordquist.

I loved them very much, but I also felt sorry for them because they were not members of my church. At times I felt superior to them, although I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time. While I was attending the University of Utah, I often visited them. One time I stopped by after school and we talked about religion for a couple of hours. They both expressed to me how they felt excluded from activities and discussions because they were not Mormon. I went home that evening bothered by what I’d heard because I felt I’d talked to them openly about my mission to Germany and other aspects of my life. I wish I had opened up to them about my questions surrounding polygamy and some aspects of LDS church history that bothered me. I wish I had found the CESLetter in my 20s instead of in my 40s.

Looking back to that time, I can understand how they would feel excluded. My three sisters and brother were all married in LDS temples which means the Tingeys were able to witness and experience each marriage as it took place inside the temple. But the Nordquists could not and were left to stand outside the temple and wait for the ceremony to end before joining up for family pictures.

At the time I was married, I didn’t think about it. I felt superior and blamed my grandparents for not putting themselves in a position to witness our marriage in person. I’m embarrassed to admit I used to think this way.

Now that I no longer believe in the primary truth claims of the Mormon church, I wish I could apologize to my grandparents. I left the church after they passed away, and I wish I could speak to them today and tell them how much I admire them for standing by their convictions while raising children in Utah where the pressure to convert can be immense.

For so many years, I felt I had found the truth and was better off for it. I had been raised in a church that teaches its members they belong to the only true church in the world. Other churches might possess bits and piece of truth, but Mormons believe they have ALL THE TRUTH. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for alternative ideas about religion.

Today I realize my grandparents were many years ahead of me in recognizing no one church holds all the truth or recipe for happiness.

I take some solace knowing I carry on a part of them as I raise my children to be critical thinkers and be leery of anyone who claims to speak for God.

Working Through Beliefs Together

I enjoyed this article written by a women coming to terms with her husband’s change in beliefs.

But I wanted to understand him. This was Sean, the man who stood by me during years of clinical depression. The man who pretended to be a dinosaur while he chased our shrieking sons around the room. He wasn’t some heathen. I couldn’t believe that. I wouldn’t believe it. He’d always been a skeptic, and even though I didn’t agree with him, I knew intellectually that he’d never make this decision without careful consideration of the fact

I’ve been lucky because my spouse has tried to understand my change in beliefs. It’s not a given so embrace your spouse who cares enough to make the effort. Support them, love them, and have patience. What doesn’t work? Expecting them to follow your path. If they do come along it will be at their pace and when they are ready.

My tears stopped. Her questions were so off-base that they seemed absurd. She was sincere, and trying to help, but she believed what the Church teaches — that a man would only leave because he’s disobeying the commandments. She couldn’t understand this was a rational inquiry. She saw everything as the result of sin.

It’s a lot easier to write off unbelievers as sinners than taking an honest look at what bothers them by actually asking them. I think a lot of people are scared that what they hear might resonate with them so it’s easier to keep them at bay. Truth will stand up to scrutiny.

The High Road

You will be misunderstood.

Your point will be lost.

The other person will not be ready to hear what you have to say.

Never assume a full understanding. You’ll be disappointed.

Do prepare for the backlash.

Don’t take it personally.

Don’t lash out in anger.

Do take a break. Go for a walk. Listen to music.

And when you’re ready, take the high road.

I’ve never regretted taking the high road. It says, “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

They may never come around, but you’ve given the relationship a chance to breath, a chance to mend.

A chance to survive another day.