Is Mormonism Your Motherland?

[Mayan_Elephant]

Take a listen

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2JbLUVt0Z0

Check out the lyrics

Where in hell can you go
Far from the things that you know
Far from the sprawl of concrete
That keeps crawling its way
About 1,000 miles a day?

Take one last look behind
Commit this to memory and mind
Don't miss this wasteland, this terrible place
When you leave
Keep your heart off your sleeve

Motherland cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go, don't you go

O, my five & dime queen
Tell me what have you seen?
The lust and the avarice
The bottomless, the cavernous greed
Is that what you see?

Motherland cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go

It's your happiness I want most of all
And for that I'd do anything at all, o mercy me!
If you want the best of it or the most of all
If there's anything I can do at all

Now come on shot gun bride
What makes me envy your life?
Faceless, nameless, innocent, blameless and free,
What's that like to be?

Motherland cradle me
Close my eyes
Lullaby me to sleep
Keep me safe
Lie with me
Stay beside me
Don't go, don't you go

This is one of the poems, songs and concepts that got me through multiple phases of Mormonism.

My family donated land to Utah State University. The Weeping Widow is one of my grandmothers. My father is buried directly behind that monument at the cemetery on USU campus.

No matter how goofy things get with the corporations of the president and the presiding bishop, this Mormonism stuff will always be a part of me and always be a legacy in my family. The question really is.... how do I hold that legacy? Is is a blight and one that should be erased from the resume because some dudes ran the corporations off the rails, or because the chapels all have plastic steeples for repetitive peoples?

I say this.... fly the flag for what the people have done. The people worked hard and took off on a frontier adventure that led to the growth and infrastructure of a great nation. See that Manti Temple down there in that beautiful valley? See that Logan Temple up on the bluff in Cache Valley? Railroads, gold rushes and an excommunicated Mormon selling pick axes to miners? Yeah, we did that. Those wide roads and the grid in the city? Pretty damn cool, right? Huge families and agriculture? Yep. We did that too. Mormons brought the red angus to Cache Valley and that was awesome.

We are not Mormons because we pay tithing and we are not not Mormons because we don't pay tithing. We are not Mormons because we think all that silly rationalization is inspired or necessary and we are not not Mormons if we laugh out loud at a testimony about metaphorical or literal found keys. I am a Mormon because, well, goshdarnit, Mormonism was part of the adventure that got me here. Some whiskey, some saloons, some jails and some outlaw motorcycle clubs are in that generational ancestry too. I damn sure ain't going to sign up for dues and attendance at jail, but damn sure ain't ignoring that it happened.

So there ya go. Embrace it if that works. Hide it if that works. But there is a lot to celebrate. No need to melt the plastic steeple even if it is a hideous and obnoxious symbol of the corporation of the president's avarice.

[Angel]

Call me a hippie but...

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us, only sky
Imagine all the people
Livin' for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Livin' life in peace

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

You only are free when you realize you belong no place — you belong every place — no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great… - Maya Angelou

Each voice, a note in this grand choir - no flags, no borders, no labels, no secrets, no walls to divide
boundless belonging, connected to all for me

[Mayan_Elephant]

Call me a hippie but...

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us, only sky
Imagine all the people
Livin' for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Livin' life in peace

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

You only are free when you realize you belong no place — you belong every place — no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great… - Maya Angelou

Each voice, a note in this grand choir - no flags, no borders, no labels, no secrets, no walls to divide
boundless belonging, connected to all for me

The world living as one, and having a motherland, can and should coexist. Ain't too hippie at all.

[alas]

You know, it is not my “motherland” at all. My earliest memory of church is being lost and crying, standing in an hallway as people pushed past me after my family just moved wards. When the lady who found me asked what class I went to, I didn’t know, then she asked how old I was, I held up three fingers (Very traumatic for a child who just six months before was lost for 6 hours in the wilderness above Bear Lake, UT.) My next early memory is hearing story after story of BOYS being protected by God and how much God loved boys and feeling like God didn’t love me because I was a girl. I was probably 6. All kinds of stories about men and boys, never any about girls. My next memory of church is crying because it was obvious the other girls didn’t accept me as part of them because I lived off over a mile away from everyone else and they all had their best friend and I was always left out. So, I never felt loved or accepted or safe at church growing up. I can’t think of one happy memory of church. I have always felt second class, different, and not accepted.

[Mayan_Elephant]

You know, it is not my “motherland” at all. My earliest memory of church is being lost and crying, standing in an hallway as people pushed past me after my family just moved wards. When the lady who found me asked what class I went to, I didn’t know, then she asked how old I was, I held up three fingers (Very traumatic for a child who just six months before was lost for 6 hours in the wilderness above Bear Lake, UT.) My next early memory is hearing story after story of BOYS being protected by God and how much God loved boys and feeling like God didn’t love me because I was a girl. I was probably 6. All kinds of stories about men and boys, never any about girls. My next memory of church is crying because it was obvious the other girls didn’t accept me as part of them because I lived off over a mile away from everyone else and they all had their best friend and I was always left out. So, I never felt loved or accepted or safe at church growing up. I can’t think of one happy memory of church. I have always felt second class, different, and not accepted.

Sorry, alas.

Nothing said by anyone, nor any experience by anyone, can invalidate your experience.

[Emower]

You know, it is not my “motherland” at all. My earliest memory of church is being lost and crying, standing in an hallway as people pushed past me after my family just moved wards. When the lady who found me asked what class I went to, I didn’t know, then she asked how old I was, I held up three fingers (Very traumatic for a child who just six months before was lost for 6 hours in the wilderness above Bear Lake, UT.) My next early memory is hearing story after story of BOYS being protected by God and how much God loved boys and feeling like God didn’t love me because I was a girl. I was probably 6. All kinds of stories about men and boys, never any about girls. My next memory of church is crying because it was obvious the other girls didn’t accept me as part of them because I lived off over a mile away from everyone else and they all had their best friend and I was always left out. So, I never felt loved or accepted or safe at church growing up. I can’t think of one happy memory of church. I have always felt second class, different, and not accepted.

Sorry, alas.

Nothing said by anyone, nor any experience by anyone, can invalidate your experience.

This seems to be the crux of the Mormon experience. It is not the same for all. Some of us have heritages with parts that we can be proud of, that have made us into a person we can be proud of. Others of us have no deep connection to it, and indeed the church has not been a positive experience in life. Thats why we all have to be accepting, tolerant, and understanding and empathetic to everyone who might have a different view.

[Angel]

The world living as one, and having a motherland, can and should coexist. Ain't too hippie at all.

Our genealogy roots contain diverse lands and beliefs. No solitary motherland claims us, for we hail from myriad places, embraced by ancestors of varied faiths and cultures. Within Mormonism, only our Mormon family were acknowledged – but I am now learning to ignore those pushy Mormons (who silenced the rest of our heritage) and re-connect with everyone else in the family tree.
Countless occupations, experiences, and histories. We are a collective, not confined to any single space. To liberate ourselves from the shackles of conformity, we must embrace the kaleidoscope of our heritage. When we relinquish labels, we forge connections and unite with others, transcending boundaries and divisions.

No single motherland

You know, it is not my “motherland” at all. My earliest memory of church is being lost and crying, standing in an hallway as people pushed past me after my family just moved wards. When the lady who found me asked what class I went to, I didn’t know, then she asked how old I was, I held up three fingers (Very traumatic for a child who just six months before was lost for 6 hours in the wilderness above Bear Lake, UT.) My next early memory is hearing story after story of BOYS being protected by God and how much God loved boys and feeling like God didn’t love me because I was a girl. I was probably 6. All kinds of stories about men and boys, never any about girls. My next memory of church is crying because it was obvious the other girls didn’t accept me as part of them because I lived off over a mile away from everyone else and they all had their best friend and I was always left out. So, I never felt loved or accepted or safe at church growing up. I can’t think of one happy memory of church. I have always felt second class, different, and not accepted.

As a woman, I found solace in the notion the last shall become the first, and the greatest among us shall be a servant. I adopted the path of servant leadership, shunning bossiness and coercion. Instead, I tried to choose walking alongside others, seeking unity rather than domination. "Be the change you want to see in the world," these words became my creed, striving to embody the support I once yearned for.
Through the journey of self-discovery, I also learned to cherish solitude, finding contentment in both solitary hikes and shared walks. From dependency to rebellion, to independence, to coming to a feeling of interconnectedness – where they are now, I once was, where I am now, they may become – no hierarchy, none better than another, everyone just at different stages in journey. Lesson learned.

[Mayan_Elephant]

The world living as one, and having a motherland, can and should coexist. Ain't too hippie at all.

Our genealogy roots contain diverse lands and beliefs. No solitary motherland claims us, for we hail from myriad places, embraced by ancestors of varied faiths and cultures. Within Mormonism, only our Mormon family were acknowledged – but I am now learning to ignore those pushy Mormons (who silenced the rest of our heritage) and re-connect with everyone else in the family tree.
Countless occupations, experiences, and histories. We are a collective, not confined to any single space. To liberate ourselves from the shackles of conformity, we must embrace the kaleidoscope of our heritage. When we relinquish labels, we forge connections and unite with others, transcending boundaries and divisions.

No single motherland

You know, it is not my “motherland” at all. My earliest memory of church is being lost and crying, standing in an hallway as people pushed past me after my family just moved wards. When the lady who found me asked what class I went to, I didn’t know, then she asked how old I was, I held up three fingers (Very traumatic for a child who just six months before was lost for 6 hours in the wilderness above Bear Lake, UT.) My next early memory is hearing story after story of BOYS being protected by God and how much God loved boys and feeling like God didn’t love me because I was a girl. I was probably 6. All kinds of stories about men and boys, never any about girls. My next memory of church is crying because it was obvious the other girls didn’t accept me as part of them because I lived off over a mile away from everyone else and they all had their best friend and I was always left out. So, I never felt loved or accepted or safe at church growing up. I can’t think of one happy memory of church. I have always felt second class, different, and not accepted.

As a woman, I found solace in the notion the last shall become the first, and the greatest among us shall be a servant. I adopted the path of servant leadership, shunning bossiness and coercion. Instead, I tried to choose walking alongside others, seeking unity rather than domination. "Be the change you want to see in the world," these words became my creed, striving to embody the support I once yearned for.
Through the journey of self-discovery, I also learned to cherish solitude, finding contentment in both solitary hikes and shared walks. From dependency to rebellion, to independence, to coming to a feeling of interconnectedness – where they are now, I once was, where I am now, they may become – no hierarchy, none better than another, everyone just at different stages in journey. Lesson learned.

Thanks. I tried ti make the point about diversity with a reference to saloons and outlaws. You are correct, there is no one motherland we are a product of diversity.

[Angel]

Not saloons and outlaws . Mormons teach all non-morms are outlaws, fallen evil. They are not.

Artists, fire chief, war hero, farmer, devote Catholic, devote methodist - the non Mormons were not drunkards or outlaws:)

[Mayan_Elephant]

Not saloons and outlaws . Mormons teach all non-morms are outlaws, fallen evil. They are not.

Artists, fire chief, war hero, farmer, devote Catholic, devote methodist - the non Mormons were not drunkards or outlaws:)

Nice. Well said. I think we all have a legacy of good and of adventures.

[Angel]

Legacy. I once attended a Holocaust memorial in which a decedent of a Nazi apologized for the actions of their parent.

I've also witnessed generations of pedophiles. Grandma was abused by her Mormon dad, the DNA was passed on, she did not stop her son. Grandma was placed in foster care after her mom locked her out of the house - her mom couldn't stop her dad you see, it was the only way - to lock out the child. Mom was blamed, not dad. The son's first wife was blamed, not son. Temple sealing after temple sealing... the second wife was lied to about the first. The second wife was abused by her dad, so her marriage and the abuse of her Mormon children was continuing what she knew. Those kids are now old enough to get married - already one abusive nightmare, one rescue. I hope they don't have kids. It's looking like they will not.

Kind Mormons = grooming to me now. Not just one bad apple, but years of not reporting, child after child, generation after generation - these pedophiles, they served in bishopric.

It's in the Catholic church too. The Baptists - all male heirarchies seem similar. It's just the laws of nature.

Legacy. Which women stayed, and which left - how quickly did they leave? Flowers with roots in the dirt - let's hope evolution will win. Change. I'm not Mormon, hate that name, and the name of every other organization that harbors pedophiles.

Imagine. No heirarchies. No groups. neither Jew nor Gentile, neither bond nor free, neither male nor female. all one.

It's interesting, to study the different groups, those who escape, those who do not.

[Angel]

My history in the LDS church is quite dark, so let me leave a different account.

Early in my faith transition, we took a family trip to Belize where we explored quite a few archaeological sites. A special Mayan guide took us through the ATM (Actun Tunichil Muknal) cave. The guide, like us, had changed their beliefs from their parents and grandparents. It was perfect timing for us – to see another, from a different group, carefully changing their beliefs while trying to balance family and tradition. He told us about his parents standing at the cave opening, arms crossed, frowning faces, convinced he was cursing himself for entering that cave – convinced he would be killed for what he was doing. Despite his community’s disapproval, he took tourists each day – quite blessed, good income – for his new beliefs. He was not bitter towards his parents and grandparents, spoke respectfully about them. He was a Mayan, this was his family even though he did not hold to their beliefs. Through time-veiled passageways we witnessed the relics of the old world. The conversation filtered between the old and the new, ancient treasures, ancestral heritage, gratitude for increased understanding, reverence preserving ancient beliefs. It was a real-life Plato’s cave – living history, a new generation’s reality next to older generation’s shadows.

Another…
One kiddo, in LGBTQ group – I stayed over night with them and their partner. Mixed emotions. So happy for them, but different – different wedding, partner is from a different country – different culture. I was thinking about what would be preserved, everything is so different and foreign. Then, little things flickered into view – saw them folding towels in a unique way that women in our family had always folded them. A recipe in kitchen. Gardening. There were traditions still. Ancient generations long traditions mixed into this new family, little things – old things being passed down - being taught to a new community. Is that strange - to cry over folded towels?

[Gatorbait]

Mormon church was and is no motherland to me.

Grew up, as I've mentioned before, not believing in a god, as I could not rap my mind around it. Still can't; sorry. I still try. I pray from time to time. But it has always been hard for me to be a believer. That does not mean I don't believe in some sort of spiritual realm. Don't know- I mean unlike those in the church who say they "know", I don't. But I've felt things and even now I feel things. Not saying I don't believe- I just don't "know".

Mom was a believer to some degree. She wanted to believe. Dad, not so. Nonmember and stayed that way throughout his life. Wish I had a dollar for every time he referred to the Mormon church as "All bullsh*t". Dad was a well educated well studied person, full of charity and reason. He was good to all of us kids, my brothers and sisters. Full of love, as was my mom, but they never pressured us to believe. They taught goodness through example, not by preaching.

Pretty much raised our kids in the church, my wife and I. Two are still TBM. Two are not. One passed away almost five years ago. Miss her dearly, as does my wife. Every day. Every day. That is why I feel that there is a connection as Angel has mentioned. Feel there is something. Feel a connection to my daughter.

Lots of things I like about Christianity and the Mormon church. I really do. But it isn't motherland. Is not home. It just is.

[Advocate]

You know, it is not my “motherland” at all. My earliest memory of church is being lost and crying, standing in an hallway as people pushed past me after my family just moved wards. When the lady who found me asked what class I went to, I didn’t know, then she asked how old I was, I held up three fingers (Very traumatic for a child who just six months before was lost for 6 hours in the wilderness above Bear Lake, UT.) My next early memory is hearing story after story of BOYS being protected by God and how much God loved boys and feeling like God didn’t love me because I was a girl. I was probably 6. All kinds of stories about men and boys, never any about girls. My next memory of church is crying because it was obvious the other girls didn’t accept me as part of them because I lived off over a mile away from everyone else and they all had their best friend and I was always left out. So, I never felt loved or accepted or safe at church growing up. I can’t think of one happy memory of church. I have always felt second class, different, and not accepted.

Hi Alas. Just so you know, you are not second class here at NOM. You are accepted, appreciated, and wanted. Thanks for sharing many wonderful comments.

I agree with the sentiment that those who fit in the church fit in really well and the culture works for them. Those who don't fit in almost always feel left out. I think this is a major reason why the church, in the U.S. anyway, continues to be full of Caucasian, middle-class, people.