Mormon musings

As most of you know, I'm a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some people call us Mormons, which is great since it's a shorter moniker and not offensive.

If you've ever admired my sense of optimism, cheerful attitude and kindness, you should know it has everything to do with my faith. If you've ever criticized my negativity, crudeness or ignorance, you should know it has nothing to do with my faith.

But most importantly, you should know how important my faith is to me. It gives me clarity and understanding in a contentious world. It gives me peace amid chaos. It gives me direction and purpose instead of confusion. And, most gloriously, it gives me hope.

Hope has come in handy lately. Life hasn't been easy this past year, and without a moral compass to guide me, I might have gotten lost in my grief. Instead, I found sweetness in the most bitter of trials. How thankful I am for that.

Still, I have a lot more that I can do. I realized recently that being a mom has actually drawn me away from my spiritual pursuits. While I am closer to God in many ways due to the sacred charge of raising my daughter(s), I am also busier, more stressed and more tired - not to mention more focused on others than myself. While that's all admirable, I've used it as an excuse to go through my spiritual motions without really experiencing them.

But lately I've felt like getting raw - really stripping down to my spiritual bones and thinking about life; about my purpose; about what the Lord wants me to do in this life. I'm not going to lie, it almost made me wet my pants. Opening your heart to what you are supposed to do - not what you want to do, not what's convenient, and most certainly not what's socially acceptable - is scary. Sometimes we have to be very vulnerable to become powerful.

I don't know what the next few months will hold for me or my loved ones. There are some tough times ahead for lots of us, and I plan to face them head-on and head held high. No matter what I am asked to do or experience, I know I will be doing what is right for me. I will be trusting in Christ and counting on his sacrifice to help assuage my fears.

It might sound like mumbo-jumbo to you non-religious folk out there, but I know it's true. I'd honestly be less surprised if the sun didn't rise tomorrow than if my faith were founded on false doctrine or prophets. I believe it. I know it.

Anyway, that's what I wanted to say today.

Also, I love carbohydrates.

Amen.

HTT - Mocking Edition

This one's easy, and may or may not be my attempt to put off blogging for another day.

Go here first.

Then, come back here.

Now, tell me if that was super funny or super offensive, though I must warn you that if it's the latter we're probably not friends.

'Cause I'm, like, heck yeahs that's hilarious (and true).

I'm my own grandpa!

After nearly three years in Illinois, we decided to get serious about our citizenship and heritage and trekked down to Nauvoo this weekend. For those of you who aren't LDS/Mormon/consumers of Jell-O hybrids, Nauvoo is a place where early Mormons settled before persecution drove them West.

I have to say, I don't blame them. And by them, I mean both the persecutors and the pioneers. I mean, there's nothing going on in Nauvoo - one would get bored and prone to mischief. Sure, it's a beautiful place by a scenic river, but there are literally only seven eating establishments in the whole town and most of them close at 5 p.m. We actually paid $14 for a buffet that featured fake crab meat marinating in butter alongside reconstituted mashed potatoes. Mr. Dub loved the kitsch of the whole experience, while I just kept wondering why no one had opened a really good Mexican restaurant. And then I remembered they would have to live there ... in the winter.

The historical sites were pretty cool, although I got a bit weary of tour guides. Also, the Nauvoo Temple is so beautiful inside and out. I always thought it was a little trite for people to love one temple ("San Diego is the bomb!") and detest another ("Ew! Provo!"), but I now have a strange affinity for the rebuilt Nauvoo temple. It's decorated in chartreuse and buttercream tones, which is just lovely. Lovely, I tell you! Plus, my dad was in the hospital again while we were there so I especially enjoyed the unique spiritual peace you feel inside the temple. (Go here if you're still confused. Or here.)

Some thought we were crazy to head towards the Mississippi while everyone else was evacuating from there, but Nauvoo is set at a higher elevation so the super swollen river didn't quite make it to the town. Besides, the river knew it would get bored after 8 p.m. so it stuck to the Iowa side. (You know how crazy those cornfields can get!)

Anyway, I am glad we made the trip, mostly so I don't feel like an idiot when everyone asks us if we've been yet. Then again, I didn't go to the Grand Canyon until I was 14, and I lived in Arizona most of my life. (Little known fact: I was born in Washington D.C.)

Oh, but if you are now hankering to visit Nauvoo, I should warn you. The musical performances are big on overacting and references to inbreeding. In fact, when we first pulled up, I saw "I'm my own grandpa" scribbled into the dust on the back of a van. I thought it was the funniest thing I'd ever read, mostly because it sounded like immature gibberish, but when we attended a musical performance later that night, there was a song by that same name. I won't go into details, but it gave me a decidedly creepy feeling inside.

But did I mention the temple is lovely?


* Kristen is the random winner of an Eliza subscription. Email me!

Hey Ricky!

I'm a Mormon, yes I am. So is Ricky Schroeder. And since some of you have a hankering for the dude, and since my mom reminded me of this experience, I thought I'd share my personal encounter with him a few years back.

(Setting: A foyer at a Scottsdale LDS chapel. Church is ending for one congregation, while another is having their big sacrament meeting. A college-aged girl who should have appreciated her beauty and body at the time, but did not, walks into the foyer, waiting for her family. A man with shaggy blond hair sits opposite, holding a young girl.)

Me: (Staring at shaggy blond dude, wondering, "How do I know this guy? He looks so familiar.")

Ricky: (Makes eye contact.) Hi!

Me: Hi! I know you from somewhere, don't I? Did we go to seminary together?

Ricky: Um, no.

Me: Were you in this stake growing up?

Ricky: No.

Me: Did you go to the high school across the street?

Ricky: (Growing increasingly uncomfortable.) No.

Me: Huh, you seem so familiar to me.

Ricky: I think you know me from TV. I'm Rick Schroeder.

Me: That would be it.


Another time I caught him chatting with Steve Young in the hallway. I wondered what their conversation was like. Here's how I think it went down:

Ricky: Sucks to be famous, huh? All these Mormons staring at you - asking you to participate in the next youth conference.

Steve: Or thinking you're an apostle.

Ricky: But I sure am a big fan of yours. I was a huge 49ers fan.

Steve: Actually, I totally loved you growing up. That train that went through your house was awesome.

Ricky: Well, it actually wasn't my house.

Steve: Man, I can't believe I'm talking to Ricky Schroeder.

Ricky: It's Rick now.

Steve: Sure, Ricky. Do you still talk to Alfonso?

Attention: Pay attention

The other day I was feel a little stressed out. It's not like I'm busy curing cancer or anything - oh, how I wish! - but I have my fair share of play dates, church meetings and household responsibilities to keep my days quite full. Sometimes I feel like I'm going at 100 mph.

At the same time, Miss Dub's behavior is becoming almost laughable, if it wasn't so cryable. She's been whining, hitting, biting, begging, you name it, but no, not that. She's just not happy unless I'm giving her constant attention, which sort of makes my fair share of stuff hard to accomplish.

As I pondered over the two issues, I thought of two things: First, I need to live in the moment. Perhaps Miss Dub demands my constant attention because she never gets my total attention. I've been known to cuddle and pay bills online at the same time. I've been known to read a book to her while thinking of my next household task. I've even perused a catalog out of the corner of my eye while playing dolls with her. And while multitasking might be fulfilling for me, I think it's leaving Miss Dub feeling half-empty.

Second, I need to stop over-scheduling myself, even when they are good things. Service is great, but when I'm serving others more than I'm serving my own family, it's not so hot. I need to remember that NOW is my time to be a mom; My time to wow everyone with surprise dinners and a willingness to drop everything in a moment's notice can come later. For now, an occasional casserole - (mental note: learn to make a casserole) - will have to do. Even a friend in need comes second to a daughter who needs me.

This is all easier said than done. Making it through the day without a temper tantrum doesn't sound quite as satisfying as refurbishing a side table. And helping someone out usually sounds more important than reading Goodnight Moon for the 20th time. Although, when it says, "Goodnight stars, goodnight air," I always get the chills.

So here's my pledge to be a better mom - one who "[treasures] the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."*

(*Quote by Anna Quindlen as quoted here. I know I totally Ballard-ized this whole concept, but can you blame me? That talk was gooood!)



.... and a Happy B-'licious-day to Mrs. Jay, Darren Lees, Lisa Parker, Mark Lambert and Angie Earl. But mostly Mrs. Jay.

Lunch with President Hinckley

When I heard the news last night that our beloved prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, had passed away, I instantly wanted to pay tribute to him on this blog.

I told Mr. Dub I wanted to open my comments to people's favorite memory or story of President Hinckley. When I asked myself what mine would be, I found myself thinking, "The time we had lunch together."

Only problem? We never did. Yet my mind could so clearly pull up an image of us chatting over a garden salad as we waited for our main course. He would ask about me and my life. I would ask him what I could do to be a better person and more charitable. We would laugh.

Part of this bizarre illusion, of course, is the result of my strange emotional state as of late. (How else can I explain how completely happy I am that he has died and finally gets to be reunited with his dear wife and take a break from his whirlwind responsibilities?) But I think mostly my pretend lunch date is a reflection of how close I felt to this man, who served as LDS Church president for 13 years and has been a member of the First Presidency since I was two years old.

I always felt like he knew me. I always felt like he understood my generation and our unique set of challenges. I appreciated his humor and easygoing attitude. I loved his ability to be kind and firm at the same time. I knew he was a prophet of God.

Now, we are going to have a new prophet. And while it will be so sad to see someone else in President Hinckley's seat, I have the faith and testimony that he will be called of God, as well. But he won't be filling President Hinckley's shoes; he will be wearing his own and making his own mark as an individual. And that's the way it's supposed to be.

I'll save my story about the time President Monson wanted to have me fired for a news story I wrote about him for another time. 'Cause that one is true, and I don't want you to think any less of the man who is most likely going to be our next prophet. (FYE: It ultimately made me respect him even more.)

Meanwhile, have I told you about the time I had lunch with President Hinckley ...

What's your favorite story or memory of this great man?

A lesson for me

I learned a good lesson the hard way yesterday while teaching a lesson, which is not only confusing, but a particularly public forum to make a mistake.

I volunteered to teach the lesson in Relief Society (the LDS Church’s women’s organization), which happened to be on women. I read the lesson a few times through, but didn’t put in any deep preparation because it seemed like a generally uplifting topic – “a pat on the back” for women as I called it at the beginning of the lesson.

I didn’t really pray about the lesson. I didn’t really ponder on how to present it. I figured I could fall back on my blabber-mouth abilities and just roll with the subject matter as discussion got going.

Well, I was wrong.

First, it was not a “pat on the back” for everyone. Even though there were great attempts in the lesson to address the different talents, feelings and life situations of most women, it couldn’t possibly cover all the individual circumstances. So after I waxed on and on about woman’s innately nurturing nature, one sister commented that, “Actually, it’s not natural. I’ve had to work for years to be nurturing. We are not all born that way.”

And that was just the tip of an iceberg that began to melt in the classroom, leaving me to drown in a pool of my own insensitivity. Several women had to point out that vague generalizations couldn’t fully capture the individual natures of every woman. And they’re right. I know that, I just didn’t take the time to say it at the beginning of the lesson.

Also, while I wanted to stress the equality of mothers and women without children ... I didn’t do enough preparation to have insightful words and examples on hand, leaving me to fluster through personal stories of being a wife and mother, thus slinging arrows into the hearts of women who don’t share my personal situation and don’t need another reminder.

Now, I want to make it clear that I wasn’t being cruel or rude. I embraced the comments as they came and clarified their importance. In the end, I think I faked a certain calmness that covered up some of my worst blunders. I don’t think anyone left inspired, but I don’t think anyone left offended either.

But that’s not good enough.

In general, I don’t favor obsessive political correctness because no matter what you say someone can be offended if they choose to. I can’t pretend not to be a mother and wife – I have to draw on both of those things because that is my life experience. It’s who I am, and I can’t deny that.

But I could have been kinder. I could have been more sensitive. And, most importantly, I could have been more prepared.

Which brings me to my final musing, which is this: It’s time to grow up. I think for so long I thought I could skate by half-heartedly in life because I was the young one, the college student, the newlywed, the new mother. I felt like I wasn't expected to do as much, know as much, serve as much or achieve as much.

But I’m not so young anymore. I’m an adult. And adults have to do hard things. And even though my life is busy, and even though I’m still not as established as other women I know, I am no less accountable for my actions. I am no less needed to mend broken hearts, strengthen feeble knees and truly prepare a freaking lesson.

Like the lesson said: “Let other women pursue heedlessly their ... selfish interests. You can be a much needed force for love and truth and righteousness on this planet.”

Guess it’s time to take off my training wheels.

Guess it’s time to grow up.

Mormon urban legends

* Steve Martin is a Mormon.

* "... and he said, 'Who were those three guys standing behind you?' "

* Bono read the Book of Mormon.

* A drunk teenager tries to "bless" his beer and is struck dumb.

* The LDS Church has stock in Coca-Cola.

* A Jaredite barge was found in Lake Michigan.

* Alice Cooper was raised Mormon.

* A soldier is saved from gunfire by a Book of Mormon in his breast pocket.

* "My brother got a mission call that just had a phone number. When he called it, they asked him to serve a 3-year mission to China!"


What's your favorite urban legend (Mormon or not)?

Fond Farewell

Someone very special to me, and likely many of you, passed away this morning. Upon hearing the news of his passing, I immediately burst into tears. (And really scared Mr. Dub when I raced into the bathroom in hysterics to tell him that someone had died. Mr. Dub was saddened by the news, of course, but relieved to hear it wasn't an immediate family member.)

President James E. Faust may not be a name familiar to all of you, but he was a great world leader within and without the LDS Church. He was a great lawyer, a great legislator and great football player back in the day.

He loved everyone, but had a special place in his heart for the Brazilian people. And his adoration for his wife Ruth and their five children was inspiring.

He was 87 and had been troubled by Parkinson's disease in recent years. But seeing him give public addresses from a comfy wingback chair rather than standing at the pulpit only made him more personable to me. So I was surprised by his passing, which may or may not have been expected.

Like most people, I've been anxious for the last 10 years that we might lose our beloved prophet, Gordon B. Hinckley, to old age. But at 97, he keeps on ticking! Yet, I didn't expect one of his counselors to go before him. And the sad reality is that he, too, will leave this life ... probably sooner than later.

And that's a very hard idea to handle because President Hinckley, like President Faust, is so dear to me.

It's hard to convey the love the Latter-day Saint people have for their leaders. I think what helps is that they are loving, empathetic, gentle and humorous. They feel more like friends than superiors.

But in the great goodness of this glorious gospel, there is a simple organization that quickly fills the positions with new leaders. And we don't blink before sustaining them because we understand the order. Soon we'll embrace a new member of the First Presidency (and likely a new apostle).

I apologize to those who don't frequent this blog for religious banter. The following paragraph is for you:

Something funny happened. Random pop culture reference. Babies are tricky lil' devils. Word.

For the rest of you, I suggest we take some time today to reflect on President Faust's great life, say some prayers for his wife and family and read one of his talks.

I like this one.

Goodbye, friend!

HTT - Baby-makin' edition

With a face like this, who wouldn't want more?

I’m sooo baby hungry right now.

But let me clarify, I was sooo baby hungry when I was 12 and daydreaming of odd scenarios where a baby would land on my doorstep, and I would raise it as my own.

I was sooo baby hungry about two days after birthing Miss Dub.

I was sooo baby hungry last month.

The fact is, I’ve got a big baby appetite, but is my stomach big enough for them all?

Family planning – it’s a HOT TOPIC because there are lots and lots of opinions on this matter.

Most Mormons, me included, don’t really believe in family planning to the extent that inspiration trumps all plans. If a feeling overtakes you to bring another child into your home, you do it even if you planned to wait. And if a feeling tells you to wait a while, you do it even if you planned to try for another.

But sometimes – let’s be honest, most times – there are no burning feelings. Over time, it just feels right to give it another go. Or your aversion to burgeoning bumps and cankles begins to ease. Your fear of two sets of diapers, two carseats and two cranky babies begins to lessen.

It still seems crazy, but not insane.

And when I really, really think long and hard about having another one right now – which would put them a whoppin’ 18 months apart – it still seems a little insane. So we’re waiting.

If I was really into family planning, I would take into consideration the following: We only have two bedrooms. Miss Dub is still a terrible sleeper. I just lost all this weight and would gain some of it back. I just bought a new wardrobe and would have to shelve it in favor of elastic-banded pants. I’m easily stressed and babies are stressful. I get zits when I’m first pregnant - and I hate zits.

But really those things don’t matter.

What does matter, however, is my sanity. And I think that is a huge factor when planning a family, and when receiving inspiration. I don’t think we’re ever asked to do something that is bad for us. I don’t think we’re ever asked to do something we can’t handle. I do think we’re pushed and tested at times, but I don’t think you need three kids under the age of 3 to feel stretched as a mother.

So people who don’t believe in any planning/prevention boggle my mind. Maybe they’re just constantly prepared for another mouth to feed, another derriere to diaper, another year without sleep, another college education to pay. Or maybe some of them think they’ll get extra credit celestial points for being open for baby bizness all the time, which may be true but may also be haughty depending on the situation.

So how did you “plan” your family? And did all go according to schedule?

And, inspiration aside, what do you think is the ideal spacing between children?

What are the pros and cons of having kids close together or farther apart?

And did you know that I have a “sister” who is due any moment with her fifth child? And that she’s planned them for the most part? And that she’s still totally sane and in control of the chaos?

Yeah, she’s my hero.

Maybe I should have another one …

HTT - Calling Edition

Today’s Hot Topic is for all ye Mormons, but it’s a microcosm of the human experience so all you Mo-haters out there can stay seated for the duration of my rant.

It deals with church callings, but it’s also about perfectionism.

And I must preface my remarks with a declaration that I AM PROUD TO BE A MORMON. My religion and faith is the most important thing to me on this very beautiful earth of ours. It gives me answers, direction, peace, clarity, happiness, friendships and joy. I love going to church. And if I haven’t invited you to church recently, consider yo’self invited because I promise you’ll loOove it!

But like all things earthly, despite the perfection of the church, it’s run by mere humans who are anything but perfect and subject to foibles. And I’m the merest of them all.

And that is never more evident than when serving in my various church capacities.

(Quick lesson: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has a lay ministry, which means no one is paid to hold to leadership positions, which means that anyone who meets certain standards is eligible for most positions or “callings.” So every few years or so you might be assigned to a new calling, meaning the pastor – called “bishop” – might teach small children next. Or I might suddenly be in charge of a huge organization of women and their needs. It’s overwhelming, but extremely rewarding and helps develop all sorts of skills and understanding over the course of a lifetime. And while you can say no to any calling, most don’t. We believe we’ve been selected by God for each assignment.)

The problem is that some people think callings must be approached like an important dinner party; that everything must be formal and nice and perfect. Or like a major corporation, meaning there must be meetings to plan a meeting about a possible meeting about a small idea.

And that’s not my cup of (herbal) tea.

Currently I serve on the activities committee in my ward, which is one of the more secular callings because we plan parties for our congregation. And while I’m no fan of Jell-o salad or casseroles, I’m all for convenience, so potluck dinners at a local park with mellow conversation are up my alley. (I just do my best to make sure my personal contributions aren’t culinary faux pases, or take charge of the decorations if I hear streamers might be involved.)

But some people think every activity must be a major production. For example, they constructed a life-sized gingerbread house for the Christmas party. And at a recent beach-themed party, there were more decorations than people. It looked amazing, but it stressed out lots of people, cost lots of money and made people like me feel guilty that I wasn’t welding lifeguard towers all day long.

More recently we staged a production of Broadway vignettes for one night. Someone suggested we assemble props for each of the numbers, which is normal. I was given charge of a couple. One of my assignments was to build a wooden hut … for a short musical number … for a church production seen by friends and family. I said no. It wasn’t worth a sleepless night and crash course on construction just to enhance the set. Thankfully, my superior understood. (We nixed a wooden sign as well.)

But it was even worse when I was younger. There was a certain ward (that a certain family who reads this blog once belonged to) that actually hired a professional choreographer to do their annual Roadshow musical and spent big bucks on professional costumes and scenery.

And it wasn’t uncommon to hear of Relief Society meetings where decorations and themes eclipsed post-Oscar bashes.

And while it looked impressive, does anyone still care?

Does anyone still remember the dance numbers or the decorations? And if you do, did they overshadow the real purpose of the events?

And isn’t so much of what this great gospel teaches us about balance?

Balancing a home and family and work and friends and church responsibilities?

And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that a wooden hut would tip the scales.

But what about you?

Do you prefer convenience in church callings or life? Or do you insist on perfection, no matter how much it taxes you or others?

Because I’m a perfectionist in most things, but when it comes to church, I’m willing to endure some cottage cheese laced Jell-o for the sake of convenience.

Well, almost.

What about you?

HTT - Called to Serve?

After a lil’ hiatus, I’ve decided to go all Mormon on y’alls.

But since most of my readers are LDS, and many of you are honorary members (yes, that includes you, Steph, and Peanut), I’ve decided that’s OK.

The topic at hand is sister missionaries.

For those who don’t know, members of the LDS Church have the opportunity to serve ecclesiastical missions. Basically, you fill out some general paperwork and are assigned somewhere in the world to preach the good word, do service and live 24/7 with a designated companion. (There are way more deets to this whole process and arrangement, but they are neither hot nor topical so if you want to know more, email me.)

Guys can choose to go at 19 and are highly encouraged to do so, if not expected. Gals can choose to go at 21 and are under no pressure to “serve a mission,” as we like to say. It’s a matter of prayer, reflection, life situation and personal preference. “If you go, great; if you don’t, that works, too,” seems to be the mentality.

Or so I thought.

But actually, there’s a lot of positive and negative thoughts on the whole issue. One friend was told by someone that she “would have been a better mother” if she had served a mission. (!?!?)
I did serve a mission. And I do think it made me a better mother, but that’s because I was supposed to go. Had I ignored the promptings, I don’t think I would have enjoyed the same blessings in life that I do now. But if you felt strongly that you shouldn’t go (or were already married), then you clearly weren’t meant to serve a mission. And in no way did that make you a lesser person or a worse mom or wife or friend.

When I was I teenager, I thought that every unmarried 21-year-old Mormon gal should serve a mission. I considered it like tithing – paying 10% of our earnings to the church to fund its various operations - if you had the time, you owed the Lord to give a lil’ back after all He had given you. So I was a little confused when amazing girls I knew chose not to serve missions for what seemed like personal reasons. (“I don’t want to learn a language.” “I could never get along with a companion.” “I would be homesick.” “I don’t want to get fat.”)

But now I get it. There’s just not room for a lot of sister missionaries. Not only are many areas of the world unsafe for women but many cultures wouldn’t respect them. Also, in my experience, there are good elders, there are bad elders, and there are a lot of mediocre ones. But with sister missionaries, there are really good ones, there are really bad ones, and that’s about it. Because sisters seem to go for all the right reasons, or all the wrong ones.

Which is why you often hear horror stories about sister missionaries. And why a lot of guys didn’t want to date me when I got back from my mission. (Which was easier than writing “jerk” across their foreheads, I suppose.) And why a lot of people said things like, “I can’t believe you went on a mission.” As if a decent fashion sense and sense of humor should have disqualified me for the work.

Even now, fellow church members act surprised when I tell them I served a mission, even more when I say I went to El Salvador.

But I’m proud to tell people I went. And I still reflect fondly on my time as a missionary. It was so unbelievably, freaking hard – harder than anyone could have told me. So hard that there were days I was positive that missions were a Mormon conspiracy. (“Best two years of my life, my …!”) But there were more special, sacred, amazing moments than I’d ever experienced, which made it sooo worth it. It is a priceless, treasured part of who I am.

And, despite what many people say, there is no way I could have obtained the same spiritual knowledge and experience had I stayed behind. Because no 21-year-old college lass is immersing herself in the scriptures like a missionary does. So there is that perk.

And I wouldn’t be the same person today if I hadn’t gone. Because I was supposed to go. Just like you might have been destined not to. Which makes us both wonderful.

So dish.

Did you serve a mission?

Did you choose not to?

How did you make that decision?

Do you ever have any regrets?

What advice would you give to a daughter if she was trying to decide?

Oh, and how much do you want to ban jumpers from sister missionary wardrobes? (Even though they are really, really comfortable and make hopping onto moving buses loaded with chickens and naked children really, really easy.)

Hot Topic Tuesday - Utah edition

(Blogger note: I've included an updated bit of explanation at the bottom. Please read if you are confused, bewildered or plain mad at me!)

Today’s hot topic is near and dear to every Mormon’s heart. (Sorry to my non-LDS readers – all 3 of you!)

That subject would be Utah Mormons or Utah in general.

Because it’s a love-hate web we all weave with the Beehive State.

Growing up LDS in Arizona, everybody talked about “Utah Mormons” – how they looked different (huge hair), talked different (“Oh my heck”) and worshipped different (“My son is so the AP and yours isn’t!”) . They had bigger Suburbans (12-15 seaters, seriously), bigger activities (“Take that ward budget!) and bigger complexes (“Am I as skinny as Sister Jones?”).

And there was some truth to it then. At that time, most people living in Utah were born and raised there. And, at that time, most of Utah was LDS. So many people confused the local culture with the local religion. (“Mom, is mutual a state law?”) Lines blurred between church and state, ward activities and social activities, personal standards and business ethics. So many youth never realized the religious importance of seminary but worried about the seminary council elections. And some residents judged each other on their church activity level rather than their neighborly kindness. For this reason, Utah Mormons got a bad reputation with Mormons in other states. We stereotyped them as more secular, less spiritual and sheltered.

But then people from other states and religions began to move in. The Mormon incomers encouraged the real essence of the LDS religion (Christ-like love, obedience and service) that already existed among most Utah Mormons and the non-Mormons helped define the line between being a Utahn and being a Mormon. Which helped everybody live a little better and little nearer to God, I think.

This is the Utah I lived in as a college student and newlywed. It’s still insanely Mormon, which is usually a good thing because it’s created a unique community where families look out for each other, neighbors know each other and safety and peace surround you. But Utah is growing, diversifying and opening its heart to other religions and the simple tenants of Mormonism. The hair is smaller, though still big. The Suburbans are more scarce, though still prominent. The ward activities are humbler, though still impressive.

But the complexes are still there … which is why I’m still hesitant about moving to Utah, although there is good and bad everywhere you go. (And most of this musing could be applied to any area with a high concentration of any religious or ethnic group.)

First, there is still a superiority complex among some Utah Mormons. As if living in Utah makes you a better Mormon, or that you care more about your family by moving there. I don’t think there’s anything wrong about living in Utah, but I don’t think there’s anything better about it either. And I DO NOT believe that your kids will turn out any better or any more active by growing up in Utah. If anything, I think they may have to work a little harder to gain a testimony since there are fewer missionary opportunities, easier rationalization (“But Kara is doing it and she’s a Mormon!”) and a greater chance for ignorance. And, let’s face it, teenagers like to be different. And being different in Utah often means being bad.

And don’t tell me that people who don’t like Mormons (or aren’t Mormon) shouldn’t move to Utah. It’s property of the United States, not the LDS Church. I don’t like cold weather but I live in Illinois, yet none of the cold-weather loving locals are running me out. But that’s the feeling many non-Mormon Utahns get. There’s the pastor’s daughter who ran for student council president, only to have the LDS parents and students rally against her because she wasn’t Mormon. There's the teacher who was almost fired for saying some people think Joseph Smith wasn't a prophet. And there’s the parent who doesn’t think twice about her daughter’s LDS friends but flips when she hears her non-LDS friend’s mom smokes.

But worst of all, there’s the envying. For a people who are told to live within their means, there are a lot of people living outside of them in Utah … which is why Utah has the highest bankruptcy, debt, mortgage fraud and business fraud rates in the country. And why walking into Café Rio can seem like a scene from the “Stepford Wives” with all the super-blonde, super-thin moms wearing their Hollister jeans and ordering a pork salad. (“Hold the pork, beans, rice, dressing and cheese.”)

I don’t entirely know why Utah of all places has such a problem with these things. But I think part of it is that a Utah Mormon’s social circle is geographically small. Because your church friends, your school friends and your neighbors all live on your block. Which means your immediate social circle sometimes spans a mere mile radius. And since that mile is typically populated with a similar demographic, you assume you should look, act, dress and buy like your friends. ("The Jones bought one so why can't we?") Or that you should get rich quick so you can.

Or maybe there’s something in the water.

I’ll tell you what it ain’t – fluoride.

But that’s another post.

So what do you think about Utah? Love it, hate it or baffled by it?

Dish.

(Updated - Having just received an email by a Utah Mormon who I not only adore but totally admire, who called into question the kindness of this post ... I had to make some explanations. First, I didn't mean to totally rip Utah. If I came across that way, I apologize. I did, however, want to generate some heat under the seat of a small minority of Utahns who keep negative stereotypes alive and well. I like Utah. I liked living there. I go there all the time to visit friends and family, all who don't behave in a manner unbecoming to their state or religion. I didn't mean to imply that all or even most of Utah Mormons do. I didn't mean to imply that it took non-Mormons and out-of-state Mormons to teach Utah natives the true meaning of the gospel. I just meant that they helped support and sustain the 99 percent of Utah Mormons who had been doing things right all along, all while having their image tarnished by the bad-behaving 1 percent. Or maybe it was more like 5 percent. In any event, I'm not here to expose the flaws of Utah as much as to debate the sentiment among some that Utah is the only good state out there. We all have weaknesses ... it just seems like Utah is less inclined to admit hers. But it probably wasn't my place to do it for her. Sorry!)