Knocking

“It is only when we silent the blaring sounds of our daily existence that we can finally hear the whispers of truth that life reveals to us, as it stands knocking on the doorsteps of our hearts.” ~ K.T. Jong

Why is it that when we wish left to our own silence there is always someone who needs to knock? So much of this past few weeks I have been searching my very soul for answers to unanswerable questions. Even when I have decided and have come off the fence there are those who feel strongly that they need to express their opinion of exactly which side of the fence I need to be on.

Case in point. I am at Costco purchasing items both for myself and for family and in my cart is a large case of Pepsi. Now, don't get me started on caffeinated drinks and the WOW. This prophet said this and that prophet said that which then just puts people supposedly on the same side in the same faith on differing sides of an equation that can't seem to be solved. Either way, a case of Pepsi in a cart for some can only mean one thing - SIN! Yes, well, guess who happened to pass by.

Now, my indecision is really a decision and when I saw the look on the man's face and as he shook his head disappointingly at me while his councillor, a person to whom I know drinks Coke shook his head at his companion shaking his head at me I saw all at once all that is about my faith that makes it so hard for me. Why is that some feel so obliged as to pass judgment when they have no right? Why make assumptions when you can't even know what truths lays there. Why? And above all else, what is it about this faith that makes people so comfortable as to pass judgment on appearance and not on knowing the whole truth. A case of Pepsi in a grocery cart isn't a can in your hand and even in that, does drinking Pepsi mean you can't inherit the kingdom of God, really?

Some of the Mormon's I admire the most, who have strong and stalwart testimonies, who have the Gospel of Jesus Christ living within their very beings have been known to throw back the brown sin juice so this one makes no sense at all.

This past week, the HT`s called, my VT called and this afternoon the missionaries showed up unexpectedly. I haven’t had missionaries at my door in almost three years, HT`s in almost 6 months and VT`s in some time. The phone has rung more in the last week from members then it has rang in the last 6 months. Did we get put on a list? Why am I feeling all of a sudden so overwhelmed?

Last week, I spoke to my Dad about my feelings and about my decision to stop. I said that I had hoped that he wouldn’t be too disappointed in me and he said he wasn’t. He understood my journey and understood the pain and that if anything his disappointment rested elsewhere. I cried because somehow I knew Mom and HF were having his heart open to understand. When I talked to the Bishop he spoke of how strong he felt my testimony was and how I need to hang on. It was funny because I know I have a strong testimony and that’s why I’m not worried. It really is about getting to a point when the pain just can’t balance the being there.

Nothing will ever be able to undo the damage that has been done. This isn’t about wanting justice or being right or proofing that M was right all along. This is about needing a break, about finding peace in who I AM and not what others expect me to be. I have realized that when others judge what makes you worthy or unworthy, more often then not, they are wrong.

Let me tell you about Jack, my HT before this last set. He is in his mid 60’s, married for over 40 years with 3 or 4 kids, I`m not sure. He came with Brother S and the two were the most unusual pairing. Jack hadn’t been to church in nearly 40 years and when he gave the message, he equaled Bro S who had served as a Stake President just a few years before. The two would come and we would have the best gospel discussions and the back and forth always made for deep thoughts. There was in the room a mutual respect and understanding and what I soon learned was being at church may not always indicate faith and testimony, Jack being a perfect example. I never knew why he didn’t go; it never really mattered, but what I did know was of his great respect for the faith we both shared.

So the truth is, I have no idea when I’ll return or even if I will. As much as my door is being knocked on now at the end of the day, it will be about the choice I would make to knock on His door. It always has been and it always will be. The pain at being at church was about my own personal demons and until I slay them, they will always be there.

The picture above is of a door and it’s handle that is almost 100 years old. The brass wear is hand stamped and the silver on the door knob worn off. Hundreds and hundreds of people have passed through that threshold and the stories of each person is unique unto itself. I know God knows me and I know He understands. His opinion and that of my immediate family is all that matters to me now as I rebuild and renew. I make this choice, I alone.

And as for the 12 page letter that reopened every old wound that I worked so hard to heal. It only showed the true colors of the one who penned it. It derailed me but it will not conquer me. I just can’t fight it anymore. I am  weary  and tired of the battle. I will not fight anymore - it just isn’t worth it.