General Conference Report

My wife's  family has a General Conference tradition. Sunday morning session is preceded by a huge feast of crepes and sausage.   Everyone brings something  and the assembly line begins about 9am and by the time the conference begins blasting from every  TV in the house,  nothing is ready.   I have usually stolen 4 or 5 unblessed sausage links by this time. My father in-law begins barking that everyone needs to pay attention to the opening prayer. Small children are corralled  and those at the stove bow their heads,  but keep one eye open as they crank out the crepes.  Eventually,  usually about the time the first speaker begins,  the food is blessed to the strengthening and nourishing of our bodies,  and the ignoring of the lords annointed begins in earnest.

Last April,  I was fresh from coming out to my wife as an unbeliever, and for the first time (and fucking last! ) I listened to every one of the 10 hours of vital information the prophets, seers,  and revelators bestowed upon us.  I attended my first priesthood session,  walking into a chapel filled with a sea of white shirts packed tightly into all of the pews, my son and I decided to utulize the comfy chairs in the lobby.  It was boring as hell!  At the crepefest,  It was noted by a few  of my wife's brothers and sisters that I was actually paying attention(I think we had only confided in one of her 2 brothers and he had been a dick about it and began avoiding us).  I had brain fuzz pretty badly by the time the second session was starting and thankfully was able to bike the 13 miles home as I listened to thrash metal before watching the dvr'd blather.

This year was quite different. In addition to the historically significant appearance  of not one,  but 2 women praying in General Conference for the first time in 183 years, I was officially no longer a member. Two days before I had finally received my official confirmation  letter from the church's confidential records department stating that, in accordance with my request,  my name had been removed.
 I was also out to my in-laws, having just a month prior, had a brief chat with my mother in-law letting her know that I had sent in my resignation. As my wife and I suspected,  she already knew about my inactivity and disbelief,  having been told by her son.   She had known for some time.   After our chat,  she let my wife  know how sad she was that she hadn't  come to her and defended  her son's dickish behavior. God forbid she offer any fucking support!   My wife's  family has a long tradition of ignoring the elephants that stride through their rooms and passive-aggressively avoiding dealing with anything in healthy ways.

 As we prepared for this exciting weekend, my wife was a bit apprehensive, in addition to the tension between her and her mom,  there had been a few family fun get togethers that my wife hadn't been invited to,  and darling brother had announced his wedding would be on the weekend we had for months been planning on being out of town.  I steeled myself for the awkwardness and kept thinking about the delicious food I would be stuffing in my face to keep me from snarking.

My wife fretted and fumed,  and the day before it was all going to go down,  got into a pissy text exchange with the one sister who has been cool throughout  this whole thing. Before she could send the final text which would screw me out of all those greasy sausage links,  I convinced  her to call and make peace. They made nice,  and she thanked me for chilling her out.

Crisis averted,  we skimmed through  the recorded talks from Saturday's sessions and chatted about Bednar's chastity  rant and the historic prayer which went off completely unremarkable as if it was just another session. I convinced my wife that it might be an interesting conversation  starter if she brought up the prayer,  whereas  my bringing it up might be seen as a bit confrontational. This might be quite interesting,  more likely,  it would just be another unprocessed  parade of pachyderms.

I awoke Sunday to the smell of coffee brewing as my wife was baking a cake for the postmormon potluck we would be skipping out on the afternoon session to attend.   Two large mugs,  liberally filled with Irish creme, (the good kind- Baileys) were luxuriously  sipped as I helped ready  the kids and pack the car with our contribution to the morning meal; 2 gallons of milk and 2 giant jugs of Sunny Delight, (and a water bottle half filled with vodka for myself) and a 3rd mug of Baileys  and coffee was filled to take and wash down crepes with.  Excited and giddy as I was,  my wife was (in addition to being unaware of the Baileys  situation) somewhat tense and uneasy.

 I dressed in old, slightly distressed jeans and a tight, v-neck,  T-shirt, that clung to my recently 10 lbs thinner body.  The look was completed with my atheist symbol necklace, I was a sexy,  smug and self satisfied apostate  if ever there was one.   I was going to be so charming and sociable as to baffle and amaze them all.   We would show them that,  far from being the tragic, mixed faith, couple stuggling in the grasp of Satan that they saw us as,  we were happy and doing great! I would be no bitter apostate bent on mocking and belittling their beliefs  or looking for confrontation,  nor would I  be the aloof and distant grouch,  brooding off by myself,  I was going to be charming!

Arriving  a little late,  we brought in our treasures and I stashed my big mug of contraband out of sight in a bookshelf. I said nice friendly howdies to everyone and got down on one knee and chatted with my 2 yr old niece.  In the downstairs  of my in-laws' split level colonial lives Great Grandpa. I strode down to say a pleasant hello. This led to the longest handshake  of my life.

After a second or two in which I smilingly greeted him and asked how he was,  he went straight to the point.

 "They tell me you asked to have your name removed from the records of the church. " he asked,  still holding my hand and putting the other on my shoulder.

"Yep"

"Why would you do that? "

"I don't believe  it. " I smiled and looked him in the eye.

Nodding towards the TV which was showing a repeat of the Young Women's meeting, he asked "You don't believe  they are prophets? "

"No,  sir I don't,  " still smiling and still holding the handshake.

He went on to tell me about prophets who visited him in his dreams and how he woke with tears in his eyes. I smiled and refrained from discussing confirmation  bias.

"You know this doesn't just affect  you,  this affects the salvation of my granddaughter and my great grandkids."

I assured him that I had no intention of interfering with their desire to attend church and that I supported my wife as  primary president. I stared into his eyes,  smiling and still holding the handshake while informing him that I wasn't trying to destroy their testimonies or telling them a lot of negative  stuff about the church, but that if they ask me questions,  I will answer them directly and honestly. I told him that I had spent several months researching and studying and that this was not something I took lightly.

 "I never thought you had a very strong testimony of the gospel. " he said without malice, and I had to agree.

When he asked about my lack of belief,  I cheerfully and respectfully  told him that I didn't believe Joseph Smith was a prophet or that the Book of Mormon  was an historical or spiritual  record and that Joseph made it up. He began the old argument  that Joseph's limited education,  similar to his own,  was proof that it was divine inspiration. I countered that Joseph knew his Bible and plagiarized heavily  from Isaiah, but stopped before bringing up A View of the Hebrews and told him that it was not my desire to argue about it.

 He then turned back to his concerns  about my family and how it is in my shoulders,  and he wanted to leave this world knowing his descendants were safe in the gospel. I flirted with the idea of telling him that as patriarch of my family I felt it was my duty to protect them from a corrupt and fraudulent cult, but held my tongue.

After stating that he knew I was a good dad and husband,  he finally released  my hand.

Now,  it was my turn to step up into his personal space and be direct.   I thanked him for speaking with me about this.   I told him I appreciated his coming to me and how most others who knew avoid me and seemed afraid to speak with me. I let him know that I preferred  to shoot straight and  be direct and honest. We parted in good terms and I went upstairs to find my wife.

I took a moment for a deep drink from my mug and went from room to room looking for my bride. I eventually learned that she had gone for a walk with her sister.  I sat down to share the great grandpa story with my facebook  ex-Mo groups.   When she returned it was obvious that it's was not a leisurely  stroll.

 "I needed some air!" she informed me through pursed lips. She promised details later and returned to the kitchen.  My daughter shared a bit if the story.   Apparently,  there was some discussion about being judgmental. My wife had expressed her feelings about the fact that my mother in-law hadn't  made any effort to talk to her or provide support when she found out about my disaffection, and felt that she had been judging us. Of course her mom felt she had been judged as my wife hadn't  confided in her. My wife responded  that when she had told people,  they had reacted poorly and shunned us. This was directed at my brother in-law, who was standing between them making crepes. She went on to point out that this was part of the family's pattern of not being open and talking about things,  preferring to sweep things under the rug. This was denied,  tempers were flaring,  and my wife left to cool down.   Mom and brother then snarked a bit about how the only people who sweep things under the rug are the ones with something to hide. When they realized they my daughter was still sitting there, they quickly shut up.

I finished my post and eventually  headed into the kitchen to steal my first unblessed sausage link.  The discussion was more civil and had to do with conference.   My wife brought up the first woman praying.   This was met with ignorance of the significance,  scoffs,   and called stupid. Baileys was calling.  Another briefly  overheard  conversation  was about BIL's fiance moving into his house.  It was vigorously  defended as being completely  above board,  and in no way improper or conflicting with his custody agreement or temple worthiness as she does not sleep there. Their regular temple attendance  was also touted. The upcoming sealing also was discussed briefly,  a pleasant reminder  for my wife that it had been scheduled  for the weekend of our long planned trip out of town.

The conference  began and  a few people  pretended to listen.   By the 1st  speaker,  food was ready.   The ignoring of the speakers by all but myself and my father in-law began in earnest.

Once plates were filled and people were sitting around with plates balanced on laps, a few people payed attention to some of what was said. A sister and law and her teenage son had a notebook and took a few notes. Mostly though,  it was just background  noise for eating and socializing. I'm sure they will read a few talks in the ensign. I was so nice that I allowed niece and nephews to play games with on my tablet.  There was a walk to the cemetary to great grandma's grave, complete with brief cloudburst.  Then it was time for session 2, My wife and I headed out to attend my exmo group potluck.   And thus endeth conference crepefest.