I remember the way the road curved just before it dipped downhill, the sudden whoosh in my stomach as we suddenly lost elevation. That hill, with the lake shimmering on one side and the hay fields swaying on the other, was always my favorite part of any drive in or out of town. For just a few seconds, as the car sped along the highway, it was like riding in a roller coaster.

We were driving along that stretch of road, my mother and I, just a few weeks shy of my sixth birthday - just a few weeks shy of Christmas. "So, Judyblue," my mom asked, "what are you going to ask Santa for?"

I managed to squeeze about five syllables into my exasperated whining reply. "Mo-o-om!"

"What?"

"I know Santa's not real."

I remember the look on her face. I remember the tear the welled up in her eye, and the way she gripped the steering wheel. I remember the abrupt turn of her head, the way she stared at the road ahead, the way her breath caught in her throat.

"Mom? What's the matter?"

"You don't believe in Santa Claus?"

"No."

"That just makes me a little sad, that's all."

At the time, I didn't know what she meant by that. I didn't know that she was seeing her child grow up, too fast. I didn't know that every step I took away from innocent wonder was a step toward a real world that scared her.

All I knew was that the car was dipping downhill, and my stomach was whooshing, and my mother was sad because of something I had done.

"Maybe I believe in him," I said, trying to make her feel better but not wanting to lie. The word "maybe" was built for situations like this.

She smiled at me. A sad smile. "It's okay if you don't, Judyblue. It's okay if you don't believe."

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had done something wrong.

Nineteen years later, just a few weeks shy of my twenty-fifth birthday - just a few weeks shy of Christmas - my mother and I were driving together again. This time there was no hill, no lake, no hay fields. We were in a different town, in a different state, surrounded by strip malls and snow and people rushing about with their holiday shopping. We were heading to a restaurant for lunch, after which we would be joining the throngs at a nearby shopping center.

"Judyblue," my mother asked, "are you doing alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"My mom-dar is beeping," she said. "Is everything okay at work? Are you still getting on with your roommate? Are you doing okay financially?"

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine."

"I just feel like there's something you want to tell me."

I didn't need the hill. The whoosh in my stomach was just as strong as ever. There WAS something I wanted to tell her. But here? Now? I wasn't ready. I didn't know how to breach the subject. I hadn't planned out what to say. But she had asked, and I couldn't hold it in.

"I've left the church," I blurted out.

She hit the brakes a little hard as we approached an intersection. She glanced over at me once we had stopped. "What do you mean? Do you not like your singles' ward?"

"No, Mom. I'm not inactive. I'm actively not participating in Mormonism anymore."

It took her a moment to respond. She turned her head and stared at the stoplight. "Why?"

"I don't believe in it."

"Do you mean you just don't have a testimony of it, or you believe it's not true?"

"It's not true."

The light turned green. My mother eased the car off the line in a gentle, controlled way - much more carefully than her normal driving habits. "Is this because of the Prop 8 thing?" she asked.

"No. I mean, that whole thing was a complete mess, and you know I was pissed off about it. It certainly gave me a reason to look more closely at my relationship with the church, and whether or not I really thought it was being led by God. But it's not the reason I left. It wasn't even the final straw. It was more like a catalyst to make me sit down and finally figure out what I actually believe in. And it isn't Mormonism."

"So you don't believe Joseph Smith was a prophet?"

"No."

"And the Book of Mormon? You don't think it's true?"

"No."

"Do you believe in Jesus?"

"No."

"Oh."

We pulled into the parking lot in front of the restaurant. She turned off the engine, but we both sat in the car for a while. My hands shook. I waited for the guilt-laden questions, the fervent pleas, the tears.

Finally, my mother turned to me. "Were you scared to tell me?"

"Yes."

"What did you think would happen? Did you think I'd yell, or be angry?"

"I didn't think you'd yell, I didn't think you'd be angry. But I knew you would be upset."

"I know it's true," she said. "I know all of it is true. I know Joseph Smith was a prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I know Jesus is my savior."

"I know you feel that way."

"And I'm proud of you." The tears finally arrived. Not from my mother, the woman who cried buckets at sappy commercials and sad songs. No, her deep green eyes were dry. The flow of tears splashed against my own cheeks. She looked right at me. "I'm proud of you for not just accepting what's given to you, but for wanting to figure it out for yourself. So what do you believe?"

I shook my head. "I don't know yet. I think it's going to take me a while to filter through everything I've been taught to find what actually makes sense to me." I wanted to soften the blow, but I didn't want to lie, so I pulled an old friend out of my pocket. "Maybe," I said, "maybe after a bit of soul searching I'll circle right back around to believing in it again."

"It's okay, Judyblue," my mother said. "It's okay if you don't believe."

But even though she hadn't shed a tear, or raised her voice, the smile she gave me was a sad one. I could see how hurt she really was, and this time I understood. I understood that her child had grown up, and she had learned to let her go. I understood that she was terrified I was unprotected while taking steps into a world that scared her.

I understood, but all that mattered was that my mother was sad because of something I had done.

And sometimes now, years later, when I speak to her on the phone about my new job and my new town and my new life, and all the wonderful things and people I would never have discovered if I had remained in the church, I can still hear the sadness in her voice, and I still can't shake the feeling that I've done something wrong.

Very brave!!!! ;) Thank you so much for sharing that story.

It sounds like your mom is pretty reasonable, at least. It could have gone worse than it did, even though she was clearly sad that you stopped believing in her religion.

knotheadusc Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> It sounds like your mom is pretty reasonable, at
> least. It could have gone worse than it did, even
> though she was clearly sad that you stopped
> believing in her religion.


Oh, absolutely. I've been tremendously lucky with my (immediate) family. I have a lot of friends who were essentially disowned by their parents for apostatizing, and I know a lot of people on this board have had it really rough with their parents/spouses/children. This is is no way meant to be a "wo is me" type of story. I was just thinking about the parallels between when I outed myself about Santa and when I outed myself about Mormonism, and wanted to write it down.

Thanks for reading it. :)

I'm glad you shared your story with us. It's nice to read about a parent who responds in a reasonable way to a child who decides to forge their own way. I think there are a lot of folks on this board who have unreasonable family members. It's good to be reminded that not all Mormon family members are rabid and unable to accept their adult children's decisions.

I know sometimes I start to paint Mormons with the same brush and that's not fair. Your post is a good reminder that even though I think Mormonism is culty, not all of its members are narrow minded and unable to live and let live.



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 03/28/2012 03:00PM by knotheadusc.

Are your Mom and mine twins? lol I love what you wrote. My sweet Mom is gone now but she basically insisted that we learn to think for ourselves and she was always proud of us no matter what. Your Mom sounds incredible!

Very well written. A lot of maturity and clarity shown by both you and your mom. It's a tough situation and painful for both of you. What you describe so well here has been one of the hardest things for me in this whole process. I know they still love me and I know that they respect me. But beneath that all I know they are deeply sad and hurt. And that hurts.

When is you Book coming out? Well done and my admiration for your bravery and truthfulness.

I'm actually a writer-for-hire. I've ghostwritten everything from U.N. environmental reports to blog posts to screenplays. But as for my own stuff? No such luck (yet). I'm optimistic. My first book's official release date is "Someday."

Thanks to all for your positive feedback. :) I love this board.

WOW, that was wonderful.

And THAT is the type of thing they SHOULD put in the Ensign!!!!

+ 1000!

Great story Judyblue, very enjoyable read.

WOW! If you aren't an author you should be.

That was a great story and I feel your pain. My mother has accepted that I have left the church. I am 55 with 4 children to my first marriage and one with my second wife, and 8 grand children and my mother lives with me and my wife because she can't afford to live on her own. I love having her around and although it was hard getting to this point now she doesn't say anything about my decision to leave the church. We had some heated discussions when I first told her but now she just has that sad look whenever she wants to say something about the church.

I wish with all my heart I could help her see the truth about the church, but that would be cruel on my part because my father passed away about 3 years ago and she lives for the day they can be reunited in heaven with him. Her belief in the church is her lifeline to my dad and I would never take that away from her.

I don't think that sadness will ever go away as long as our mothers continue to believe in the church. I guess it is something we just have to learn to live with because I will never return to the church, ever!

That was really great. Thanks for posting your experience. It reminds me in some ways about when I found out about Santa. I was a little angry and said something like: "What ELSE haven't you told me?" My older sisters thought that was funny and reassured me that there wasn't anything else they were lying about. Well guess what? There was one more little thing...

Of course I don't blame them, they were sincere and as blinded as any of us.

Wiping away tears. Beautiful.

Beautifully done judyblue.

"It's okay if you don't believe." Would that all believers could say those few words with conviction.