I Am Unashamed

November 15, 2009 4:09 PM - Anonymous said: "How can you be black and be such a supporting member of an organization that was officially racist until 1978? And still teaches to this day that the Curse of Cain is manifest in black people? Shame on you."

Sista Laurel's response:
We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may.

Above is the 11th Article of Faith of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The line in that sentence that stood out to me the most as I pondered and prayed on this question was: “according to the dictates of our own conscience.”

Dic-tate [v. dik-teyt, dik-teyt; n. dik-teyt] verb, -tat-ed, -tat-ing, noun
6. a guiding or governing principle, requirement, etc.: to follow the dictates of one's conscience.

Con-science [kon-shuh ns] –noun
1. the inner sense of what is right or wrong in one's conduct or motives, impelling one toward right action: to follow the dictates of conscience.
2. the complex of ethical and moral principles that controls or inhibits the actions or thoughts of an individual.

"How can you be black and be such a supporting member of an organization that was officially racist until 1978? And still teaches to this day that the Curse of Cain is manifest in black people? Shame on you."

I know that I am a child of God. A loving Heavenly Father provided a Savior for me, Jesus Christ. I have gained this testimony through experiences both spiritual and temporal. I strive to live a Christ-like life, but I am imperfect. I have fallen short, I do fall short, I will fall short. I am thankful for the knowledge that Jesus Christ died for my sins, so that I have the opportunity to stand again each time I fall. My testimony, this knowledge, and this goal have all contributed in my decision to be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I have always thought of spirituality and faith as being personal. This thought process has helped me to develop a personal relationship with God and Jesus Christ. Also, I find that my faith is not sedentary. With each passing day it can grow and it can waiver and in both instances I rely heavily on these personal relationships. If at any time I have questions regarding religion, my faith, spirituality, membership in the church to which I belong, etc., I have always consulted with the Lord through prayer and have always received answers to my prayers.

Through my testimony in prayer and according to the dictates of my own conscience I am an unashamed member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Sista Laurel


Sista Beehive's response:
Pastor Rick Warren, was asked the question, " Do all religions lead to God"? His response was, "Think about the logic of this. Can I go into a phone booth and dial any phone number and get home? No, there’s only one number that’ll get me home. I could be sincere, but I could be sincerely wrong. The truth is, all roads don’t lead to Rome and all roads and all religions don’t lead to God".

In following that same thought pattern the scriptures teach in John 14:6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

While it is not my responsibility to try to explain away the painful, yet historic teachings of past church practices (not only in the LDS Church). Nor is it my intention to defend the crippeling history of our "free" country, a place that we all call home. Jesus is the way, Jesus, my elder brother, the only one who could, atoned and sacrificed for me, he alone is the truth and the light.

I am grateful for parents who taught me to recognize and yield to the teachings of the Holy Ghost. I'm grateful that I was blessed with a strong Pentacostal family that encouraged me to develop a personal relationship with the Lord, so that when the time came in my life where I would need to testify of the truthfullness of the Holy Ghost I would be able to do so in my own words. So that when the day came for me to become a soilder in God's army, I would be armed with a truth that I was willing to stand on and if needs be die for. I have found that truth in the church that I've choosen to embrace.

I have a personal relationship with my Father in heaven who loves me and has been merciful to me. It is ultimately because of this love that I feel "No Shame"!! for my choice in worshiping the Lord my God, in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I make no apologies to my anonymous Brotha/Sista for being a member of the LDS church. Just as I make no apologies to any of the Brothas/Sistas of the LDS faith for the race, or lineage that I was born into.

Jesus atoned for me! He suffered and died! It is because of his love for me that eternal life and not death is possible. In closing, I feel that it's approiate for us all to be reminded: "Love thy neighbor" is not a cliché; it is a commandment from God. In Matthew 22:37–39, Jesus emphasized the importance of loving the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and all your mind and loving your neighbor as yourself. He said, all the other commandments, all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments (v. 40).

Sista Beehive

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Shame On You!!

Anonymous - November 15, 2009 4:09 PM

How can you be black and be such a supporting member of an organization that was officially racist until 1978? And still teaches to this day that the Curse of Cain is manifest in black people?

Shame on you.

We know that this isn't typically done, and if this post makes any of our readers feel uncomfortable we apologize.

Many of our Brothas and Sistas get this question regularly, this is our post for today, we wanted you - our readers, Sistas and Brothas to share with us your response. It was originally posted in the comments section of "It's Not My Turn To Pray". We responded, but felt that we needed to address this issue in a direct, yet sensitive manner.

We'd like to hear your response, to our "Anonymous Brotha/Sista". As we will prayerfully try to articulate our individual feelings and why we feel the way we do about our membership in the Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter Day Saints. We will post our individual feelings/testimonies tomorrow. Thank You

Be Blessed!

Sistas Beehive & Laurel

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Joy Comes In The Morning

I woke up this morning after having a wonderful dream. I dreamed about my parents, Susie Mae and Arthur Lee. Although Susie and Arthur are my grandparents, they are the ones that raised me. I'm usually referring to Susie and Arthur when I'm talking about my parents. Susie and Arthur have both passed away and I miss them, especially during this time of year.

I don't dream of them very often so when I do it's always bitter sweet. I often wonder if I'm doing things that are pleasing to them and that bring honor to our family name. Most of time I feel that I am, especially at this time in my life, however, memories although funny now are somewhat painful. It wasn't very often that both parents were disappointed in me. Nevertheless there were occasions that I know that both parents were, even though they were never able to express their disappointment. One occasion was shortly after my father passed away, and my mother had just gotten out of the hospital, after suffering a debilitating stroke 6 months earlier.

I'm sure that these feeling aren't unique to me alone. I do know that I will see them again, at that time in my life, I'm hopeful that the reunion of our family will overshadow my moment of stupidity. If in this life we could have do overs, I would use one of my several to re-do Arthur's and Susie's funerals.

Arthur's funeral came during a difficult time in my life. The Bishop of my parents ward at that time stopped by our home with the Missionaries. I had flown in from Utah, and arrived at my parents home shortly after the Bishop and Missionaries. A few months prior to my dad's funeral there had been a family feud, and I wasn't and hadn't spoken to most of my family. Many of them didn't know that I had moved to Utah and they most certainly didn't know that I was expecting my first child.

All were excited to see me and willing to let bygones be bygones. I on the other hand refused to let things go. As my family members approached me with their hand extended toward my stomach I would quickly divert their hands away from my basketball shaped stomach. I would not allow the usual playful belly rub, touch, and nobody was talking to the baby that was still leasing space in my stomach. I didn't want anyone that I didn't like at the time (which was probably 90% of the people in the house at that time) to say or do anything pertaining to me and my unborn child.

Most people would have stopped right there, not me. I had to express right there in front of the Bishop, Missionaries and my Mom, my dislike for whom ever I didn't like at that time. Talk about putting family business in the streets, it was out there. It was horrible! My mind was telling my mouth to stop, shut-up! Not only was my mouth not listening to my mind it went into cruise control! I couldn't stop, if eye contact was made, and we were at odds, it was on! There...business out there. My mom kept pleading with me to stop, and I really wanted to, I just couldn't. My mouth kept going.

Our Bishop and family friend was mortified! There was a look of fear on his face that I will never forget. Not fear for himself, fear for me, and how he was going to explain to my husband how and why I was beat to death. He tried to say something, I believe I told him that the only thing he could do was start blessing folks with his consecrated oil and if he wasn't going to do that then he needed to save his words. My mouth still wouldn't stop moving. I'm sure he wondered who I was and where Sista Beehive went, I wish I knew the answer to that unasked question myself.

"Where is Sista Beehive? I don't know, I don't know. Where is Sista Beehive? I don't know,"!
Mouth kept moving...The Missionaries, just kept staring at me. They didn't even know me. I know they thought I had lost my mind and I had lost it! I know that I should have cared but I didn't. By the time my mouth stopped, there were only five people in the room. Your guess is correct. One Bishop, two Missionaries, one Mother, and me. There wasn't even a trace of the Holy Ghost, shameful, just shameful! We all sat there in silence for what seemed like an eternity!...Finally the Bishop said, "Well, it sounds to me like this home could use a prayer". Needless to say, not one family member spoke to me during the rest of my stay in Fresno (which was a whole two days), except my Mom. I'd love a do over please!

At Susie's funeral I was a totally different person (she passed away 4 years later). I was more helpful and I wasn't pregnant. (I would like to blame the outburst at Arthur's funeral on my impending situation... I said I'd like to say that, but I know better than that. I was bitter about more then a few things). At Susie's funeral, my guilt comes from not dressing her, which I'm sure she would have forgiven me. All I needed to do was take care of other responsibilities, her hair and make-up. Susie was always put together! She always looked sharp! If she didn't do her hair no one ever knew it 'cause always she had the finest wigs. She wouldn't go anywhere without having her nails and hair did. I couldn't even bring myself to do her hair and/or makeup. The person who did do my mom's hair and makeup (a family member), fixed Susie up the way she saw Susie through her eyes. Pink lip-stick, bright red finger nails, an red-auburn wig, shoulder length, and way too much makeup. I know that I'm in trouble the next time I see Susie!

The woman who fixed Susie's hair is Pentecostal (not that being Pentecostal is a bad thing), and they don't really do flashy. They don't really wear makeup, and if makeup is warn you can't tell it just by looking at them. I'm sure that to my Pentecostal family members we (everyone not Pentecostal) wear way too much makeup and probably do look over made. Anyway, I'd really like a do over for that one!!

I probably still wouldn't do it, but I would hire someone who could do an amazing job! I would also get her a different wig, one that's more brown than red, and a little shorter. Yes, I'd like a do over for 600, Alex.

Side note: Place in my will: Do not let a Pentecostal woman/man do my hair/makeup when I die. Unless they have already been pre~approved or they are currently (at the time) back sliding.

I don't want ya'll to think it's all about guilt and do overs. I do laugh when I think of those moments. I'm sure that's the gift that was left to me, because only God knows the sorrow I felt having lost them. Now instead of crying when I think of losing them, I can't help but laugh, I'm grateful for having their influence of love and laughter in my life. I'm happy that I have better relationships with those family members that I embarrassed, and that today we are able to laugh about my "uncontrollable mouth".

I know that there are several people who have anxiety when it comes to participating in family events especially during this time of year. Hopefully as you read my story and the story of some of our brothas and sistas comments you will be able to create a buffer for yourself and your immediate family. One of Susie's favorite songs was "Joy Comes In The Morning"! I do look forward to the morning that my family will be reunited! May joy and love for family help you usher in this holiday season.

Brothas and Sistas, tell us what you'd like a do over in and why?

Sista Beehive

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It's Not My Turn To Pray

While there are some people who fail to recognize the Lord's hand in our lives, other people seem to see his hand in everything that they do. I'm not talking about those people that stand up monthly and bear their testimony. You know the testimonies that make everyone feel uncomfortable, even the children; I'm talking about those people who have the faith of Brotha Job.

As I survey the lives of my families last four generations, as well as the families of my peers, it seems to me that the younger generations lack gratitude. While there are several reasons for the lack of gratitude in our lives and the lives of our youth, I attribute the main reason for lack of gratitude being we (parents) lack the ability to communicate to our children what we are grateful for and in turn what they are grateful for. Yes brothas and sistas, the nature of this story has taken a slight turn, just bare with me as I relay this short story that will tie into teaching gratitude.

Sometimes my parents had to flip the script in order for me to learn the lessons they tried to teach me. I think last night I would have received an A+ in "T Family Teachings 101".

Story: Last night I called my children down for family prayer. My two youngest girls ages 12 and 10 were being rambunctious, playful, but rambunctious with one another. Even though they both started off playful and teasing I knew they were a giggle away from a full on war. In trying to calm the two of them down I asked one of my daughters to lead us in family prayer. She groaned and said that she had said the prayer the night before and that it was someone else’s turn to say prayer.

Some parents would have apologized and differed the responsibility to say family prayer to a younger sibling.

Me: So you only expect the Lord to bless you a little?

Her: No, I just don't think I should have to say all the prayers in this house.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry, you must be the one that keeps telling Heavenly Father that he's blessed you way too much and it's time for him to pass those blessings on to someone else. I understand you have expressed your gratitude for the family this week, so if we need you to pray for the family, we have to catch you in the morning or in the mid-day.

Her: Mom, your being dramatic... (smile). Yes, I want blessings.

Me: (Am I seeing a smile)? Oh, well is there something your trying to take care of? Are you not worthy to pray? Are you working on your issue? Or you just don't have anything to say to Heavenly Father? Are you and Heavenly Father in a fight?

Her: (Her and the rest of the family, full out laughter)... O.K. I'll say prayer.

I would just like to report that she said a full, healthy prayer. It was thoughtful and she expressed gratitude for our family and the blessings in our lives.

Back on track: If we are noticing a lack of gratitude in our lives and the lives of our children we need to focus on the basics. When was the last time you took public transportation? When was the last time (if ever) you went and ate at a homeless shelter, without doing service there? Just going there and exposing yourself and your children to those less fortunate, placing yourself on their level. When was the last time you said "No" to your child? Just "No", I'm not spending that kind of money or we simply can't afford that.

Being a parent I understand how difficult it is to say "No" to your child especially when so many other parents are saying yes. It's not our responsibility to provide our children with all the latest fashions and/or gadgets. We have become an entitled generation; it is this attitude that we are passing on to our children. Many of us want to have the same quality of life as we start our adult lives, that we had living with our parents. It's natural for parents to have a desire to help their children achieve success, however we might be keeping our children from learning the lesson of gratitude. Where entitlement exists, there is no room for gratitude. Where entitlement is, resentment is usually around the corner.

I know that I am one of the most blessed children of our Heavenly Father. As I look at my life and my family (even extended), I know that Heavenly Father has had a watchful eye on me and has placed Angels in my path. I'm especially grateful for parents that knew how to simply say "no", without giving me an excuse. I'm grateful for parents that taught me the value of life. I'm most grateful for the people in my life and their willingness to patiently teach me.

Sista Beehive
 

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My First Communion

One of the things that I am most grateful to my parents for is exposing me to many different religions and faiths. As a youngster, I took seriously the call for every member to be a missionary. I loved inviting my friends to church with me. Some of the friends that I invited to church didn’t regularly attend any church, but some of them did. One thing about LDS Primary is that it is a lot of fun, and some of my friends often wanted to forgo their church meetings and attend church with me for that reason. This didn’t often go over well with their parents, so my parents often suggested that each time they sent their child to church with us, my parents would send me to church with them the following Sunday. Or my friend and I would attend church at the LDS Church and also at the church my friend attended in the same Sunday, if time permitted. The latter often led to a really long Sunday, but I learned so much from it.

When I was turning 8 years old and was preparing to be baptized, I wanted one of my best friends to attend my baptism. She was also turning 8 and preparing for her First Communion in the Catholic Church. Our parents decided that she would attend church with me some Sundays - this way she could accompany me to Primary and learn about baptism and why I was doing it. In turn, I would attend the Catholic Church with her on some Sundays and also her religious classes so I could learn what communion was and why she was doing it. We had so much fun learning about each other's religions and even at the age of 7 we were able to recognize so many of the similarities in our faiths.

She was shopping for a beautiful white dress for her occasion, and my Mother was making me a beautiful one for mine. On her big day I felt so special to be included. I watched as she and all the other children, the boys in their suits and the girls in their white dresses and veils, walked down the aisle holding candles. I watched as she partook of the Sacrament for the very first time in her life, and I understood what she was doing and why it meant so much to her and her family. I had taken the Sacrament many times, but watching her do so and seeing all the preparation she had done to be able to partake of it helped to remind me of how important the Sacrament is. On the day of my baptism she attended and she understood what I was doing and why it meant so much to me and my family. The Sunday following my baptism, I tried very hard to think about the sacrifice Jesus Christ had made for me while I partook of the Sacrament, I couldn't remember the very first time I had taken the Sacrament, but I wanted to remember this one.

Thanks to each of our parents being tolerant of the other's religion and teaching us the same. There is a picture of she and I at age 8 in our white dresses, standing in the church parking lot with our arms around each other, the temple is behind us, I love that picture, we look so happy. Today my friend is still Catholic and I am still a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What I learn from my many religious experiences is that it isn’t always about conversion, sometimes it’s simply about trying to make each interaction with a person of another faith a positive one.

Do you often attend church services of faiths other than yours, why or why not? Do your children invite friends to church with them? Do your children attend church with their friends? Tell us about an experience you have had inviting a person of a different faith to church with you. Tell us of an experience you have had attending a church of a faith other than your own.

Sista Laurel

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Warm Fuzzies vs. Cold Pricklies

When my husband and I were living in the ward he attended as a child, he received a calling to teach Sunday school for the youth ages 12 and 13, a class that happened to be dominated by rowdy boys. After the Sacrament meeting in which his calling had been announced a Sister in the ward came up to me and told me that when she heard what my husband’s calling was she was overjoyed and knew that God was a just God. She had been a Primary President while he was a child, although he seemed to have turned out quite nicely, in his Primary of around 30 boys he had been an awful little instigator who had sometimes left her and his other teachers in tears. I may have imagined it, but I think I saw a slight smirk on her face as she asked me to wish him good luck.

Often when you find yourself in or teaching a Sunday school or Primary class dominated by boys, it can be a nightmare, but every once in a while you learn something you never would have expected. In class we were discussing service and the story which President Monson relayed during Conference of the Primary who had sent him a jar of warm fuzzies, with each warm fuzzy representing an act of service that a child had done for someone else. Of course the boys being boys had no interest in anything warm or fuzzy and one boy said what if instead of warm fuzzies he got a jar of cold pricklies. Other than the desire to send President Monson a jar of cold pricklies, I actually found the remark to be quite clever and began to think about what a cold prickly might look like. I did what every person with a church inspired question does, I searched…Google. To my surprise when I typed in warm fuzzies, cold pricklies also came up. I don’t know if the boy had heard this before and was referring to it, but his smart aleck response led me to this great story.

"Once upon a time, there was a tiny village nestled between two mountains. Each person in the village was very happy because he was given a bag of Warm Fuzzies at birth. You could reach into your bag and pull out a Warm Fuzzy whenever you wanted, and everybody wanted to all the time. Warm Fuzzies were given to other people on the street, at home, everywhere. Warm Fuzzies made you feel just like they sound - warm, happy and content. Everyone in the village was happy, everyone but the bad witch. Now we all know that bad witches are growly. They like us to be unhappy, sad. The bad witch in this village was no exception. She tried and tried to make the people stop giving away Warm Fuzzies. One day she whispered in the ear of little Johnny Brown, "If you keep giving away all of your Warm Fuzzies you won't have any left for yourself." Johnny didn't listen at first, because everyone always had lots of Warm Fuzzies. The more you gave away, the more you got.

Then the witch said to Johnny, "If you give COLD PRICKLIES you will be able to keep all of your Warm Fuzzies." Well, Johnny got to thinking about this, and noticed that his mother was always giving away Warm Fuzzies. So were his father and his sister. Soon he thought they would have no more for him. So Johnny started saving his Warm Fuzzies and started giving COLD PRICKLIES. Soon the whole village was giving COLD PRICKLIES. Everyone was gloomy and sad and very grouchy. The village was no longer happy, and there wasn't a Warm Fuzzy to be found!

This had been going on for years and years, and the wicked witch was very happy. One day an old man came to visit the village. When he spoke to anyone they frowned at him and turned their backs, often walked away. The old man continued to be friendly, polite, pleasant, and one day a very young boy smiled back at the old man. It made him feel good - so good that he patted his dog, and the dog didn't bite him! This was the first Warm Fuzzy given in some time, and the little boy dug into his bag of Warm Fuzzies, as they were much nicer than the COLD PRICKLIES, and he started giving them away. The townspeople grumbled and growled for a while, but soon they felt like giving Warm Fuzzies. One by one people went home to find their Warm Fuzzies and soon everyone was again giving Warm Fuzzies. The bad witch was so upset and disgusted that she left the village and took her COLD PRICKLIES. After all, they didn't stand a chance against Warm Fuzzies.
To this day that village is happy and content. Maybe, just maybe, if we give enough Warm Fuzzies our world can be as happy and pleasant as that village."

Have you ever learned something great from the mouth of babes?

Sista Laurel

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Utah Govenor Speaks Ebonics

Before we get started, let me just say if you know Governor Gray Herbert, you don't have to call him to check the validity of this story. Just trust me on this one…

I belong to a group that gets to have an audience with the Governor here in Utah to discuss some of Utah's many achievements, as well as a few of our issues. Let me give a shout out to our Governor right now.

**Real Talk: I love Governor Herbert. Yes, he is all that and a bag of chips! If I had a **"Ghetto Pass” I’d give it to him. However, I don't have one to give away so I won't. Which is probably better for our Governor, because he’d probably take it literally instead of figuratively. Then we'd all be in trouble, when we turned on the TV and seen our Governor getting the shake down in Compton. While at the same time trying to explain to my cousin Lil Snappy that he's alright because someone gave him a "Ghetto Pass". Messing around with ya’ll I’ve gotten side tracked. Ya'll know that I can't stay focused for long, and it don't take much to distract me.

Anyways, one of the presenters is more than a little mischievous. She is a doctor, and she can communicate in several languages other than, English. However, English and Ebonics are the only two languages I speak fluently. Having said that let me tell you about “The Doc”.

Doc was the first presenter. Her presentation was on health care issues in Utah. Doc caught us all off guard, by first announcing that she was going to walk around as she presented (not typically done at these types of gatherings).

While speaking to Governor Herbert, my wonderful friend went from being a graceful refined doctor to an around the way girl from the hood. I didn't know Doc had it in her (well, actually I did). I just didn't think she would break it down like that for the Governor.

Why did the Doc say to the Governor that something or someone was "Hot as Fish Grease"? Why? I don't have the answer either!

What did our Governor do you ask? He just nodded and jokingly said "fish grease", like he understood - you know? Like he spoke the language!

Was my friend and sista done? Oh Heaven No! As she continued to walk she said, “Gov, I got a little somethin', somethin' for ya". Yes, she did! She said "a little somethin' somethin' for ya"! Wow, I was so confused. Usually some of ya'll (you know who you are) be acting like you don't understand. You be asking questions like, "What? Um excuse me? Can you repeat that?" Not our Governor, he said "you got a little somethin' somethin' for me?" with his hand extended as he took the gift that Doc had for him. Doc gave the Governor a pedometer so that he could track the number of steps he took daily.

It’s probably not shocking for some of you, but for me it was very fascinating to watch. Stop playing, ya'll know I'm Mormon, and you know I live in Utah! It's been a **minute since I've been given the opportunity to just break it down the way I wanted to. And I most certainly haven't had the opportunity to break it down in mixed company (don't act shocked and you know what I’m talking ‘bout)! You know the more comfortable you get with a person the more comfortable your language is. **Fo’sho

Yes, I think Utah's Governor is great! Yes, Utah's Governor speaks several languages (well, I'm not really sure if that's a true statement). Fo'sho Utah's Governor speaks Ebonics, no translator needed!!

Brothas and Sistas the moral to this story isn’t so much that Utah has the most Fab Governor (even though we do). Nor is it that Utah has the most diverse Doctors in the United States (again a true statement)! The moral to this story is serving a mission for the church turns Boys into Men, and Girls into Women. Missions create opportunities for people to step outside of their comfort zones, and really receive the gift of speaking in tongues. I’m sure this (speaking Ebonics) is just one of the many talents Governor Herbert learned while serving a mission in the Eastern Atlantic States. However, this is one of the few unique qualities that our Governor possesses. Do you know your political leaders? Do they speak a language that you understand, I mean really understand or do you need a translator? Share your brush with the political high life in your area.


Real talk = all barriers aside, just a conversation between you and another person.

Ghetto Pass = a pass that allows you free access to enter the ghetto, much like a key to the city.

Fo’sho = For Sure, alright, okay

Minute = more than a minute, when someone says a minute it could mean a few extra minutes, hour or more, or even a few days - maybe even a year. It just depends on who it’s coming from.

Sista Beehive

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I Can't I'm Mormon

One of the common things I’m asked about being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is, do I find it difficult to be a member of such a strict religion. People often say to me, there are a lot of nice things about your church, but I don’t think I could give up all the fun stuff. I think that I have a lot of fun, so I always ask, what is that you think Mormons can’t do?

Sex, Sex, Sex! This is usually number one on the list. Without going into too much detail, I assure them that I have A LOT of sex. One of the Mormon stereotypes is that we all have tons of kids. Well, I don’t want to give the birds and the bees talk right now, but how can we be baby makers and sex deprived at the same time? I can’t have non-marital sexual relations. Funny thing is most religions teach this. I usually ask what religion they are and most of the time they agree that their religion teaches this too, “but it’s not like the pastor will do something to me they’ll say”. I’m not sure what non-Mormons envision, but there are no bedroom police in the LDS Church. Among the many church callings you can receive, that does not happen to be one of them. No one runs into the bedroom, or knocks on your fogged-up car window and says GOTCHA! No one stands at the pulpit and says would the congregation please shun Brother or Sister so and so, they were caught engaging in yada yada. Relax, there are no scarlet A’s to be worn.

I can’t drink alcohol; any of you that think Mormons should drink have never been to a function with my Mother-in-law’s side of the family. Attend just one and you’ll be asking us all to blow and pee on a stick! The good part is we’ll all probably come up clean, bad news, that doesn’t explain what we’re high on. (I could also refer to some Utah drivers not needing alcohol to swerve all over the road, but I won't). I can’t smoke; personally I wouldn’t smoke even if I were not a member of the LDS faith.

I can’t: caffinate, tattoo, look at porn, watch R-rated movies, wear fashionable clothing, pierce, swear, gamble, lie, cheat, steal, the list goes on and on. It’s not actually that Mormons can’t do these things, because I myself am not perfect, and believe me there are Mormons who do all of the above, but it’s a matter of choice. There are certain things that faithful members of the LDS church choose not to do and there are many, many people of different faiths and beliefs who also choose to refrain from some of these things. So like Sista Beehive said the other day, it shouldn’t be I can’t I’m Mormon, it should be I won’t I’m Mormon.

Ok, so I won’t be the chick who got drunk last night, gambled away all my money, woke up in some random dudes apartment, can’t find my tube top or my belly button ring, for some odd reason has random dude’s name tattooed on my arm, has an undetected STD, dude where’s my car, with a #1 hit on Youtube cause random dude taped it all, but know that it was my choice, so don’t you dare blame me for missing out on all that fun on the LDS church.

Sista Laurel

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Will A Man Rob God?

Malachi 3:8
Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings.

Will a man rob God? I heard this every Sunday for the first 12 years of my life. I always knew when it was time to dig deep and produce what ever change my mother put in my squishy red plastic wallet, as the deacons passed the offering tray around. I also knew to only put a few coins at a time so that each time the tray came down the aisle I would have something to give. I always felt terrible when I had nothing to give.

Shortly after joining the LDS church my parents decided they would return to our family church (Pentecostal). Although they felt they should return to the pentecostal church, they allowed me to continue to attend the LDS church. Every Sunday my parents would drop me off at the ward building, and they always made sure I had a few dollars for the offering tray - a couple of times I even got twenty dollars! YEP... I said they gave me money for the offering tray.

Remember I was only 12, so I did what most 12 year olds would have done, I pocketed the money. What? I never asked for money for the offering tray, my mother assumed that the LDS church collected offerings and tithing like some of the other churches did. My parents always told me never to assume anything! "When you assume" they'd say. "you make an "a&&" out of "u" and me. I guess that doesn't apply in a situation like this?

In the LDS church, tithing is more of an honor code thing, those who are going to pay it will and those who aren't won't. Nobody is beaten over the head with how much we give or needed to raise for the day. Unlike the church I had grown up in, where if not enough was collected, we kept passing around the tray until the desired amount was reached. At the LDS church, there was no preacher that was going to get up every Sunday and ask the thought provoking question "Will a Man Rob God"? So I justified my actions by conducting my Sunday transactions like a military officer. "Don't ask, don't tell". My parents never asked if I paid offerings. My Bishop never asked me if I would "rob God" so I continued to justify my actions. It was easy and I was rich, until that "Great and Dreadful Day".

Zephaniah 1:14-18
The Great Day Of The Lord:
14: The great day of the Lord is near, it is near, and hasteth greatly, even the voice of the day of the Lord: the mighty man shall cry there bitterly.
15: That day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness,
16: A day of the trumpet and alarm against the fenced cities, and against the high towers.
17: And I will bring distress upon men, that they shall walk like blind men, because they have sinned against the Lord: and their blood shall be poured out as dust, and their flesh as the dung.

The day started off like any other day. School was great, the walk home was typical. As I approached my house I was excited to see that the missionaries had stopped by. When I walked in the house the energy in our home seemed a little weird. Everyone looked like they were going to cry. I thought that Elder Young (name change) our fav missionary was getting transfered. Elder Young was fun, knew his scriptures and was cute. He was fun to be around because he joked a lot. "What's up, Young"? He didn't really look at me, he just glanced, and shrugged his shoulders. Not the usual response, he didn't even smile, and there were no jokes. When I turned to address his companion Elder Green, I noticed that it wasn't Elder Green at all, it was the Bishop. Hey Bishop! I was excited to see the Bishop, he hadn't ever been to my house before. "Hello", the Bishop seemed happy to see me too. Everyone looked so serious, I didn't really know what to say so like a dummy I asked "what are you doing here?" I don't know why I asked that question, but I wish I hadn't.

"Your mom called me this morning, she wanted to know why I hadn't cashed any of her tithing checks. (Note to self and all others listening, always give the Bishop the tithing checks!).

Personal thoughts: Can a 12 year old have a heart attack? Can Jesus take me now?! Do I have the power to will myself to die or faint? Can I make my head explode? What do I have to do to make my head pop off my neck, right now? How come I don't have a super power?? Dang! Dang! Dang!!!

My mom's voice was cold like steal, and flat, "have you been stealing the Lord's money"? She asked without blinking an eye. Stealing from the Lord? She made me sound like a cold hard criminal. I didn't say that, although I did think it. I just had the blank stare in my eyes that my mother hated, and the more I tried to focus, the dumber I looked. I couldn't speak, the room was quiet and seemed to be closing in on me. Everyone just kept looking at me waiting for a response. The tears came, and the confession followed.

Now, I don't know how the punishments went down at ya'lls house, but at my parents home the calm, cold voice was the worst. There was no yelling, there were no time outs (actually where I come from time outs were for athletes), there was no whippings (although that would have been so much easier for me) My mom looked at the Bishop and wanted to know when I would be confessing my sins before the Lord and the church. The Bishops response was at first slight laughter then realizing that my mother was serious he told her that we didn't do that in our church. I was happy that the LDS church was different. He did explain to her that I did need to repent and he wanted to meet with me on Sunday.

For most parents, the Bishops response would have been satisfying enough. Not for my mama, she had something else in mind for me. When I looked over at my father he just gave me that poor pitiful child look, and looked away. He didn't say anything to me. He didn't have to, I knew he was disappointed. Knowing that I had disappointed my father broke my heart. For the first time in a long time I couldn't wait to be banished to my room. One more little glance at my Dad and Elder Young and I knew I was for sure going to HELL! I only wish it would have been before Sunday which was two whole days away.

My mother woke me up early Sunday morning. I got dressed for church, we got in the car, and my dad drove to my uncle's church, my uncle's pentecostal church! I reminded my mom that I had a meeting with the Bishop at my church. "Not before you confess your sins before the saints at "our" church". Yes, brothas and sistas, I had to confess before my God, my uncle, and all the saint's of Greater Victory Church of God and Christ, that indeed "a man would and had robbed God". As I confessed my sin to the members of the congregation, they looked at me in shock, my cousins laughed, but some of the older members shouted out a few , "Oh bless her Lawds", "Watch her Jesus", I even heard someone say "Keep her Jesus, keep her Lord"! The comment that stood out the most to me was from ** Mother Harris (God rest her soul) "if you will steal from God, you will steal from me" then she clutched her purse like I was going to snatch it and run... Really? You see how people act sometimes? I used to go to Mother Harris' house all the time to help her clean, and she never paid me anything (not that it was an issue at the time). I'd never stolen anything from Mother Harris and I wasn't about to start.

Anyway, after confessing my sins to all the Saint's at Greater Victory Church, talking to the Bishop was a cake walk. I learned my lesson! No, there's no need for any of you to clutch your purses or check for your wallets when I'm around. I do think that we (LDS) should ask more often "Will A Man Rob God"? What? Don't act like ya'll have never kept a little spare change. It's time to confess your embarrassing sins that you can laugh about now. Who called you out and how did you respond?

**Mother of the Church~ The Elderly sister in the church. Sometimes even the pastors wife, or pastors widow. She is highly respected and usually sets the tone where behavior, dress, and standards are a concern. Church Mother usually helps decide what is socially acceptable for the women of the church. As a sign of respect this person is referred to as Mother.

Sista Beehive

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Nelly's Not The Prophet!!

Brothas and Sistas, Nelly is a rapper not the Prophet! When he wrote the song: IT'S GETTING HOT IN HERE - SO TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES, that was not a revelation and he was not taking to us. Really I should just say sistas cause the brothas are keeping their clothes on (even the pre and post mission clothes from 5 years ago... Shout out to brotha Stephen L , I kinda got your back, I said KINDA) :). Now this is something that ya'll won't hear at General Conference. Why you ask, cause the General Relief Society President is more like Aunt Bea and less like Madea. However, there's a few members of the church that are like **Madea and if you ever have the opportunity to meet them you will gain an immediate testimony of modesty, or want to leave the church.

I know you're wondering how I know all this, and if I've had the opportunity to meet such refreshingly honest women... Well, let's just say I have a testimony of modesty! Yes, it was baptism by fire! No, there are no pictures! Yes, I feel blessed and highly favored! Yes, my feelings were hurt! No, I didn't leave the church. Yes sistas all is well in zion... Now!

Stop trying to make things sexy that aren't. If a police woman walked up to my car to give me a ticket dressed the way some of the female officers dress for Halloween, I would have her arrested for sexual assualt. Nobody wants to see a pregnant nun, or stripper L.D.S. Missionary, it ain't cute! Sistas let's stop trying to make stuff sexy thats not sexy! Nurses, really? A maids costume? If your answer is yes, don't be surprised if your husband expects you to clean in that. When did animals become sexy? Animals... Really? Some of the most profound things I've learned in my adult life I've learned from my Madea. Who would probably tell us not to let Halloween turn nice housewives into modest hoes.

It's time for us to return back to basics! Where being an animal meant being fully clothed. Dressing like a nurse meant if you walked into a hospital they'd put you to work. And dressing like a maid meant you looked like you could clean places where dirt and dust collected, not that you were trying to collect other peoples husbands. Sistas we have got to stop trying to look like "sexy teens", so that our teens won't be trying to look like "sexy women". We are all beautiful, and some of us really do have "sweet spirits". It's time that we once again proclaim, "I'm Mormon, I can't". No, let's switch that "I'm Mormon, I won't". I won't dress immodest, I won't be the Naughty Angel, no matter how heavenly it might seem. I won't embarrass my whole entire church by going on Dr. Phil (my own personal issue thought I'd throw it in). Sistas I'm not trying to throw ya'll under the bus, I'm just saying we have gotten outta control. Lets save something for our husbands in the privacy of our own homes. There's no need for us to try to solve all the unsolved mysteries of Halloween. Our new motto should be we are "treats not tricks" . Please stop telling folks " I'm a dead swimmer" so you can wear a bikini (Renee)!

We don't really want our dear Prophet to have to address this issue again. Asking us how we went from being Celestial Wholesome Queens on the 30 of Oct., to Naughty, Naked, and Obscene on 31 of Oct. What a difference a day makes! I don't want President Monson calling Madea. Don't be fooled, the LDS Church has a couple different versions of Madea! Trust me, we got a Madea that speaks every language, even suburbia. What are your thoughts on Halloween? All caution has a cost - "I'm taking my garments off"!! Or does being modest make you spiritually strong - "I'm keeping my garments on"!


** (Mother Dear = usually grandma, sometimes an older woman in the community not always related. Almost always Black) is about to educate ya'll without putting you through the public humiliation.

Sista Beehive

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Don't Make Us Do the Sheri Dew

Ok guys, I hate to pick on you, but you make yourselves such easy targets. I don’t know what it is, but some of the worst pick up lines I have ever heard come from Mormon men. Maybe it’s because they don’t drink, does drinking give you swagger? Every time I hear “My Liahona is pointing at you?” I throw up in my mouth, just a little. Come on are you serious, and that doesn’t even sound right. If the ratio of men to women at BYU weren’t 5 women for every 1 man, no one would be getting hitched.

MoMen you have seriously got to find some swagger and find it fast! LDS women are getting savvy. We’re not supposed to drink caffeine, but we know how to DO THE DEW!

 Sheri L. Dew

In 2003, she was described as

“the most prominent single LDS woman right now”.

Now this is a Sista who is not having it, those rusty pick lines are not working on her. She can do bad all by herself.

Look boys, going on a Mission is nice and all, but I don’t care how cool you thought those clothes were two years ago, they are not in style anymore. Step your game up Brothas! Stop going to dances and saying how grateful you are for Martin Harris, cause if it weren’t for him we would be 116 pages further apart. Stop telling us you found a way for women to hold the priesthood, and then trying to get us to hug you.

Now ladies, you know why they keep doing it? Cause some of ya’ll are giggling and acting like it’s cute. STOP! That’s why you end up married for 10 years and your man is still wearing his Missionary suit.

Ok guys, so you have now been officially schooled. We don’t want to hear it! Don’t tell us you recognize our name from your patriarchal blessing, that when you came to church you knew you would feel the spirit, but you didn’t know you would see an angel. We don’t want the gift of tongues bestowed upon us, and yes we do obey the
Word of Wisdom even though we are SMOKING…Hot.

And Sistas, next time a fella steps to you and says some crazy ish like “If our bodies are a temple, where can I get a recommend to yours?” You better tell that fool he ain’t worthy!

What are the worst pick up lines you've heard? MoMen don't be shy, which ones have you used? Are any of these lines actually working? Are you an RM who still wears their pre-Mission clothes? How long can a Missionary suit last?

Sista Laurel

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Testimony By Invitation Only

I was once at a testimony meeting where a General Authority was visiting. A man stood up and said. "What do I need to do to be a G.A.? What do I need to do to be the first "Black Prophet"? Yes, he did! Yes, I laughed (not out loud). Yes, I wish I had a "Pink Panic Button" I would have pushed it as soon as he turned to look at the G.A. cause I knew it wasn't going to be good. It was wrong on so many different levels.

If I had the Priesthood, testimony meetings would be run a little different. Yes, they would still be highly emotional. However, members would be able to bare testimonies by invitation only. There would be instructions on what a testimony is and how one should bare it. There would be a mandatory time limit on how long a testimony should take. Stories are acceptable, however, they would have to pertain to the testimony and must be a testimony that will strengthen members of the congregation. There would be consequences for those brothas and sistas that are always breaking the rules. I would call it the "Pink Panic Button".

Although women are more emotional then men, we are less confrontational. I would never embarrass another brotha or sista by standing next to them and whispering in their ear that what they were saying was inappropriate, even if it was. Nor would I tug on a skirt or pant leg to let a person know that they've gone over the allotted time. I would simply push the "Pink Panic Button".

When the pink button is pushed the floor underneath the speaker opens up and the speaker takes a wild slide ride that leads to a room where they would have to read the article where President Monson talks about building a strong testimony, until church was over. On second thought, I don’t want the priesthood, I just want to get the "Pink Panic Button" implemented fast!

Sista Beehive

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Saturday's War

Saturday is a special day, it's the day we get ready for Sunday.... For years we've all been striving (or should have been striving) to use our Saturdays to prepare for Sunday. I must admit that I haven't always felt eager to prepare for anything except Christmas and maybe a few birthdays... maybe. However, as I've taken on this particular challenge I find it extremely difficult to remain patient.

My boys have a way of sneaking odd objects into our home without me finding out until it's time for me to do the laundry. In the boys room, I found a home made shank... I would like to think it's a B.O.M. weapon, and that my son was thinking like a "strippling warrior", however, I know it's just a product of our watching too much "Gangland" on the History Channel (T.M.I.).

Anyways, I've become my mother... No Saturday morning cartoons until your room is cleaned, and you have what you're wearing to church out on your bed. With all the moaning and groaning I find it difficult not to take it to the next level of insanity. "What are you complaining for when I was your age we didn't have TiVo. When I missed a show I had to wait for a rerun!!" Don't get me started with the many memories of how things used to be... Remember when kids were afraid to talk back? Wow, I just had to save myself, I almost gave a shout out to "the good old days" which would have officially made me and my mother the same person. I'm not really there yet.

I don't know if the suggestion to use Saturday to prepare for Sunday was to encourage family togetherness, or just really to be prepared for Sunday. I don't know if the Brothern realize that families all across the world are at war on Saturdays and on most Sundays some mothers shouldn't even look at the Sacrament tray lest they should catch fire and turn into ashes. I don't know how many more Saturdays I can keep my cool without having a "Drop Kick Me Jesus" moment! Brothas and sistas, the warring has got to stop, I'm in need of a treaty - any suggestions? Help keep a sista outta jail...


Sista Beehive

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Never Raise Your Hand In Primary

I remember the first talk I ever gave. I was 5 years old. I remember it like it was yesterday. I even remember what the talk was about, I told a wonderful story about a boy named Timmy, and a butterfly. Do you want to know why I remember it so well, because it was traumatizing of course! Picture it...a family decides to move to America, a 5 year old girl and her Father travel months ahead of the rest of the family, to secure a place for the family to live.

After sometime in my new Ward I summoned up enough courage to raise my hand when they asked for volunteers to give a talk the following week in Primary. I was so excited to show my Father the slip of paper which said that I had to prepare a 2 minute talk. My Father was so proud, we went home and called the family to tell them the good news. My Mother was so happy, but so sad she would miss it. My father rushed me off the phone because he wanted to start preparing my talk immediately.

He got out a blue spiral bound notebook and began to ask me what I wanted to speak about so he could write it down. My parents are converts and were never in Primary so I explained to my Dad that I had seen many talks now, and all he had to do was come into the Primary room next Sunday, kneel next to me at the pulpit, whisper the talk into my ear one line at a time, and then I would repeat it into the microphone. Nonsense! He said. I have never seen someone whisper a talk in someone’s ear. It happens all the time in Primary I assured him. He didn’t believe me. He asked me what the other children talk about. I told him that they usually told a story, that there was a magazine that had nice stories in it, and their parent’s whispered it in their ears and the children repeated them. He still didn’t believe me about the whispering in the ear part, but he consented that having a story that portrayed the message you were talking about was a good idea. He didn’t know what the magazine was and we didn’t have any children’s church books, so together we made up a story about a boy named Timmy and a butterfly. Hours later we had finally completed the talk and I was tired and ready for bed.

The next day when I got home from school, after I had finished my homework I headed outside to play. Where do you think you are going my Dad said. To play I said. No, no, he said, you have to practice your talk. Practice! The talk wasn’t until Sunday, today was Monday, what was he talking about. Now I had lost the whisper the talk in my ear battle, but I had been reading for years, what was there to practice. I would just take the paper up there and read the talk. Read the talk he said, no that’s not how they do it you have to memorize it, at conference they don’t look down at the pulpit, they have their talks memorized. I was flabbergasted. This man who had never been to Primary a day in his life, was comparing my two minute talk to a conference talk.(Which by the way, they use teleprompters! Didn’t know that then, so couldn’t make that argument). I began to cry, I looked through the tears in my eyes, he wasn’t moved at all. This is where not having my Mother on the otherside of the world would have come in handy. I took the blue spiral notebook from his hand and walked into the living room and slumped into a chair and began to memorize my talk. Did I mention that this was just a simple Primary talk? What about that I was only 5, did I mention that? This was my life for the rest of the week. My Father would listen and correct me if I skipped a word. I began to despise Timmy and that stupid butterfly.

At last Sunday came. My Father picked a hideous outfit for me, as he had been doing for the past few months, I was lucky if I eneded up with the same color shoes on my feet. My hair looked a hot mess. One fat braid sticking straight up from the middle of my head, another sticking directly out at the side of my head. I’m sure people thought I was homeless. When it was time to give my talk in Primary, I got to come up front and sit in the chairs behind the pulpit. I could see my Father sitting proudly at the back of the room. I was the second talk. As I watched the boy before me get up there and watched his mother lovingly whisper the words in his ear, I started to get mad. Why didn’t he listen? What was so wrong with whispering? Wasn’t he always telling me not yell and to whisper? Why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t I just read it? I really missed my Mother. When I got up to the pulpit I began my talk, I said it exactly like we had rehearsed it all week, I put the voice inflections right where Dad told me they should go, I stopped where there were periods and paused where there were commas, didn’t mess up once. When I had finsihed my talk my Dad looked up at me so pleased, and instead of going back to my seat I walked directly to him put my head on his shoulder and began to sob.

He quickly picked me up and took me into the hall, and handed me his kercheif. He knelt down beside me and quietly asked me what was wrong. OH! Now he wanted to kneel beside me and whisper! I told him I wished he would have just done it the way everyone else had done it and whispered it to me, but you can read he tried to reason with me. I could have pretended I didn’t know how, I told him. I’m sorry he told me, I didn’t know what it was like, I never went to Primary, maybe next time…..NEXT TIME, was he insane, there would be no next time, that two minute talk had cost me playing outside for an entire week. I would be sitting on my hands from now on in primary when they asked for volunteers for anything, I would be looking confused like I didn’t speak English.

As Primary ended people started leaving the room, my teachers and friends and other parents stopped in the hall to tell me how well I had done on my talk and how impressed they were. It made me feel a little better, you know how your parents say the same thing and you don’t want to hear it, but coming from a stranger it makes you smile. I dried my tears, and Dad and I headed home to call my Mother so I could recite my talk to her and beg her to come to America and comb my hair!

Have a traumatizing talk story to share? Do you have that kid that is always volunteering for talks in Primary? Practice all week with your kid for a talk, then they get up there and stare at you and say nothing?

Your Sista In the Gospel,
Sista Laurel

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Titanic In the Living Room??

Saturday I attended a Non-Mormon wedding reception that was "Amazing"! I'm not saying that Mormon Receptions (aren't amazing lower case "a"). I'm just saying that sometimes "We" (Mormons) don't really know how to celebrate. Let me give you the run down... First of all everyone was Dressed "Dressed", you know what I'm saying!! It was the type of celebration that if you had on a floral dress with the lace collar you felt out of place and under dressed.

The Ceremony was very nice. There was a Preacher! I'm talking a real Preacher... Sorry, I'm just really excited. He said, "If you wake up one morning and there is a Titanic in your living room, you know you've got a problem". He was talking about not going to bed angry, and how marriage is like a ship...Or cruz...Or Noah's Ark...Ya'll know I got ADD. I didn't get all of it because MamaRine was talking (sorry girl), yes, I'm calling you out! I don't think I've ever seen or witnessed a real Preacher breaking it down Preacher style in Utah County, robe and all! Made me want to rock with Jesus! Glory, Glory!

Real Food!!! Yes, brotha's, real food!! There was something there for everyone. Red beans and rice, mac and cheese, veggie bar-b-que, salad, Haitian cold slaw, and many other dishes that were fantastic on the pallet, but to complicated for the vocabulary.

Good music and dancing! Now I know what you're thinking, We dance. No boo, we don't dance at weddings. We have "A" dance, usually it's the bride and groom's dance, while the guest just watch. At this wedding there was dancing of course there was the bride and groom's dance. Then there was the family dance, the two step, the soul train line, new electric slide, and the electric slide! It was so much fun! The music was enjoyable and clean!! I mentioned clean because sometimes at LDS events people of color have to beg the DJ to play soul music, and as you are sitting there begging the DJ to play something that you (people of color) can groove too. You have to listen to him tell you that he can't play what you've requested because it's not appropriate... Really, you can't play "All The Single Ladies" but you can play " Honky Tonk Badonkadonk" Or "Save A Horse Ride A Cowboy"? Wow, it feels great to have music that everyone... or mostly everyone, can dance too.

Let me not forget the "Shout Outs"! When the Bride and or Groom, grabs the mic and starts giving "shout outs". Shout Outs are given as a just in case, just in case I don't see you before the night is over. Just in case, I don't ever get another chance to say this again in my life. So the Groom gave a shout " It's amazing what the power of women can do. Everything you see here today, it's because these ladies made it happen! I just want to say Thank You to all of them!" Wow!! How many folks get to give a shout out or have received a much needed shout out! I'm giving a "Shout Out" to Mike P. the Groom, Thank You, for Thanking all the women who were able to help out(I wasn't one of those women who helped). To the women who did help put the conference hall together, the place looked so Beautiful!!

Now I don't want ya'll having a fit, writing or trying to "call me out" which is different from a "shout out" talking about "Pleazzzze Mormons, do know how to throw a party!" I have been to a few LDS Weddings, that have "Rocked"! Having said that I know I talk about the appearance of things a lot, but for me it's important to dress the part!

Let's recap:
Dress: (Non~Mormon) Nice Suit, Dress etc.
(Mormon) Nice Jeans (sometimes) Floral Dress w/ doily collar.

Food: (Non~ Mormon) ~ Food, Food, Real Food!
(Mormon)~ Mints and Nuts! Yummy!! :)

Ceremony: (Non~ Mormon) ~Preaching
(Mormon) ~Talking

Past Time: (Non~ Mormon) ~Dancing
(Mormon) ~ Talkin

Greetings: (Non~Mormon) Mingling
(Mormon) ~Long line...and Talking

Thirst Quincher: (Non~ Mormon) Dranks!!
(Mormon) ~Drinks! J/K there were no "Dranks" at this wedding, just drinks! Ya'll know the differences? Ask sista Laurel, she went to the last wedding I went too :).

Not everyone dresses up at non~mormon weddings there is always that one person two or three, that show up looking a hot mess!! Yes brotha's and sista's we had a few of those. Who wears saggy jeans to a semi-formal wedding? These two knuckle heads! With the best excuse ever! I have a concert tonight, I would say his name... but you've never heard of him. Who launches their hard core rap career in Utah??? I know, I laugh ever time I think about it to.

Love~N~Happiness!

Sista Beehive

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NO! Cherrios In the Chapel

I always wished I were in one of those families who brought Cherrios to church. Nope, that is not my testimony. We couldn’t do anything at church, but put our hands in our laps and look straight ahead. Once some friendly unsuspecting woman, had one of her kids offer us a snack. We each took one and popped it in our mouths. When my Mother looked down that pew and saw our mouths moving the look on her face alone made me start to sweat. You see my parents rarely said, “You’re gonna get it when you get home.” They had the “This is the place” mentality. If you can act up here then this is the place you get punished. After Sacrament meeting she herded us into the women’s restroom (yes, even my brother). Now Brothas and Sistas, I’m not going to write the details of what happened to us in the restroom that Sunday, but let’s just say we felt everything, but the Spirit. After that when ever someone tried to hand us a treat we looked at them like they were handing us a piece of leprosy and said, NO THANK YOU! (In our heads we were saying, “Get that away from me, I’m trying to be reverent, are you crazy! Do you not know who my Mother is?) I don’t know a thing about bring snacks to church in Tupperware, and by Tupperware do you mean those plastic cups my Mother kept in the cupboard that she said were too expensive for us to drink out of.

Once in Primary they told us bringing “quiet books” to church was a good way to be reverent in Sacrament meeting. Well, Brothas and Sistas, they lied, cause when I tried to walk out of the house with that “quiet book”, my Mama got real loud! Oh, and don’t even think about asking to go to the bathroom during Sacrament meeting, if you didn’t go at home, or before the meeting started, you had better take that up with your bladder. While we watched other children happily coloring in their coloring books, we looked down at the back of the one meeting program that my parents divided into sections so we could all share it to write down thoughts about the talks we were supposed to be listening too. In Sacrament meeting the Friend, was no friend of mine. If you thought church magazines were allowed, you thought wrong. Once my brother was reading one, and even though he was sitting on the opposite end of the pew from my Mom, the back of her go go Gadget arm found the back of his head.

Do you know why Bishops keep candy in their office, and say have as many as you’d like? I don’t, I don’t even know what the Bishop’s candy tastes like. When we got treats in Primary my parents wouldn’t let us eat them at church, not even after church. We had to take it home and save it. Save it for what you ask? Save it until they said we could eat it, and by then that popcorn ball was so stale, that it tasted like it actually fe1l off the apricot tree. (Click here if you don’t get that joke.)

Do you want to know who I blame? I blame YOU! My parents got away with acting like the Grinch Who Stole Primary thanks to all the adults who after Sacrament meeting said, "You’re children are always so well-behaved." So excuse me if I didn’t comment on yesterday’s post, I was to busy experiencing flash backs and cold sweats.

Was it just me, or did you have parents who sucked the fun out of being Mormon? What kind of parent are you? What keeps your kids reverent in Sacrament meeting? What keeps YOU reverent?

Sista Larel

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Cheerios In The Chapel

The LDS church is probably one of the only churches that I've ever attended that allowed children to eat snacks during church (without sneaking). My husband and I had been married for a while (according to mormon standards) before we started our family. Which gave us time to figure out all the latest in best baby snacks. As we witnessed all the failures and successes some of our friends were having in the pursuit of finding the best baby snacks. Unlike my friends my decision was based on something more concrete. My decision was baised on the snacks that I liked the most... What? Don't judge me!

When my husband and I started I was ready. I had the baby, I had the diaper bag, I had the snacks, I was excited and prepared! Within a hour of being at church I realized that babies don't eat, anything!! They drink, dang it! I didn't really think about that. I did find out that as a mother I was entitled to snacks. Yeah! So I continued to pack snacks for myself, I had to keep my health up so that I could nurse... Even though I wasn't really nursing... Don't judge me! It takes energy to make a bottle too. When my baby was finally old enough to process treats, was a happy day for me. I took Gummy Bears, Fruit Snacks, Teddy Grams, and of course Cheerios, all the treats that I loved and that she would grow to love.

My excitement was short lived when she rejected my treats and wanted to partake of Sister Browns (name changed to protect the innocent) instead. Sister Brown was an expert in the packing of snacks. She was the mother of 3 children, all of whom were perfect during Sacrament Meeting. I must admit that Sister Browns snacks did look scrumptious. She brought super sized Fruit Loops, and Cheerios, Super Sized! She had the cutest tupper - ware with perfectly packed dried fruit, and mini fruit snacks. I must say that I was impressed with Sister Browns creative display of snack packing. Yes I was impressed, and yes I was jealous!

My little one continued to look into my hand at my meager display of cheerios, while reaching for the treats that Sister Brown held out for her son. Sister Brown, (bless her heart) began to share the treats that were meant for her son with my child. I tried everything that Sunday during Sacrament, but nothing could distract my little one from this Relief Society Sister, her son, or her snacks.

I know that many would be grateful to have the help of a sister to keep there baby happy during Sacrament. However on this occasion that was not my testimony... Don't judge me! I decided that I needed to be better prepared in the future. So the following Sunday I was ready, I did 3 things different.
1. During the week we had taste test! I needed to know what she liked (just kidding, I said I did 3 things different because things sound better in 3's not 2's). :)
2.I found the exact same Super Sized Fruit Loops, Cheerios, and Mini Fruit Snacks. As for the dried fruit, I didn't have the skill (nor did I know anyone who did) to make it myself, 3 outta 4 ain't bad.
3. I sat in the furthest possible seat in the chapel from Sister Brown.

I can honestly say that over the years my attitude has really changed! It's amazing what 15 years and 8 children can do to a women and her way and or pattern of thinking. I not only willingly accept but have also learned to ask for help. I had even gotten to the point by the time I had my last child that I didn't even freak out (as much) when he would eat cheerios or other treats that had been licked by his little church buddies. I have to laugh when I think about the pressure that we as women put on ourselves. I'm sure that there are those times when we are judged by our peers and that never feels good. However, I know that in my case when I've seen myself through the eyes of others I've usually judge myself more harshly then they may have judged me. I often wonder if Sister Brown realized that she was the trend setter for baby dos and don'ts in my ward at that time.

Who are the trend setters in your life? What pressures have you placed on yourself in the past that now seems silly?

Sista Beehive

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Coming Out of the Closet

When I was younger all of my close friends knew that I was LDS. I often invited my friends to church with me and I wore that weird green ring with CTR on it. I think that people of all religions have those distinct times when they come out of the religious closet. I've had many of those times in my life and I'm sure I’ll have many more. I’m talking about the first time you announce to someone that you are Mormon, or the first time a certain group of people find out. It happens to me every time I move to a new place or make a new friend.

I remember one of the first times I stepped out of the Mormon closet at school. I was in the 5th grade. We had come to the section on religion in Social Studies class and the teacher was calling out the religions and picking students to be in each group. I glanced through the chapter to see which religion I wanted to raise my hand for, and to my surprise I saw a tiny paragraph with the word MORMONISM as the title. When she called Mormonism I raised my hand, wiggled in my chair, even made some noises, but some how I ended up in the Hinduism group.

We worked on our projects for weeks and then it was the day to present. I had a great group and we had someone who practiced Hinduism in our group, so we had a lot of cool stuff to show off. We rocked it. When it was time for the group on Mormonism to present, a classmate (I can’t say her name, even though it was a long time ago she recently found me on facebook and she might remember), gets up there and starts telling a story about Joe Smith and a gold Bible. It was a fantastic story, we were all engaged, I just don’t know what it had to do with Mormonism. I loved Primary and I always paid attention, and I had never heard this story before. Then when they got to the part about Brigham Young she kept saying, Brig Ham (like the meat) Young. They told how Mormons wore funny clothes, thought coffee and tea would turn you into the devil, how it was more of a cult than a religion, all kinds of craziness! The teacher asked them why they had no visual aids and items to share with the class. They said because Mormons don’t believe in having things so they couldn’t get any, most of the Mormons died in the desert and the rest were in Utah so they couldn’t interview anyone who was Mormon.

I know what you’re thinking, F+! So I raised my hand and told the teacher that they were pronouncing Brigham Young’s name wrong and that the group and the book were wrong. How do you know?, she said. Because I’m Mormon, I said. Everyone was looking at me shocked. One of my friends said to me, I didn’t know you were Mormon. I looked at her like she was crazy; you’ve been to church with me a bunch of times. Oh, that’s the Mormon Church, she said.

My teacher asked if in the following week I could talk to the class about Mormonism, bring some items to show the class, like the gold bible, and even dress in Mormon attire. Sure I said…..for extra credit (I’m a hustler baby!). My teacher told the class to think about any questions they had about Mormons and I would answer them next week. I went home and told my parents, my teacher wants me to dress like a Mormon and talk about the church, what should I wear? Jeans, my Dad said.

The day of my presentation I wore a stylish church dress, some frilly dress socks, a polished pair of dress shoes, my hair looked fly (see Sista Beehive, Mormons are SHARP!). I talked about the LDS faith and what we believe, showed them what I had brought, showed them the Book of Mormon (had to explain why it was blue and not gold). Then finally I opened it up for questions. My peers started raising their hands and the questions kept coming.

How many Moms do you have? (I didn’t even know about the polygamy thing back then, so I had no idea what they were talking about). Where’s your hat and your cloak? (I’m not Amish). I heard you guys drink special water? (Yeah, Nephi’s spit). How come you’re alive? (Note to self, don’t sit by the morbid kid). Are you allowed to watch TV? (I’m not Amish). Are you married? (Are you high?) How come you don’t have a horse and buggy? (I’m not Amish). Is that why your Mom is always pregnant? (Don’t talk about my Mama!) Are Mormons the people from the Mayflower? (Nope, those we’re Pilgrims, you’re thinking of Pioneers). Mormons don’t like black people. (I like myself). Name a famous Mormon. (Dale Murphy). Mormons are weird! (Yo Mama!)……….and finally the bell rang.

Come out of the Mormon closet lately? What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever been asked about Mormons? Have a question about Mormons that you are dying to ask?

Sista Laurel

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