The Church

For the majority of my time on this earth (up through at least 2013 and to some extent through 2017), a major focal point in my life, around which nearly everything else revolved, was my membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

As recently as 2011, I wrote a short bio for the "I'm a Mormon" campaign that was active at the time (unfortunately, the next President of the Church, Russell M. Nelson, declared that campaign (instituted by his predecessor Thomas S. Monson) to be a "victory for Satan" (he didn't say this explicitly. What he did say was "To remove the Lord's name from the Lord's Church is a major victory for Satan", followed by what I would describe a quite vigorous effort to remove the term "Mormon" from everything that was practical, so draw your own conclusions. I would have thought that if President Monson were actively helping Satan, God would have told him as much, or removed him from his position, which I guess he did eventually, when President Monson died in 2018...at the age of 90)).

Those who have read my blog frequently (or who live within my current ward boundaries) are aware that I know longer participate actively in the Church. I plan to write about my journey away from the Church next week, but today, to give some context to that forthcoming piece, I wanted to write about some of my memories, mostly, if not all, positive, that I have of growing up in the Church.

As the oldest child of parents who were active adherents to the faith, my instruction on all things related to the Church began at a very young age. I don't recall exactly how old I was, but do know that before I knew the alphabet or could count to a hundred, I could recite the names of all of the Prophets of this dispensation, in order, up to and including the Prophet at the time of my birth, Spencer W. Kimball.

In the house I grew up in, we followed the enhanced version of the Word of Wisdom, where we not only eschewed alcohol, tobacco, coffee, and tea, but caffeinated soda was also forbidden. Like most families, we weren't perfect, but we did strive to hold weekly Family Home Evenings and would read the scriptures every morning before school.

My social life in my young years, such as it was, was based very much on Primary activities and parties. I have a distinct memory of attending a Primary Halloween party one year and I had dressed up as PeeWee Herman. I was asked to give a prayer to start the activity and when the other kids failed to quiet down and I stood ready to pray, I paraphrased one of PeeWee's lines from the movie and said "Shhhh! I'm trying to say the prayer!"

One of my fondest memories when I was young was attending my dad's church softball games. I can't remember where they played (I want to say Erda, but can't picture where that field was in present-day Erda. Maybe it was Pine Canyon? I know it wasn't in Grantsville). Our ward had a good team in those days and I can still remember most of the men who played on those teams. Arlo Fawson, who was the bishop of the our ward, the Grantsville 2nd, when we moved to Grantsville, was the pitcher. Bishop Fawson was a terrific horseshoes player, and that talent served him well in softball. He had a high-arching, spinning pitch that was difficult to hit but always seemed to find the mat behind home plate to indicate a strike. Al Chatwin played first base, Jerry Lees was second base, Kendall Sandberg was short-stop and Brad Sandberg (I think) played 3rd. My dad played left field (where he would occasionally draw the ire of the opposing team for "showboating" because he would imitate Willie Mays basket catch (catching the ball underhand at waist-level, almost nonchalantly, for the uninitiated)).

The men who played the other positions probably changed, but a particular team I remember featured Doug Drury (who never came to church, but loved to play softball and was probably the best overall player) at center field and Albert Boulard in right field. John Ed Millward played catcher.

As I got older, I participated in Young Men's and Scouts, and have memories of various campouts (to Simpson Springs or Brad Clayton's Kamas cabin during the winter). I remember going skiing at Nordic Valley (the only time in my life I have been skiing, and which ended with me taking quite a tumble down the bunny hill near the end of our outing) and chasing raccoons with Russell Johnson and his hounds.

As I entered my teenage years, I moved from Primary into Sunday School and have a couple of humorous memories from those classes.

In the Book of Mormon, there is a story about a prophet named Abinadi (uh-bin-uh-DIE is how I always heard it pronounced and I believe that is correct). One week in Sunday School, our now former bishop, Arlo Fawson was filling in and the lesson was about Abinadi. But Bishop Fawson was pronouncing it "aa-bi-NA-dee" and I remember being so confused. Since the details of the story matched those that I was familiar with, I finally raised my hand and asked, "Do you mean uh-bin-uh-DIE?"

A few years later, I was in a Sunday School class taught by Nelda Eggett. We were watching a movie one week and I was sitting at the back of the classroom with my leg extended through the hole in the back of and my foot resting on the chair in front of me. After turning out the light and starting the movie, Sister Eggett came back to sit down and, unable to see clearly in the semi-darkness, went to sit on the very chair I had my foot resting on. I quickly attempted to pull my foot back, which I did, but I didn't get it cleanly through the hole in the back of the chair, and inadvertently pulled the whole chair back, causing Sister Eggett to fall as she went to sit down. Thankfully, she wasn't badly hurt and she forgave me (it really was an accident), but I always felt bad about that.

One year, I attended a Fathers and Sons outing (again at Brad Clayton's family cabin in Kamas) and ended up sleeping in a tent with my buddy John and his dad and brothers. But during the night, his dad started snoring quite loudly and after a while I couldn't take it anymore and took my sleeping back outside the tent and spent the rest of the night sleeping just outside the door of the tent.

My family used to sing the Church hymn "Teach Me to Walk." The kids would sing the first verse, my mom and dad would sing the second, and then we'd all sing the third. I don't know how good it was, but I do remember singing it in multiple sacrament meetings, including at my farewell, before I left on my mission.

One of my favorite memories from my later teen years was blessing the sacrament with by good friends Dave, and George, and John. We were all in the same ward and over the years that we were priests (from sixteen to eighteen or so) were able to bless and administer the sacrament together on multiple occasions.

For the most part, I felt that I did what I was supposed to do. I read my scriptures, I attended seminary, I didn't swear, I said my prayers. Since my dad was unable to while he was disfellowshipped, I baptized my brother Kevin and confirmed my brother Brent. I served a mission.

After I returned from my mission, I continued to be what I considered to be quite devout. Jeanell and I married in the Salt Lake Temple. I held various callings in the Church, including Elder's Quorum President and Ward Clerk (twice). I also taught Primary, youth Sunday School, Gospel Principles, and probably my favorite calling while I was active in the Church, teaching Gospel Doctrine.

As a family, we weren't perfect, but much like the family I grew up in, we went to Church, and had weekly Family Home Evenings, and would read the scriptures as a family.

But while I sincerely feel that I tried my best to do the things the Church taught that I was supposed to, I wasn't always 100% in. There were stances the Church took that I struggled with and episodes from Church history that I had a hard time reconciling. And eventually I left. But I'll get into that next week.

Nauvoo Temple with Jefferies Family (2003)

Jeanell and I at the Nauvoo Temple (2003)

Logan Temple (2012)

Brigham City Temple (2012)