Life as a Mormon had a sameness to it—a consistency I found comforting. A part of me felt I had come into the world belonging to the Church.
My friends in the Church had had a life prior to Mormonism, & so a part of me wondered if the Church was simply a gathering place for like minds to meet.
“Only the true Church would tell you to go to the Source, instead of asking you to take their word for it,” was Mother’s testimony.
There was going to be a talent show at the ward Christmas party, & it was then I looked in myself & saw I was but a consumer of talent.
My mother had become, in many of the brethren’s eyes, a woman of great piety—a saint—but not in the Catholic way.
Mother had dethroned Sister Wiley with her lowly humility to become God’s Royal Highness. To be a queen, she had to first be a servant.
Sister Wiley’s star was dimming, even as Mother’s was burning brighter, becoming a red giant. The Church was a black hole swallowing her up, turning her into one, for no light could escape her.
Caitlin had woven herself into the fabric of the squares with the Green Haven Ward, sometimes keeping us in stitches.