Life is Loving Things, Hating Things

I love men clean-cut & clean-shaven;
I hate man-buns & gauges.
(Less hair, more flesh, please.)

I love older men,
not old men (in “that way”).

I love mint-green MINI Coopers;
I hate smart cars.
(They look dumb.)

I love my womanly curves;
I hate that one of those curves isn’t concave.

I love epidurals;
I hate contractions.
(Except when I’m trying to reduce my word count.)

I love the Bible;
I hate some of the things in it.
(God as Bad Cop, Jesus, Good Cop.)

I love humanism;
I hate feminism.
(But femininity rules.)

I’d love to write for Harlequin;
I hate reading Harlequin romances.
(But such is called research.)

I love linguistics,
I hate statistics.
(One is a carton of pretty lies,
the other can be a pack of damn lies.)

I love it when people make an educated argument;
I hate it when they copy-and-paste.

I love conducting interviews;
I hate cold quoting.
(I am not a “Woman on the Street” type.)

I love Valentine’s Day now that I’m married;
I hated it when I was single.
(Still think it’s stupid, only I get stuff now.)

I hate things about this life,
but I love my life,
& live without regrets,
for to change the smallest thing
might have changed everything.

Fiction Friday: Novelines

“I came not to send peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34)

Nineteen-ninety-nine was the summer of my Mormon soldier. The idea that God was all-powerful, but all-loving, was incongruous to me. Due to pre-existing conditions, I believed the former.

Those first stirrings of a spiritual quickening were like a hurricane, blowing the facade that was our family away.

Memories of that long, hot summer brought me all the way back to Green Haven, Florida, when the LDS mish showed us another way to live.

Yes, my brief life as a Mormon had been sweet, but my life as an ex-Mormon turned out to be even sweeter.

What a magnificent illusion the Plan of Happiness! It became a magnificent obsession with my mother, who prized it above me.

Had even God Himself eternally progressed? Were we all as He once was? The Church made me see humans as gods, God as human.

I’d grown up near the Amish, in a Catholic home, & now Mormonism had touched our lives–all because I had answered a knock on the door.

My mother & sister had found solace in Catholicism; I had found mine in the humanism of my stepfather, whose doctrine was, “Do no harm”.

Those first three months I knew him, he was on a mission. It was the only time I ever knew him as he was then.

Did the light come from him, or was it the light of Jesus shining in him? Just who was it I fell in love with that day?

Logline for Because of Mindy Wiley An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.