White, Protestant, & Republican were the dominant demographics of Green Haven, & those that fit into all 3 categories tended to be the most successful.
Such talk of homes for unwed mothers made me feel as if I had been blasted back to the Fifties, but the Mormons were a relic of bygone days.
Strange how grandmothers would pretend their daughters’ illegitimates were theirs, yet I felt maternal towards my sister, rather than sisterly.
The Schafer home was a Mormon version of the Cleavers, complete with pictures of Ronald Reagan & the WASPy-looking Mormon Jesus.
I imagined Sister Schafer’s mind was like looking at a crazy quilt through a kaleidoscope.
I knew not how to help my pregnant friend, for I’d never even kissed a boy.
What we both knew was that God already knew this little stranger, for the child’s bones had been knitted in the womb by the needles that were God’s fingers.
The idea of hidden pregnancies & secret adoptions was like removing a shiny dust jacket, only to see a stained & battered book.
If a man chose not to go on a mission, he was partly responsible for the souls he could have saved. Salvation was a shared responsibility.
I always wondered, if you were married, how did you keep from outgrowing one another, but then I realized, you grew together. You were grafted into the family tree.
I was one of many girls, all vying for the affections of an elder from the Mormon Corridor. I wanted to be taken away, & then taken.
I shelved the thought of Elder Roberts, like a book I had read as a child & had gone back to, finding I had outgrown it.
I imagined the Holy Spirit spoke through me, but how could that be, when I wasn’t worthy? When I’d yet to be baptized, not born in the covenant?
In my new life as a Mormon, I began to do other things girls my age did. I got a job, working for boiled peanuts; I learned to drive.