“You’re Mormon, aren’t ya?” I was asked today. “I could tell from some of the things you’ve said.”
I had no idea I was so transparent.
This question was asked by a new colleague of just a few weeks, a Pentecostal woman who attended Bible College and learned about many faiths there in one of her courses, and whose family has been welcoming the missionaries into their home for spiritual discussions for years. She knows what Mormons believe, because she has taken the time to find out.
When I first joined the church I don’t think anybody could have told that I was a Latter Day Saint just by looking at me. So what has happened in the past ten years that someone I just met a few days ago can see my faith on my sleeve?
Is it that I don’t drink alcohol? A conversation in the staffroom a few days ago involved comments about how much a colleague was looking forward to having a drink that evening. I was told that after a rough and busy week I must be looking forward to that, too. I replied that actually, I don’t drink, and haven’t had a drink in years. But that’s not unusual, is it?
Is it that I don’t drink tea or coffee? I often have herbal tea or hot chocolate during recess or breaks, and don’t particularly advertise that I’m drinking chamomile tea whileveryone else is drinking Red Rose. Having a hot drink during a break is a part of Newfoundland traditional culture that is a hard habit to break. So, me sitting at the table sipping hot tea with everyone else is not unusual, is it?
Is it that I don’t wear revealing clothing? No spaghetti straps, no halter tops, no shorts, no low-cut blouses. All this could be considered just clothing that is not appropriate for working in a school setting. Surely, my choice of clothing is not unusual, is it?
The woman who asked me “You’re Mormon, aren’t ya?” knew very little about me beyond these things. Yet, she was able to tell that I am a Latter Day Saint. How?
I don’t think I’m that different from other people I know. I don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, but I have been known to let loose a rude word or two on occasion. In that aspect I am in good company – J. Golden Kimball was an early member and eventual leader of the church who was known for his struggle to overcome his ‘cowboy mouth’. One story goes that after a woman asked him why her good, helpful and kind brother died suddenly instead of her lazy good-for-nothing one, he replied, “Sister, do you know what it is? It’s God’s will. God doesn’t want that jackass brother of yours any more than you do.”
I don’t eat meat. Neither did one of our latter-day prophets. But many, if not most, Latter Day Saints do. It is the staple of any casserole, that quintessential Mormon dish. Why am I not mistaken for a Seventh Day Adventist, many of whom *are* vegetarians?
It can’t be the number of children I have. With only one soon-to-be nineteen year old daughter of my own after four long-term relationships and a new marriage of almost a year, and now one six year old step-daughter, I certainly don’t fit the stereotypical Mormon model of a houseful of children. I am no Marie Osmond with eight children in tow.
So what is it?
I have no idea. But what I do know is this: I have changed. I am not the same person I was ten years ago. Joseph Smith once called himself a ‘rough stone rolling.’ He said, “I am like a huge, rough stone rolling down from a high mountain; and the only polishing I get is when some corner gets rubbed off by coming in contact with something else…all hell knocking off a corner here and a corner there. Thus I will become a smooth and polished shaft in the quiver of the Almighty…” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, 304). In many ways, I feel as Joseph did. The trials and tribulations, sadness and sorrow, hurt and heartache of the past ten years has slowly chipped off many of my rough edges, and I am gradually being smoothed like the pebbles on a beach into something marvellous and wonderful. I have a long way to go, but I can’t help but think that this is the slow process of ‘being in the world, but not of the world’ that our church leaders talk about, becoming refined into someone better than I was, someone whose potential only the Lord and my Heavenly Father could foresee.
My beliefs have become an integral part of who I am, so much so that someone who knows what Mormons believe can tell that I am a Latter-Day Saint by what I say. Perhaps this is what is meant by the term ‘true conversion’.
Despite the challenges life throws at me, my testimony does not waiver. I know Joseph is a prophet, I know the Book of Mormon is scripture, I know the temple holds many blessings for those who believe. My faith is on my sleeve, where all can see. And where those who know what to look for can ask, “You’re Mormon, aren’t ya? I could tell from some of the things you’ve said.”