Yesterday, in honor of Pioneer Day (and yes, I think that’s a real holiday, and yes, I am proud of my pioneer ancestry, and if that bothers you I suggest you skip this post), I decided to make like my ancestors and go to church.
Stop judging me. I can feel it via the Interwebs. Cut it out.
I put on a dress that reaches my knees and a cardigan since it’s sleeveless. Add two pairs of earrings (rebel!) and some admittedly dangerous five-inch heels and I was ready to rock… I mean, sing hymns.
Here’s what I was really after: I wanted to sing “Come, Come Ye Saints” with other saints. I did, and it was awesome, if a little slow. (I used to be ward chorister, and I set those hymns at a steady clip. Sacrament meeting is not the time to strain the congregation’s lung capacity.)
Upon entering the chapel, I saw a Facebook “friend” that I got into a Facebook fight with about abortion! So she’s in my ward! Neat!
The talks were… well, you know. The youth speaker mumbled something about not sleeping in sacrament meeting, then a lady gave a talk on a Conference talk, which is one of many bizarre developments in modern Mormonism. The final speaker would have been a good speaker except he kept talking about Adam and Eve like they were real people or something. Also, he mentioned Joseph Smith being tarred and feathered for his beliefs, and eventually murdered, and Parley P. Pratt and Hyrum Smith too, and I rolled my eyes (I couldn’t help it!) and the second counselor totally saw me do so, but seemed to be somewhat amused. Perhaps he is also aware that Parley P. Pratt was murdered by the man whose wife he stole, to say nothing of the role that Joseph’s interest in young Marinda Johnson played in his being tarred and feathered.
ANYWAY, I got to sing “Come, Come Ye Saints”, “How Firm a Foundation” and “Carry On” with a congregation, and since I love those hymns, and since hymns are meant to be sung with a congregation, it was worth it. But I looped my purse around my arm during the closing prayer and upon hearing “amen” took off like a bat out of, um… sacrament meeting.
There’s only so much church a person can take on one cup of coffee.
