Nov 8, 2011
A House Divided by Two
The first cracks began in a discussion about tithing. I’m a stay-at-home mom, but I always think of “his” paycheck as “ours” and so I asked if maybe we could divide the tithing money, let me choose what we do with a portion of it (specifically, I wanted to use the money to give offerings at the church I was attending or donate it to some charity or another). But it quickly became apparent that it is too important to him to pay a full (on his gross) tithe for him to make any adjustment. He’s a good man (as a peace offering, he offered to give me (give up) his monthly “mad money” for use as my “tithes” instead) and I think I understand why he feels the way he does about the tithing, so I let the idea drop. The issue ‘died’ after that one discussion, and we went back to our normal, peaceful, happy relationship . . .
Every marriage has cracks. You commit to share your life with a person and then, as you both live, that person changes. Hopefully you change along the same path as them. But what if one of you changes so drastically that the very foundations of your marriage shift, maybe even crumble.
The foundations of our relationship were clear. We met at church and courted during shared institute courses and YSA activities. We talked about the scriptures together and prayed together (and alone) about our relationship. We stayed chaste. We got married in the temple and every choice we made after that day — from grocery shopping to child rearing – was informed somehow by our membership in the church.
We were headed for a celestial marriage and that was what we promised we would aim for, together. And then . . .
I am the one who changed the rules. I stopped believing. I stopped going. But his ideas and plans are the ones getting shaken up. It isn’t fair.
And yet. This is how it is and how it is going to be.
. . . We continue to live peacefully, mostly because I have chosen not to push my position. I gave up, for the time being, on changing his approach to tithing. I let the kids go to church every Sunday and support him in his callings and activities. I never bring up my doubts or discomforts with the church.
But that cannot go on forever.
Last night my daughter, who has developed a fear of the night, woke up and wanted me to lie down with her for a little while. Her night-time music was playing softly. There in the dark of her room the familiar tune of “Praise to the Man” broke into my head and shook me to my core. The cd she was listening to was made for her in Primary — the songs from this year’s Primary program. Song after song I listened as my little daughter was indoctrinated into believing things I do not believe and honoring people I do not honor. I cannot just stand by and let this happen.
And yet, to speak up will mean an end of the peace I have clung to so longingly. How can I tell my husband that I do not want our daughter singing songs like “Praise to the Man” without expressing my strong feelings about the man in question? And how do I even keep her from singing it? I don’t mean to forbid them from going to church, but I am not ok with the idea that they will be Mormon being taken as a given.
My disbelief in the church has grown gradually, but leaving the church has been an unbelievably slow process. It was relatively easy to quit attending, to take off my garments, to look elsewhere for inspiration. But losing my superstitions, breaking free of my Mormon-think, that has been like shedding my skin, one tiny layer at a time with long periods of growth in between. I have shed my skins so slowly, and so privately, that I doubt my husband has even noticed some of the layers coming off. And I really ought to tell him.