I Have Other Gifts

For the most part, I've grown up in the LDS church. I was Presbyterian until I was eight, but we attended sporadically back then, primarily because we moved nearly every year. When we first joined the Church (I never could quite figure out why the "C" is always capitalized, but it is), we were living in Gladstone, Missouri, a suburb of Kansas City. For those familiar with LDS church history, this is a pretty significant location in terms of historical landmarks. We went to church in Liberty, had ward activities at Adam ondi Ahman, and planned a family vacation that included Nauvoo and Haun's Mill (not recommended for families with small children, but hindsight is 20/20).

Many places had Visitor's Centers. Maybe every church is like this, but ours seems to excel at producing films that make you cry, whether or not you want to. The music gets dramatic, the poor widow receives help from above, whatever, and I'm crying probably harder than anyone else--and resenting every tear. I always feel manipulated, rather than inspired, and that has made me very skeptical and cautious towards those spirit-moving feelings. I don't think it's coincidence that I studied advertising in college and made it my career for awhile. Manipulating an audience made perfect sense to me. Even though I despised it, that's the way it works in the world, whether you're selling soap or religion, right? You could call it being cynical, but I prefer to think of it as being an aware consumer with my eyes wide open.

This approach towards life has its downside though, and I'm the first to admit it. I can now sit through any Sacrament meeting or Girls' Camp testimony meeting completely dry-eyed and silent. I will not be the one who feels "moved" to share some spiritual lesson that I've learned. I don't trust that emotion in myself and suppress it whenever possible. I know that if I succumb to the temptation to lay bare those incredibly personal feelings, I'll hate myself in the morning--or immediately afterwards. Things never come out the way I intend them, and I mentally flagellate myself for years and years to come over something stupid that I said.

Contrary to how it may come across, I actually do think about these things quite a lot. I envy people who can have those feelings without questioning their validity (or their sanity). I listen to courtship stories that involve firesides, ward prayer, and wholesome, spiritual activities--I don't have many of those stories, quite honestly. My courtship involved art museums, painting, foreign films, cooking, reading, and lots of great kissing. I think my husband has a very good sense of what I am comfortable with in terms of talking about spiritual matters. We did talk about some things, but he has always respected my desire to not talk about them, too. He knows it's not because I don't have those feelings--they're just very personal to me.

But though overt spirituality might not be one of my gifts, I do have others. I'm funny, nice (most of the time), creative, relatively patient, musical, a good cook, a voracious reader, and a damn fine kisser (all that practice paid off). I hope that all this is taken into account in the end. I really think God knows exactly who I am and knows what's in my heart, even if I don't say it out loud.