I'm Sure My Dad Hated Me For Being A Mormon

There were no hugs from my dad on my baptism day.

As I stood in my baptism poncho/smock thingy (hehe) I remember wishing and praying for a person who had never played a hands-on role in my life.

What was I expecting? Years of screaming matches and mental abuse had strained our relationship beyond the repair of any family therapist. Most days we barely spoke and instead existed in a world of unpleasant grunts or snide remarks or a good old cock eye (what we in the Caribbean refer to as rolling our eyes). 

For the most part I was fine with the way our relationship was. Neither of us were too stubborn to talk normally and with the exception of a few blowups every few months, I found that the longer we ignored each others' presence the more peace would exist in our home.

After years of screaming matches, verbal and physical fights I enjoyed the peace and quiet. I craved it like a second skin and leaned upon it to protect me. It had become a useless crutch supporting a strong leg. Still, neither of us refused to budge.

It had been years since I had walked away from my old church and I was at the darkest period of my life. There was no one to turn to except missionaries who I am sure doubted their ability to convert a scared and quite uncertain person who had all but given up on life and was solely existing.

A few days after the first meeting with the missionaries, my neighbor (with her big mouth) announced to my dad that the missionaries had come to visit and that he was at risk of losing his child to "those white people who worship that igrant (ignorant) man". 

For the first time in my adult life I felt fear. Suddenly my lessons became harder and I spent most of them crying to the missionaries about how hard the decisions I would be making would be and how I had all but cut ties with my family to suddenly learn more about the Mormons.

I remember frustrating one of my sister missionaries at the time who had a hard time even getting me to go to church as I seemed to have an excuse for everything. During this time, my little sister missionary came and started telling me about someone from very far away who had the same hard decisions to make that I did and dared to stand alone when abuse was being thrown her way.

I remember when she told me there was a Tattooed Mormon that I absolutely freaked out. Here i was suddenly identifying with someone who was just like me. As she retold the story of a tattooed woman who had stood up, seen the need to get baptized in the midst of her own family objecting to a choice she had made, I remember feeling secure that I needed to be baptized too.

During this time of self reflection, I started to go to church. My attendance wasn't super great in the beginning but I tried to make most Sundays. However, what hurt the most is that every Sunday as I got ready for church was to watch as my dad laughed at my decision to serve our Heavenly Father.

There were a few Sundays where he stopped me and I refused to go and instead sought refuge in my bed under the covers with my heart beating a million miles per second. Then one Sunday, I suggested picking the missionaries up from the mall near to my house, making a promise to pick them up every week.

As I never break my promises, I was forced to get through that fear and endure through those harsh comments and make my way to church each Sunday.

A few months later, when my mom decided that she wanted to be baptized in the church of her own free will, I remember my dad being super cold and critical each Sunday once again.

One  particular weeknight, I remember him researching a whole bunch of anti Mormon/anti-church articles and attacking my mom with what he had discovered the next morning. From my bed, he attempted to tear our faith apart limb by limb and for the first time in years where he was concerned my heart burst and tears I had contained for weeks were shed.

Its amazing that during this time, my mom too joined the church. Since then we've both received callings and truly trying our best to be the best Mormons we can be. There were days when I sat from my seat at church and wondered why people would always say the church is true and why people always wanted to sound like stuck records up there every Sunday.

There is a quote I always go back to whenever I have a hard day. It says "Dare to be a Mormon. Dare to stand alone. Dare to make it known.". How many times had I shirked from the opportunity to be a Mormon and stand proud in the decision that I had made. 

It wasn't until I went through hardships I could admit the person who hurt me helped me find the truth of this church I have come to love so much. 

This church is so super true. I know we have a prophet in Thomas S.Monson who truly is Heavenly Father's earthly compass and mouthpiece in our times. I am so glad we have such an amazing family of worldwide members who just like us go through hardships. I am so glad we can truly feel Heavenly Father's love and comfort with us as we go through hard times.

I love you guys so much from wherever in the world you read this.

Love The Sassy Mormon