Honest Colorado Meets Truthful Tennessee

We left Utah 18 months ago with completely open hearts. We wanted a new space for our family. We wanted to live more honestly, organically, and get a little dirt on our faces if needed. We had discovered that sidewalks and suburbs were not for us, and we found a new home that was filled with peace for us to feel and emptiness for us to fill. Colorado is the most honest place in the world to us. It opened us. It changed us.

But we did a lot of that in private. We didn't know we'd go back to zip lock bags instead of containers that are better for the earth. Oops! We didn't know we'd choose to have fewer friends. We didn't know we'd jump into rock climbing and hike on our anniversaries. We didn't know we would struggle with judging people different from us. We didn't know we would accept a little welfare, and we certainly didn't know that we would leave our church.

Colorado was a time of honesty for us. A time to really SEE each other -- kids and parents both. Who are you? What do you need? How do you feel? How can I help? We could see each others' pain and love more deeply, and it was beautiful. It was open, and it was honest. And as part of the process -- we left the Mormon Church -- with no plans for what to do next.

Our honest selves saw the church as a place and a space that was not safe for our specific little people. First, we saw pain in one of our children that we didn't feel like we could expose to a church with only one straight path, and it occurred to us that if the church was not safe for her -- it might not be safe for any of us.

So, we talked to each other. We talked to close friends. We considered our honest hearts. And like a glass shield was put in between us and the church -- it was suddenly like we knew enough and had shared enough with each other that we couldn't go back had we partly wanted to. One day we were fully active members with temple recommendations in our pockets, leadership callings, and a list of church policies we were ready to follow. The next day we were done. We were out. We talked to our church leader, and then we never went back.

It was quick and fairly clean -- but not painless. We cried. We got angry. We got confused.  Every relationship we had changed. Every. Single. One. Some for the better. Some of the worse. But it was all honest. Some people suddenly liked us and wanted to hangout with us like they had never wanted to before because we were no longer Mormon -- and that made them feel safer. Other people said they were crying and weeping for our souls and then never called again -- because we were no longer Mormon -- and that made them feel afraid or stressed. And We were not the same, so I understand that the people around us would change too. I get it.

The biggest change in me was an outpouring of unconditional love for my children that flooded me. I wasn't surprised. I knew long before that I didn't love my children the way other people said they did. But I had never known why. For some reason -- when I left my faith -- all that love came to me, and it was the most amazing feeling. On top of that, I suddenly had more capability to forgive. More humor when people messed up. More tolerance and interest in other people's life choices. More I wanted to see and learn.

It has been a beautiful 8 months. But although my heart was open and honest, my voice was quiet and afraid. I kept my public life to cute pics of the kids and funny things they say. I kept a private blog with some of the feelings of my journey. But mostly the way was silent. People would have been offended. My husband would have wanted more privacy. We still had people we wanted to share our decision with in a more personal way. There were reasons to stay so silent. But it was still silence, and as much as I wanted to embrace, it wasn't my favorite breed of honesty.

But now here we are. We move to Nashville, Tennessee in less than two weeks, and I am getting my voice back.

 Honest Colorado was private and now Truthful Tennessee will have a voice. Not a loud one. Just a voice; my voice. I am excited to share my new feelings. My process. My growth. I know it scares some people. Some Mormons might not want to hear about my feelings. They might not believe my joy. They might watch to see if I fail. I get that. I was there once. I understand that. But I am going to talk anyway. I am a person with deep connections to the universe. Faithful, spiritual, hopeful, loving, forgiving. And my thoughts and feelings about these things deserve a voice. I hope I have given the people in my life time to grieve or progress or move on, and hopefully they will care about the next phase of the journey. If not, that's ok. It's sad, but it really is ok. If you care, please come with me. I'd love to have you around.

I bawl my eyes out to say goodbye to Colorado and everything about our history here. But -- onward and upward to a new truthful adventure.

Thanks for listening!