A Mormon. [Part One]

I was in The Second Grade, sitting at my desk with a library book I'd checked out for SSR [Sustained Silent Reading], when Bobby Jones, who was sitting next me, leaned over and whispered, "Hey, Morgan. Are you a Mormon?".

"A what?" I asked, confused.

"You know, a MORMON. Do you go to church?"

"Oh. Well, ya. Of course",  I stuttered. Then I buried my face into my book.

The truth was. I didn't know if I was a Mormon.  It seemed like I'd heard the name before, but I wasn't sure.  And I went to church, sometimes.  When my Grandma Bandley dragged me there.

My Grandma and Grandpa Bandley lived three houses east of us, and across the street on the corner. They went to the white church building on our block, every Sunday.  Were they Mormons? Grandma often insisted on taking my two older brothers, Nick and Stefan, and I with her. Nick and Stefan always  complained about it, and usually said no.  When they did agree to go, they would sneak themselves out of the children's primary class, and walk home.   I tried to sneak home with them once, but they told me that I had to stay, that I wasn't old enough to walk home. I grudgingly went back to primary class, where I'd sit daydreaming and watching the clock, until Grandma came to get me and walk home. Eventually my brothers quit going to church with Grandma altogether.  I remember Stefan telling our parents that he shouldn't have to go to church, if they didn't go themselves. Stefan always dared say things like that out loud. I guess Mom and Dad figured he'd had a good point, because they told Grandma that we didn't have to go with her anymore if we didn't want to. And Stefan was right, my parents didn't go to church on Sundays. I didn't know why. I'd never really thought about it until that moment. Maybe it was because Sunday was the day they did the grocery shopping? Or, maybe it was because of that one time, when Grandma cut off Nick and Stefan's hair tails?  Mullets and tails.  That's how all the cool boys were wearing their hair, and my brothers had been growing their tails for months.  One morning before going to church with Grandma, Grandma grabbed some scissors, and in a huff, she chopped their tails right off. Nick and Stefan were so mad, especially Stefan. Grandma was mad, too. She said that hair tails were simply not appropriate for church.  When my parents saw what she'd done, there was a whole lot of yelling about how Grandma should mind her own business.  Yes, I figured it was the hair tails.  They were probably the reason why my parents didn't go to church.  As for me, I didn't ever really want to go to church with Grandma.  It just seemed really important to her, and I wanted to protect her feelings. Did that make me a Mormon?

I sat there at my desk, with my face in my book,  thinking about it.

I decided that no, I probably was not a Mormon. But, I sure wasn't going to tell Bobby that.  I felt a sense of disappointment in my conclusion. Me being a Mormon seemed important to him, like Mormons were part of something significant. I didn't want to be left out, or different.

Both the guilt over my lie to Bobby and the fear of of being exposed as a non-Mormon, weighed heavily on my seven year old mind for a good couple of days.  I worried that Bobby would bring it up again, in front of our classmates.  What if they found out I'd lied? How could I tell them that I didn't actually know what a Mormon was?

I couldn't stand it any longer. Later that week, I stopped at Grandma Bandley's house after school. I stood next to her in the kitchen while she prepared dinner,  and just boldly blurted out my question. "Are you and Grandpa Mormons?"  I had assumed they were at this point, because they went to church every Sunday, but I needed to be sure.  I needed her to tell me why Bobby's question had seemed so important.  Grandma seemed startled, and I got nervous. Had Bobby tricked me? Where Mormons even a real thing?

"Yes. We are." She told me.

Phew. "I thought so, because you go to church."

"Well, going to church is just part of what makes us Mormon."  She told me that Mormon wasn't really the name of the church that she and Grandpa belonged to.  "People call us Mormons, because we believe in a book of scripture called, The Book of Mormon."

She went on to explain a few things that Mormon's believed in.  She even handed me her Book of Mormon and challenged me to read and memorize the first verse, of the first chapter. My head was spinning.  The week before I hadn't even known what a Mormon was, and there Grandma was, telling me all about them. About her.  She told me about baptism, and how that made a person officially a "Mormon". 

My brothers had been baptized! My Papa Anderson had baptized them.  My brothers were Mormons?

"Your mom and dad are Mormon, too." She told me.

My mom and dad had been baptized?  I didn't think I dared ask them about it.

But, I couldn't wait to go to school the next morning and tell Bobby what I'd already told him, except this time I wouldn't be lying.


I had no idea what was just around the corner for me, and my family, as Mormons.