Page 107 of Loving the Sinner
The second group, which is about forty percent of returned missionaries, will leave the church. They may leave because of something they experienced, like the corrupt leadership of mission presidents, the unrealistic expectations placed on them, or the mistreatment of missionaries.
Or they could leave because they learned the fallacies in the doctrine. The things that were taught to them for their entire lives are all based on the musings of a pedophilic conman.
Not that everyone believes that, but that’s what I think.
I’ve been tempted to text my mom and apologize, but the overwhelming need to stick to my boundaries and not grovel wins every time. I’ve always been the one who apologizes, even when she’s in the wrong.
I’m not going to let her guilt trip me into being complacent anymore.
On a happier note, Wes signed the contract for the tour last week, and we’ve been making lists of things we want to do in each city.
We will definitely be trying pizza in both Chicago and New York, and beignets in New Orleans. Wes is excited to hit up the French Quarter and listen to the jazz there.We’re going to try and hit a Broadway show while we’re in New York too, but we’ll see if we have time.
We lucked out by having a bit of a break when we’re in Tennessee and plan on spending a night on Music Row, and then hitting up Dollywood because Wes said he’s always wanted to go.
I saw we were going to be in San Diego in May, so I messaged Emma on Instagram and asked if she’d like tickets, she said she’s not sure what her plans were that far in advance, but if she’s available that night she’d love to come. I’m excited that we might be able to hang out again. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, and it’d be good to catch up. Ideally, all three of us, me, Emma, and Hannah, would all hang out, but I know it’s hard to do that when we all live in different states.
I’ve already set up Hannah with two tickets to the show in Salt Lake, but she protested, saying there’s no way she’s going to be bringing anyone. I’m keeping the two tickets anyway, because who knows? Maybe she’ll meet someone by then.
Wes has been stressing about what to wear during his performances, thinking that his usual band shirts and jeans aren’t cool enough, but I told him he could wear a potato sack and a clown mask and people would still fall for him.
He’s been holed away in his apartment for four days writing and I’m not going to lie, I miss him. But I understand that he needs some time to let the creative energy flow right now. I’m so freaking proud of him, and I can’t wait to see what he comes up with.
We have plans tonight, which I’m currently getting ready for, and I can’t wait to see him. I know it’s only been four days, but it feels like a lifetime. Wes was so worried that I’d get sick of him while we’re on tour, but I’m so excited to spend every day with him.
I’d love to spend the rest of my life with him.
Which is crazy, but what can I say?
I love him. He’s my person.
I’m about to head to my room when there’s a knock on the door. I look at the clock, realizing I’ve been so in my head I didn’t even realize it was time for Wes to pick me up.
It’s weird that he knocked, though, because he has a key. Usually he just lets himself in.
I open the door ready to chastise him for losing his key, but any teasing dies on my tongue when I see the bouquet of sunflowers mixed with pink gerbera daisies, and the man dressed in his usual all black ensemble- black chino pants, black button up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, black loafers- holding them with a lazy smile.
“I think you’re going to need to change, baby. The place we’re going to has a dress code and I don’t think ‘loungewear’ is on it. Though it is sexy as hell.” Wes drawls.
I roll my eyes, but go up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Hi handsome. These are gorgeous, thank you.”
I take the flowers from him and scurry to the kitchen so I can put them in water.
“You think you can run away from me without a proper kiss, Elli?” Wes teases, following me to the kitchen after shutting the door.
He cages me in by the sink, my back to his front, while I fill the vase with water. He leans down until his lips are at my ear to whisper, “I’ve gone too long without your lips, baby.”
“Just my lips?” I retort.
Wes hums, the vibrations sending a shiver down my spine. “It’s too long withoutyou.”
I turn around once the vase is filled, and tip my head up to look into his coffee colored eyes. “I missed you too. But you know what they say, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’”
Wes tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, “I prefer ‘Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it.’ I know we need time apart sometimes, and I got a lot written, but days without you feel like days without sunshine. One is fine, but any more than that and the gloom starts to kick in.”
“You’re the one who wanted space to write.” I say breathily as his thumb strokes gently along my cheekbones.
“I know, but an artist needs their muse to continue making art.”
