Page 91 of Loving the Sinner
I couldn’t be in there any longer, so as soon as the “amen” was uttered, we were gone.
Now, walking up the walkway of my childhood home, I feel like I’m going to throw up.
The yellow painted, two story farmhouse hasn’t changed much in the last three months, let alone the last three years. The front door is still a bright teal that matches the curtains in the front room window. The porch covers the whole front of the house, save for the garage, and above the porch are three windows.
We walk inside and I instruct Wes to remove his shoes. He’s not wearing his usual combat boots or Vans today, and it’s throwing me off. He has on actual dress shoes, and it’s honestly really hot to see him all dressed up.
To our right is the front room which houses a leather couch, a “hot chocolate table” as my family calls it, since Mormons don’t drink coffee, and two leather wingback chairs. This is where we would have family meetings, family scripture study, and where the family’s assigned visitors from the church would chat with us.
Down the hall we step into the open concept, eat-in kitchen, and the family room. The family room opens right up into the kitchen so there’s enough space to host big family gatherings like the one happening today. There’s a kitchen island that’s currently housing three crock pots full of food for the luncheon.
My mom insisted on having a bright white kitchen, even with so many kids. The cabinets are white with stainless steel hardware, there’s stainless steel appliances, and the countertops are white and gray granite.
I personally don’t think it matches the exterior of the house, but I no longer live here so it’s no longer a relevant opinion.
Theliving room and kitchen is all light gray oak hardwood flooring.
Wes whistles when he sees the kitchen for the first time. “Dang Elli, this place is nice.”
I’m about to protest and say it’s notthatnice, as I’ve been taught to do, but I just give him a small smile and say, “Thanks. I wish I could take credit for it, but my mother has full ownership over every decoration and design in this house.”
“She sure takes the phrase ‘go big or go home’ seriously.”
“You could say that. If you want to have a seat, I’m going to make sure the veggies are already cut.”
“No way I’m leaving your side, baby. I’ll help.” Wes says, heading to the big basin sink to wash his hands.
I stand there and blink, a little taken aback by his willingness to help, though it shouldn’t surprise me anymore. I’m just so used to seeing my uncles and father sitting back and letting the women do the work.
After Wes washes his hands, I wash mine, and I rummage through the fridge to find the fresh vegetables for the relish tray.
In a normal situation, I wouldn’t have just come into my mother’s house and started cutting up random shit I found in the fridge, but I already know as soon as they get here, she’s going to be barking orders at me to help her get stuff ready.
Thereisa chance she’ll be pissed that I already got started, but this isn’t my first rodeo. The same things happen at every farewell luncheon, every baptism luncheon, every homecoming luncheon.
You get the idea.
The base of the luncheon is pulled pork sandwiches, a relish tray, chips, some type of Jell-O salad, and then cookies. It looks like there’s probably some little smokie sausages in one crock pot, and the pulled pork is in the othertwo. Someone’s already dropped off a rainbow Jell-O salad, and there’s fresh fruit on a tray with a yogurt dipping sauce sitting in the fridge.
As Wes and I cut vegetables, he asks me more questions about sacrament meeting. I try to explain as best as I can, but I’ve been trying not to use the cookie cutter answers I’ve been taught my whole life to give.
So when Wes asks me why there were so many prayers, I explain that Mormons believe to start a meeting and feel the spirit, you need to say a prayer. Each part of the sacrament gets its own prayer, and then to close out the meeting and kind of “cement” the spiritual feelings from the speakers, you have to have a closing prayer. But the closing prayercannotbe said by a woman for some reason.
“I noticed that there was hardly any woman participation. Is that normal?” He questions.
“Oh, yeah. Women aren’t allowed to have the priesthood, and only priesthood holders can do the blessing of the sacrament or hold a position in the bishopric.”
“So the literal children passing the sacrament have the priesthood?”
“Yep.” I say, shrugging. “When boys are twelve, they get the Aaronic priesthood and are ordained as a ‘Deacon’. At fourteen they become ‘Teachers’ and at sixteen they become ‘Priests.’ Before you can go through the temple as a man, you have to get the Melchizedek priesthood. Melchizedek priesthood also allows them to bless babies and baptize others. If they get called to be bishop, or have a high position in the church they become a High Priest.”
“That’s definitely some cult shit, Elli.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. He’s totally right, it does sound like a cult. I’m about to respond when the garage door opens and my mom bustles in, tossing her churchbag on the counter. My dad and siblings follow in after and Izzy immediately goes to wash her hands. She looks like she’s just barely stopped crying and I’m itching to go talk to her.
Spencer, Gideon, and Issac plop down on the couch and start scrolling on their phones and Wes looks at me with a puzzled expression. I subtly shake my head, because if he says anything about it my mom will chew his head clean off his body.
“Elli chop vegetables.” My mom barks.
