Forward
This book was written by inspiration as therapy. It burned and churned around in my mind until it was down on paper. Now, as I read back through it, it is like a ghost, and although I remember it, the details are hazy unless specifically called to memory.
Because of the nature of my story, all of the names have been changed to protect the anonymity of the children and others who are named. Some day, they may wish to identify themselves for reasons of their own, but for now, this is my story, not theirs.
Michelle Edis
Prologue
Let me start by telling you a little about my childhood. I came from a family of Revolutionary and Pioneer stock. I was born in 1963 in Ogden, Utah to teenage parents…one active in the church and one active in small spurts throughout my lifetime. My mother always felt that the church (besides being true and the right thing to do) was what grounded us. The church was the central part of our lives with her. My father always felt that the church might be true, but they really had no business telling him whether he could smoke or drink. His activity depended solely on how good our home teacher was at the moment or if there was someone else making an all out effort to get him out to activities and such. He had callings where the current bishop, whoever that might be, would try to activate him subtly. They would call him to be Cub leader or Ward Softball Coordinator. My family was sealed in the Logan temple when I was about three years old. The church had a program called ‘Operation Temple”. It was to help un-endowed members get ready for the temple. My dad really liked the teacher so he went along with it.
I remember when I was 7 years old we went to talk to the bishop about my upcoming baptism. The bishop gave my dad the old “Are you willing to do what it takes to baptize your daughter?” talk. My dad spent the next few weeks kicking the habit or habits as the case was. He was allowed to baptize and confirm me, but I was fully aware that when my family went for a Sunday afternoon picnic in the park after my confirmation, that my dad bought a pack of cigarettes from a kiosk at the park. I wondered if my baptism counted. I thought that maybe if I was a better kid my dad would not have to smoke and drink. It was not until I was a freshman at Rick’s College that a Patriarch set me straight when I went to get my Patriarchal Blessing. I swore to myself then, that I would never marry anyone inactive. I wanted a strong Priesthood holder as my husband!
As an adolescent, I was grouchy and did not like being told what to do. I complained about how boring church was and told my teachers that I was only there because my mother made me come. This was right around the time when we had just gone to the block schedule. If the truth were known, I would have gone anyway. I knew that I belonged in church and that it was the right thing to do, but I was just exerting my own independence. I never tried alcohol or tobacco or drugs of any kind, I was morally clean, but my attitude stunk!
When I was 16, I fell in serious like with a boy that honored his Priesthood, obeyed his parents and never complained about church. I started going to his ward and my ward. I stopped complaining because I did not want him to know what a brat I had been. After pretending to listen in Sacrament a few times, I discovered that if one listens instead of thinking about how one can’t wait to get out of there, the time passes ever so quickly and most of what you hear can be down right interesting.
As the years passed and I dated some, but not as much as others, I became bitter about the opposite sex. I felt like I was not pretty enough or skinny enough and that all men were shallow and basically idiots. There was the ideal man that our Young Women’s advisors told us about and then there were the guys we actually met. There seemed to be a disparaging difference in the two. I felt painfully shy around them and so I became known as a snob because I wasn’t talkative and flirty. I had some very good girl friends and we spurned men together. I spent a year at Rick’s college and all of my roommates dated but my only dates were to Preference. In retrospect I think those years were very good for me. I developed myself and did many things I wanted to do and did some traveling and playing without the worries of being a wife or mother. Some of my friends that married young were feeling like they missed out by the time they were 26. I never felt that I had missed out. Still, it hurt every time a friend married off. I felt that I would probably never marry.
Then I met Don. One weekend I went to a Young Adult Dance and they called it a celebrity dance. Everyone was given a celebrity identity and all the guys were given a dance card with the names of celebrities on them. When a dance was announced, the guy had to find the girl that matched the name on their list. It was clever way to mix everyone up. I ended up dancing once with Don, a good-looking, 19 year old, new member that had only been baptized two weeks earlier. I made a mental note to be nice to him since he was a new member.
Over the next few months, I saw him and talked to him at all the Young Adult activities and we became superficial friends. I actually thought he was shallow and arrogant, but I liked his easy demeanor and he was a really good dancer. Since I loved to dance, it worked out well. Talking to him did not seem like the other guys. He did not make me nervous and he just seemed like a person to me…not a guy!
He moved away shortly after that to live with his grandmother in Southern California. I pretty much forgot about him after that, until one night at a Young Adult dance, I ran into him. I had forgotten his name, but remembered his face. He told me that “a bunch of us are going to have a testimony meeting after the dance…do you want to come?” I figured I might as well. It turned out that we went to Lions and ate hot fudge sundaes instead. It was a lot of fun and our acquaintance was renewed.
Over the months that we became friends, he would date every girl in the stake and region and then tell me all. Every time it did not work out with one, he would tell me how he just wanted to find a girl like me. One time some girls that he had met in Southern California came to visit him and even though they were exceptionally cold to me at first, they ended their weekend visit by telling me that they had given me their stamp of approval and that they wanted to be my friend too. I began to correspond with Mildred and Cathleen on a regular basis.
As my friendship with Don continued, he would always emphasize that he really wanted to serve a mission. It took two years, but he finally got his mission call at 21 years old. He asked me to wait for him and I agreed.
While Don was on his mission, I filled my time with more things for me. I worked full time during the day, and at night, I performed in a local dinner theater. I traveled to Southern California to visit Mildred and Cathleen on a regular basis. I traveled to Utah to visit old room-mates from Ricks. I also took out my endowments and regularly attended the temple with my mother or my ward or with the Young Adults. When his mission was nearly complete, we had decided to get married 2 months after his return.
When Don came home from his mission, he stayed with a family in our ward and we saw each other every waking minute. After 3 ½ weeks, on a Wednesday evening, we decided to elope…to the Salt Lake City temple. He called his mission president, who now was released and living in Centerville, Utah and they were able to arrange a sealing for us right away at the Salt Lake temple. We saw our bishops, stake presidents and then, with my mother and younger brother and sister, we took off for the 16 hour drive from Northern California to Salt Lake City. Everyone was welcomed to the home of the mission president and his wonderful wife. By Friday night, we were married and sealed in the temple and off to a one-night honeymoon at the Salt Lake Marriott.
The next morning, when my mother picked us up, Don sat in the back seat, sullen and quiet. I was elated. I was so happy to be Mrs. Somebody. I had done everything exactly as I was taught in Young Women’s. I had stayed morally clean, I had stayed close to the church, I had married an R.M. and now life would be great! I asked Don what the matter was and he told me “I think I have just made the biggest mistake of my life…”
