Overdressed

So.

The baptismal service was held in the Relief Society room. On the wall was posted:
1. A laminated poster of a clown holding a big bunch of balloons, on each of which was written a Relief Society member's name with a birthday that month. It was obviously made for an elementary school classroom.
2. The Relief Society Declaration. I believe it was a creed dedicating themselves to supporting their men and baking their own bread.
3. This notice:

Relief Society Activity Thursday
6 p.m. - Pot Luck Appetizers
7 p.m. - Wheat Class and/or Temple Craft

Uhh...wheat class?

We were a little late getting started because my brother-in-law forget to bring a dry pair of Temple Underwear to the church. So after he baptized Mother he wouldn't be able to get dressed in dry clothes. My sister had to run back to mom's and pick up an extra pair. Because god forbid clothing that wasn't blessed by the Prophet should touch his genital areas.

The service itself included a capella singing of Primary songs by my 12-year-old niece, an opening prayer by my 10-year-old nephew, a talk on baptism by my sister and the complete dunking of my mother by my brother-in-law. Then one of the missionaries gave a talk on the Gift Of The Holy Ghost and several of the priesthood holders gathered around mother and laid their hands upon her wet head and bestowed upon her the Gift Of The Holy Ghost. And just like that, she's in like Flynn.

It's hard to tell the difference between the prayers and the talks in the Mormon church because they end everything with "In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen." It's very confusing for the newcomer because you're constantly asking yourself, "Wait, were we just praying?"

Afterwards, everyone (including at least 16 pairs of missionaries) came over to Mother's house for food and fellowship. The neighbors probably thought there'd been a funeral what with all the men in dark suits arriving. Inside, the church members would ask me, "So, you're Sister P.'s daughter?" And I would say, "Yes, I'm the one who lives here in town." even though I was thinking - as were the great Brothers and Sisters, I'm sure - "Yes, I'm the one who is NOT a church member."

Several clean-cut, 19-year-old boys (all of whom go by the first name "Elder") kept asking me, "Now, do you go to church somewhere?" Here I was in a skirt much, much too short to wear temple underwear with, and all they wanted to prey on was my SOUL.

At one point, my niece tried to proselytize me, saying that she highly recommended that I return to church as soon as possible, since someone (I'm not sure who she said - maybe her mother? Maybe herself?) would be going to do my Temple Work for me and then I would be baptized whether I liked it or not. Or something. I simply thumped her on the head in response.

Later, my nephew tried to goad me into a political discussion - this child who's been raised on US Army bases - by saying that of course Bush should have entered into a war in Iraq. What would you do if someone crashed a plane in YOUR backyard?? But I responded with a half-ass smile. And a thump on the head. I refuse to engage in a political discussion with a TEN-YEAR-OLD.

Posted by Kalisa on Sunday, January 14, 2007 at 12:58 PM | Permalink