I Miss It

     Having the house to myself for three hours on Sunday is nice, but there are times like today where I miss going to church.

     I miss going to church expecting to be edified and spiritually strengthened.  Sunday School was my favorite hour of church because for me it was the most intellectually stimulating.  I used to read the next week's lesson during the week and gain my own insights into the scriptures so that I could actively participate in the lessons and actually get something out of church.  I always liked being in class with people who had insightful things to say and who I could tell also read the lesson or the scripture passages for that lesson.

     I miss the security of believing that what I was being taught was true, that my church really did have all the answers even if I didn't fully understand them yet.  Even if I struggled with pieces of doctrine here and there, the core parts of the gospel were something I could hold onto and they would give me strength and a certain amount of peace.

     I miss believing the same things that my husband does.  We are still respectful of each others' beliefs and we still have a good marriage, but it's different now.  We've gone from believing that our marriage will last for time and all eternity, to knowing that it's for this life only—for him because I'm no longer sealed to him, and for me because I realize that this life might be the extent of my existence.

     There's a quote I read in the Cosmos book that has stayed with me for the past few months.  "Part of the resistance to Darwin and Wallace [evolution theorists] derives from our difficulty in imagining the passage of the millennia, much less the aeons. What does seventy million years mean to beings who live only one-millionth as long? We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever." (p. 27)   I've already come to grips with the idea that there's a very good chance that there is nothing after this life, that once I die this really might be the end of my existence.  Believe me, it hasn't been easy.  I'm not afraid of death though, I'm mostly just curious to find out the truth—to find out which religion got it right, if any.  That's assuming that I still exist after I die.  If I cease to exist, well, that's that I guess.

     Right now I suffer from thoughts and feelings of pointlessness, and I will probably have those in varying degrees for the rest of my life.  I'm able to look past them if I get enough sleep at night and if I have other things to take my mind off of them, and it's actually helping me appreciate this life more.

     Sometimes I wonder if I could ever go back to church, if the nice feelings of security and community I had felt there could make up for the doctrines that I no longer believe in.  But I know I can't.  People go to church because the Church teaches things they believe in.  I don't believe in what they teach, and so even if I were to attend church again, I would feel out of place; I don't belong there anymore.  So for now I'll just be glad for people who have something to believe in, and I'll keep trying to make my life worthwhile.