I was feeling a little annoyed and negative the other night with some of the things I chose to read in my email and on the internet that were so full of malice and judgment and fear.  I get that everyone has an opinion and everyone believes they are “right.”  And I get that a lot of people believe the world is going to hell if this or that candidate is elected or if this or that law is passed. Most of it was suppose to be “ethics” based and “Christian” based but it came off as something totally different energetically.

 

I found myself buying into the bleakness, so I opened up this book of poetry that I have.  It seems to calm me and put things in perspective. I love this poem by Emily Dickinson that points out how people operate different in their spiritual beliefs- and that is just fine with me.  There can be such a wide gap between spirituality and religion.  Here is the poem…

 

Some Keep the Sabbath Going to Church

By, Emily Dickinson

Some keep the Sabbath going to church;

I keep it staying at home,

With a bobolink for a chorister,

And an orchard for a dome.

 

Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;

I just wear my wings,

And instead of tolling the bell for church

Our little sexton sings.

 

God preaches, -a noted clergyman,-

And the sermon is never long;

So instead of getting to heaven at last,

I’m going all along!

 

I was born in a very small town in Montana.  In this town, there were very few people of my religious faith.  I did not have any friends at school that shared my faith- but that did not matter to me.  Who cares, let’s just have fun- right!?

 

I moved to Utah towards the end of elementary.  It was very different to me to have a church on what felt like every corner and to have many friends that went to my same church. 

I remember one evening that all of the kids in the neighborhood were going to play a big game of “kick the can.”  So, I said to my friend, Heather, “Let’s go get (so-and-so) who live on the corner to join us.”

 

Heather said, “No.  My mom said I can’t play with them.”

 

“Why?” I asked.

 

“Because they are not mormon,” she said.

 

I didn’t get it.  In fact, this really messed with my ten-year-old brain.   It didn’t feel right.  I was use to not having any friends that were my same religion.  It didn’t bother me.  In fact, it did not make any difference. 

 

I started thinking, “Should this matter?  Did Heather’s mom know something I didn’t?  Did I miss something in Sunday School?”

 

I went straight home and found my mom.  She was folding clothes.  I said, “Mom, Heather can’t play with (so-and-so) because they are not mormon.  Is that what we’re suppose to do?”

I remember my mom calmly smile and ask, “What is the first law of the gospel?”

 

I said, “Love God.”

 

“And the second?,” she continued.

 

“Love your neighbor.”

 

She just looked at me for a moment and said, “Well, there you go.”

 

And I never felt confused again.  I am thankful for a wise mom.  And I pray that I will always be on the side of love instead of fear and judgment.  That I will always worship with joy in whatever way I see fit.  And, that, when I am inspired to stand up for something- I will do it from a space of light and truth.