Seminary, however, was something I could stand. YW was not. My parents moved when I was 14 to a different stake in our same town. I had already attended girls’ camp 2 years in my previous ward and had gone through the mandatory ward camp “initiation” where the yearlings have to succumb to the wiles of the older girls. I did this with patience, as I was in the company of all my friends and knew it was just part of the way things went at camp.

Upon entering my new ward, I was again made to go through initiation with the new Beehives, an initiation that was commanded by my fellow Mia Maids and under the oversight of our YW leaders. They chose to do this right before the stake fireside, and it consisted of being blindfolded, dressed like babies, “fed” baby food (most of it ended up smashed in my head full of little braids), and taken around the stake camp in our infantile, blindfolded condition. I ended up missing the stake fireside that night as I spent the time at the cold water pump at our camp site washing my hair and undoing my braids so that I could get the baby food out. I also missed our ward campfire testimony meeting that night, as I sat alone in my tent with my cold, wet hair, crying about how awful this move had been for me, and how badly I had wanted to go to the stake fireside since this was the designated “spiritual” night of the camp.

That was pretty much it for me and the YW program. I was embarrassed, and I felt singled out as an older, newer person in the ward. I was embarrassed to see the girls who did this to me in my YW class, and the leaders who had looked on, so over a period of about 10 months I slowly stopped going the Church block and began to sacrament meeting only. It was the best thing I ever did! I was made to talk with the bishop on many occasions on how we could “fix” the YW program so that I would feel comfortable going, but I never felt comfortable telling him about my experiences and the true reasons why I wasn’t attending. I also never told my parents, the girls, or my leaders because I was afraid I would look like a loser. This was the mid-1990’s, after the advent of the new camp program we still use today.

This experience has also led me to think that the Boy Scout program may not be the best thing for every good LDS boy.

One of the things I’ve also struggled with is learning to differentiate between things that are hard in a way that’s positive, that stretches you, and things that are hard in a way that just beats you down.

So. Very. True.

One of the things I’ve also struggled with is learning to differentiate between things that are hard in a way that’s positive, that stretches you–and things that are hard in a way that just beats you down. I think I’ve sometimes almost assumed that Church programs were supposed to make you miserable, as that’s what I picked up from the talks about how one shouldn’t expect Church involvement to always be easy or convenient. Which, of course, it shouldn’t be. But it actually took a long time to dawn on me that while Church involvement should probably be somewhat challenging, it’s maybe not meant to feel like a giant black hole in your life.

I’ve given the book away so I can’t confirm for sure, but I’m guessing that is the incident I remembered, or misremembered.

It’s funny – I would have bet my next paycheck that there was a phone call involved instead of a personal visit. But I think it says a lot about both the Hinckleys that they let their daughter decide for herself about MIA attendance and award achievement, and that they said nothing to her about the leader’s visit.

Thanks for doing the legwork and factchecking. Now I’m wondering how many other things I’m certain about aren’t exactly correct.

Ginny’s attendance at MIA was less than perfect during her senior year in high school. There weren’t many other girls her age in the ward, and with her heavy load at school she sometimes stayed home to study. At one point, the YWMIA presidency called on Gordon and Marjorie to explain that because of Virginia’s inconsistent attendance her sixth and final Individual Award, an annual recognition based heavily on attendance, was in jeopardy. Suffering from the hypersensitivity of adolescence, Ginny was sure that the leaders were less concerned about her well-being than about how it would look to have Gordon Hinckley’s daughter not receive an award. After the leaders left, neither parent said anything about the conversation to their daughter.

Go Forward with Faith, 173.

I consider such acts, which cost my conscience nothing, an important part of the price I pay for the inevitable occasional moments of spiritual civil disobedience, when it is wrong, really wrong, to do as one’s told. These constant, harmless obediences are a demonstration of my loyalty, a demonstration I feel is necessary to those moments when I have to no choice but to defy or dissent.

This is great, and aptly summarizes several stories told by Carlfred Broderick in “The Core of My Belief,” (published in Phil Barlow’s collection entitled A Thoughtful Faith: Essays on Belief by Mormon Scholars, (1986) and also My Parents Married on a Dare from DB.)

I don’t care how stupidly or arrogantly the dear members of the church act, it’s the Lord’s church, not theirs, and their stupid decisions won’t keep me from attending and serving in the Lord’s church and doing my best to live our faith.

I think I’ll have that engraved on my next set of scriptures, or perhaps cross-stitched for my wall…

So between the sense that the inaction of her leaders had materially harmed her and the leader who told her she had to be cheerful and that being negative had no place in a true follower of Jesus, she felt that she was better off not going to Young Womens. I really can’t fault her for this decision.

I can see how the frequent solicitations would be annoying. Children need to work for what they get not just expect someone to donate. If I were approached for solicitations like that I would go to the leaders and tell them that I would be happy to pay the scouts to paint for me or do some large projects around my house. Then I would ask not to have more solicitations for donations.

I sense that common thread throughout these posts is not that you are “defying the church” but rather we sometimes have problems with the way some of us imperfect people handle some situations.

The biography of Gordon B. Hinckley recounts an incident during the stage of his life when he and Marjorie were raising teenagers. He answered the phone one evening and got an earful from one of his daughter’s YW leaders. The daughter wasn’t attending mutual, wasn’t progressing towards her award, etc., etc., and the leader was calling to enlist the help of the parents to help “motivate” their daughter. GBH told the caller that he was aware of his daughter’s non-attendance at MIA, and while he appreciated the leader’s concern, he considered it to be a private matter. She wouldn’t let it drop and continued to insist that the parents intervene until he had to end the call somewhat forcefully. You can probably guess that the reading of that passage caused a warm and swelling motion in my bosom, and my testimony of GBH increased.

Rusty’s thread caused me once again to be heartily grateful that my own experiences have been so different. Our mission president always told us to work hard, do our best, and enjoy our missions. It was expected that we would work 60 hours per week, but that was the only goal or number I remember ever being mentioned. Browbeating and intimidation are antithetical to my understanding of the gospel and to my experience in the church (with the exception of stake priesthood meetings where the topic is home teaching), so it is good for me to occasionally be reminded how lucky I have been. It is interesting to me how people who purport to value agency and who warn against the pernicious influence of peer pressure can sometimes violate the agency of others in the most flagrant ways.

I can’t blame my experiences in defying the church on anybody else. Sometimes my understanding of what the church taught ran counter to my own judgement. After years of real pain and real damage to me and those closest to me, I had to reconsider my actions and do some backtracking. At the time, it <em>felt</em> like I was acting in direct defiance of the church’s teachings. I remember thinking that if that is what the church expects, then the church can go to hell. I’ve since realized that my original understanding was incomplete, and developed an appreciation for the idea that the church is a living thing.

But I consider such acts, which cost my conscience nothing, an important part of the price I pay for the inevitable occasional moments of spiritual civil disobedience, when it is wrong, really wrong, to do as one’s told. These constant, harmless obediences are a demonstration of my loyalty, a demonstration I feel is necessary to those moments when I have to no choice but to defy or dissent.

Exactly. That is a great insight.