What ward am I in? Can't you see my coffee mug?
By Cynthia Schnitzler
September 20, 2007 | I grew up non-Mormon in southern
Idaho. Because of this, I thought that I had prepared
myself for college life in the LDS Holy Land.
I didn't worry too much about whether or not I'd be
able to handle being a member of a different religion
than virtually everyone else. Most of my friends growing
up had been Mormon, and so was my best friend all through
junior high and high school, so I thought I knew what
to expect. I figured once I got to Utah, I could find
a group of people with religious views more like mine.
I did, but I quickly realized after arriving in Logan
that living here would be an entirely different experience
than anything I was familiar with.
At first, everyone just assumed I was Mormon. I am
from Idaho, so I supposed that this is an almost-fair
assumption. If I had been from the west coast, or from
back east, or from anywhere but the back door to Zion,
maybe they wouldn't have been so surprised when I answered
their favorite question, "What ward are you in?" with,
"Actually, I'm not Mormon."
The first week of school my freshman year, a couple
of LDS girls on my floor that I had made friends with
invited me to go to an Institute dance with them. After
protesting and telling them that I'm not much of a dancer,
they told me that I could just hang out and socialize—that
lots of people did this at dances.
I finally agreed, but then something I hadn't counted
on happened: someone asked me to dance. This kid looked
like he might never ask another girl to dance again
if I said no, and so I reluctantly allowed him to lead
me out onto the dance floor. We talked for a few moments,
and then the inevitable question regarding my ward was
asked, followed by the only answer that I will ever
have for it. He didn't even wait for the song to finish.
He scurried off into the crowd so fast that, for a moment,
I was left wondering what had happened.
It wasn't just the people I talked to who knew, however.
There was something about me that tipped people off.
Somehow, they always seemed to know that I wasn't one
of them. I think it's a safe bet to say it was the coffee
mug.
My freshman year I lived in the towers, so I of course
was required to eat at the Junction. Every morning I
would fill my mug with the brown swill that was trying
really hard to be coffee, and every day everyone who
saw me do it would glare at me as if I had just stomped
on a box full of kittens. I would hang out with my friends
in the Hub behind the Ibis, where we would all meet
between classes to drink our coffee and not do our homework,
and ignore the funny looks we would occasionally get
from those passing by.
My sophomore year, a couple of Mormon missionaries
finally came after me. They called and asked if they
could come by and talk with me about my faith. I warned
them that my Mormon friends had been trying to get me
to repent of my heathen ways for a long time, and that
if they were hoping to get results from their effort,
they might be better off talking to someone else. They
insisted they wanted to talk to me, however, and so
I told them that they were welcome to come by.
My roommate Ashley had heard the conversation and
asked if they were coming over. Ashley had left the
LDS church and did not much care for the company of
their missionaries, so when I told her, yes, they were
coming over, she disappeared into her room. I was a
little worried, honestly, that she would come out while
they were there and try to make them feel uncomfortable
enough to leave. She emerged only once, however, right
before they showed up. She stood in her doorway long
enough to flash me a mischievous grin, and then slapped
a sign on her door before disappearing behind it again.
In big, bold letters, her sign read, "Sodom and Gomorrah."
Maybe they wouldn't notice…
I later found out that these two missionaries had
been sent after me by my roommate from freshman year,
Brandi. Brandi had run into some missionaries in Temple
Square, and they pestered her until she broke and gave
them my name and phone number. She told me that I was
the only person she knew who wasn't LDS that wouldn't
get mad at her for giving them my contact information.
I told her that it was fine, because the two girls who
came by were very friendly, and even though they never
got anywhere with me, they brought me a plate of cookies
right before Christmas break.
I have very slowly gotten used to living in Utah and
not being Mormon. I've gotten used to people staring
at me for a moment when I sit down next to them in class
and set my coffee on the edge of my desk. I've gotten
used to the slightly shocked expressions on peoples'
faces when I tell them I'm not in any ward. I've even
gotten used to their surprise when they find out that
I really am a religious person, I'm just not a member
of their church. Maybe someday they'll all get used
to me.
NW
MS
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