pretend like everything is perfectly normal

While my parents know to some extent my "struggles" with the church, and they know I don't attend church, I've never right out told them the degree of my non-belief. They cast me in the "struggling with my testimony" category, while I put myself in the "the church has no claims to the truth, is destructive in many ways, and certainly isn't right for me" kind of place. Oh, and I don't believe there's an actual supreme being. But since so many people believe there is and act like there is, and it influences who they marry, how they live, what wars they start, etc., there is God in an abstract sense. In a metaphorical sense. So I don't mind talking about God in an intellectual way without feeling the need to blurt out, "But God isn't real!"

Anyway, I've been thinking lately that maybe I could start to be more open with my parents, that maybe our relationship could benefit from my letting them know a little more about me. Like send them the letter I never sent when I first started seriously questioning. Or use my real name when I record my exit story on podcast for mormonstories. I'm getting more comfortable with my new self, so maybe I could handle them knowing me better.

Then a conversation with my mom made me think, "maybe not." I started talking to my mom about this book I'm reading about the connections between religiosity and health. I tried to be nice about it, and admit that there are a couple studies that actually hold up to pretty good academic rigor that show people who attend church often (2+ a week) live longer (as a group) than people who don't attend. I explained how some of the reasons this is so are measurable and biologically plausible: social support, less smoking, less alcohol, less risky sex, hope & optimism, de-stressing, etc.

Perhaps my next sentence was my mistake. I said, but even after taking these factors into account,the studies still show some benefit to being an church attender. Some believers would jump on this and say, Ah ha! God is blessing those people! I tried to explain that to my mom, but she butted in, sounding impatient and annoyed, with, "Well, isn't that why the Lord tells us what to do and how to do it to be healthy?"

The conversation took a nose dive. Why did I think I could have an academic discussion with my TBM mom about religion? How could I be so optimistic?

I wanted to say, "Only if you believe God did such a thing. Remember, Mom, that I don't believe it? Skeptics like me would say this study result could be because there are some factors left unmeasured, that, once measured, would account for the extra mortality for non-attenders. "

I actually said, "Well, these studies are science, not religion, so they can only measure so much. You can't measure God, you can't measure God interceding. They can only measure what they can observe, right? Anyway, the idea is interesting."

I really wanted to tell her about some other research in this area, about intercessory prayer (praying to ask God for actual intervention, rather than praying to worship or feel a connection) and post-heart surgery complications. These studies show quite clearly that having people pray for patients to have speedy recoveries does not help. In one study, it actually hurt. People who had others praying for them, and who knew the others were praying for them, had the highest numbers of complications. (See Benson, et al. "Study of the Therapeutic Effects of Intercessory Prayer (STEP) in Cardiac Bypass Patients." American Heart Journal. Vol 151, No. 4.)

I would have loved to tell her about that study. But either I'm too much of a coward, or I'm too nice. Or both. But why tell her? It just would have made her mad. She wouldn't have agreed with it. She would have found some way around it. She would have given testimony that she has prayed and received answers, that she has prayed for certain outcomes and gotten them. And that God shouldn't be put to the test like that anyway.

And then I think, Maybe she's not ready to get to know the current me. And I'm not ready to introduce myself. Lately, I've been thinking maybe I'm not giving them enough credit for how they handle my disaffection. This conversation made me think maybe I'm giving them too much.

And that hurts. She's my mom; I'm her daughter. We should be able to talk. But we never have been able to, really. This isn't just about Mormonism, this is about dysfunctional communication lines. There's just that much more reason to try to fix the problem now that there's something important to talk about. And that much more reason to just leave it alone.

Note to self: Quit bringing up religion with Mom.