Life as a Latter-Day Saint kid was dandy. By being a good Mormon girl, I found security within a prominent subcultural group. At the time, however, my practice of Mormonism was no more than going through the motions that would establish myself an obvious member of that group.
I’ve always considered myself a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or “Mormon,” as we’re more commonly known. I was, as Latter-day Saints say, “born and raised in the church.” And when I say raised in the church, I mean it. My family’s existence seemed to revolve around church. We attended our local ward (congregation) every Sunday for three hours, no exceptions, and held regular family scripture study and family prayer. Casual family conversation seamlessly looped in and out of religious topics.
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