October was the first anniversary of my SA ward. I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve struggled to find my place in the ward, to fully feel like I belong there. It’s bothered me because often I feel like the more effort I put in, the more I feel like I just don’t fit in.
Why This “Should” Be My Place to Belong
Since this ward was formed, it’s been emphasized over and over again that this is a place for us all to feel like we belong. It’s supposedly a place where we can find people who are going through the same struggles as us. We should be able to empathize with these other people because we can relate to the same things. Guess what. Other than being unmarried, I often feel like I have less in common with the people in my ward than I do with the general church population.
But They’re So Different From Me
While I am slowly starting to find people I can relate to and who might become my friends, I feel like most people in the ward fall into one of three categories. Yes, these are highly stereotypical, and logically I realize many people in the ward don’t fit into any of these groups. Still, sometimes I have felt like I was the only one who didn’t fit into one of these groups.
The Divorced and Bitter
There are some people in my ward who I want to steer clear of. In some cases, I don’t even know their names. What I do know is that I don’t want to be pulled into a conversation with them. It will be one-sided. They will spend the entire time complaining about their ex-spouse, and the “conversation” could easily last over an hour.
I wish that I was exaggerating when I said that. While I’ve encountered this several times, one specific example comes to mind. I was at a Break the Fast. I saw a lady who was sitting on her own. We started talking, and it was a decent conversation. Two other people joined our table (a man and a woman). Both started complaining about their ex-spouses. I never caught either of their names.
She complained about her ex-husband. They were together for 15 years. They had three kids. He isn’t paying child support. She doesn’t want him to see the kids. He’s a horrible person. The guy complained about his ex-wife. His ex-wife won’t let him see their kid even though their kid is supposed to spend specific weekends with him. She’s using the kid as a bargaining tool. She’s a horrible person.
I get it. You had a horrible marriage. That’s why you’re here. If that’s all you can talk about, though, you clearly haven’t moved on. A person you’ve never met before doesn’t want to hear all your personal drama. Maybe, I’m heartless, but it just feels like something you’d slowly work into a conversation rather than dump on someone you don’t know at all. My place is not with the “divorced and bitter.”
The Braggers
Here’s the thing. I’m not asking people to hide their accomplishments or to downplay the great things they’ve done in life. Yet, this should not be done as a way to show that you think you’re better than someone else. I have literally heard people in the ward say that the reason they aren’t married is that there’s no one else in the ward as righteous as them. They have to wait for someone righteous enough to move into the ward. Again, I wish that I was joking.
I’ve heard people brag about other things. This includes how many vacations they’ve taken in the last year, how they spent a lot of money on some item in their home, or how they can afford to do specific things. Sure, material things are great, but I just can’t relate to these people. I’ve always been the save the money instead of use it sort of person, maybe to the point of being stingy or a bit of a miser. Just the thought of spending the type of money they brag about spending makes me feel a bit anxious. I don’t belong with “the braggers” group.
Inactive Because They Didn’t Fit In
Then there are the people who went inactive because they didn’t feel like they had a place in the church. Maybe, they went inactive when they became too old for YSA. Maybe, it happened after a divorce. It could have been a slow process with them going to church less and less often until it had been several months or even years since they last attended. These people started going to church again when this ward was formed because it was a place where they could feel like they belonged again.
This is honestly the group that I can relate to the best. While I have never gone inactive, there have been times when if my testimony were any weaker, I may have just stopped going. There have been times, including in this ward, when I feel like I don’t belong. Yet, because I kept going to church, I don’t really feel like I belong with the “went inactive because they didn’t fit in until this ward was formed” group either.
Saying They Have a Place Now
During every fast and testimony meeting since the ward was formed, there have been at least 3-5 people each time who’ve gotten up and said, “Now I have a place where I belong” or a similar phrase. People say it in their talks. They comment on it in Sunday School and Relief Society. It’s to the point where I’m so sick of hearing it. Yes, that sounds selfish, and it probably is selfish. I should be happy for them. They feel like they have a place where they belong in the church. Yet, there’s always been this sort of feeling of “Why don’t I feel that way? Everyone else seems to feel like this ward is the perfect place to feel like you belong.”
Detour to Explain Belonging
Sorry, this is a bit of a detour, but lately I’ve realized that I do struggle with feeling like I belong. I’m not just talking about in the church, but I’m talking about finding my place in the world in general. Growing up, my family moved a lot. Sure, some kids moved more than me. For some of them, the transition to a new place wasn’t a big deal. For me, it was hard. Leaving behind friends isn’t easy. Having to make new friends isn’t easy.
There are people who think that it must have been great to be able to live in a variety of places, including outside the United States. Most of them have lived in the same place or the same general part of the world for most of their lives.
Project Freshman Year
My freshman year of high school, we did a presentation where we were supposed to talk about where our family had lived starting with our grandparents. While my portion of the explanation even just for myself required a world map, there were people in my class who could talk about where their family had lived all the way back to their great-grandparents using a map with about a one-mile radius. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents from both sides still lived in that same town. I was a bit jealous that these people had a true hometown.
Stake Conference: Where Are You From?
In October, we had stake conference. Our stake is composed of seven YSA wards and then our one SA ward. The Seventy who came to speak had all of us stand up. Then he told us to sit down as he said something that applied to us. He started by having those who were from Idaho sit down. A good portion of the people sat down. Then he had people from west of the Mississippi sit down. At this point, I sat down, not because I felt like it applied to me but because I felt like we’d never get to something that applied to me. The next step, from other places in the United States, didn’t apply to me any better.
My sister said that I should have stood to the very end. At that point, the Seventy had those who were still standing, people who were not from the United States, tell us where they were from. Since many of the YSA seem to think anything from 30 years ago is basically prehistoric, my sister pointed out that they really would have been thrown off if I’d said I was from West Germany (where I was born), a country that no longer exists.
My Realization
Recently, I’ve realized that I’m looking for the same experience that some other people are having in the ward. I want to be able to stand up and say that I know that this ward is the place where I belong. I want to feel 100% included and like I fit in. My biggest realization is that this is not going to come for me. I’m not trying to be a Negative Nancy when I write that. It’s just a fact.
For me, there have been times when I’ve found friends and a place where I can feel like I belong. Yet, even in those times of feeling like I belong, that feeling isn’t there all the time. Whether it’s just for a few seconds, a day or two, or even longer, even in times in my life when I feel mostly like I belong, there are going to be times of doubt. There are going to be moments when I feel like the odd one out. My world is never going to be so black and white that I’m going to say, “I NEVER felt like I belonged in this situation, and I ALWAYS feel like I belong in this situation.” That’s not my reality.
Maybe, for some people, it is a true experience. As long as I’m searching for that experience, though, I’m going to be disappointed. Instead, I need to be content to accept that no one ward is perfect. There’s good and bad about every ward. There are good and bad things about almost any place or situation.
I Like Age Diversity
I’ll be honest. The people I relate to the most generally aren’t people around my own age. Some of my closest friends at this point in my life are around my mom’s age. I can talk to them for hours at a time. Some of them are my temple coworkers.
I also feel like I can relate well to many children. I can play with them and have fun with them, maybe teasing them a bit at times. While there were times when I didn’t feel like I belonged in the family ward, not having the 60+(other than the bishop) or Primary kids in my SA ward (other than kids people randomly bring), has made me realize how much I like age diversity in a ward. I especially miss this on Fast Sunday when there aren’t any of those cute young Primary children testimonies.
My Perfect Place
Lately I’ve realized that my perfect place is the temple. That’s not to say that every time I go there, I have a perfect experience or even that every visit is wonderful. There are times that I go to the temple, and I feel discouraged or disappointed in the experience. I expected or wanted more. Maybe, I didn’t get the answer I was seeking. Perhaps, someone was overly rude. Maybe, the lady using the same locker stall as me took a long time to get ready, so I got impatient waiting my turn.
It’s my perfect place because many of those labels that we put on people as members of the church are gone when we attend the temple. It doesn’t matter if I’m married, single, divorced, or widowed. My age doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I’m rich, poor, middle-class, self-employed, jobless, a student, a stay-at-home parent, or many other things. Even the rich and famous attend the same sessions and go to the same ordinances as other people (although the women around 60 years old may have gotten a bit gaga over having Donny Osmond in an endowment session a few months back).
Yes, some people still care about these labels even when attending the temple. Ultimately, though, it is my perfect place and my place to belong because these worldly labels are unimportant. The temple is a place for us to focus on the things that have eternal value. As long as I’m living worthy of having a temple recommend, none of those other things disqualify (or qualify) me from being worthy to be there.
