Where Are We Going?

This is a picture of my family in 1965. I wasn't even two yet, so I don't have any memory of this day. I don't actually have any memory of living in this era--of our family looking like this (the unfortunate styles of the 70s soon overwhelmed us)--but this was plunk in the middle of my formative years, so it must be a fundamental part of me.

We might have been heading to church when this was taken.

My mom grew up as a Presbyterian, and my dad as an Episcopalian. After they got married, they decided to be Unitarians. Then, when I was five, they decided to be Mormons.

I have a few memories of being in the nursery at the old Unitarian Church by Harvard Square in Boston, looking out the window at the street below. My earliest memories of attending the Mormon Church in Cambridge involved going to Jr. Sunday School and riding in the car on the way home from weekday Primary with the neighbors.

What's fascinating to me is that people who decide they don't want to be Mormons anymore but still want to be part of a religious community often become Unitarians. Just the reverse of my parents' journey.

I think I might experience Mormonism differently than many people I meet because of my family's early history and because my extended family includes lovely and generous people who are Presbyterian, Episcopalian, Jewish, Quaker, Catholic, Lutheran, agnostic, atheist, and, at least at various points, Wiccan, Pagan, and Buddhist.

To be honest, I'm not always sure what to make of my spiritual journey, but I'm glad my parents started me on it. I catch glimpses of what I perceive to be pure truth and light, I bang my head against dogmatism, I am inspired by the deep faith of others, I don't really want to live forever, I believe it is all bigger than we can understand with our limited senses, I know that loving one another is our best hope for taking humanity forward, I seek.