A magic rock, a spooky house, and ghosts conjured up from the Latter-day Saints’ colorful past. My new mystery novel, Seer Stone, might be just be the perfect read this Halloween. Not to mention a fun Christmas gift, or even just a vehicle for confronting one’s own demons. Mormon or otherwise.
Recently a memory conjured up from my own Mormon past. I was in the temple watching the Beehives and Deacons perform Baptisms for the Dead. (Even more ghosts!) The youth were doing their best to be polite, their reverence only slipping when adolescent awkwardness mixed with the awe of a first visit to the temple, overcame them. The Beehive leader (I’ll call her Sister Sweet) supported the kids with winks and encouraging nods. Meanwhile, across the room, the Deacon’s Quorum advisor (Brother Sour) assumed a different posture, glowering at every smirk or giggle, and huffing over the occasional botched baptism that required a second dunking.
When the ordinances were completed, our group headed to the parking lot, the females loading into Sister Sweet’s van, the males into Brother Sour’s. As she pulled away from our spot, Sister Sweet called to Brother Sour who was climbing into his own vehicle.
“Hey, Brother Sour. We’re all going to (the usual) for ice cream. Will we see you guys there?”
Brother Sour slammed his car door, strode over to our van, braced both hands against the driver’s side window, and with an expression of acute constipation, replied (through gritted teeth and with increasing volume), “I have tried to teach these youth to be reverent and dignified while performing a sacred ordinance. And you want to stop afterwards for ICE CREAM?”
Sister Sweet blinked twice and, smile intact, said, “Sooo…no…we won’t see you guys at (the usual).” Then she pushed the button on the automatic window, hit the gas, and aimed for the ice cream parlor.
Mormonism is a religion conceived, organized, and administrated by men. It’s no wonder that women do poorly within its system. Some submit. Some, like me, leave the faith. Some resort to passive aggressive manipulation. Some, like Sister Sweet, smile coyly, turn a blind eye, and go for ice cream. But whatever their coping mechanisms, I find Mormon women fascinating. Which is why, once again, they figure heavily into my latest novel.
Please click this link to check out Seer Stone. It’s perfect company on a chilly night alongside your indulgence of choice: a glass of wine, cup of hot cocoa, or bowl of fudge ripple.
Find this and more Mormon Alumni Association titles here.
Oh, I love the example of Sister Sweet. If you chance to meet a (self-righteous) frown, don’t engage, turn away