Disqus Refugees

View Original

How My Family Was Excommunicated From the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

So, I was invted to tell this story, in the hopes that other people would tell theirs. So If you have one, please share.

Now the little town of Lyman, Wyoming is where this drama occurred. A sleepy little place, escpecially during the Great Depression.

My grandmother was one of ten siblings, and her mother had recently been widowed. To cover the bills, they were taking in washing. My great grandmother, and her children, were washerwomen (and one washer-man). And they EKED out a living in those hard times.

All good Mormons are expected to TITHE ten percent of their income directly to the church. And to keep track of this, the local newspaper kept an annual record of who had paid, and who had not. And as the New Year arrived, a list was printed in the paper. And if your name was in BLACK ink, you had paid, and if your name was in RED ink, you had not.

Well, it was a rough year, and my great grandmother had not paid her tithe. And as the New Year came and went, was written up in the paper in red ink. And her washing business immediately went away.

My grandmother was fit to be tied. A twelve-year-old girl with washer-woman arms, marched down to the local tavern to have some WORDS with the Church elders.

Now bear in mind, church elders are not SUPPOSED to be in a tavern, so they were in the BACK ROOM of the tavern, playing cards and drinking booze, which are ALSO things they’re not supposed to be doing.

My grandmother marched past the bar, kicked in the door, and with what I can ONLY imagine wias a smoldering stare, DEMANDED an explanation for why her family had been singled out for this.

When no explanation was forthcoming, she proceeded to beat everyone present until they quit moving.

The NEXT day, well… the Church wanted to press LEGAL charges, but couldn’t very well admit that they were beaten very nearly to death in the back of a bar by a young girl. So, they EXCOMMUNICATED her entire family for SEVEN GENERATIONS.

I’m generation four.

I would love to hear your stories, assuming you’re allowed to talk to me.