The Book of Mormon Girl

 

That's when i realized that through all the years of searching, from the time I was a small girl kneeling at the bedside on her orange prayer rug, I had learned what the voice of God sounded like. I knew what the voice of God felt like, and it did not feel like rocks against the side of the house. It did not leave a sting of shame burning across my temples and in the pit of my stomach. The voice of God I knew was gentle, kind, and deliberate. And that voice was not forbidding me to write or speak, as long as I did so honestly and without malice. Even if I made mistakes from time to time, as a write or as a Mormon, that voice would not condemn me. It would guide me firmly and gently through.

I have been in such a reading slump this winter. It seems that most people's reading habits ramp up in the colder months; I appear to be the opposite. Although it might have to do with the series of books I've attempted over the last few months. I'd like to blame The Casual Vacancy (zzzzzzzzzzzz) for beginning this streak of books I've started and not finished. Even Tim Gunn's new book couldn't save me from my slump. And as excited as I was to get Wolf Hall from the library, one look at the 5 pages of family trees and list of characters and I knew I wasn't going to make it through.

So here's to The Book of Mormon Girl, the first book I've managed to finish since..... November? (sooo embarrassing) It's a super fast, super easy memoir about growing up Mormon, falling away, and figuring out how to come back on one's own terms. I appreciate memoirs about spirituality, especially those whose faiths are different from my own. There is always common ground and I enjoy finding it- in this case, the paragraph quoted above about the voice of God being gentle and kind. And how it's okay to make mistakes. 'cause it is.