Another Damn Sunday Dinner

In my wife's family, it has become customary to gather at her parent's house every Sunday evening for dinner. It's an open invitation to us and to my wife's siblings and our respective families. Sometimes we make other plans or are stuck at home with sick kids, but we usually end up going.

At first, I thoroughly enjoyed these weekly reunions. My wife's family is very friendly and they all get along very well. This is something I never really had growing up, so I found it refreshing to spend time with an actual "family" once in awhile.

My relationship with the in-laws has always been amiable. They're your typical, family-oriented, kind and loving mormon family.

And therein lies the problem.

Now that I've become a non-believer, I've found spending time with them almost unbearable. Like most TBM families, THEIR ENTIRE LIVES revolve around the church and thus church topics continually dominate EVERY conversation!

I stay at the dinner table long enough to inhale my food, then conveniently find a reason to leave the room. I have to, for the sake of my own sanity.

Now that I am aware of the truth behind mormonism, I find all the talk about temple work, church callings, patriachal blessings, blah blah blah absolutely sickening. It just turns my stomach.

Now, I'd like to point out that my parents-in-law are in fact aware of my situation. They know I no longer believe in the church and thankfully they haven't seen fit to call me out on the carpet for it. They really are great people and I know they still consider me a part of the family, but I can't help but think I've lost some of their respect. I'm sure that in their eyes, I've somehow abandoned my wife with regards to celestial glory and perhaps I'm even leading her down to the very bowels of hell itself.

My siblings-in-law (wife's brother and sister) on the other hand, are still unaware of my apostasy, as far as I know. I don't mind telling everyone about my change of religious beliefs, but I really have no idea of how to go about bringing up that kind of subject. I keep hoping that one of them will notice I'm no longer wearing the "magic underwear"...er, temple garments and make some sort of inquiry about it, so I can then openly admit "yeah, I no longer believe in all that mystical mumbo jumbo anymore." That should invoke some wide-eyed looks from the faithful zombies! (Then they just might be tempted to eat my brains, though, so it may behoove me to just keep my mouth shut.)

And so that's what I'm forced to do...just be quiet as I listen to the endless ramblings about church and all that it entails. What other option do I have?

I don't care to initiate any kind of argument or heated debate, but I know that once I make that vocal admission, especially in that kind of setting, I'll be facing a form of interrogation. At least, that's the scenario I've envisioned. Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad. Maybe we could all keep getting along just as well as we always have...but things would change between us...they'd have to.

So, in the meantime, I'll maintain the status quo: showing up for dinner, help to set the table, try to keep all the kids in line (my own as well as the growing mob of nieces and nephews), shovel in a few mouthfuls of whatever-it-is-we're-eating-that-week, and politely excuse myself to the family room where I can watch The Simpsons...at least until someone else comes into the room. The Simpsons are frowned upon in that household.

Sunday, bloody Sunday indeed.