Book Report: My Name Used to Be Muhammad

I was asked by Deseret Book if I would be interested in reading and reviewing some of their current best-sellers.  Being a huge book nerd, I jumped at the chance.  They sent me copies, but the reviews and opinions are my own.

My Name Used to be Muhammad :The True Story of a Muslim Who Became a Christian. by Tito Momen and Jeff Benedict

From the publisher:  Tito Momen was raised Muhammad Momen. He was born in Nigeria and was taught to observe the strict teachings of Islam. At age five he woke at 4:45 every morning to attend the mosque and perform dawn prayer with the other men in his village. Training to memorize the Qur’an began at age six. It was at this same age that he began copying the entire Qur’an word for word. He was being raised to emerge as a leader among clerics, capable of leading a jihad, or holy struggle, to convert nonbelievers to Islam. However, Tito’s path took an unexpected turn when he was introduced to Christianity. His decision to believe in Jesus Christ cost him his family and his freedom. Tito thought he would spend his remaining days enduring a life sentence in an uncivilized Egyptian prison. For fifteen years he suffered and waited and prayed. Tito said, “I never gave up hope. I never stopped believing.” Although he was falsely imprisoned, beaten, and ridiculed, Tito’s remarkable true story is one of faith, forgiveness, and testimony that God does hear and answer prayers.

I have to admit, I was kind of hesitant to read this one--it just didn't seem like a book I would dive into.  I was absolutely wrong.  From the beginning chapters I was completely drawn into the descriptions of life in an incredibly orthodox compound--Momen tells his early life story so simply and easily that I was able to understand the way he was raised, and his matter-of-fact stories were so plain that I could see where he came from and understand his point of view.  (Early on he gives the reader a disclaimer that, while his experiences as a Muslim were not always happy, he absolutely acknowledges that they were, compared with the millions of Muslims worldwide, atypical.  I appreciated this about his story--it was HIS story, not a how-to or a call to arms for any person in any religion and, in fact, was much more a story about Christ than about "Mormonsim.")  

 **I don't want to give too much of his story away because I want you to experience it for yourself.  It was THAT good.**

As I became engrossed in his story I was repeatedly struck by how truly lucky I am to live in a country and culture that allows me to express my beliefs, to choose my own path.  Momen was jailed and made an example for the courage of his convictions, and I wept as I read how he suffered, yet I was continuously filled with gratitude for all I have in the United States right now.  (I ended up using his story in my Sunday School class when I taught about how we are commanded to ask questions and seek the truth for ourselves.  Zing!  Double-duty!)  (As soon as I get it back from my neighbor, I am making my 17-year-olds read it.  And then I will read it again.)

Without reservation, I recommend this book to you, your mom, your grandma (even though she hates everyone) and your teens--and if you are going to be in downtown Salt Lake this Thursday evening, go meet this man and shake his hand for me.  Seriously. 


(Interested in anything else I read?  Follow me on Goodreads over on the sidebar).

Wherein W Missed a Crowning Achievement Because He was at Home Getting My Lesson that I Forgot to Bring Because I Have Pregnant Brain

Jooj bore her testimony in church yesterday. It was a total surprise. And completely unencouraged.

For the record, I hate it when kids bear their testimonies in Sacrament Meeting. I know, you probably love it, but I don't. It stirs up all sorts of anger and irritation and issues in me. All of which, I'm going to tell you 'bout, right now!

I don't think the kids know what they are saying.
It sounds brainwashy.
It sounds manipulative.
I don't think it is cute.
If your mom or dad has to tell you what to say, it is not a testimony.
I don't like the sound of breathing in the microphone.
I believe it to often be more about a desire to receive public praise from adults and family members than about a sincere desire to state the love of God and the knowledge of His true church.

~J and I have talked at length about how I hate this. She has told me that, in her family, when the kids decide they want to say their testimonies they start practicing at home. They learn what a testimony is, what they can say, and what they cannot say. They are encouraged to practice during Primary. They know that mom is not going to accompany them to the pulpit and whisper in their ears; they will be on their own. They are not going to get a reward for venturing to the front of the room and breathing in the microphone. I had absolutely planned on doing this one day. Because she is only five. She has had zero interest in this. She is only five.

And then, yesterday, after watching the parade of children, coached by their parents, saying the exact litany of phrases as the first child, she announced to me that she wanted to do it, too.

I told her no.*

And someone whispered inside of me "Wait, let her try."

Hurriedly I asked her what she wanted to say. She told me three sentences.

I told her I was not going up there with her. She said that was just fine.

I asked her what she was going to say again--she repeated her previous three sentences, but with more irritation and an eye roll.**

I moved aside.

She marched up. Marched. Stood at the podium and in a clear, sweet voice said

"I know the church is true. I know Jesus loves me. I know he watches over me. In Jesus' name, amen."

Then she marched back down to our pew and resumed coloring.

And--here is the thing--I know she knows that. It wasn't manipulative or brainwashy. I know she actually knows those things. Within her limited experience and frame of reference, she knows that the church is true. She has had numerous experiences where she has learned beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jesus loves her, and she knows that He watches over her. She knows that. It is a part of her life. And she recognizes that she knows those truths. She was able to pick out three things that she knows, process them, and express them to the entire congregation without coaching or fear. Just some marching. Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good. Because she knows those things. And I know that she knows.

And something inside of my ice-cold, child-hating heart melted a little.

Don't get me wrong, I still hate it when kids bear their testimonies in sacrament meeting. But I hate it a tiny*** bit less.





*This is the same child that was not allowed (by me) to participate in the Primary Program last year because she refused to say her part without exclaiming "Boobies!" at the end. And I will not be that family.

**It is to her great luck that the first time she rolled her eyes at me we were in a public place in a state where I didn't know the child abuse laws; I was unaware as to what would get me reported to the authorities and so did not throw her through a window, as was my first inclination. Now I have gotten used to it and she is safe in her sass. Also, I have no idea where she learned to do it. Cram it, W.

*** 1/100000000000

So Churchy. Beware.

It may surprise you to know that I am an avid follower of celebrity gossip. I mean, I am so classy and busy and perfect--how do I find the time to read Us Weekly, um, weekly? But I do. It is all about priorities, people. And how you spend your time.

The problem with celebrities (aside from the fact that most of them have absolutely no scandals, and so how I am supposed to be interested in them without scandals) is that many of them are so ridiculous. You know the ones I am talking about. The ones that weigh thirty pounds and don't actually have jobs. Or the ones who wear metal claw gloves. Or the ones with eight children. Those ones. The ridiculous ones. The ones who think that they are owed things by the cosmos.I see this attitude becoming more and more prevalent within society at large, especially among the youth (it IS Quincenera time here in the EP, you know) and it horrifies me. Because feeling entitled gets you nowhere.

I was contemplating this attitude early this morning when I couldn't sleep because Jooj's feet were in my throat, and it hit me that entitlement is a much larger problem than the foolishness of celebrities--it is absolutely deadly when we take this mindset within the gospel.

We have an acquaintance who is "struggling" with some life choices. The quotes are there, in my mind, because she is not struggling with what to choose, but with the way to best blame someone or something else for her laziness/refusal to commit/irritating-ness. Everyone is out to get her, from friends, to family, ecclesiastical leaders, to God. The reason she feels so victimized? She is owed, and no one is coughing up her prizes.

The thing she doesn't understand is that there are only a handful of things that we, as children of God in this mortal existence, are owed. Three things, actually, are all I can come up with and, from my vantage point, none of us are even remotely deserving of such awesomeness:

No matter what we do, we are guaranteed eternal life
We also get to use the Atonement
Finally, we get the unwavering love from our Father, no matter our situations or circumstances

That's it. That is all we are owed. Every single other thing we are promised in the scriptures or in the temple comes through hard work, faithfulness, and commitment on our part.

But this attitude of entitlement--it is a terrible blight on the spirit. To waste time being angry on what we deserve takes away from the blessings we would actually receive if we were better focused on serving others. Instead of fighting against a bishop who is following the teachings of the prophets, we can seek to gain knowledge and then qualify for the blessings and spiritual enlightenment that for which our souls so desperately cry out. Rather than being furious that we have no man/baby/money/job/etc. when we so obviously deserve them, we can concentrate on understanding the will of the Lord, and begin to understand that His time line is not something that we are going to alter through petulance.

/rant.

What do you think? Am I off base? What are YOU owed?

Mission: Completion!

Last night was our Ward Thanksgiving Party. I am the Activities Committee Chair, as well as the entire committee. I rely on the ward council to second-guess my decisions and tell me that I am wrong about everything, and then I go forward making no one completely happy. It is a great system.

So, the tradition is a talent show along with the dinner, but let me tell you--it is painful. We have some very talented people in the ward, and none of them share their talents. Mostly it is Sunbeams breathing into the microphone and HPs telling goofy jokes. Plus, the majority of the ward is out of town, so I decided to forgo the show in favor of watching a movie.

Oh, the blasphemous horror!

I stuck to my guns, but told people that if they were dying to perform, OF COURSE we would love to be entertained. Again, no one wanted to do any talents. (But I am sure that this will be remembered as "The year we weren't ALLOWED to have a talent show.")

**A side note: We got off to a rocky start last weekend on our way home from California, and ended up taking two days to get home, which meant I missed the ward council meeting last week. I had the dinner all planned and assigned, and I informed the 1st councilor that I was going to be gone, and let him know of my plans. He was very cool with it. So at the meeting, the RS president decided that my plans were not acceptable, changed them all, and then told me "Well, somebody had to pick up the ball. You weren't there." Later, she told me "You don't have enough people doing this, and you don't have enough things assigned. You are going to find out that it is much harder than you think it is, and you will be in trouble." (She wasn't there last night.)**

This wasn't supposed to be a story about how rough I had it. Please excuse.

Anyhoo, I got there early to set up, and found the bishopric readying a fryer for a turkey. We set up the tables, and the missionaries helped me decorate. I heated up some food in the oven, the High Priests came with the projector, set up the movie, and people started pouring in. They brought their food and desserts, and started eating. I asked a friend to sit with Jooj and make sure she ate, and while they ate I cleaned up the kitchen. Another friend helped me clean, and they started a movie. People went home instead of watching the movie, which meant that I got to clean up even earlier. The tables and chairs got put away, the floors were mopped, and I took the dishes home to wash. And we all got home by 9 pm.

So, basically, people are good. They see that they are needed and help out. I didn't have it rough. I didn't fail. And when people told me "You did such a great job!" I responded with "I didn't do very much at all--everyone helped out."

And that is why I love this Church. Because, despite the crankiness, people are good.

Thankful for November 9

Because that means that the Primary Program is over!
I wrote it. I taught the songs. I passed out the parts. I bought the rewards. I made the certificates. I rehearsed it with the kids for two weeks. I led the songs. And now it is done!! Hooray!

The kids were awesome. The majority of them memorized their parts (even the little ones!) and the older kids WROTE their parts. I was really impressed. And we encouraged them to invite their friends and families, and the church was packed!

Primary kids are awesome.

And I am thankful that it is all over.

"For the Temple is a House of God; a Place of Love and Beauty"

**All Pictures from www.lds.org.

Twelve Years and Five Days ago I was in Boca Raton Florida, on my way to the Orlando Temple with my future in-laws and my future husband. It was a long, long drive, and it was really, really early. I remember eating a bagel. And being kind of nervous to enter the temple--a place I had been preparing to go my entire life.

I was the only newcomer during that temple time, and the matrons were so excited and cute--they let me put on a fancy dress and gave me a hand-made holder for my temple recommend.

I think that I disappointed CayCay a little because I didn't cry. But I was just so Happy To Be that I didn't have room for tears. She didn't know me well enough then to know that I only cry out of sadness/anger/mushy movies/and, apparently, adopting a baby.


In Twelve Days it will be three years since we were in Provo, Utah on our way to the Provo Temple with our newly-adopted, officially OURS daughter. It had been a long, long, time coming, and we were surrounded by family, friends, and birth-families and friends. I remember being nervous about time constraints, and relieved that she would finally be sealed to me forever.

We were the only family during that temple time, and the matrons in the nursery were so excited and cute--they fussed over Jooj and put her in her fancy dress and gave me a little card with the date and their names (Kay Frisby and Arlene Smith) to keep.

When they brought Jooj into the sealing room she was just happy as a clam. I started to cry--relief and happiness and joy. But there was some sadness, too. In the room with us were her dear, dear birth-grandparents who I know were thrilled for us, but with a breaking heart. I felt such love and gratitude for them and for her sweet birthmother who was waiting in the garden outside for us to meet her after the ceremony.

When they told us that we were officially sealed, Jooj blew a huge raspberry. It couldn't have been more Official after that.


Yesterday I went to the Ciudad Juarez, Mexico temple. It was a pretty quick ride, no traffic, and not too many crazy drivers. Only two guys juggling fire on the side of the road. I was not special, I was not alone, and I was not fawned over.

And yet, the Spirit testified to me, just as has happened three years ago, that I would be soon starting this cycle again. And that I would be ready, and that it would be good. That the road would be hard but, by the time I could celebrate anniversaries, I would remember the good and the joy and the tears. And I would be in the temple.



If you want to know more about the temples of the LDS church, or how we are, as a family, able to be together after we die, I encourage you to visit Mormon.org. It is all true. Serio. And if you want to listen to a living Prophet of God, check out our General Conference Broadcast this weekend. It will be the heat! (And if you are in the EP area, we will be eating brownie pancakes while we watch. Stop by!)