085:

Rafe

I thought it would be worse. The memories. I expected the memories to hit me hard, but they really didn't. I think because I expected them to, they were just there, and not a crashing nightmare.

Then again, my lovely fiancé never said a word. Her humility and graciousness kept me sane. I could breathe when I was with her. She wasn't pushing--- anything.

Church. The last time I'd really been to church was when I was seventeen. I'd been out on tour with Ben and Jeff for three months. And we'd given up on the church completely. But then one good Young Men's president had made one last real try. He called several times, he really talked a good line and eventually I'd said I would come.

But you know what? It was boring.

And I felt--- very judgmental. I watched people and they all seemed like holier than thou white supremists.

I think it was good that today in Juarez, the entire Sacrament meeting was in Spanish, even the songs. Ben came with us, and Aubrey's two body guards, Tim and Aidan, both nice guys, who spoke Spanish too, and were members of the church, younger dudes with normal looks, you'd never ever know they were body guards. They didn't look it at all. Tim was so good looking even I wanted to kiss him.

Then of course, Holli had me take two of our security guys as well. We'll just go with first names, since they aren't super important to our story except to know that they are here with us. Lavon, and Miguel, both Hispanic.

Aubrey. I don't know why it was a surprise to me that she spoke such fluent perfect Spanish, but it was. She said that many of her patients were Latino. We entered the Stake Center, and she didn't spend any time explaining anything to me, for which I was more grateful than I could ever express. The last thing I wanted was for it to be strained.

I just wanted to observe.

And she let me.

People were friendly. Some of them knew me. I had been on US National TV for ten years. My music was fairly popular, which didn't mean that people would know me, I realized, but some did. However, no one--- I repeat—no one made an issue out of it. They introduced themselves, Aubrey was friendly, but not overly so, the guys, all four of them and Ben were normal. I don't know why I expected it all to be awkward, but for Aubrey it was just a matter of fact, she was going to church. It was what she did. Period. I had to make sure you saw that period. It was that kind of period. Get it?

I remembered the songs. They brought back, like music does, the most memories. It was a fast and testimony meeting. I did not take the sacrament, but I sang, quietly, and listened carefully as these very normal and humble people bore their testimonies--- in normal and humble voices, and about normal and humble subjects, like answers to prayers and the violence they all faced and the gratitude they all felt for the many times the Lord had directed them around bad situations.

I especially loved the little kids who bore their testimonies. "I would like to bear my testimony that I know the church is true and I love my mom and dad and my grandma and grandpa and my---- insert list of ten siblings and all their cousins--- and then said they knew Joseph Smith was a prophet and they hoped that Jesus died for them."--- cute.

I held Aubrey's hand and somewhere along the last nine minutes I felt the warmth of her close next to me, her leg and thigh pressed to mine, her hand resting on my leg, our fingers entwined. I had this day dream of her like this, only plus five years--- in my fantasy, I could see her sitting there, holding my hand, our three kids coloring on the seats beside us and eating cheerios, while the baby napped in its car seat on the floor next to me.

It was such a clear day dream. I started trying to see the kids faces, and think of their names and for a brief moment I actually enjoyed church. There was a sort of peace here, or maybe a feeling that all was well. It wasn't well outside of here, but it was well inside of here. There was purpose. There was direction. There was security, the belief that what you were doing meant something bigger than you. There was hope.

And then this girl got up. She didn't bear her testimony the way others did. It was more like a support group feel. She caught my attention because she was cute and pretty and younger than Aubrey, but not by much, and she had this tranquil voice, but what she said was that she struggled with feelings of being useless and worthless. She said she had sinned, and she said her sin wasn't mentionable inside these walls, and she was afraid God would hate her. She looked right at me. I knew she couldn't help it. She knew who I was.

I kept my eyes on her. I felt that I needed to, to give her respect and support. She was crying.

I didn't hear what else she said then, because I looked over at the Bishop, and guess what? He was crying too. Maybe she was his daughter. She looked about the right age. But maybe not. I glanced around and others were crying too. They felt the same way she did. They wanted to be forgiven and feel peace, and they didn't, but they kept coming, because they felt hope.

I felt my eyes well up with sympathy for her pain. I could feel her pain.

And dammit, I didn't want to. I really didn't want to.

If I felt her pain, it meant I could relate, and I didn't want to relate. In that moment I wanted to leave, get up and be out--- out of here.

But then I looked at Aubrey, and I felt like I could see those four kids sitting right there with us. And you know what? I couldn't leave them. Couldn't be a bad example for them. I had to keep them here where the hope was. I knew--- knew it was easier to keep hope alive inside these walls than it was outside.

The meeting was over. Everybody got up quickly, as Mormons do. They all have callings and they all run off to teach and whatever they do. Some made their way up to talk to the Bishop and a couple of people leaned in to greet the newcomers. They spoke normally, asking where we were from and if we planned to stay for all three meetings. Aubrey respectfully declined, citing the fact that we were traveling.

I shook hands with more people, people who yes--- seemed to know me, but were respectful and treated me normally. No autographs, no pictures in here. It wasn't me who mattered. We were all equal in here, and the most important person wasn't the celebrity—it was the Savior of the World. I felt like I could breathe with that idea.

Outside the chapel, in the hallway, which, by the way, was the same as every other hallway in the whole entire freaking church--- how did they do that? Buy yards and yards of that twine type scratchy wall covering? And then put pictures up? And they were all the same pictures! How did they do that?

As we walked out to the van in the very hot sunshine, I asked Aubrey who was studying the wrought iron fencing around the church with several guards patrolling the perimeter. This was a wake up call for her, I was sure. She looked at me distractedly and then gave me the Mormon lingo answer from the depths of her distraction, which I loved her for.

"They're from the Gospel Art Picture Kit, I don't think any chapels can have anything that isn't approved by the First Presidency."

I wasn't sure what the Gospel Art Picture Kit was, nor was I even slightly aware what the First Presidency was, although I think it referred to the prophet, but I thought there were Twelve Apostles that worked with him. And I thought they were called that. The Twelve Apostles.

I asked about that too. Aubrey turned those beautiful blue eyes on me and shaded her face. "The First Presidency is the Prophet and his two counselors. We call them all President. President Monson, President Eyring, and President Uchtdorf. His counselors are apostles too. The quorum of the Twelve is just that--- Twelve Apostles--- special witnesses to the world. Remember we talked about om--- stewardship? Om--- the mantle of the priesthood?" I nodded. "Well, they have stewardship for all the world. Not everyone does. Remember--- you only have stewardship for your family, and if you have a calling like Elder's Quorum President, then you have stewardship for the Elders in your ward. That's it. You won't receive revelation for someone above you, like a Bishop or a Stake President, or the Prophet. You just won't. So if you think you are --- like getting revelation that is different or contrary to what your leaders have said then you can bet it's from the devil. You should pray about it."

My hand under her elbow assisted her into the van and I noticed that all five other guys were listening attentively, albeit pretending they weren't:  and the funny thing was that Aubrey herself wasn't listening at all. These were things she just knew so well, so deeply that she barely realized she knew them. There was absolutely no teaching tone in her voice. She was very alert to the fact that there were guards, she was counting them. She was even more alert to the fact that most of them were carrying. I could see her eyes wide with understanding and some fear.

"It's mostly here." I whispered to her, not wanting to alert the others to her concerns. "In Juarez. The cartels own this town. A few years ago there were so many kidnappings and murders it made you sick."

She looked down at her phone. "Yes. I know." She pulled up a story on the internet, and showed it to me. She didn't tell me, not full of herself at all, but handed it to me. It was the story of the Ciudad Juarez Temple, how it got there, and the temple in Colonia Juarez also. I read it. The Prophet at the time, President Hinckley had come down for a visit and the Stake President, then Meredith Romney, had asked about getting a temple there. The place was too small, the population couldn't support a temple. It took so many members in an area, etc. Disappointed, the stake guy had gone home, but a little while later the Prophet had called him, and said he'd had a vision of a very small temple--- no cafeteria, no laundry facilities. Did people live inside the temple? I didn't know. Anyway, with a lot of faith and help from above, a temple was built there so the people didn't have to cross the border and go all the way to Mesa, Arizona. I handed the phone back to Aubrey, willing to go along with her on this one. She'd given the driver, Tim, directions to the Juarez Temple, so I knew we were heading over to see it.

I gave her phone back and she pulled up another story. A lot of people with ADHD aren't readers, but I wasn't opposed to reading if it was short. I wasn't much of a book reader, but I liked articles. This was a short news clip, about the kidnapping in 2011 of Meredith Romney. I was shocked.

I read how church policy is that they will not pay ransoms, or negotiate with terrorists, ever. In this particular case the family came up with the money and paid the ransom themselves and Brother Romney was able to go home, and he and his family sold their property--- that had been in their family for generations and moved to Utah, where his wife's family was.

I handed her phone back to her.

I leaned in. "So, why the heck were they there in the first place?"

"The colonies." She said as if I would know what that meant.

I shrugged elaborately. She rolled her eyes and grinned as if I should have known that. "We weren't the pioneer family, Aubrey, we were converts."

"Oh, really? My parents were converts too."

"So, you just picked up all the church history? No wait! You went to a church school. Ha!"

"I went to seminary. Not church school. I paid attention." She said smugly and I grabbed her and kissed her fast. I had gone to early morning seminary during high school a couple of times too. And no--- I hadn't paid attention.

"Anyway...." I rolled my finger for her to continue the explanation, as I savored the feel of her tongue against mine, and felt the drawing sensation of awareness from my nether regions that being around Aubrey caused more often than not.

"You know the Saints used to practice polygamy?"

I nodded. "Try to make it short. I'm half asleep."

She grinned and let her fingers rest on my thigh, and then slip to my inner thigh with a knowing grin as she mouthed the words, I doubt that.

"Well, when the church did away with polygamy there were families who were willing to not practice anymore, but still needed to care for their wives and children, so they moved to Mexico and colonized Juarez. This whole area is full of Latter-Day-Saints. I think Brigham Young had already sent people south anyway, not like they were going somewhere no one else had ever gone."

I was nodding, but I hardly registered her history lesson. It was enough to know that the whole area was full of Mormons. It was more than enough to know that I was very turned on, and had been for days, and denying myself conjugal bliss was hell.

It wasn't a long drive to the Temple, and she was right, it was not as big as the Salt Lake Temple, or the Los Angeles, the only ones I'd made any effort to see on my own. But it was white, and the landscaping was immaculate and unfortunately the gates were high enough you couldn't jump over and they were closed. There was one guard posted out at the main entrance. I didn't envy him standing around in a suit and tie in this heat.

Tim asked if we wanted to look around or just go on. Aubrey insisted on getting pictures with each Temple she saw. She was very excited, and awed, every time, and her enthusiasm definitely affected me.

She wanted everyone in the picture but my guy, Manuel declined, and his face registered no emotion, or very controlled emotion. I instantly picked up on his anti-Mormon vibe. It was so easily readable being one myself.

But I stood beside the woman I had chosen to be my wife and had our picture taken for some future scrapbook that would reside in our home as a memento of this first trip together. Her infectious exhilaration gave me the impetus for a real smile, and my arm around her---- well, it all seemed very---couple-ish. We were a couple.

Then we hopped back into the van and I expected that we would go back to the bus, and take a nap, but that was not to be. Ben had a destination in mind as well. It was not far out of town, and was called Casade Adobe on the Rio Bravo. And was a historical site where the Mexcian President in 1911 had met with Pancho Villa to determine the fate of the country, in a document called the Plan de San Luis.

I relaxed with my girl under my arm, and nodded off.

*******