I am Kristine Marble, born November 4, 1959 to Mary and Wesley Marble. I was raised in extremely humble circumstances, otherwise called abject poverty. I am the third child and second daughter of six children. My childhood was unhappy. Most of the people who lived in Joseph City, AZ were relatives, so it was not that I did not know people. People just did not like us, including most of our relatives. I knew early on how despised we were as a family because of our poverty. I knew every word that was related to being poor as my family was targets of verbal assaults, even physical at times.
I also learned that if I wanted to eat something other than the simple foods we had; I would wander over to a relative’s house when they were cooking dinner. I felt it very unfair that other people ate cold cereal, butter, store-bought bread, desserts, and delicious food when I was stuck with endless meals of pinto beans. I loved going to potlucks and public activities because there was a variety of delicious home-baked goodies. I hated school. I loved the activities, but every exercise was a new rejection. I was tiny because I started first grade at age 4 and that also complicated things. There was no kindergarten in Joe City back in the old days. I was forced to compete at games where I absolutely SUCKED. The last time I ever participated in a race, I came in dead last for the entire elementary. The shame of being dozens of yards behind everyone that crossed the finish line sent me into a new stage of self-hate. My mother was probably the most influential person in my life. She was also raised in abject poverty. She was also the strictest disciplinarian I knew. There were too many times to count that I literally felt she had broken me. I was angry. I was unhappy for almost all my childhood. I literally could not walk out the front door without having to beg for permission to go outside. If she denied me permission, I snuck out, only to find her waiting at the door when I got home with a spatula, wooden spoon, or flyswatter in her hand. Then I got my legs switched. If I ran, she ran after me, sometimes going outside in front of the neighbors or anyone. I was “the most disobedient child she had ever known and that it always hurt her more than it hurt me.” I was going to be obedient even if it killed her. I also had a mouth that had few limitations. I was determined to not let her control me. Her absurd rules never made sense to me anyway. My escape was to explore the outdoors. I played for hours in the irrigation canal finding leeches, minnows, polliwogs, and wild asparagus. I stayed at relatives’ houses until they sent me home. My mother and I had a weird relationship. While she was my abuser, she also knew that my temper was often used to defend her from some of the vicious attacks of others. I was always in trouble for telling people what I thought of them. I knew deep in my heart that despite her abuse, I knew that everything she did was to please the Lord. She never talked back to her own abusers. I did. She never defended herself. I defended her. She decided to get healthy because she had a horrible fear of being overweight. She stopped eating meat during the 1960’s. Her fat sister made fun of her, calling her “gaunt” and mocking her new lifestyle. Her fear of being overweight also led her to start purging. She taught her daughters how to purge. Nothing that she did was good enough for her family. I cannot stress that enough. It was not until much later in her life that a sister and a younger brother were able to convince her that she had any worth at all.
One day after Sunday School, my grandmother lined us girls up in a row and made fun of our long skirts that covered our knees. She told my mother, right in front of us that we all looked like prudes. I was angry and confused. Were we supposed to be modest or not? What were we doing so wrong that a dress could cause my grandma so much embarrassment? I wanted to wear miniskirts, but we had no money and homemade skirts would be covering the knees. My father was very passive and had a great sense of humor. His wit could make the grumpiest person crack a smile. He was born to hillbilly parents, growing up in abject poverty. He worked hard and was one of the last lumberjacks who never used anything more than hand tools and a chainsaw. At the time of my birth, he was a milkman, ran the local service station, worked on the farm raising animals and growing our food. He also was the fire chief.
I asked him if I got my humor from him and he replied, “No. You got it from your mom because I still have all mine.” He used to tell us crazy stories of hillbilly life and even the first time he saw a person with black skin. He started working at a young age and by 14, he was traveling around the country hauling cattle in train cars for auction. His education was limited, and he never went to any school after the eighth grade. His calm demeanor was what I needed to survive the years of abuse.
I will not go into detail about my teenage years. It was a battle. I did get expelled from school the last two weeks of my junior year. I brought liquor on the last bus trip of the year and even though a few of us furnished liquor, I was the only one expelled. Surprise, surprise.
After the expulsion, my parents packed the house up into a U-Haul and we left Joseph City, AZ and moved to Brigham City, UT. My mother’s sister lived near Ogden and I started hanging around with my cousin. She treated me very well and introduced me to her friends. She was quite popular, so I enjoyed being with her and seeing a new side of life from the perspective of not being a pariah. We spent some wonderful time together and at this writing, I have appreciated her friendship. I barely finished high school. I just gave up. It was not fun to learn anything. I was poor but I no longer struggled for food. I got jobs easily and made enough money to buy used cars and clothing.
It was 1978 and I was living with my aunt. I heard the “Revelation on the Priesthood.” I had heard that it could happen in my lifetime, so I was thrilled! It was just as disappointing. My father took me aside and told me not to marry a black man. I was shocked! He told me a few stories of marriages that had gone bad. I countered all his arguments, the biggest being that I did not even know any black people. Seriously. I asked why he was so concerned, now that black people have the same priesthood as he had. He finally said, “Because you are better than that!” I put that on a shelf.
I moved to Provo around the influence of BYU where I met other students. It was here that I decided to go on a mission. I had read The Book of Mormon many times and had already developed a deep love for the stories. Even during my rebellious years, I had read the BoM and found great peace. I had never doubted that book. I was called to the Colombia, Cali mission. I picked up the Spanish so quickly, it amazed me. I thought I was being blessed for being so obedient. I loved the people and my mission. I was able to travel around giving shots and meeting lots of people.
Gene Cook was the Regional Rep visiting Cali. While speaking, he referred to the curse of the Lamanites as something that showed that the Lord was not yet pleased with them because they were still awaiting the cursed skin to lift. I hated that. Those humble local missionaries were just as good as the white skinned missionaries. They were a lot nicer. I noticed that many of the North American missionaries took advantage of the local markets by bartering their purchases. I began to see how wealthy people (and people who do not know they are wealthy) treated the poor. It was the same in the USA. I also noticed that in every society, there is a “pecking order.” I had already found my place and was trying to put my past behind me. I knew what it was like to be the dirt around the bottom of the totem pole. The missionaries were the problem, but I put it on a shelf.
I was traveling with my senior companion outside the zone area and the buses were being stopped and searched. We could see some buses on fire. My companion crammed me under the seat and some other passengers blocked me from being seen with their feet and legs. The military group let us go but I thought for my own safety, I thought it wise to call the mission president and let him know we were outside of our zone. (It was to visit an elder that she had a crush on, and she put us both in danger.) Well, my mission president’s wife got on the phone and listened to me talk about nearly getting killed and she said to me, “Were you being obedient? If you were being obedient, even if your companion was doing something against the rules, you will still be blessed and protected.”
What? I was so shocked that I hung up on her. I got a call back in just a few seconds and I was in huge trouble (even though I had never disobeyed a rule). I put that one on a shelf with the rest of the guilt.
I returned from Colombia, feeling happy. I had known a guy from BYU who was serving in a neighboring mission. We had been friends and I was simply happy to be noticed. We married in the SL Temple, very much against the wishes of his mother.
I got married in 1983 and exactly a year later, my mom suddenly died of heart disease. I could barely live with the guilt knowing all the pain that she said I caused her. I was married to a man who was extremely controlling. In the nearly 30 years that we were married, he never finished a project. He once said to me, “You wouldn’t be happy no matter what I finish.” I told him, “You have never finished anything.” He never said that again. He repeatedly told me, “I am not abusive because I have never hit you.” He told me repeatedly that no one liked me. He gaslighted me and I started documenting certain events.
It was in January 1994 that our toilet broke. We only had one bathroom so now we had none. I had two small children and one on the way. My husband took the broken toilet and bolted it to the floor in our unfinished basement. It had no tank so I would carry a large bucket from one side of the basement to the other every time one of my children or myself had to use the toilet. I was exhausted. This went on for months. I tried to hire someone to come fix the bathroom so we could have a toilet. He would not let me. A friend in the ward gave me some money to finish the bathroom. It sat in the bank for 6 months. I begged him to build an outhouse.
I took my two small children and went to stay with my father and his wife. When I told my father why I had left my husband, my dad asked, “Well, do you give him enough sex?” I returned home, even more broken but too poor to move on. I had no education that my husband had promised to reciprocate upon his graduation. It never happened. I could have had a free education because his father was the dean of a university but that was not an option in his mind. It took until July of the same year before we finally had a finished bathroom with a toilet.
I poured myself into The Book of Mormon. I was going to the temple 3-5 times a week. The only peace was reading and imagining myself in the BoM stories. I took a class taught by Jeffery O’Driscoll who lived in my stake. The class was called Hyrum Smith: A Life of Integrity. I wanted to know everything about Joseph Smith that I could find. I could barely stay awake. I had to pay for the class because it was offered as a BYU credit. That was when I learned that there were multiple versions of the first vision.
I started noticing things that others could not see. The BoM clearly stated that Christ had fulfilled the Law so why were we still practicing it? I made people angry in Sunday School. I would use the scriptures to answer the questions and people would look at me and say, “Where did you read that?” I was in Sunday School with my husband and we were studying the BoM. I wanted to know where the “other scriptures” were that The BoM talked about. My bishop turned around from the front row. He looked at me and wagged his finger, saying, “Kristine, The Book of Mormon contains the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. That’s all we need to know. There is no more.”
After the lesson, I approached the teacher and asked her why she threw me under the bus. Her reply, “He’s the bishop. He would know.” When walking home that day, my husband stopped and asked me why I was trying to embarrass him. He had told me hundreds of times in my life that I was an embarrassment. This was different. I was so upset that I would have to be forced to live with this man, who openly despised me, throughout eternity. I decided to end my life. It was more appealing to me going to hell than the thought of living with a husband and children that hated me. I was unable to follow through with any attempt to die because someone intervened.
I was reminded of my patriarchal blessing (that I hated) and I read it once more. It said, “Truth and light would come into your mind as fast as you prepare to receive it.” That was the ONLY thing that I was thinking when I got down on my knees and screamed at God, “I HAVE BEEN DECEIVED. I HAVE DONE EVERYTHING THAT I AM SUPPOSED TO DO. WHY AM I NOT HAPPY? I DON’T WANT TO LIVE WITHOUT KNOWING THE TRUTH!”
When I stood up, every scripture seemed to come into my mind that I needed. That one experience led me to know that I did not need anyone else giving me answers. I finally had my own.
I saw everything differently. I noticed that in 1 Nephi 17:41 talks about the brazen serpent and the easiness of being healed IF the people would only look. I had been attending camps in southern Idaho where we studied The Book of Mormon. I knew that most Mormons did not read it. If the BoM contained the fullness of the gospel, it would seem logical that this was the brazen serpent. I emailed my friend who was the director of the camp and he could not come to the same conclusion. I was now studying on my own.
I became patient. I was clearly not in love, but I was willing to love my husband and stick with the marriage, but I also let him know that he would never be able to control me again. He could not file for divorce fast enough at that point. I was such an advocate for free-will by then that I told him, “Give me what you think I should have.” He gave me a drill set so I could continue to work but he left me to sleep on the street. A 30-year marriage and he never offered one cent of alimony. I lived in my car but was incredibly happy.
I found the Mentinah Archives, old newspaper articles, The Sealed Portion, another Sealed Portion, D&C Chapter 10, King Follett Sermon, the Quran, Ogden Kraut, A Course in Miracles, anything I could read. In one year, I had enough information to graduate from the LDS Church. I took off my once precious garments and put them in the trash.
After lobbying at the state capitol for the 2012 legislative session, I learned all I wanted to know about the real Mormon God. The two most powerful lobbyists were hired by the LDS Church (no conflict there). I had not found yet what I wanted but I knew what I did not want – religion. By 2013, I went from partying to Deeksha, weed, sex, alcohol, homelessness, multiple jobs, anarchy, and gobs of friends. I loved it all but kept studying.
I lost friends as fast as I made them, but I did not care. I was no longer ashamed of my past and had come to understand that my experience mattered only to me. I had concluded that I was my own god. Watching a video about a little boy who shared thoughts from a previous life made me decide to ask myself if reincarnation was real. As soon as I pondered this thought, I realized that I was answering my own questions. I knew that I had been here many times before. Then came the thought, “If people knew that they had been here many times before, religion could have no hold on people.” I laughed and sobbed at the same time.
Then I was given a book by a friend of mine called 666 The Mark of America—Seat of the Beast. It was the most logical thing I had ever read. I immediately sent it to Jean Baginski and another friend. My other friend never even looked at it. He claimed to be looking for Truth, so that annoyed me. He sent me a video of Harry Dshaak shaking in front of a bunch of people. I watched it for five minutes and thought, “What the hell does this have to do with the book?” I put that thought on a shelf. The same thing had happened when I presented the Quran to a friend and he refused to look at it because he knew it was “evil.”
I had been looking for answers to why Joseph Smith started a church. D&C 10:67-69 was clear about what Christ’s church was. A facebook friend asked me if I knew who Christopher was. I knew because his name was on the 666 book. He told me about Without Disclosing My True Identity—The Authorized and Official Biography of the Mormon Prophet, Joseph Smith, Jr. I called Monica Smith immediately and ordered it and some other books.
In December 2013, I went to a symposium at the Salt Lake Library. I had heard of Christopher but felt I had little use for him. I was a supporter of free will. He had made a statement about women not wearing makeup. I was going to set him straight and remind him that if he really supported free will, he would not be making such a stupid statement. I think I called him an asshole. I was annoyed that he claimed to support free will. His explanation about Advanced Beings changed my mind about him.
I was going to Costa Rica to live and work so I knew I would read my new books. I finished reading Without Disclosing My True Identity and then started The Sealed Portion. I read to chapter 14 and put it down. I did not like The Sealed Portion and decided to not finish it because I had come to see that Christ had already fulfilled “The Law” and I did not want to go back to more rules. I did read it much later and wept that I had been so arrogant. I read Human Reality and Sacred Not Secret. I stopped buying books. I lost interest in anything but what was offered through A Marvelous Work and a Wonder®.
I do not know what the future holds. What I do know is this: I shape my future by my choices. I chose between the things that I learned from the time I was a child, and equality.
I do not do this ignorantly. I support your right to choose how to live your life. My support of your needs is to allow you to become and do exactly what you want in life, without any interference.
I appreciate every one of my LDS family and friends who I have known. I appreciate everyone who has shared my path even for a moment. I know you have taught me what you thought was right. I no longer want the strained relationships, nor do I need them. I want peace in my life that comes from knowing who I am, and who you are.
I realize that my parents and teachers tried to teach me the truth. They did the best they could. I have read the Book of Mormon hundreds of times in my life. Each time, I realized that those who were destroyed throughout the book were the ones who thought they were better than those who had "the curse of dark skin." I know what the Book of Mormon scripture teaches about the "curse" of the Lamanites. It makes me sad to think that I ever thought of myself as better than others who may not look like or agree with me. I was a bigot and I justified it through the teachings of the LDS Church, my parents, relatives, and friends.
Some of you have told me that I have been deceived. I have not. I have read the books offered by the Marvelous Work and a Wonder® and the books by The Real Illuminati®. You have not. I have accepted what makes me happy. A friend once told me something like this: “There is no power in heaven or hell that can prevent a person from finding the Truth when they are ready.”
I no longer am ashamed of anything from my past. I am who I am. If I am an embarrassment, that is not my responsibility. I have great hope for each of you in finding your Truth. Everything that I ever wanted to know about life, everything about any god, or about human reality, I have learned from being associated with the Marvelous Work and a Wonder®. Every solution to every human problem upon this Earth, I have found in The Humanity Party®. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light. I found my own pearl of great price. And I am happy.