Pat Ferguson



I've been asked to share my life story. I’ve written many times of what finding this remarkable work has done for me, but using various forms of technology I don’t have everything I’ve written.


Before I go any further in the telling of my story, I'd like to make a disclaimer of sorts, I guess. I am going back into my memories and I see how the pieces of my life created my feelings, attitudes and even prejudges. In so doing, I don't blame anyone for how I've become who I am, they were each playing their roles in their lives, I'm sure the only way they could at the time. For me going back into my memory banks and pulling out fragments and looking at them with my current knowledge may seem unfair to the people playing with me in this mortality. I'm not doing that to be unfair. Please reader, understand that. I'm telling my story in hopes of becoming transparent as a human being with faults, failings, shortcomings and just the experiences of life. My perceptions are mine and and I hold no ill feelings toward those who have played in this life with me. I wish I could say I love everyone, I’m not sure what that means exactly. I have come to a state of peace through this work that allows me to at least be at peace with events in our world as each human lives out their individual dreams.


I was the oldest of five children, born on July 24, 1945 to Orson Woodrow Parsons and Arla Potter Parsons. I was born in Salina, UT. My dad was in the service at that time and not present at my birth. Sometime my parents freshly free from the military life, decided to make Richfield, UT their home. Dad had been stationed in Phoenix and because his baked goods were welcomed to the officers there, he was never transferred out to actually be in any battles. He and mom worked in a pie shop there, learning about pie making and saving every penny toward their future bakery. A couple of funny things: there were big mixing bowls and as a young baby I was put in one of those so that mother could work in the bakery. It was a sort of infant seat!


I remember the bakery as being a wonderland. I loved the busyness of it all. Always people and noise. We lived above the bakery in a small apartment and later as I got older I slept in a bedroom through a hallway and towards the back of the bakery. I was a sleepwalker, but not a lot. One time I awakened my parents by trying to get into the front door of the bakery and crying for my dad. I don’t remember a lot. I remember an old fashioned bread board that we could pull out and we loved eating there. It was a precursor I suppose to breakfast bars now in many homes.


At the age of ten during the summer I was allowed to slice the bread in a big slicer and then put the sliced bread into a wrapping machine that wrapped the bread in waxed paper. It was always getting stuck and as a child the only bread we ate was from those mashed loaves! I got 50 cents and hour for doing that. I loved sneaking the end crusts that fell off the bread and to this day I love crisp bread and getting off eating bread has always presented me with challenges. I guess I’m just a bread basket!!! 🙂 During summers we could wander in and out if mom was busy and didn’t notice. We could grab a donut and a fudgesicle that was in a freezer.


There was a school yard right across out street. Fast to school, but in the off hours it provided lots of hours of fun on monkey bars and merry-go-rounds and swings! We learned to skate and we skated all over the partial neighborhood we were in. (We were partially in a business district too.)


One of the fun memories I have is of getting out of our bedroom window that was on the second floor of the house. My sister and I could climb out the window and be on the roof. On day we made noises to the people below going into the bakery. They’d stop and look around and we’d step back and quietly giggle. That was so much fun!


One more thing I did as a kid was swim every minute I could possibly get away. Mom always thought 30 minutes was plenty, but I loved the water and I loved to swim. It was one activity I always loved and I shared much of this with my sister, too. We were so free and carefree in that community in the 50's We rode our bikes everywhere, even to our piano lessons which were clear across town.


I think I was in 2nd grade. We lived in a small community, Richfield, UT in central Utah. We got an Indian Placement Student. My dad was bishop (of an LDS ward) and I think the church wanted Native Americans to lose their heritage and become more "white." I remember very few things about Sally. But when I saw the movie The Help, things began to piece themselves together and strands from my past started connecting. I remember that she was like the "help" in our home. She wasn't a sister to me. She had the room in the basement that I would later occupy. It was a large nice room with lots of built in closets and a private bathroom. There was a connecting door that led to the bakery so that during the cold winter months my dad especially could go over to the bakery without going out into the cold. It was a unique passage and it was fun for us as kids to use that secret passage to sneak into the bakery at times and get treats. Later in my teens I'd take my girlfriends into the bakery and we'd raid the leftover brownies and cookies. It was great fun, but I digress.


So Sally had her own room, and didn't really find a cohesive place in our lives. At the time Sally lived with us that room separated her from the rest of the family.

Her job was to help mother with the load she had as the young mother of three, the wife of a bishop and a full time bookkeeper for the bakery. My mother worked hard and expected that from everyone else too. So Sally, I think was at a disadvantage. One of her chores was setting the table and helping with the cooking, I think. I don't remember a lot I just remember bits and pieces. I think she must have gone to school.

I remember when she left, she left in almost disgrace. She saw the bounty we had and wanted to take some back with her to the reservation so she took some things that looked good to her. My folks searched her room until they found what they were looking for, a watch that my dad had won in a baking contest for bakers. They of course found other things that she wanted to take back home with her.


As a child I was beginning to see threads of what I now know to be racism in my home. Sometimes subtle, sometimes not so much. I grew up feeling I was better than most because of my birth. As I have read from The Real Illuminati, I have since learned that Joseph Smith was trying to teach that the Native Americans are equal to everyone else. Somehow in my childhood I missed this important teaching.


I look back now and wonder how lonely she was in our home there.


During this year my brother Steven was born. Before his birth I’d often go into the dirty clothes and pull out a smock mom would have worn. With that and her glasses I would “play I was teaching school.” I was always the teacher and played just like my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Crowley. That entertained me for hours I’m sure. Steven was a great addition to our family. Pam and I welcomed having a brother.


In fourth grade as I entered school I think there were about ten Navajos from Arizona who had come to our school through a program that tore them away from the comfort of their homes and families to come into a dormitory. They were there to relearn or unlearn their heritage as the Church began this program throughout Utah


I remember sitting close to one of the boys. His last name was Rock and me being a Parsons of course many times we were seated close together in alphabetical seating. I remember wondering about them. I don't remember ever being directly taught anything about them, it was learning by subtle influence and prejudices that I picked up more attitude of being more special than they because of the material possessions we had. But I also knew that my grandmother Parsons had fed the Paiutes in Koosharem when they would come to her door. She was trying to make friends with them. Often there were other Paiutes that would come to our front door asking for assistance. Dad always gave to them either money or surplus from the bakery. Sometimes it scared me because they seemed large to a tiny eight year old. but we never were given explanations. Assumption was a way of learning for me as a child. That we were in a rather hierarchy of rank rather than learning of our equality to them, seemed to be planted into my assumptions.


Later in my life, Ron and I took an Indian Placement student into our home because our oldest son, Sam wanted us to do that because if he didn't get a home, he'd have to go back to the reservation. It was a disastrous year that I wish I could live over. He had attitudes about us and expectations of what we'd be providing for him, but we didn't have a lot of surplus then. Some months we barely made it and some months we fell into the hole. I didn't know how to talk to him as a person would just talk to a brother, a friend. I just assumed he'd meld into our family. He did things like rearranging my cupboards and when I'd go to cook I couldn't find things. It was sort of passive aggressive, but I never could just confront the situation, I just swallowed the anger as I'd learned all my life and just tried to please until my anger would boil over and then I'd go in the car for a ride to cool off. So that year piled more onto my misunderstandings of other humans, those with darker skin than me.


I look back now and wonder how as a whole we were sold the idea that we needed to change the Native Americans, but it was a prevalent idea back in the day.

So that is a big part of my story, my racism and the factors lending to it.


Continuing on.


I remember a certain day, I think I was about 11 and my mom pulled me into a private conversation. That in itself was unusual because we never had those. She told me my dad had been married before and that I had two half sisters. That jolted me quite a bit. I had a babysitting job that night and all I could think of was that my little perfect world had been shattered. I’d seen mom quietly crying a bit off and on but I never put anything together. Still even then I didn’t, but I knew that what people saw was the most important things to my parents. Appearance was everything, so this secret had to be kept. I couldn’t do it. I told someone. But, life went on and the sharpness of that newfound knowledge lessened.


I grew into a very rebellious teen. To my parents the church was everything. It was the church this and the church that and I’d often question them as to who this church was. Who exactly said this and where did it come from. I never got answers. I had a large group of friends. Often we’d get together on Sundays and just walk around town picking each other up and then going either home or some went to various wards. I always had to return to my own ward for Sacrament Meeting. In those days Sunday School was in the mornings, and Sacrament meeting in the afternoon. About the time I was fourteen I was called by a counselor in the bishopric, the one I adored, and he asked me to lead the singing in the Junior Sunday School. I was elated. I loved kids. I wanted to be a teacher and I loved singing. I gave that job everything I had. It kept me going to church but I never went to classes and had discussions about anything related to church. I got to sing and visit with my friend who played the piano. We got to sing Jumbo Elephant and Wise and Foolish Man and all kinds of fun songs. I could get the kids to sing and they adored me and all was great in my world.


But on the home front my life was continually subdued and directed from “the church.” I took seminary but didn’t learn much, finally ending up in the office doing roll books or whatever else the teacher wanted.


In ninth grade my dream of being a cheerleader was fulfilled. I’d wanted that from the time I first saw cheerleaders. I couldn’t be one in tenth grade, but the last two years of high school I was again a cheerleader. I was the only one from my class of about 120 that was a cheerleader. I wanted to do my best for them. I LOVED it!


I challenged a lot but conformed a lot too because of my job at Sunday School, and because many of the rules of student involvement were similar to rules of the church. I didn’t want to lose either. In the little ward we lived there were two immigrants I remember well. One from Germany lived next door to the bakery and we were afraid of his strictness and one from Norway. I loved the way he talked. I remember him on Fast Days often talking about a Sealed Portion. Because of him I wanted to read that book. And I continued watching everyone who led music. I learned from them.


During the summer before graduation, I met a young man who was staying with his aunt who was back door neighbors to us. He became my first love. We only went together that summer and then he had to go back to California where he lived. We agreed we’d write and we’d call each other once a month. (very expensive in those days) and we did. I couldn’t wait for his letters. We both agreed we’d date others but our plan was to go to BYU together and eventually get married. Then in May, I got my “dear Jane” “Sorry” was all it said. I decided to still go to BYU and just show him I didn’t care. But he became the big man on campus and eventually ended up as the star quarterback and his girlfriend and later his wife was the one I tried out for songleafet next to. She got it and I didn’t. He seemed to get everything and everything I tried out for I couldn’t get in. Dance team (final cut), Modern Dance team, not for me. Finally I tried out for a singing group and got into the Women's Chorus which later led to the Oratorio Choir which I loved. But essentially my personality had started to change. I lost my confidence and my spirit. I didn’t want to be a spotlight of anything. I continued at BYU hoping to become a teacher. My freshman year I had to take Book of Mormon. I had never read it! It was not studied in my home and I don’t remember it ever being quoted. My lessons were always from “the Church”. I remember being totally enthralled by those stories. I’m sure I skipped some parts, but the stories had me hooked. I don’t know how long I sat at the borrowed graduate’s desk at the library, but I didn’t leave until closing time. During class I remember asking questions and one was, “Does every world have a Christ?” and it was never answered.


The summer of 1965 changed everything. The city sent me to an aquatic school so I could qualify to teach swimming. (another dream from watching my teachers) My first day at the pool I met the guy who was running the pool and hated him and he me. But my sis liked him, so I tried to at least make the best of it. Besides he ran the candy counter. I kept eating chick-o-sticks and getting a great tan while at the pool. My white two piece swimming suit eventually got him and we started dating. It was Ron! I found him different from many I’d dated. One summer I’d met a returned missionary and dated him and eventually got engaged, but long story short he and his uppity family in Buffalo, New York just wasn’t for me. I didn’t like the way they treated people like me (waitresses, workers in their home, and me too included.) Ron was different, once I broke through that protective exterior he has I found someone I could talk and talk and talk with. We talked about everything. The only problem was that he was a teacher and I definitely didn’t have teacher on my list of who to marry. They didn’t make enough money. But I fell for him. Not the he’s the rock star of my world kind of love, but a very stable friendship sort of love that I would love spending my life with kind.


We got engaged and I went back to school at BYU getting home as much as I could. We didn’t really want to have a big deal wedding and we thought we’d just run away. But as my detective mom always did, she found out and that was stopped. So SHE planned a December wedding. We went to the temple on a Saturday, (I hated it) and we got married on a Friday and on Monday we were both back in school. Me at BYU and him at the local junior high. The following Saturday was the day of our big reception. I think just about everyone in town came. We didn’t get to eat a single goodie at the display. We planned to celebrate more during Christmas vacation as we went to New Mexico for a small reception that his mom had planned with their friends.


I had to go back to school to finish the semester and finally in January we got to live in a small apartment above the bakery. Talk about no privacy!!! There was a heat vent shared with the bakery below and we could hear everything. Every evening mom would come to check out the money. We could hear her downstairs. Sometimes she’d call and just say,”What are you doing?” Lol


We left the following summer to Albuquerque to really start a life for just the two of us. Best decision ever. While in Albuquerque we didn’t have to keep going to the temple like we did in Richfield , and we just adjusted to married life, and bills and all that adult stuff. But I missed Utah…


My Naivete


The dictionary defines naivete as the lack of experience, wisdom or judgment. Yep, I had all three! While in Albuquerque, I was very bored, so I started looking for a job. I got one at a small furniture store. The manager took a liking to me and since we worked on a commission draw and I’d had two weeks of a draw and no commissions, he set out to help me make a sale. Oh boy! He wanted more than padding my paycheck. The first time he tried to kiss me, I came unglued. I stupidly thought that a wedding ring meant that I was out of play by any men!!!! Not knowing what to do, I went to the Relief Society President. I don’t even know what she told me, but before I knew it this 51 year old man had had a heart attack and passed away. Boy, my theories and religion and judgment went into overdrive. I thought he was punished for making advances.


I did tell Ron, I bottled it up, and tried moving on. When I left for work every morning, there was a man watching me every move! It scared me! When we found a ladder outside our high bathroom frosted glass window, we moved into another apartment in a little better area of town.


I got pregnant, and found a job baby tending a little boy from the ward. Ron got a job in Moab UT by having a phone interview and we moved there in the summer. Our firstborn, Sam, was born in September. I was so happy to be a mom. I don’t remember having any fear about becoming a mother, I just sort of followed some sort of schedule with him and read books about how to be a mom. We were 3 hours from my parents and 8 hours from his and we found our little niche in Moab. I loved it there.


There was a duplex next door to our apartments. We were able to purchase it for a very small down payment. The man wanted to sell it so badly that he gave us $400 and we bought paint and painted the outside. Our home ownership started. We signed a loan for nearly $13,000. Payments were $105 a month and we could rent the other side fir $90. Our first renters was a couple with a child the same age as Sam. It was fun to have good neighbors.


Before too long though, I needed to start to work. I tried being a teacher’s aide, but the pay was terrible and when a new restaurant opened up, I got a job there and made as much in tips as my aide’s salary was. The babysitter was great and we were making ends meet.


Another boss and more passes. Flattery, misunderstanding and more guilt at being noticed and liking it and all those other mixed up feelings. I was totally transparent with Ron. I considered divorce because I thought Ron would be a better parent than I, But in the 60’s in Utah, I had no grounds for divorce and I knew it. I felt guilt for even looking at this man let alone have some sort of feelings for him and his free willed carefree attitude. So I bottled that up and just kept on working.


I found another job working at the bank and got pregnant with our second son. I stayed at home for awhile just being a mom and loving it but soon I needed a job again. I found work at a nice dinner restaurant at the edge of town. Ron tended the boys and I worked nights. I worked there until I began showing with our third child, our daughter.


I then went back back to the other boss and found work in the office and did laundry. Although I only worked two days a week, they were often ten hour days and it would take me two days just to rest from the hard work on my feet. Ron for reasons of his own and to get me out of that situation, got a job near my hometown. We moved again.


I became super religious and taught singing in Primary and got noticed by the new Stake Primary President and ended up as her first counselor. Then an opportunity opened up for me to finish college in an outreach program in Richfield. Ron had to practically drag me to registration cause I was working for my parents and really had my hands full with by then four children. But I started college again. I quit my church job and got a relief society teaching job once a month. Ron got on the high council. Once at a high council party I about got in lots of trouble. I spoke of sympathy for how the government was treating the polygamists in Southern Utah. The stake president told me I could get my recommend taken away for that. I knew I needed to curb my opinions, shut my mouth and try to honor Ron in the respect the Stake President had for him.


I got my degree in 1980 and started teaching school at Monroe Elementary, third grade. The following year he got his masters degree and soon he was to be stepping into a job as acting principal when the current one had cancer. Death again came into our lives and influenced the direction of our lives.


Skipping to 1987 we again moved when a job in Cedar City opened up for Ron. It was a principal’s job at a much bigger high school and he was hired as the first non native Cedar City boy. It was a hard move for me. In every way I was challenged as a teacher. I took the job offered late in August to teach 6th grade, It was a tough challenge. But I stayed there promising myself to stay three years, (one to get to know the program, one to polish it and one to find out whether I really liked it). I stayed until a new school was built and I decided I didn’t want to teach in a windowless classroom.


So I went to a new school and 4th grade. I was a strong teacher and got the hard kids, cause as the principal told me “I could handle them”. It broke me and after three years, I finally just called it quits after many asthma attacks and hospital stays and a strong feeling of almost defeat I guess you could call it. Ron asked me what we were going to do, I just shrugged my shoulders and had no idea what would replace $30,000. But I said dumbly, something will come along.


OMG I left a huge hole in the foundation of what happened in my life that allowed me to look at the work. It occurred during the 80’s and early 90’s. I’ll insert it here as the thoughts in my head won’t let me get rest until I get them out on paper. I think it was mid 80’s when some slight depression I’d had became more pronounced. I went to a psychiatrist and I remember telling him I have no idea why I’m here, I should be totally happy. He gave me a prescription that put me to sleep and I dumped the remainder in the toilet and never returned. My brother called one day and said, “I think I’ve found a man that might help you.” I saved for awhile to scrape up enough money to visit him.


He did indeed help. Don’t laugh—he made me believe negative entities were causing my problems. But back to the New Testament and I thought it was scripturally sound so I fell into it. But a lot of the basis of what he did was based on how much sexual things caused us stress, overweight etc. Long story short I realized or at least believed I’d gained weight to create a bubble of protection around myself so that I could coexist in a world with men. At least it was a convenient belief for me. So I dug into my past and eventually became certified so that I could possibly help others. (Embarrassing now, but part of my past).


I became friends with two men within a group of trainees. One was gay and we explored all possible ways of trying to rid him of his gayness. He has since thrown out all of those beliefs and we’ve laughed many times over it. He eventually "came out" and his stresses lef. HaHa He met us in San Diego to meet Christopher, but that didn’t seem to be what he was looking for. The other man, a very fine embodiment of the male physique for some reason friended me and allowed me to look into his past with him. Ron called these two and me, “Wendy and her lost boys.” Both would call many Sunday afternoons. Both have since left the church and I only have contact with the first one. But I lost my fear of men looking to me for sexual gratification.


I met a great friend in Cedar City and we studied the BoM a lot and discussed many things and I “helped” her look into her past (choke, choke) too. But through her I met another man that became good friends to Ron and I and he visited our home many times. Eventually he found someone and the two of them visited Moab also. I’ll return to him later in my story as he is how I found TSP.


I took a chance one year to teach part time. I loved that. It made teaching for me what I’d hope teaching would be. I had afternoons free and I decided to graduate from LDS Institute. Because I was an adult, that had many questions, I parked myself in the office of two of the teachers and peppered them with questions on many occasions, only to find they knew nothing more than me. They just studied the Ensign more in search of answers. During this time, my brother died of asthma and a weakened heart brought about by an error of a doctor in the ER. To get to the answers I needed, I found myself in the office I’d created in our home, at 3:00 am, the time of his passing and reading and studying the BoM for answers. I studied, pondered and prayed only to feel my answers weren’t being heard. I wondered if there was a god answering prayers. On many instances I even felt I hated god. I went to the temple more often for answers and was shooed out of the celestial room many times, because they didn’t like a crying, pondering woman there disrupting their schedules, I guess.


A few years later in the 90’s we left Cedar City and Ron was able to return to Moab as a superintendent there. Because of a small quirk in the law that has now been fixed he was able to retire and start collecting his retirement from one district and gain employment in another. So my salary was basically replaced. Deep down I had hoped we’d return, because I had to finish up the loose strings with that former boss. under my own strength and not under Ron’s protection. I got a call from the man who 30 years before had been a great temptation to me. I almost committed adultery with him but the memory of the endowment stopped me, but for those years I carried guilt for even creating thoughts of it in my head. I could tell him, finally, I wasn’t interested. That chapter of my life was closed. He wasn’t even a temptation any more, I had done my work and repaired the damage he’d done in my life.


There was one more thing I needed to do in Moab, and that was return to teaching, which I did a few years later under a principal and school setting I'd desired all my career.


As I said before, I had asthma. I found myself not in the traditional side of things, but more on the alternative to that, while looking for ways to regain my health. I traveled all over and met many people, many of whom had left the church. I had made a promise earlier that I wouldn’t leave the church for my stress management practices, but I was intrigued by these highly sensitive people who had left. They piqued my interest as I was beginning to see many cracks in the religion of my birth.


About 2003 I started to doubt that Gordon B. Hinckley was a prophet. Boy that was a hard one. This seemed to rattle around in my head. I think at the time Ron was bishop and I kept teasing, "can't we just move away and quietly go inactive?"


So back to Hinckley, it wasn’t comfortable. In one of the conferences I heard him say, “I’m going to tell you how I receive inspiration. It’s the same as you do.” I was taken aback. I thought there would be something like spiritual visitations and visitors from the other side. Wouldn’t that happen to the prophet leading the only true church?? I waited until the Ensign came so that I could read it. The context had been changed. I couldn’t believe it. I read it again and again. I called my friend and asked if he remembered what Pres. Hinckley had said and he did and then I read what the Ensign had said and we both shook our heads. Were we crazy?


Two years earlier, I went in for a temple recommend and the doubt wasn’t enough for me to not be able to answer the question about him truthfully. However, I knew the time would be approaching when I’d have to go back for a temple recommend and my doubt was more than before. I had read several times his interview with Mike Wallace. It didn’t sound like a prophet—it sounded like a politician talking. What was I going to do? I began praying about this. I did muscle testing (don't trust this anymore ) and I used my crystal. The answers that came to me were that he was the president of the church, which by the way has become a huge corporation, but that he was not a prophet of God. Wow, where could I go with this information.


I started just listening to people and the way they expressed things, and I wondered why I seemed so different. I studied more and searched more. I spent hours on the internet. I was quite perplexed. Our ward was shrinking and boundaries needed to be changed, so Ron was released and we were in limbo, not yet fully established in the new ward while he was doing interim stuff in the old ward. I went to the temple with Ron one October and came home and said, “I can’t go back. I can’t stand in a prayer circle praying for a prophet that I know isn’t a prophet.” Ron asked me what I was going to do and at that time I didn’t know. As I remember that was just before I learned about TSP.


It came in 2005 when I found The Sealed Portion. Within two weeks of each other two people sent me some information about a sealed portion. I went to the first site sealedportion.com and couldn’t make heads or tails about it. It seemed like a lot of verbiage with nothing substantial. Then the second person, my friend spoken of earlier, Greg, called and asked about The Sealed Portion and I said that I’d been to that site and couldn’t find anything worthwhile. As our conversation progressed I could see we were talking about two different things and found there was a site www.thesealedportion.com I went to that site, that was it. I recognized the style of writing. First I started with The Book of Lehi, and many of the things I’d been seeing from my association with those training in stress management were spoken of in these pages. I could see the corruption of the church. I ordered a printed copy so that I didn’t have to print it all out. My soul was washed in the truth I had been searching for so many years. I felt it, though I couldn’t believe it. Within a week I ordered one more copy for my husband so he could read it too. Many days I could only read a chapter at time and then I’d ponder and many times cry until my tears soaked my shirt. I loved that book and was thankful for it.


I remembered hearing about the sealed portion as a child. We were told one day soon we’ll be able to have all the rest of the Book of Mormon. I remembered President Benson say that we needed to read the Book of Mormon and follow it’s precepts to remove the condemnation the Church was under. What was it we were supposed to do? How did that apply to me. Pride needed to be eliminated. Well I tried working on that. Then I stared asking in every temple recommend interview, “Why can’t we live the law of consecration now?” No one could satisfy my question with their vague answers. Why is the question given are you living all the covenants in the temple and yet we weren’t living the law of consecration. The gap seemed huge to me. But I dismissed it and thought well if I pay my tithing and fast offerings I’m living the law.


It was early in December of 2005 when we attended a symposium for what was then called the Worldwide United Foundation (WUF) Christopher presented the plan that has now become the Humanity Party. I knew then that this was what I’d been seeking. I knew the Church’s Welfare Program was fallible and directed by men sometimes in meanness and withholding if they didn’t like certain people or if they wanted to make receivers more contrite. As a ward Relief Society President, it angered me many times to watch people suffer in disparity and only have a few groceries delivered. (I was supposed to check their cupboards to make sure the cupboards were bare. I never did. I thought it was demeaning to those who had asked for help.) What Christopher presented that day was a direct contrast to what I’d experienced as I served in a ward with many poor. The WUF was a program that included equality. I saw that Sunday afternoon the full answer to all the shortcomings of the LDS welfare and fast offerings program. I knew Christopher was a true Messenger at that first encounter. I felt such relief.


Every thing I had practiced in my life was being turned upside down, yet I felt at peace. I felt the truth go through every cell of my body. I was excited, I was happy even though I knew that to totally accept these things it would require a great change it my life. Was I ready? I realized how wicked the church had become. I had seen this happening right before my very eyes and kept trying to brush it aside. I know that there were those in the twelve that had used coercion tactics with others, but I also knew I couldn’t base my exit from the church based on someone else’s problems. The Sealed Portion gave me the fortitude to know that one day I would have to leave the church. The church wasn’t true and I knew it. First I asked to be released from my Relief Society calling which was that of teaching from the Ensign. I knew that I couldn’t teach from something I didn’t believe in anymore. At the time, I just told them the reasons I needed to be released were very personal. After a couple of weeks I asked to be released from leading the singing there too, as I just couldn’t go to church anymore. By December I asked to be released from being a visiting teacher. I couldn’t even go with those messages. I couldn’t live a double life. By January, people were starting to notice that we weren’t in church. I’m sure all the reasons they could possibly think of were used us—sick—out of town—etc. We knew eventually we’d have to do something as we couldn’t just not go to church without a reason. The time showed up a little sooner than we anticipated, but we followed what we had come to believe was best in this matter.


We eventually asked to have our names removed. Ron was our Stake President’s boss, he didn’t ask any questions, he just said he wouldn’t fight our decision, he did ask us to just wait for five years and see if we felt the same, but for me, my way to finally be able to leave the church without guilt seemed to be presenting itself. We spent the next few months going back and forth as many times as possible to Salt Lake for different get togethers or symposiums. We tried to be to every one. I had no idea why we were included in some things, but I was glad to be around Christopher and listen to him teach. We learned precept by precept, read the 666 book online as Christopher was writing it, then we got the hard copy plus many more. We tried giving them away. We couldn’t seem to find many people interested. I was shocked though because what I thought people would be clamoring to know, no one seemed interested. We left them in libraries, restrooms, and on book store shelves.


We eventually moved to Northern Utah so that we could be closer to those who had found the work. We were also closer to family. Then the Sacred Not Secret Book was next then came Human Reality, little by little my eyes were being opened.


We had a few get togethers in our home and the one I distinctly remember was one where Christopher wanted to tell a few who he said was close to him, so he could gauge by our reactions if others would be able to get the description he was presenting. It was basically that this life is a dream of our Advanced Self. Strangely, although I had no understanding just how, this new information didn’t seem so strange that it couldn’t actually be possible.


We had another get together at our home in July of that year. For some strange reason, I felt things were shifting and that there would be no more get togethers in our home. With that strong feeling within and a need to get out of the dirty air in Salt Lake, we moved to St George, where we are today. It meant we’d be farther away, but I thought we could travel easily, but I hadn’t figured in my aging process and another huge learning curve for me within the work.


I’ve thought a lot about how to talk about this next part of my life. It could be a very sensitive subject depending on how free one is to realize that we are all mortals sharing in mortal weakness, so with that I’ll begin this next part. Couple differences vary in many couples. Over the years differences become more apparent as the years and experiences roll by. As a rule, my husband had lots more energy and stamina than I. It got more pronounced as we worked in our occupations.


As Ron moved in to supervisory positions the starting of school for him started early in August. His sexual energy went into his occupation. I’m guessing that’s what was happening, cause I’d read it did occur in marriages. The truth is that our sexual energies were different from the beginning. We’d just worked through them. But here we were at even different internal time clocks. I’d retire early and arise early.


At once time during stress management sessions with both of us we learned that I like spontaneity, and Ron just isn’t spontaneous. I appreciated his stability, but sometimes I’d balk at it. I got tired of planning the activities or dinners, etc. I just wanted some spur of the moment fun excitement. So to help—now this will make you smile—Ron printed out a reminder on his bulletin board behind his desk at school. “Plan to be spontaneous!” Haha. Didn’t work. But with kids gone we found ways of planning to have sex.


So, years later, here we are retired, sex drives diminishing and just finding things to fill our lives. I really needed a knee replacement, but didn’t have medicare yet, so I was hobbling around and hating the pain, and often tired because of it. I found quilting was something I could do to fill the time and it put no pressure on my knee. Ron did all the yardwork which was on a quarter of an acre and everything was new. We did all the landscaping and he put in fruit trees and a huge garden. That, plus his workouts kept him busy. Over time, I became very codependent on him. He kept my car running, filled with gas and did a lot of the shopping or I’d accompany him and we’d make it an outing. Because I wanted to go to anything to do with MWAW Ron would take me. I thought he wanted to go, but I saw some reticence, especially at the Meet and Greets. He doesn’t socialize like I do and there were only a few people he felt drawn to although, being who he is, he tried being friendly. Sometimes, he just comes off as not really interested. But the small parties that were at different houses was a different matter. He seemed more interested in those.


As I stated before, about 2014 I could sense somewhat of a change of the dynamics. But, as per normal, I just brushed it aside. Around mid June, 2015 we found ourselves at a private party, but one with some MWAW people and one new person visiting the area. He’d come up from Texas and wanted to meet people in the work. I knew this guy was a player. But, I didn’t want the hostess to be left with not enough people showing up so Ron and I went to support her, mainly. It was a fun party and we drank some, and things got lively and during conversations as we were milling around, he came over to me and whispered in my ear, “I want to have sex with you.” Or something like that. I didn’t quite know what to say at such forwardness, so I just mumbled, “Oh any woman would love to hear that.” As we drove home I thought to myself and wondered why I didn’t just shut him down at the start. Ron saw him come over to me and later asked me what that man had wanted. I just laughed, and said, sex, but it’s not going to be from me. But this man had watched me and had measured some sort of energy about me that he knew he could most likely conquer.


Also during that summer, I was going to a doctor for natural hormone replacement and weight loss. So over the summer, I became thinner and I started feeling younger and my sex drive was returning. That was a deadly combination with this man. He started calling, just very rarely.


We, in the meantime had sold our house and made plans to move. Eventually towards the end of summer we were in St George. I still kept getting calls. One time he came to town and asked if we could maybe meet for coffee or lunch. I was on a strict diet, so I asked him to just come by. Ron had left town, but I’d been totally open with Ron and he knew I’d have this guy over. I didn’t change my clothes for this, I didn’t put on any make up. As I said earlier, I knew he was a player and I didn’t want to give him any cues. But there was something in his energy that made me feel something. Ron asked what he wanted and I laughed and said, sex of course, but he’s not getting any from me. Boy was I ever wrong.


As I got to know him later and we’d talk about his sexual escapades with women I can remember him in my minds eye sitting at my counter while I’m doing the dishes and him putting his arms out as if pulling in a fish on a line. He said, “I’m patient.” That he was. I later learned that he always had at least four or five women on the line at different stages of his model of development for sexual gratification. I was new to all this. Because of the things I’d learned in the work, for some reason I didn’t feel any guilt. I was curious. I wanted something for myself I’d never had with sex and that was fun. I also wanted to allow this man the freedom he needed to be himself and me not judge any of that.


Eventually to make our marriage more open, I encouraged Ron to seek his own fling. So he did, and we decided to try a trial separation to see if that’s what we wanted. He moved to SLC and I had this other man move in with me. My kids were angry at me. They wouldn’t talk to me. Ron and I however continued to talk almost every day as this whole thing unfolded. There I was into a very emotionally addictive sexual relationship with someone who knew I loved the MWAW and who could get next to me emotionally through that. My sexual learning curve came quickly and I was readily accepting of that. I felt like a teenager.


I had someone living under my roof actively pursuing someone else that he was hoping would get into a committed relationship and all the time having sex with me whenever he desires it. I didn’t know how serious he was with her until he brought her here and had her stay one night before they left on a road trip. I was devastated. But, I wanted to allow this man the freedom he needed to be himself and not have me judge any of that. All this had a price. It didn’t take me long to realize I just couldn't do that. The highs from the sexual adventure and total spontaneity came with a heavy price on the other end. I’d start to feel used, and go into deep depression when I wasn’t enough for him.


I asked him to leave. I couldn’t take the other women that he had. Especially the one he thought he was courting. But I couldn’t take the break up and begged to see him again. Eventually he did move to Salt Lake, she came there. She went back to Texas and soon he went there. We didn’t talk or text for some time. Ron came home about once a month and we began talking about him moving back home. He moved back within about 9 months of moving out.


One day I got a message from this other guy that the woman he was with was leaving him and that he was broken hearted. He wanted to move to St George and live in his travel trailer that he’d purchased. So we began seeing each other again and I was doing this thinking it was part of an open marriage, but slowly the walls of that came in closer and Ron wanted to know everything I was doing like we’d always done in our marriage. We eventually decided that we could live together in the house, and maintain our deep friendship and allow more freedom especially for me and we could do it more cheaply than me getting an apartment. I continued following the work and reading every new thing being posted and often Ron didn’t. The other guy wanted to know about MWAW things and because he was losing his sight would often ask me to read to him. So I'd read and we would discuss.


It wasn’t long though until he decided to move north to be closer to his daughter and prepare for a son to come live with him. We remained friends and talked often. There was a connection and I couldn’t seem to just walk away. I wanted the relationship to shift to just a friendship, but it just couldn’t stay that way. He’d move back into talking so freely and sex was part of that and often he was funny, I’d laugh and he’d think that was permission. This went on, of and on for more than a year. Finally the friendship weakened to the point I could walk away from it and not feel the need to check in on him. I was tired. I couldn’t keep up all of it and it was comforting to have Ron back in my life and doing things around the house that just hadn’t been done and I could relax more and just not feel the demands of sex.


When we have been cautioned by our True Messenger about emotional connections with each other and sex, I’m one who can say, that he really knows what he’s talking about, because I experienced the highs, the lows, the addiction and the painful breakups because of just one thing, SEX, and mixing it with those emotional ties we sometimes feel towards each other in the work.


Our children


I’d like to talk a bit about my children. When I was young, all I ever wanted to be was a mom. Actually being a mom was different. I don’t think I was a very good mom. I was busy trying to help make ends meet and even when I went to college I held a job waiting tables. I was busy and missed so much of our children growing up.


I have a lot of holes in my memory about them. I adopted my mom’s attitude about my own kids, much like she had about hers. They were a duty. Keeping them dressed and fed seemed like a huge job that I could never quite do. I was a great cook and cooked wholesome meals totally from scratch. The boys and Ron hunted to provide us with venison. I’d can it and I canned lots of fruit for us to eat. The boys were very generous with our food, so we had to make a rule that when friends came, they could give them home made bread and jam at any time, but anything in the fridge was off limits. That way my meal planning wasn't interrupted by not having the needed parts to my recipes or not enough money until payday to go replace what was used. So we were able to be hospitable and I could survive as a cook. 😀


My oldest three children did not take well to going to church and by the time they were 12-14 they just wouldn’t go to church. It presented lots of stress for me. Reading scriptures was a chore and soon they made it so miserable that we just stopped and they promised they’d read on their own. (Not likely) Our youngest was the most willing to go to church and he was the one that would end up on a mission. Home Evenings were a joke. I’d always fall asleep. I hated them as much as the kids did. I didn’t have good memories about home evening as a child because it was the time our parents told us everything we were doing wrong so that we could improve. I wasn’t much better, at it. I did find though that if I hid candy we could at least get through a prayer and a short lesson and then the fun—the candy. By the time they were teens, we just didn’t fight them. I didn’t have it in me to be the disciplinarian and the teacher and the planner and everything else. It didn’t seem to rotate through the family, although I tried, but remember I fell asleep at every damn home evening!


We tried family outings and sometimes had schedules so that we could. We took short camping trips, but since Ron worked in the Forest Service in the summer that didn’t seem too special. We’d go to Mesa Verde every summer we were in Moab, and took our trips to Albuquerque to see his parents. Trying to find time and money between days off together was always a challenge. But, honestly it seems like I missed a lot of their growing up. My life was filled with work, cooking, cleaning, laundry and church. I look back now and see how much time was usurped by the church. All those Sundays that we could have spent with our kids doing what they would have liked. Ugh!


We moved to Cedar, the oldest two moved back in with us so they could go to college, they had both been in the military and had money from that so that they could go to school. It was tough having them in the house, they were quite rebellious as to any house rules. But, we wanted them to finish school so they stayed, We were soon able to get a house of our own, by assuming someone else's loan, which isn't even practiced anymore, but we got a home that served us well with the comings and goings of those three older ones. And when they left our home became the meeting place for our youngest and many of his friends.


Three of our children graduated from Cedar High. Our daughter really hated school and I begged with her the last three months, “Please, your dad is the principal, please just get to school and graduate.” She made it, but I never saw her grades. Our youngest was dyslexic and really struggled through school. We didn’t really realize until he was in college that he learned differently than most. I asked him to get tested and it proved to be a godsend. He was able to get grants to get through school. At one time we thought he’d fail out, but after he got help, changed his major he ended up on the dean's list. He loved landscape architecture. His struggles proved to me, that education is a game. I learned a lot through him.


The kids all got cheap skiing passes at Cedar City when we moved there and that provided them with some activities that they liked. Our daughter loved working. She actually started working at 14 and she saved. We’d moved into a house that didn’t have a swamp cooler. We figured we could save money by cutting a hole in the wall and inserting a cooler in the living room. But we had no extra money for that and we’d just started into a bankruptcy. I asked her if we could borrow from her savings and get this, she charged us 10% interest. How she ever even knew about interest I don’t know. But we laugh about that to this day. But I got my much needed cooler air and she got her savings back, with interest!


She found her way into college and soon got married and our youngest was soon to be on an Australian Mission. I had a missionary.


The Summer of 2020.


This past summer brought lots of changes within me. Some correspondence with the Messenger early on left no doubt eight of us were enemies to the work. We were told if we could humble ourselves possibly we could be around Christopher and the work. I did answer but I didn’t hear back, so I figured I was counted within that group as an enemy.


For some reason I went to the Humanity Party’s Book of Life. Our names had been removed. I knew where my name had been. I was sick. It was gone. I searched. None of our names were there. I was heartsick. I texted a friend and told her simply, “My life has been for naught.” I didn’t know what to do. I’d been posting in favor of Humanity Party for some time and now my name was gone. What should I do. I decided to continue to post until someone told me I couldn’t. I felt a lot of depression. I was unhappy trying to appear happy.


Just before Covid Ron and I had got a couple of E bikes. Then I got sick and didn’t even ride. It was now June and I was trying once again to get on the bike and ride. Wahoo. I finally did it and I loved having the freedom of that little push I could get going up a hill. We’d been going around in the neighborhood and I was ready to try a trail. Trouble is we live in a neighborhood with no connection to the trails and a very busy street at the outskirts of the neighborhood. We managed to cross that street with no trouble around 9:30 am. Not too busy. We did the trail and came back. Ugh. Uphill. Busy street. I got winded and couldn’t cross. Ron already had. I tried yelling that I couldn’t cross, but he couldn’t hear me. I was winded (asthma) and finally said, “Fuck it.” Put the bike in “e”mode and started walking it across the now busy street. Half way across the bike lurched and I could only think to hang on. I didn’t want it going into the car going by. I hit the pavement right between the yellow lines. Cars were now stopped and Ron came to my rescue. My neighbor was going by and she brought me home. Another person with a truck helped Ron pick up the bikes and he transported them up into our neighborhood. (It is up a hill and down a bit to our house.)


In thinking about this, I came to my belief that there are no accidents. What was my "holding on" trying to tell me. What did I need to let go of. My mind answered with "the work", pride, drama. It depended on the day which answer I got. I remembered something Chris had said about not trusting anything his mind told him. Only listen to those whose words from their mouths reach your ears. (or something similar). That presented a problem as the Messenger wasn't talking to me. I turned to more reading than I'd done in awhile. I found this quote in my notes and I reread it almost daily.


“Do not live trying to do the right thing. Live to be happy. And whatever you do that makes you happy, without impeding the free will of another, IS THE RIGHT THING FOR YOU!

We can justify murder, claiming that it was self-defense, a time of war, a necessary action for the moment. We can justify anything we do to another person as being the right thing to do at the time.

BUT WE WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO JUSTIFY DOING SOMETHING OF OUR OWN FREE WILL AND CHOICE TO OUR SELF that causes us personal unhappiness. We cannot justify doing something that we know will make us unhappy. If we do this, we have "denied the Holy Ghost," and what forgiveness or justification for that can we possible come up with, either in this world or the world to come?


In all things,

EXPECT to be served by the only true God.

Do not serve him, let him serve you. 🙂

When you learn this,

You will find ETERNAL LIFE!


In fact, the only thing one will hear coming out of the mouth of the Advanced humans responsible for our existence is, "How may I serve you?" 🙂

Again,

False religion teaches fear.

The real truth sets us free!

Be free!” CMN


I didn't want to be an enemy. But just giving myself permission to rant gave me a sense of self I’d lost somewhere. So I ranted--out loud. I hurt and I still wondered what the f... but I had to move on each day one foot in front of the other. I still knew it’s all what it says and that he is the messenger. I thought, "I am a god too and if I can’t continue with this group if humans some day I’ll face that. But there’s something inside of me that thinks all is not lost yet. And for whatever reason that I don’t understand now. One day I will. And if my pride and ego has totally overtaken me I guess my true self is still my true self and I’ll go back to where I came."


Then on July 24, my birthday, I got a friend request from Chris. I was ecstatic and so very happy. But I wasn't quite ready to go to the Meet n Greets. Eventually I did and slowly all the negative feelings left and peace replaced all that. I can honestly say now, that peace is with me I'd say nearly all the time. I feel great and a sense of completion. I'm happier than I've ever been. I call that joy. All I've really ever wanted is to support this work. I hope I always can.


I can’t control the future. I can only live in the present. So however crooked my path has been I own it. Ron and I don’t talk about the work any more and that has saddened me, but I allow him space and still love him. He’s always been kind to me. He just doesn’t, right now, resonate with the work. This is my own personal journey. I can’t leave The Work alone. I'm ever grateful to those whose writings have changed my life.


Pat Ferguson

pf84532@yahoo.com

801-928-4091


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