Some of the great promises of the Book of Mormon have something to do with triumph over enemies. Growing up this was very perplexing to me because as far as I knew, I had no enemies. Sure there were squabbles in my teenage years, but it was hard to call my fellow Mia Maid my enemy, even though she stole the heart of Jeremy, the boy of my dreams at The Palace Dance Off. Lately I have been calling the common potato my enemy. It is the piece d'resistance, that shape shifting, evil carb that I adore. But let me be honest with myself, something that grows abundantly wherest my husband was a young lad, could not be my mortal enemy. So this question still stood: How could I reap blessings where there was no one to challenge my sainthood?
Good news, I found the enemy this weekend at the Coug game in Wyoming. Bundled in layers upon layers I went to the Cowboy's stadium made from the very cinders of hell (whoa, did I just come up with that?). Now that I have been there, I can answer that question of old, hell is freezing; not burning hot, as our forefathers once thought.
I wasn't ignorant about this tough crowd, I had been to a Wyoming vs. BYU game before in Las Vegas. I remember a Poke wearing an anti Joseph Smith shirt as I stood in line to be one of the first to try out that lameStratosphere ride and feeling my first stirrings of rage at Anti-Mormonism. But that was nothing compared to the blasphemy that I experienced this weekend in Laramie Wyoming. I was a Nephite, they were the Laminites, hatred flows in their blood. They hissed when I walked by (whereas I am so used to the flirting whistle). They had chants. I even promised my mother that I would not blog about the irreverent crap that I encountered. My mother is pretty liberal when it comes to freedom of speech (how else do you think she won her city council campaign?) It was just that bad. They had sweatshirts people! BYU slamming, Mormon-church-hating sweatshirts. Laramie is one boring place, it must be so.
Just like the Nephites though, we were victorious over our enemies. Possibly those Book of Mormon prophets were talking about Cougar football when they wrote those things. Before I left the Stadium de Satan, I heard this conversation from a CRAZED Wyo fan and a BYU fan:
"You have seven wives!" the CRAZED fan unfairly accused. Methinks: What a slam!
"You don't have a football team!" the Nephite Warrior/BYU fan counter-attacked.
"God hates Mormons!"
After the game, Andrew and I rushed the field where we gave high five/ the knuckles to all the team. They were all pumped up. We were pumped up. All of us Coug fans where hugging, promising to use the buddy system as we walked to our cars. We weren't kidding ourselves, we thought at one point we might have to get the Poke fans drunk and secretly sneek out of town with our women, children and livestock. Much to our relief, the Pokes weren't in need of another drink to be delirious.
Conquering my mortal enemies via a football game. What a rush!
On the way back to the hotel I called in at the Post Game Show. The announcers flirted with me ON AIR. What a welcome conversation, so much better than the hissing.
Enjoying my sainthood even more now!