The Liberal Mormon Chef -- Matthew Cannon Glenn

My name is Matthew Cannon Glenn and I am a liberal Mormon Chef. Please don't hold either the fact I am Mormon or Liberal against me. I will attempt to describe to you, the anonymous reader, how I arrived where I am today.

Born on January 4, 1978 in Mesa, Arizona to parents Paul and Elizabeth. I am the Great-Great-Grandson of George Q. Cannon a well known historical member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and Apostle. My Great Grandfather Sylvester Cannon was also an Apostle of the LDS Church. Having said that, my family has a long history in the Church on both sides.

My family grew up in a small house in Mesa, AZ I was the 4th child of 6. There were 8 of us in a small 3 bedroom 2 bath house. My parents moved to Mesa from Colorado after my Dad got tired of practicing law (He graduated from Berkeley Law in the late 1960s)after only a few years of practice. He took a position with Cardon Homes in Mesa and my family moved to Mesa where I was born.

I was alive for 3 years when my problems in this world began and my faith began to be tried. From what I have been told I was playing in our small living room when I suddenly collapsed and began to start shaking and trembling on the floor. Scared, my Mom immediately called the paramedics, who arrived after it had stopped and conclude that it was something along the lines of low blood sugar similar to a diabetic seizure. Some time later I went to a basketball game to see the Harlem Globetrotters with my Dad and some friends. At the game I had another and collapsed in the stands. I was rushed to the hospital where they finally decided to give me a MRI. It was this machine that saved my life.

The MRI or Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine was very new technology having only been approved for human use in 1977 only 4 years before. They found a benign brain tumor. I was admitted and prepared a short time later. I have very little memory of the whole event with the exception of a reoccurring nightmare of waking up connected to tubes like in the movie The Matrix:

I do however need to return a bit in the story to a spiritual experience my Father and his friend Edward Smith had before I actually went into surgery. Our congregation decided to have a special fast for my full recovery. During the weekend of the fast, my Father and Edward both had separate visions of the same event without the other knowing about. I say visions not in the sense of Joseph Smith, but a dream. My Father later related that he had a vision and saw me as a young adult man about the age of 19, or in LDS terms, missionary age. He was very relieved but also sadden wondering why he wasn't able to see beyond the age of 19. Why not mission and marriage etc? Edward later told my Father about him having the same dream but he saw me at the pulpit after returning from my mission.

Content for the moment that I would survive the operation I was admitted and everything went off without a hitch. After a few days I was released and came home. I had to relearn how to talk a little as I had a slight speech problem and a slight limp. Looking back today I almost feel like I lost the first 4 years of my life and started over. I have always identified with a younger crowd for some reason.
Six months after the operation, I went in for another MRI and they found that the tumor had come back with a vengeance. I had to go back under the knife. This time the doctors were more liberal in removing brain cells surrounding the tumor. I had radiation treatment as well. Because of this I have been bald all my life since the operation. I have a metal plate and screws in my head. Shortly after my recovery my family moved into a larger house in Phoenix and my parents purchased an even larger house that they proceeded to pretty much gut and rebuild on top of Camelback Mountain.

We have now fast forwarded in time and I am now 12ish. My father for some reason still hadn't accepted the fact that in his private dream/vision he couldn't see past me being 19. I guess the fact I was now almost a teenager he began to get nervous something would happen to me. One night while the E. Rockridge Rd house was under construction my Father went up to the house to be a lone and pray. He asked God why he'd only seen me at 19 and why not longer. Completely alone in the house he heard a voice call him by name saying "Paul, Matthew's life depends on you". Obviously startled he left the house quickly.

I wish I had the actual letter to quote him word for word however, they're boxed up with other things in Phoenix. During high school I battled severe a.d.d. problems barely made it through school with a C average. Drugs and medications didn't help and only made me hyper and jittery. I had dating issue and always thought no one liked me. I even thought (probably during puberty) I might be gay as no females had any interest in me. Imagining the thought of kissing a man about made me puke so that thought was quickly thrown out.
In my Senior year I met a girl by the name Julie and we dated seriously for about 9 months until she went on vacation in San Diego and came home confessing she'd cheated and only wanted to be "friends". Devastated I was depress for a long time. I dated another girl who I was madly in love with behind her psycho Dad's back. He was Nazi, not literally, but pretty close.

About this time my Father broke some ribs in Tae Kwon Do and they never healed. Finally, after my Mother bugged my Father for months, he went to the doctor and got an X-ray, what he found out changed my family's life forever. He had skin cancer that had spread into his body. He claimed on a Sunday afternoon in our dinning room that with good treatment he had 5 years or more to live, best case scenario. 5 months later, he was gone, along with any testimony I had for the LDS Church.

The major problem with my testimony about the LDS Church was I didn't have one, so loosing my Father, meant loosing my testimony as well. I went to church because he told me too. I went because I loved being with him. With him gone, I had nothing.

I spent the next 2 years doing many things I regret today. Sex, Drugs, and Rock N' Roll is what musicians do, and pretty much that's what I was involved in. My friends worked to get high and drunk. When you associate with those kinds of people you end up getting mixed up with it. I wasn't happy, I was just trying to kill the pain. About 12 months into my falling away with the LDS church I moved into a house full of return LDS missionaries all attending ASU. One in particular Nate, was an awesome guy who had everything going for him, good grades, strong testimony, beautiful girl friend (later wife), and I was envious. I wanted that too.

I started going back to church, but with no real commitment. I still did things I shouldn't have but habits die hard. It came to a point when I was at party with these friends and I was walking through the house in a smokey stupper. There were people passed out, people puking, random people having sex on the couch, bedrooms, and all manner of crap going on. I looked around and decided I was done. I didn't see any future in this, and it wasn't fun. I quit it all and started to go back to church actively. It took me a year but I cleaned myself up at 21.5, I got a mission call to Fortaleza, Brazil.
More later if you choose to read this. I must stop for the moment. This is a work in progress.

Part 2 the Mission.

Prior to putting my papers in with my Bishop, I had a discussion with him concerning how difficult that going be for me, spiritually but also mentally. I told him (the bishop) that I really felt I needed to go on a foreign mission somewhere VERY far from Phoenix, AZ. "Why?" Was his response. Because this is/was the hardest decision of my life, and if I get sent to somewhere like PROVO, UT then I am going to have a very hard time paying attention and keeping focused. I need to go somewhere very far a way, half way around the globe so if I get weak, and want to go home, the flight home and cost of a ticket will be a major deterrent. I didn't want to go somewhere I could grab a quick flight home or even a greyhound bus. He listen, made some notes and sent me on my way to talk to the Stake President. I repeated my concerns to him and he made notes, and sent me on my way. 3 months later, I received my call to Fortaleza.

I have no idea if my concerns swayed my leaders or even if they wrote any of them down. Probably the Lord was listening, and he inspired the Apostle in charge of missionary callings, to send me where I was sent. Because of my mission, my life was changed forever, again.

I arrived in Provo and was grouped with a very diverse group of young men, 10 of us, all going to different parts of Brazil. 4 of going to Fortaleza, 2 going to Rio de Janeiro, and 4 going to Brasilia. 4 of the 10 were not from Utah and I quickly became friends with the more liberal and more relaxed members of the "district" or group of guys. Particularly with Joseph Hiatt, a young man from Charlotte, who is in part, part of the reason we live in Charlotte.

Learning Portuguese 12 hours a day 6 days a week was the hardest thing I'd ever attempted in my life. Following strict rules was even harder. Being older than the typical 19 year old missionary and closer in age to most of the Sisters, I was a bit more independent and had spent time a way from home and living on my own. I found it very difficult to being told when to wake up, when to eat, what to wear, and when to go to bed. My rebelious attitude caused some issues in our group and almost devided our district as time went on, as there were several ultra conservative, never left Utah, Elders in our group and I didn't get along with such narrow minded people.

Finally we got sent to Sao Paulo, SP Brazil to the Missionary Training Center in Brazil and the real adjustment began. No air conditioning, no hot water, weird food and not being able to leave the 6th story building without an escort, I thought I was going to go crazy. I'm surpised I didn't go hungry. I think I survived by eating rice, bread rolls, and butter. Doing nothing but study Portuguese, Scripture, and Eat for 12 hours a day for a month did however make me fat. I left the MTC 190 LBS which for me, who was 6' tall 160 LBS my senior year at Arcadia High, was super fat.

The shock of being in Brazil was nothing I'd experienced before, the humidity, the language, the weird food (Feijoada- aka "random pig parts chili") I loved looking at everything. I would not really begin to gain a testamony of the LDS church until my first area in Fortaleza, a small city considered the "interior" of the state of Ceara, called: Maranguape.

Now if a movie ever got made of my life, and I loved to write a script with someone if you know in any Hollywood let me know, THIS is the point the movie would begin.

The airplane landed in Fortaleza to a very beautiful, no, GORGEOUS beach side city out one window, and military armed air force planes out the other.

My initial thoughts were "Where the hell am I?" War planes on one side of me and a beautiful beach just down the road? We had a great lunch with President and Sister Arias, and then met our trainers. I was upset, I got a Brazilian. I could barely say my name in Portuguese, much less communicate with this HUGE linebacker sized native, Elder Ribeiro. Lucky for me, 2 other Americans lived with us. The bus ride getting there was incredible, tons of people packed into a bus without air conditioning with 2 huge suit cases. It took 2 hours from the mission home to get there by bus. I then had pull my luggage up hill for a good 10 minutes. We were in Maranguape finally. And it was quintessentially what I thought of when I thought of Brazil. Mountain city, sweaty humid, and lots of trees.

So I arrived up stairs set my bags down and walk up to this huge window overlooking the street and with a view down to the main square. I looked out the window and saw a cute local woman walking up the hill, my first thought, was "well this may not be too bad, at least the natives are cute". As soon as that went through my mind, very loudly she snorted, and hocked a luggie on the ground. For the 2nd time in 1 day I thought "where the hell am I?" We spent the following weeks walking all over the city. And I spent every free moment trying to understand just what people were saying. I was very sad a lot of the time, and discouraged as I had little idea what was being said.

After 3 weeks in the area, a major outbreak of Dengue flu was going about the city being transmitted by misquitos. Major symptoms included:

* fever;
* chills;
* constant headaches;
* bleeding from nose, mouth or gums;
* severe dizziness; and,
* loss of appetite.

All of which except bleeding I was experiencing. My fevor hit 103 and wasn't breaking. I felt like crap and thought of death. My companion left me with a local ward member and went to get the Bishop. This was my first major testimony building exerience. I was so weak I couldn't sit up and so they gave a blessing laying in bed by the laying on of hands, by priesthood authority. With minutes, the fevor broke, and all major symptoms went away. I stood up, sweaty wet, and almost instantly felt better.

A week later Elder Ribeiro was transfered and I got a white nerdy kid, Elder M. Smith from Rexburg, Idaho I think. So where the 2 other Americans in our house, but they were replaced by 2 Utah elders, lucky for me, we got along. Elder Voss from Layton, and Elder Hellstrom from SLC. A month or so after the transfer we were walking around a poorer part of our area, on our way home. It was getting late as the sun was going down. A group of teenagers started to follow us harassing us and asking for spare change or money. We responded we didn't have any and to please leave us alone. They kept following us faster, I was sure they were going to attack us, and I was right.

As about the same time my traveling companion said "elder lets move FAST" I felt what felt like a cooking pan hit me in the back of my head, inches from where I had brain surgery. I turned and saw on the ground a broken roof tile.

I turned to see the teenagers running and a building supply shop behind us. They'd thrown roof tile at me strong enough and sharp enough it could have killed me. I quickly felt warm liquid down my neck and realized I was bleeding pretty bad. Elder Smith grabbed me and we ran most of the way home. We got home about the same time as the other companionship, and to their shock saw me covered in blood down the back of my shirt. They ordered me into the shower clothes and all to rinse the back of my head. Elder Voss quickly realized it was a bad gash and I need medical attention. We ran to the center of town to call our Mission President as we didn't have a phone in our apartment. By the time I got there they had to help support me as I was getting dizzy from the loss of blood. President Arias instructed to find medical help immediately and even if that required traveling to Fortaleza, some 45 minutes away. It was Sunday, and late at night, we were in a small city with very limited resources.
The 2nd major testamony building experience happened next. Faced with limited choices, we figured we should get a taxi, even though it would cost a ton, and get to the main hospital for attention, as the Church had a contract with them to treat our missionaries without any paperwork. Out of nowhere we heard a car honking and turned to see the bishop who had given me a blessing, in his car. He was coming from a meeting and had the feeling to take a different route home. He saw all of us standing around the phone and my shirt bloody wanting to know what was wrong. We quickly explained and he told us all to pile into the car as he raced to the hospital. Be the time I finally got into the examination room I could barely walk from being so dizzy. They cleaned up the back of my head and stitched me up. They gave me a drip line to rehydrate me with some antibiotics for any possible infection and then sent me on my way. Now, I understand this wasn't a life threatening experience, but having the Bishop just appear on the opposite side of town with his car, and then have him able to take us to the hospital and get me admitted quickly was a very uplifting experience.

Several months later I was in Sobral, Ceara, a city 6 hours from Fortaleza by bus, even further interior in the state. My traveling companion was Elder Kim, an American, who was from Hawaii.
After lots of success in the area reactivating a family, baptising some teenagers, and in general having a good experience, I awoke in the middle of the night in a LOT of pain. It felt like my appendix was going to burst. It felt like someone stabbed me in my stomach. I got up and immediately fell to the floor in pain and with just enough energy moaned "Elder WAKE UP". He jumped up and found me holding my side and wincing. He grabbed his blessing oil and gave me a priesthood blessing, blessing me that the pain would pass and I would be healed. Living just the 2 of us a lone, he had to leave me and run outside to use the payphone. He first called our Zone Leader and then a taxi. By the time I got into the taxi and nearly to the hospital, I was feeling no pain. They gave me an ultrasound, like I was a pregnant woman and couldn't find anything. They gave me huge shot in arm full of I don't know what, maybe pain killers. No one could find the problem. The pain was gone and never returned. Subsequent ultra sounds revealed nothing wrong.

In Floriano Piaui, my third area, I meet my soon to be wife. I was in the area about a month when an inactive young woman showed up with a group of friends to the weekly activity. Having never met her before introduced my self and we chatted a bit. What struck me as strange was that all the VERY strong members of the Church were her friends, but she wasn't active. In a fast prayer I asked Heavenly Father, how I could help fallen members of the ward, her included, return to activity. We had a ward list of 400, but only 50 people active. During the fast, I got an answer. "Talk to her mother, she will listen." So my companion and I set out for Lisiane's work place. We talk to her briefly, and asked if she thought her mother would listen to the missionary discussions. She said we could try but "Boa Sorte" good luck. We presented the discussions to her, and during the part about the Book of Mormon, Luiza, finally understood for the first time the importance of the book as scripture, in addition to the Bible. She agreed to read and study it.

I unfortunately was transfered. However, against mission policy, I kept in contact with Lisiane and her mother. Having had such a powerful experience during my fast, we kept in contact. We became very close friends, a much as one can by letter, talking about all aspects of our lives and personality, as well as the progress of her mother's journey into the Church. Close to Christmas in 2000, Luiza, her mother was baptized. During the following 12 months we kept in contact, Lisiane and I talking a lot about life, interests, and how her mother was doing.

In Beira Mar, my 2nd to last area, I felt pure evil. Brazil is full of people who worship Macumba, or black magic/voodoo. I did splits as we called them, or missionary divisions, where 2 companionships switch so that 1 leader can evaluate how a missionary is doing. Being the District leader, I took the junior companion and went to his area. We were walking down a long road when I began to feel a tightness in my chest. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and we began to hear drums. The brazilian stopped, and looked at me and said, "we're not going down that road". I looked at him and he said "Macumba", and we turned around and left finding another way to our appointment.

In Crato, Ceara, my last area, I had probably the most powerful priesthood experience of my life. We taught
a religion teacher well known in the area, A CATHOLIC religion teacher who taught at one of the major high schools. She and her niece took the discussions. One day during the discussions, as we were sitting under our usual shade tree to escape the 100 degree weather, she looked at me sort of wide eyed as I sat and bore testimony of the things I was talking about. She related later that as I was talking there was a white light all around me and particularly my face as I spoke, testifying to her that what I was saying was true. She and her niece were baptized after a few weeks of lessons. Later at her baptism came the major priesthood experience. I had the privilege of baptizing her and afterward at her confirmation that Sunday I felt something I hadn't before. As I laid my hands on her head, I felt the Holy Ghost, pass from my body, down my arms and to my hands and was transferred to her. She remained faithful for a long time in the church until last I heard someone had personally offended her and she's since fallen away.

Finally, the end of my mission came, I had sent letters to everyone I had the privilege of teaching and baptizing, and getting to know informing them that my family was coming to Brazil, and we would tour my mission. I would also be traveling to Recife to visit the temple there if anyone wanted to come and do temple sessions. No one could afford the time off, except Lisiane.
She had prepared about 12 names or so, of past relatives that had past on, and needed their temple work done. After it was done, I sat in the waiting room with her and we talk about the future, we had gotten to know each other well and were interested in keeping in touch and more after I was released as a missionary. Possible marriage had been discussed but many things like her passport, visa, etc need to be resolved, the Visa being the hardest and most complicated part. While we were quietly talking a man walked up to us and said, "I've had the strangest feeling that I need to talk to you 2. You're going to get married aren't you?" Shocked we looked at each other and said, "well...." I mean we've talked about wanting to date etc, but we hadn't set a date or anything like that. He then proceeded to say, "I work in the Immigration office, this is my email, if you need help with her visa please contact me, and I'll help out". We thanked him and he left. I emailed him 2 months later, and he gave me some advice, but we both have never heard from the man again. Lisiane's visa went through very smoothly, even though it took nearly a year from start to finish.

I remember exactly the date I got home from mission, and back to Arizona, not because something special happened, but because a week to the day, and almost the same hour, the terrorist attack of September 11th happened. I remember it like a bad dream. My mom rushed into my room and woke me up just after the first plane had hit. We stood there in shock as the second plane came flying into view and smashed into the second tower. I stood there in tears crying in disbelief, to watch the people jumping from windows and dying. I was further terrified, to watch the whole towers come down. Probably the worst day in American recent history, and I remember exactly where I was. In the breakfast room of my family's house watching it all live.

So this is my story, Lisiane were married September 28, 2002, and on July 31st 2007 our first gorgeous little child Sophie was born.

With all these spiritual experiences in my life, I KNOW THAT THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS IS TRUE. There is nothing, save Jesus Christ himself appearing to me and saying so, that will make me deny it. There is nothing an Anti-Mormon, or evil person can ever say to me, or show me that will make me deny it. For, I would feel like Judas.

I hope I didn't bore anyone, thanks for reading.