Leslie Schwartz-Leeper’s parents divorced when she was very young. Her mother raised her six children by herself, and taught them that the bottom line of the gospel is love. Leslie always had a testimony, but drifted in and out of the Church through her teen and young adult years. In her early thirties, she married Ian, a non-believer of Jewish/Episcopalian heritage, at the same time as she returned to the Church. Leslie talks about her positive experience undergoing a Church

I was the girl who dreamed of getting married at 18 in the temple and having six kids. I did not imagine I’d ever be still single and old enough to serve a mission. Lucky for me, the Lord had different plans for me—I think the Lord knew that I needed a little more preparation for what he had in store for me and my life. I ended up serving a mission in Salt Lake City, and spent the entire time on the east side, serving in suburban areas much like the one I grew up in.

I was raised a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I sang songs about marrying in the temple in primary. I learned that a “celestial marriage” meant that I would marry a man who held the Priesthood, and was worthy of that Priesthood as a member of the same church. Both of my parents were members and I remember walking to church together, sharing traditions of reading scriptures together (sometimes), family prayer (sometimes), and praying before every me

Shortly after our first daughter was born, three and a half years into our marriage, my husband told me that he was having serious concerns about the Church. He told me he would continue to study, read, and pray, but he was deeply troubled about events in Church history, the authenticity of the Book of Mormon, and Church transparency. I was blindsided and hurt when I found out he had been silently harboring these doubts for months and had not turned to me.

As I reflect back on those impressionable years between the ages of 12-18, I fondly recall having very real desires and aspirations to heed the counsel of my young women leaders, when the time was right, to choose a man who could take me to the temple. And I did. My first marriage was in fact a temple marriage. But like many temples marriages, unfortunately mine ended in divorce. I was six months pregnant with our son when I separated from my then husband.

I asked a friend for a blessing when I was considering getting engaged to my husband. I was told that I had made countless good decisions in my life leading up to that point, and that God trusted my ability to make a good decision here too.

Perhaps my patriarchal blessing was subtly preparing me for this life; at age 14, I was told that I would be the spiritual leader of my home. As this was given 30 years ago, that was a surprise. It was just assumed that the father in the family would be the leader.

My husband and I have been married for nine years. The Church was extremely important to him when we were dating and engaged, and during the first few years of our marriage. He loved serving in the church, attending the temple, and especially had a deep testimony of the importance of reading your scriptures regularly and paying tithing.

My husband and I met while we were both new teachers at an inner-city high school in Las Vegas. We were young, inexperienced, and frustrated. We were transplants: Christian from Kentucky, I from Utah/Oregon. We fell in love quickly. He was my life raft at a time when I was doggie-paddling across a turbulent ocean.

My first boyfriend was a poster child for the church: intelligent, active, and preparing to serve a mission. He’d shaken the hand of the prophet and held several youth leadership roles. He sexually assaulted me before and after his mission. He now serves as a bishop.

This story is about me—which feels odd because whenever I have written it before I’ve made it about my husband. We met at BYU, fell madly in love and were married in the Oakland Temple. We finished school, moved to Washington State, and started a busy life with children, callings, careers, and life. We have been a good match. I always credit his kindness and consideration and encouragement.

I never thought I was in a mixed-faith marriage because I believed my faith was the one and only true faith, and that my non-LDS husband was just a missionary work in progress. My insistence that my worldview is the only valid worldview is probably one of the primary reasons why I am in my third marriage.

Interfaith marriages are often underrepresented in LDS discourse on dating, marriage, and eternal life. Although I’ve often heard marriages like mine described as “backup” options, for me it has been a joy formed through much prayer, study, and lived experience.

We were waiting for our early morning flight for our family’s long-awaited trip to Disneyland. My husband came walking down the concourse with a Starbucks drink in hand. Our 10-year-old daughter asked what he was drinking, and he replied, “a caramel macchiato.” I inwardly fumed, as I was exhausted by preparing our family of seven for a big trip and this was the venue my husband used to tell our children he drank coffee.

I am a returned missionary, married in the temple to a returned missionary. This summer we marked our 33rd anniversary. About two months into the marriage, my husband told me that he had serious doubts about the Church. Over the next couple years, those doubts became more persistent until he completely quit coming to church in 1988.

His hands are as strong as his work ethic. He likes old rock music, westerns, and Mexican food. He’s a naturally loud person with an easy sense of humor. He curses like a sailor and loves his family fiercely. He believes in God but not in organized religion. He worships God by watching the sunset as orange surrenders to red, and red melts into night sky. He is married to a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and together they are raising three c