After the Manner of Happiness

Most of the drafts I have sitting behind the scenes will probably never be written or published. Some of them don't seem important to me any more. Some of them were only whispers of thought that have not yet coalesced, and may never coalesce. But I saw this title without text, and it resonated with me right now.

"And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness."
—2 Nephi 5:27

I haven't been writing as often lately. I have been turning inward, rather than outward, in my contemplation. I have reached a new level of peace from what I have had since my life fell apart, but the nature of that peace is not something that I feel will help anyone else going through a similar journey. Each of us have to reach it on our own, and in our own way.

For me, it is like diving into the undertow I have fought so long, and that is not a course of action I would recommend generally.

When Nephi wrote the above scripture, he wrote it from the end of his story. He had succeeded in helping his father bring their family across the sea to the new land. He had tried to fulfill the blessing the Lord gave him to teach his brothers, only to eventually have to flee them when his father died. He knew what it was like to feel like a failure, weak and ineffectual in fulfilling the commandments of God. His people were the only ones in the land with the gospel of the Lord.

It is important that he didn't say "we were happy." He said they "lived after the manner of happiness." I don't think this means that they pretended to be happy. I think it means they followed the gospel, living the Plan of Happiness.

My rebirth, like any birthing, has been neither gentle nor peaceful. But as many who have attended a birth can testify, the peace, beauty and gentleness comes after the screaming, after the pain, after that weeping moment when you don't feel you can do it. Every baby is born in blood. Every star is birthed in chaos and destruction. Every disciple must be washed clean in the blood and death of the Lamb of God. And it is not a linear progression. It comes in spurts with moments of rest in between.

I was asked recently if I was happy. Truthfully, I hadn't given myself the time to consider it. I knew I was happier and more at peace than I was when I was married, and certainly more than I was immediately afterwards. But when they asked me, I realized that I hadn't considered happiness at all. But as I have thought about it, I have felt certain I am more deeply and enduringly happy than at any other time in my life.

Often, people shriek and run for the hills when they see rain. They duck and cover. But when it rains, I have a nearly uncontrollable urge to lift my face up, to feel the raindrops on my face. I don't necessarily like being cold and wet. But I know that rain means life. Rain means cleansing. Rain means a chance to start again. That is why I dance in the rain, why I rejoice in it.

I am far from perfect. But I have found the path of happiness. My happiness is not dependent on being pleased with every aspect of myself, on perfection. It is found in forgiveness. Forgiveness of myself, and of others. Not because they deserve it, but because I do. Mostly because the Lord does. He deserves all the forgiveness of myself and my fellow children of God that I can give. It is also found in love. Love of life, love of the messy chaos which we children of God create. Love even of the bad, as well as the good.

Loving even my mistakes, though they have been many as I have been born again from the ashes of myself.

That is happiness. The Atonement. Forgiveness. Every day, a chance to start again.

The Death of Pretty?!

The Christian internet is a-rave with this article entitled "The Death of Pretty." Most of the women I know are in paroxysms about how wonderfully liberating it is. Finally, a man who is condemning the overt sexuality of women!

Hogwash.

I submit that this article is worse even than overt sexualization. At least when men overtly reduce a woman to a sexual object, it is clear and easy for any third party to see. But this, this hoodwinks those women who escape the pressure of body hatred into eagerly reducing themselves to an object of another kind.

The Raise of the Right Hand

Some time ago, I became involved in a discussion involving the way local priesthood leadership was dealing with a particular issue. Though I disagreed, I believe I was offering constructive feedback as to why the approach was doing more harm than good. One of the main responses was along the lines, "this came from the bishopric, and they are our priesthood leaders with stewardship, therefore this is inspired by the Spirit," with the connotation that disagreement with the method is disagreement with God.

I have spent a great deal of thought on the nature of stewardship, priesthood authority, and agency. I think that many of us may have a faulty understanding of the nature of priesthood power, and what it means to sustain a person in their calling.

The Twelfth Day: My Family

"On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me
twelve drummers drumming."

My family is the final thing which has sustained me through my life. I truly have an amazing family. Having grown up in the military, I have no sense of belonging anywhere, no real sense of roots or connection to any one place. But perhaps because of that, my family is my connection, my roots. If it had not been for my Dad and my Mom, I would have never recognized the severity of the life I had been living while married, nor had the strength to get out of it.

For a long while, I called my mom multiple times per day to cry on her shoulder as I weathered the considerable consequences of standing up for myself. My dad was always there to give me perspective when I needed it. My daughters have been a constant source of joy. It is for them that I have been able to do it all. A few good friends who are the family of my heart have been rich support.

But family is even more than that.

The Eleventh Day: The Atonement

"On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me
eleven pipers piping."

Like bagpipers, the pipers to me represent strength, death and war as well as song and dance. I put the Atonement here because gaining a deeper understanding of the Atonement is probably the single greatest sustenance my soul has craved through the hard times in my life. As much as we celebrate the birth of Christ, it is His Atonement which fulfilled the purpose of that birth.

In seeking to understand the Atonement, I have gained greater and greater knowledge of my God. He is truly a God worth worshipping. Many people imagine themselves an incapable God, or an unjust God, arguing that God could be any two of all-powerful, all-knowing, or all-loving, but not all three. I argue that He is all of them, and I submit the Atonement as my evidence.

The Tenth Day: A Living Prophet

"On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me
ten lords a-leaping."

There is a unique tension between the principles of agency, personal revelation, and a living prophet. Most people prefer their prophets dead, unable to argue with them and their choices. It is much more comfortable to direct our own spirituality without another source of input.

When we used to teach investigators into our Church, the first thing we taught them was Joseph Smith's vision. The second thing was the pattern by which they could find out for themselves if their Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ did actually visit Joseph in the grove.

That same pattern, the ability for us to ask God directly if something is from Him or not, is not just a test of truth, it is also a way for us to learn to listen to the Lord.

The Ninth Day: The Temple

"On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love gave to me
nine ladies dancing."

The temple is a tangle of emotions for a great many people. I didn't used to understand the issues. My first experiences with the temple were beautiful in their simplicity. There were no surprises for me. I had been well prepared by my bishop and my roommate.

When I made the covenants surrounding the endowment, a world of peace and love was opened to me. Finally, I felt I was in a place I belonged.

The covenants of marriage were no less glorious. I made those covenants with determination and love. I dedicated my heart, mind, and soul to my husband. I was not a perfect wife by any means, but I gave everything I had to making the marriage work, to trying to bring happiness to my husband.

Then came the time when I realized that those very intentions conflicted. I could no longer keep all the covenants I made, but I had to choose between dedication and love to my husband and dedication and love to my God.