If It So Be That They Will Repent

Safety is something that many of us take for granted in a first-world country. Unlike our ancestors, even the poorest of us generally have access to food, water, and shelter. Most of us wake up in the morning, go to work, mow our lawns, go shopping, without ever once feeling unsafe. When something does happen to us, it's a shock.

A coworker of mine recently experienced a break-in. It was a kid who knew the family, and thought he could get away with ripping off a few cell phones. He confessed to his misdeeds, and the family now knows who it is and what led up to the break-in, but he still said that they couldn't sleep well at night, knowing how easily their safety could be shattered.

Mormons are Hypocrites

I mostly grew up outside of the Mormon Corridor. When I was fourteen, my family moved from Germany to a small town in Idaho. The culture shock was the greatest we had ever experienced. I went from a high school with nearly a thousand people in my graduating class to one with nearly a thousand people in the whole school. We went from being surrounded with trees and cultural activities to being stuck in a desert, with only two basic things for a teen to do on the weekend: get drunk/high or go to the Mormon dances.

It was definitely a step down.

But, over time, I made quite good friends with a girl I'll call Kelly. Her family was in the Church, but they didn't go consistently. They lived in a different housing complex across the base from us, but we still frequently hung out together. We were friends for the better part of a year before Kelly started dating.

Now, I wasn't interested in dating. I was tall, gawky, frizzy-haired and awkward. Plus I was a definite tomboy and bookworm. And boys scared me ever since I had heard them talking about girls when they thought none were listening. But that was all Kelly could talk about. Swiftly, she found a particular boy and they would make out every chance they got, often with me around. I remember playing chauffeur to them frequently as we went to and from activities. They would kiss (and other things) in the back while I drove.

Ordain Women, Midsingles, and the Trouble with Agency

Have you ever wondered why a third of the hosts of heaven left God to follow Satan? I have. I've spent hours of time wondering why, when presented with God's eternal Plan, some shouted for joy, and others left the service of God forever. When I was younger, I couldn't comprehend it. How could someone, faced with the prospective glories of exaltation, simply leave them behind? As an adult, I'm starting to understand.

We often talk about the Celestial Kingdom as if it is heaven, and everything else is a version of Hell. We Mormons haven't really left our Protestant ideas of glory or punishment behind. We act as though, by following the commandments and doing all that we have been commanded to the best of our abilities, we will be justified by our sacrifices, forgiven by Christ, and enter into the Father's presence. But it doesn't work like that.

How to Help Me Stay?

There are no comments here on my previous post, but I have observed some Facebook conversations about it which made me think I definitely need to clarify.

I didn't write "How I Stay" so that I could get pity or compassion. I didn't write it to guilt people who happen to have intact and more-or-less working families, nor to tell people in wards that they're doing something wrong. I wrote it mostly to people like me: people who struggle and need some tools to fight harder for what they really, deep-down, want. But this one is to people who aren't struggling, and want to know how to help. I'm going to try my best to give you some tools to try.

The fact is that me and people like me KNOW we are different. There is nothing you can do to make us feel not-different. All your efforts in the world can't erase the pain we've felt as collateral damage in someone else's attempts to "be true to themselves" or whatever other reasons lurk behind our lives.

It's like I told a friend recently: you can't be responsible for other people's feelings. But what you can be is compassionate. And I think that's what the questions and comments are really getting at: how can you show compassion and make space for difference?

I have a few thoughts on that, but first I want to point out that "divorced people," or "people who have lost children," or "people who struggle with the Word of Wisdom," or "people who struggle with pornography," or "feminists" or whatever other category leaves someone feeling on the fringes, are first and foremost PEOPLE. Every single individual has individual needs or hopes. Don't take my word for what will help them. Ask them.

Secondly, don't expect them to tell you right away. Most of us are well aware of our other-ness. We often feel like burdens, and abhor the thought of being more of a burden. Granted, some of us accept as much help as we can get. I'm not one of those, and based on observations, I think that those who gladly consume others' resources are a vocal minority.

So, first search your own soul. Do you REALLY want to know what we need? Because it's probably going to cost you something, even if that "something" is nothing more than your own paradigm. If you really want to know what we need, you're probably going to have to ask more than once. You're going to have to show that you really mean it, and you're not just offering to assuage your own guilt at being more blessed/differently blessed/luckier than we are.

So with those caveats to what I'm about to say, here goes my attempt to give you some concrete tools. I'm not trying to share specifics of what I personally need in my situation as a divorced single parent, but to share more general tools to help approach anyone who doesn't quite fit into the standard Mormon mold. Please take what I say and apply it to whatever circumstances surround you. It may be that it doesn't help, but I hope it does.

"It's Personal"

Like everyone who wants to do better, be better, I sometimes struggle with my relationship with divinity. I have been amply blessed in a myriad little ways. Nothing major, until recently, but repeated small nudges to say something or check on something that ended up saving me just enough to keep me sane. Some days, it has felt like I'm barely holding on with torn and bloody fingernails, but have been touched with just enough extra energy to keep holding on. It is like I'm part of a vast chorus where, hoarse and broken, my voice does far more to create dissonance than beauty.

Recently, the hand of the Lord has been much more obvious. For the last month or so, I have been attending a ward temporarily while I am in transition from one house to another. This ward has several women who are going through divorce. As I've learned of them, and heard some of them speak, I felt prompted to bear my testimony in Fast and Testimony meeting.

This was a difficult proposition because my testimony, as I have said before, is not smooth and pretty, cut to show light and sparkle. It is cracked, crazed, with deep inclusions. It's a bit off-color. The deliverance I've prayed for over the last several years has been slow in coming. Most days are beautiful, but I still sometimes crack under certain types of pressure which I feel ought to be long gone. I'm still triggered, sometimes, over silly things.

I've been in a liminal state for some time, but it is a liminal state where I feel unseen things are happening, that I am being pruned and developed for some specific purpose. I am changing in ways I can't quite see, let alone quantify. I have started several drafts for blog posts but never finished them. I find myself with few comments to make on others' posts. Whatever changes I'm going through don't fit labels easily. I am becoming, but I'm not becoming anything.

Power in Vulnerability

"You know what, you're imperfect, and you're wired for struggle. But you are worthy of love and belonging."

Years ago, I created a fictional character that was almost entirely built around vulnerability. She was able to be hurt again, and again, and still open herself up to loving others without judgment. Even then, more than fifteen years ago, I wanted to be like that. Since then, I fought and fought to gain the ability to be vulnerable. I learned how to stop layering my personality with illusion, and truly allow myself to be myself. Then, the first time I truly put it to the test, that vulnerability was taken advantage of in every way. It's been like I've had to go through that struggle all over again in the last few years. But I think I am getting there.

I find myself occasionally having to defend my choice to stop dating. In a religion where marriage is the pinnacle of covenantal achievement, it has been very hard to let all expectations of it go. But dating, for me, was becoming something where I kept being drawn, again and again, into this feeling that I have to conform to someone's idea of perfection to be loved. In the LDS singles' world, so much energy is bent on becoming that ideal, desirable person. To me, a recovering perfectionist, it is an alcoholic hanging out in a bar. It was simply too hard to continually fight against the current.

The biggest reason why I left the singles' ward and stopped dating was to give myself the space I needed to work on charity. To me, charity and being vulnerable are almost the same thing. When we are able to be vulnerable, we can *see* other people, and love them in their weaknesses. I don't think I can do that in an environment that lends itself so readily to objectification and predation.

I think a huge point of the Gospel is that we have been given the ability, through the sacrifice of the Savior, to be vulnerable. Understanding this is the key to heaven, which I'll be soon be writing about. Consider this a bit of a prelude. Listen to this woman. She knows what she is talking about.

Healing Through Repeat Trauma

When I first created and named this blog, I didn't know it would be so prophetic. Then, I only chose this name because it fit my screen name, and I loved the parable of the houses built upon sand and rock. Since then, my house has truly been buffeted by storms I did not imagine at the time. There have been times that I was sure that my foundations would crumble. I could feel some sands upon which my life had been built washing away from under me. There have been times I've clung desperately to the rock that was left, sobbing for help. Some of those times, there was someone to help. Many of them, there was no one.

After the night my ex-husband left for the final time, I had symptoms of post traumatic stress. For days, I got no sleep and for weeks I got very little. Someone would use a word, or I'd see an object that was involved that night, and the world would skip ahead. To others, I would cease to respond for a few seconds as my mind blanked out. Certain interactions, especially those involving any kind of conflict, no matter how mild, would leave me trembling for hours. I'd get flashbacks. And that is only a few of the things that had suddenly become a part of my life for months and years.

A Divine Characteristic: Patience

I have come to painful realization of yet another personal character flaw. You see, over the past several years, I thought I was learning to be more patient. Much to my chagrin, I have lately come to see that what I thought of as patience was only a different coping mechanism, and not development of a divine trait at all.

Can you imagine what it would be like to be God? To have infinite love for an infinite group of people more or less bent on destroying themselves? That sounds nothing like heaven to me. So how does He do it? How does He wait patiently for us to learn the things He already knows, lessons which hurt us needlessly, hurt others immensely, and leave us miserable in a lifetime that was meant for joy?

Don't Marry Me for Who I Am

I hear so often the advice, "Marry someone who loves and accepts you for who you are."

It sounds like great advice. With abuse in my past I know better than many that you shouldn't change yourself to impress or please another person. But the more I think about the entire meaning of that phrase, the less I like it.

Who am I right now? Well, I have a temper. I'm emotionally awkward. I repeatedly fail at charity. I often don't know the Lord's will, and I often misinterpret it. I could stand to lose some weight, certainly. I'm unhappy with my job, and not particularly pleased with the path my life has taken. I haven't accomplished any of the things I want to accomplish. The old wounds of emotional abuse still pull at times. I have a very hard time knowing when to shut my mouth. I'm impatient. Sometimes I yell. I have a hard time listening.

Recreating a Testimony, Recreating Oneself

Once upon a time, I was completely sure of my testimony in God. My eyes were on the celestial goal, I knew where I was going. I knew how to get there. My life wasn't easy. I battled with various temptations and sins, but I believed that if I just worked hard enough, tried hard enough, it would be enough.

"Now and then I confess you cross my mind.
Now and then I guess I have a little too much time.
I've changed my way of thinking.
I've tried hard to separate
what came too soon
from what came too late."

But I ended up throwing all my effort behind a series of ventures that not only failed to move me closer to my goal, but threw me backwards. They crumbled my beliefs in myself, made me realize that I was nothing. Literally nothing. All my years of effort to become what I wanted to be, all my sense of accomplishment was nothing. I had failed. Giving it my all was not enough. Was once again not enough.

"I don't think about me in terms of you.
I don't think about you in terms of us.
I don't think about us in terms of love."

Did I ever fail to believe that God was there? Did I ever doubt His existence? No. But I doubted my place in His eyes, doubted that I had what it took to join Him again. I looked at my life, my mistakes, and thought myself irredeemable. Surely I was not worth rebuilding from the dust of my dreams and hopes. Surely the Atonement could not heal this.

"I don't think about then in terms of now,
I found a way to start again somehow.
I don't think about what we thought it was
in terms of love."

Frantically, I tried to hold everything together, to allow my failure to make as little impact in the lives of my friends and family as possible. But I knew somewhere deep inside that I was as hollow as a dead cocoon, full of expired potential. I had spent everything foolishly, and now it was gone.

"I'm countin' on heaven to understand.
I didn't mean to go and mess up all the plans.
Sometimes you know where you should go
Before you know the way."

Gradually, without feeling it or seeing it at first, I came to realize what the Atonement really means. It means continuing forward even though I can't see how to go where the Lord wants me to go. It means realizing that I'm nothing, yet believing that God, the master potter, is powerful enough to create beauty from the dust of my soul.

"I'll bother with tomorrow
Once I've made it through today."

It means not looking forward any more than I have to, but enjoying where I am right now. It means fully and literally handing over the responsibility for creation back to Him. It means forgiveness, forgiveness of debt. It means letting Him hold the debt that others owe me, and allowing Him to pay me what I might be owed. It means no longer worrying about what should have been or could have been, or even what will be, but simply trusting Him.

"But thus saith the Lord, Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken away, and the prey of the terrible shall be delivered: for I will contend with him that contendeth with thee, and I will save thy children."
Isaiah 49:25

Letting go.

"I don't think about black in terms of gray
Or revelations in the light of day."

Letting go, but no longer making excuses for others. Not automatically assuming that others' opinions and viewpoints have more merit than my own. Trusting myself, as well, to be a good person. Allowing myself to do my best without expecting perfection. No longer craving constant revelation and guidance because I don't trust my own ability to discern and choose.

"I don't think about cold in terms of ice
Or second chances happenin' twice."

It is total reliance on God for the outcome, constantly seeking His guidance, yes, but not waiting on it. It is moving forward with faith. Forgiving myself for not letting other people stomp me to the ground one more time. No longer making others' problems my problems. Saying good-bye, even if they can't. Allowing them to take their own salvation in their hands so that I can work out mine. Maybe it isn't "happily ever after," but someday it will be.

"And now, my beloved brethren, after ye have gotten into this strait and narrow path, I would ask if all is done?

"Behold, I say unto you, Nay; for ye have not come thus far save it were by the word of Christ with unshaken faith in him, relying wholly upon the merits of him who is mighty to save.

"Wherefore, ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life.

"And now, behold, my beloved brethren, this is the way; and there is none other way nor name given under heaven whereby man can be saved in the kingdom of God. And now, behold, this is the doctrine of Christ, and the only and true doctrine of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, which is one God, without end. Amen."
2 Nephi 31:19-21

*lyrics from SheDaisy, "In Terms of Love"

The Phenomenon of Projection and the Nature of God

I have had reason to think about how we, as people, tend to define our world as how we see it. I don't mean simply perceiving the world through our own eyes, but stubbornly and consistently recreating the world in our own image.

For example, if a person is a habitual liar, they will see those around them as liars and distrust everything, finding it difficult to recognize truth even when presented with it. If a person is generous, examples of selfishness are easily explained away or enter that person's sphere only with a strong shock.

I believe this is why many people find things in the Church, and with God in a more general sense, so difficult to comprehend. They find themselves leaving the Church, or abandoning God because neither fit their own world view.

If a person is convinced that killing is wrong under any circumstance, for example, they will have a hard time with the passage in the Book of Mormon where Nephi kills Laban. If a person believes strongly in tolerance at all costs, they will find it difficult to reconcile the guideline of tolerating a person without tolerating their behavior.

This realization has led me to a great deal of self-reflection as I ponder over the question of how I perceive the nature of God. How much of my perception of Him is colored by my perception of myself? How much am I creating God (or His church) in my own image?

The first step to unraveling this is to do one of the most difficult tasks imaginable: to honestly categorize how I see myself. So, stream of consciousness came up with this:

I see myself as a relatively patient person with a very impatient streak against which I must guard myself at all times, particularly when I'm tired. I am a perfectionist in myself, and see myself as an ever-failing being. I don't believe that my best efforts will ever amount to much. I am painfully self-obsessed, always criticizing my own actions. I struggle against awkwardness, and long for a place to feel at home. I love living things, animals and plants, and am renewed when I can take care of people and living things. I am woefully inadequate at showing love and affection, and at doing what I need to to care for people. I am very sensitive and emotionally tender, but with a hard outer shell of protection and rigid spine which I must consciously soften at times. I will obey the law to the best of my abilities, even when it means personal discomfort, but I have to always keep an eye open against being judgmental. I like order and cleanliness, but have resigned myself to a certain level of chaos to preserve peace of mind. I feel ignorant, but feel that the blessings of God have begun to lead me down a path of wisdom at times.

I think that is more than enough to start with.

So, how do I see God as a result of my self-perception?

1. God is loving and caring.
   I believe that God derives his power from caring for His children. When He tells us that it is His "work" and "glory" to bring about our eternal life and immortality, I think He means it quite literally. That is why, of all the titles He can claim, His favorite is "Father".


2. God is a God of order.
   I believe that God is powerful because He knows the laws of existence. He is omnipotent because He works with the nature of things as they really are. It seems ironic that power is gained through compliance and submission, but I feel this is consistent with the Gospel as demonstrated by our Savior, and is consistent with what I have observed in my own life.


3. God is tender and compassionate.
   I believe that somehow, God mourns for us—with us. Although, with Enoch, I do not understand how an infinite God could have the personality necessary to weep, I feel that He does. He is capable of mourning with us without saving us from the lessons we must learn.


4. I feel that God is omniscient, omnipotent, all-wise.
   Despite much popular philosophy to the contrary, I believe in the seeming dichotomy of a all-powerful, all-knowing God. I believe this is possible because he is also all-wise. He has recognized that sorrow and pain are necessary to achieve true joy. Therefore, He will suffer us to endure pain despite being able to stop it, so that we might achieve as much intelligence as we are willing to accept. I believe that the process of our choices here creates the future He understands and knows. I believe that it is possible for us to be what He is in every meaningful sense of the word. I believe it because He has promised it. I think that interpreting John 5:19 to say that the Father must have been a Savior as Christ is takes the Lord's words completely out of context and misses the greater point. I know that God has promised that we will be heirs as Christ is an heir, and what that exactly means does not matter to me right now. I suspect I understand far more of it than I remember while on this earth, and am willing to leave that for later without speculating on it, or wresting scripture to match my logic. I have more than enough to manage as is without borrowing trouble from the other side of the veil. I believe that God will always be my Father, however, just as my father on earth will always be my father, no matter that I become a self-sufficient adult, just as he is, with children of my own.

Of course, God has long conquered any failures and sense of weakness that He may have had. He does not possess the weakness I have now as a condition of my mortality. And, when I really think about my life and the changes I have been through, I suspect that my understanding of the nature of God is not so much based on how I see myself, but that as I have come to know Him better, and allowed Him to guide me in my life, His nature has begun to shine through mine.

I hope that is the case, for my greatest desire is to be like Him and with Him.

Preach Principles, Live Love

Realizing I'd never tagged my posts, I went through them yesterday and tagged them all. I realized that many of my posts might seem rather preachy and that most of them deal with the seeming tension between faith and knowledge. There is a reason for this.

I'm beginning to realize that I'm a rather odd sort in that most of my life has been lived under extreme self-criticism. Although some of this criticism has been destructive (hence some of my sadness in the past), much of it has been beneficial in the sense that I am constantly examining my actions, trying to understand my motives and how my behavior might affect others, and then trying to figure out how to increasingly follow Christ and to make others happier. Sometimes, in doing this, I go through periods of pain and exhaustion when I just don't have the energy to keep trying so hard. I often find myself envying others who seem to be free to live their lives without the burden of constantly analyzing themselves, wondering what they are doing wrong and if they may have hurt someone's feelings. But in this process, I have changed so dramatically and found so much more joy and awareness that I long to share it. Even if it makes me seem foolish to most of those who read my words or listen to me, if I can inspire one person to try a little harder and to trust God a little more, it's worth appearing foolish. That isn't to say that it doesn't hurt when people make fun at my expense, but it is a price I've consciously assumed.

What comes of all this is an excitement for those principles I have learned which help me find peace. Specifically, finding a place between faith and my insatiable curiosity to know has come to the forefront time and time again.

I'm not a naturally obedient person (just ask my parents). I'm the sort that always has questions and is not afraid to ask them, ad nauseam (just ask my teachers). I spent years struggling with certain aspects of the gospel, struggling to overcome an almost genetic anger, struggling to preserve my uniqueness when surrounded by others wanting me to be the same, struggling to form real friendships when I had no faith in friendship and no time to try. I have spent years hating the concept of being "nothing more" than a mother staying at home and raising snot-nosed, graham-cracker-and-urine-smelling children. I am still struggling with postponing my own further education (I love school!) at the expense of furthering my husband's, though he isn't terribly excited about school himself. I served a mission when I didn't feel I had to—even the Spirit told me it was entirely up to me. I went through a few years of exploring other religions and faiths, trying to discover which was true. None of this is to brag, but just to show that I discuss the things I do because they are difficult for me, and I hope to share what I've learned with those who also find it difficult.

As I have slowly uncovered the truest principles of the Gospel in actuality and not only in name, I have changed in ways I wish I could describe. When I talk about faith and obedience, it is not in an attempt to condemn but to inspire. However, as important as obedience to the Lord and His Prophets is, charity towards God's children is the most important.

Here, I try to discuss the principles of what I have learned and found true. But when I'm done typing about what should be done to unify with the divine, it is vital that I leave the keyboard behind and live charity. I must try to apply the principles to myself while allowing others to do so in their own way and time. I am sorry if I have made anyone feel judged and condemned in writing out my quest for knowledge and understanding. It is far from what I wish to do. Faith, hope and charity are all necessary for salvation, but the greatest is charity.

I hope I never forget that.

To Forgive or Not to Forgive?

. . . verily I say unto you, I, the Lord, forgive sins unto those who confess their sins before me and ask forgiveness, who have not sinned unto death.

My disciples, in days of old, sought occasion against one another and forgave not one another in their hearts; and for this evil they were afflicted and sorely chastened.

Wherefore, I say unto you, that ye ought to forgive one another; for he that forgiveth not his brother his trespasses standeth condemned before the Lord; for there remaineth in him the greater sin.

I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men.

And ye ought to say in your hearts—let God judge between me and thee, and reward thee according to thy deeds. D&C 64:7-11

So how does one forgive another? How do you know when you have forgiven? Is it possible to be frustrated and forgiving at the same time? What if the person is still doing the thing that requires forgiveness, and has no foreseeable feeling of repentance? In that case, the wounds are perpetual. Such a case requires constantly working to forgive the newest wounds.

What if you are not seeking "occasion against" the person you are trying to forgive, but you can't quite get rid of feelings of hurt and frustration? What if you want to forgive, but don't know how to let go of the pain of what they have done because it is still ongoing? Forgiveness belongs to the Lord because only He "know[s] the hearts of all the children of men." Is it enough to want to forgive and to seek the Spirit, hoping that your feelings of anger and resentment will fade? What if those feelings are building because of repeat offenses and future consequences that you will have to pay? How do you let it go?

I'm afraid I'm not forgiving very well right now. I'm terrified of the consequences of not being able to find forgiveness. I have done so many things wrong myself! I'm begging for forgiveness myself. As long as I feel resentful and hurt, I don't think I can fully repent of my own weaknesses and mistakes. I want to let go. Usually, I'm uncannily good at letting go, but not this time. What does that mean eternally? I think I'm at a point where I have to pray to forgive and say, I want to forgive, then when forgiveness comes, I'll welcome it.

I'd welcome any suggestions that might speed things up. I hate feeling this way.

Why a Different Answer?

It is a strange set of circumstances that surrounds the question "Is the Book of Mormon true?" As missionaries, we teach the process to receiving a testimony, namely 1) Gather information (specifically to read the Book of Mormon), 2) Prepare yourself to receive the Spirit into your heart by doing all you can to keep the Lord's commandments and 3) Pray to God the Father in the name of Jesus Christ if the things you have read and done are true and of Him. Many members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have done these things and received an answer from the Lord through the Spirit that the Church is true, that the Book of Mormon is of God, that Joseph Smith is His prophet and that those who have been so called in the history of the Church are also His prophets. Some have received this answer so unequivocally that they find it difficult to understand how another person could do the same things and receive a different answer. In their minds, they know it to be true. Therefore, if someone else does not know it to be true, they haven't applied themselves to finding an answer diligently enough to receive it. The reality behind the surface, I suspect, is much more complicated. There could be any number of reasons why one seeking to know the truth may not receive it, only one of which is that they are not trying hard enough. I'd like to hypothesize a few of these.

The Lord is giving an answer, but the person doesn't know how to recognize it. This is a common one. This is one thing the missionaries are to do: to help people feel and recognize the Spirit. Many people, having heard stories of miraculous conversions, are seeking a wham-bam testimony slap. In the economy of heaven, this is rare. It is important for a seeker of truth to train oneself to the soft whisperings of the Spirit, rather than expecting pyrotechnics. This is not to say divine pyrotechnics are impossible, only that they come after a person has already demonstrated patience and subtlety in listening for the Spirit.

The Gospel is hard. The Lord may refrain from giving an answer to one seeking it because they are not truly ready to receive it. Once the path of discipleship is commenced, it quickly becomes apparent that it is not a stroll through the park. Additionally, a person may also decide for themselves that the path of discipleship is too hard for them. Often they can't admit this to themselves, preferring to believe that they have found no answer or even a negative one. I know of at least one person who has commenced on the path of discipleship, only to be intimidated by the difficulty of it. For some reason, we expect that if we are doing the right thing, it should be easy or at least easier. Though it is an important starting point, the gospel requires more than that initial desire to believe. It also requires dedication. One must be prepared to give all that they have, all that they are to His kingdom. There is no room for lukewarm dedication in the battle for the allegiance of men's souls.

Along a similar note, it is possible that those who are consciously seeking an answer are subconsciously afraid of it. After all, if they know the truth, they will be expected to act on it. It will require Changing their lives in ways they may not be prepared for. They will have to learn self-control. They will have to learn to stand for what they believe in the face of opposition. It takes a lot of courage to decide to stop swimming with the river and to go against it. Some will lose friends and even family members to their decision.

Finally, it is possible that the Lord refrains giving an answer for purposes of His own. He knows the hearts and actions of all men. Who is to say that by giving His answer ten years from now rather than now, that more people will not be blessed by it? Sometimes, a seeker of knowledge may have more to learn before they embark on the path of discipleship. We just don't know. What we do know is that the Lord has promised that all those who work for Him will receive Him. Those who seek will find, but it may not be according to our plans and timetables.

Discipleship is a Lonely Road

Did I ever mention how much I love the Germans? One of my favorite paintings is called "Road to Emmaus" by German painter Robert Zünd.





On my mission, I often stared into that painting, wondering what was down the road, wondering if Christ would be walking with me along the way, teaching me.

I have had a lot of cause lately to doubt my choices. I don't know if I made the right ones. My dad sent me a beautiful letter last week for my birthday outlining my life. I wonder where that bright, inquisitive, loving, fearless child has gone. She was full of possibility. She decided, once, that she wanted nothing but to be a disciple of Christ. Now, my life is set in the path it will take to the end. I have found that I'm a pretty sorry excuse for a disciple. I no longer have the control over my destiny I once had. I no longer feel that I can make the powerful decisions I once made. Unable to change my situation satisfactorily, I have had to completely give the reins of my life over to the Lord and just concentrate on staying on the horse. It hurts in a way. I feel like I have messed up, lost the trust of the Lord. But looking back, I know I did my best. I've always done my best. My fear is that my best won't be good enough.

I testified in Church last week to the same thing I'm going to say here. Despite the pain and uncertainty, I know that my Savior will get me through this. There is indescribable joy woven through the sorrow and the fear. My best may not be good enough, but His was. Men are that they might have joy. That does not mean we are without pain and doubt. I heard it said once that faith cannot exist where there is doubt. Contrarily, I have found my faith growing most during this time of doubt. I look at the offering that has been my life so far and weep at its smallness. It is small, but it is all I have. According to the prophets, it is enough.

Let it be enough.

Angry at Myself

I guess this shows that progress can often be two steps forward and one step back. After having spent several weeks doing much better on blogs, not getting involved in any pointless disagreements, I find myself once again embroiled in a discussion I wish I had never entered.

How is it that something that begins as an attempt to have a gentle discussion so quickly becomes highly emotional? How is it that I move from discussion to feeling defensive so quickly? Perhaps it is once again time to adopt a more strict commenting policy for myself. I get indescribably frustrated with myself when I try to communicate with caring and fail so spectacularly.

Am I also the only one who gets into a discussion and tries to empathize with the other's viewpoint to the point where I get confused and unable to articulate?

The Pain of Charity

I've stayed away for a couple of days because I've been hurting. I'm still hurting, but I feel ready to write again.

My grandfather passed away June 1st, 2007. He was a pillar of the community, often giving succor to those in need. He was a great man. One of my earliest memories of him was down in his basement. He had a container of black walnuts and taught me how to crack them so I could extract the nut whole. In that same visit, he took me across the street to his neighbor's house and let me help him pick apricots. In an even earlier memory of him, I remember going to his flower shop. I remember little of the sight and sound of that shop, but I remember the sharp tang of moisture, roses and greenery. That smell means beauty to me. I believe it has something to do with my affinity for green, growing things. I remember wanting to design a flower arrangement, though I couldn't have been more than five years old. I remember wanting to emulate his artistry. Perhaps that is what helped me discover my love for color and form. Though my grandfather was a somewhat more distant figure than my grandmother (who passed away in 1999,) his paradigm of service and duty has shaped my life.

I attended the funeral yesterday. Grandpa was surrounded by grieving friends and step-family. It was clear he would be sorely missed in the community. Observing this and listening to the eulogies, I began thinking of myself. I came to some hard realizations. The first was how very selfish I am. Through much of the funeral, I hurt because I wished I had had some part in it, something to give the man who contributed to my life. As I analyzed my own feelings, I realized I had very little place in Grandpa's life, so it was only fitting that I would have no place in his death. Unlike my grandfather, I do not connect with people. At my funeral, there will be many fewer grieving faces.

As I thought about it, I also realized that I do not connect with people by choice. I have actively destroyed any but the most superficial ties to anyone. I'm not sure why I do this. I know I am afraid, but I'm not sure of what I am afraid. I think it may be that I am so afraid of hurting someone - I am so afraid of failing - that I minimize my connections. The ironic aspect of this is that the isolation hurts me. I know that I am hurting myself more than rejection and failure would hurt me, but I don't know how to change. This is what brings me to the topic of this post.

In The Princess Bride, the Man in Black tells Buttercup that "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who tells you differently is selling something." In my estimation, charity is pain. There are two types of "charity." The first is characterized by "alms to the poor." It is simply giving because you know you should give or, in other words, because you gain something from it. I believe it is this brand of charity to which the world subscribes. It is giving because you feel you will gain a reward, whether heavenly, socially or financially. This sort of charity is not evil per se, but I don't believe it is the sort of charity of which the Lord or His prophets speak in the scriptures. It is not this sort of charity that is the "greatest of all" virtues. It is not this sort of charity which "suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things." It is not this sort of charity which, as the Relief Society motto states, "never faileth."

The type of charity Christianity teaches is much more difficult because it inevitably leads through pain. This charity is the "pure love of Christ" which "caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink . . . ." It is the charity that enabled Christ to atone for the sins of all mankind. It is the charity that is a cause rather than a symptom. It is love, not for glory, reward or honor, but for the cruel, beautiful, glorious children of God. It is love that gives, knowing that it will be hurt. It is continually building relationships despite the pain, despite the fear, despite the loneliness of rejection.

I know in my heart that God has granted me a great capacity for this kind of charity, but I am too terrified, too bound up in the cords of Satan to utilize it. I feel that this is my purpose on the earth, to love God's children, to be a place where "The beloved of the LORD shall dwell in safety." I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to let go of my fear of pain and give. I don't know how Christ continued ministering, knowing the pain He would suffer at the hands of the ignorant. I know I need to learn.

Perhaps when I do, I will be happy.

On Feminism, Motherhood and Change

I am currently reading a book entitled "Daughters of God, Scriptural Portraits" by S. Michael Wilcox. It is an interesting read that has taken me through a wide range of emotions from confusion to peace and back again. In it, he examines the scriptural "portraits" of women in the Bible, Book of Mormon and Church History and extracts the lessons and examples of each.

Reading it has underscored my own unworthiness. I'm afraid that I often feel unequal to the task of living as a daughter of God. I have rapidly transitioned from single college graduate to sister missionary to single RM to wife to mother and am left with a feeling of "What just happened? Where am I?" I still feel like my single self, yet I'm living in a sort of perpetual transition. I know so many things that are expected of me - to keep the house clean, keep my husband happy, raise my daughter to be happy and well-adjusted, work and keep a full-time job, visit teach, magnify my ward calling, attend Church meetings and activities, support and love my husband, exemplify charity and kindness - and things I want to do - such as sew toys and clothes for my daughter, organize some of the chaos in our house, teach my daughter to swim, paint and draw, read and be a good neighbor. I think I am trying to adjust to the new role I find myself in with little feeling of success.

The strangest thing is that in the struggle to define what it means to be a "good wife and mother," I feel I am largely on my own. Everyone seems to have a different idea of what is a good wife and mother without any input in how to accomplish it. As a teenager and single adult, you have plethoras of practical advice. Church leaders, parents and teachers are constantly telling you what you should be doing and giving you tips on how to do it. Once you are married, they all back off and focus on the upcoming generation. "You are on your own, now," they seem to say. No church activities, General Conference talks or ward support exists for the newly married or those with new children. I think the network of Relief Society is supposed to fill the gap, but I am not connecting with Relief Society. This gap which I have gradually felt widening between me and the Church populace since my return from my mission seems to grow wider and wider as I walk through this strange new life. I suppose it is rather like learning to ride a bike. There comes a time when your dad lets go, and you fall and skin your knee. I just wish I didn't have to include others in my struggles and falls. Always before, my struggles and pains were mine alone.

With that background of struggles in mind, I have recently stumbled upon the world of the "Bloggernacle." This is a complex Mormon society of bloggers with a bemusing array of fiery opinions and backgrounds. I have found it interesting to participate in a few of the multiple boards involved, but, although many are self-labeled "misfits" in the Church-wide culture, they are not the same sort of misfit I am. I have worked out a testimony, for the most part, of the doctrines of the Church, but have not studied the ins and outs exhaustively. I have come to peace with seemingly anti-feminism stances and the Churchly definition of motherhood and womanhood as discussed so clearly in "Daughters of God." What I haven't come to peace with is my place within it. I have had promises and blessings given to me of which I cannot be worthy. I look at myself and simply cannot see how I could ever "go and do" the Lord's commandments well enough to enter the Celestial Kingdom. I cannot picture Heavenly Father embracing me at the last day and proclaiming "well done, thou good and faithful servant." I don't think I can do it. I agree with the doctrines of the Church, but cannot see how to accomplish them. I am, therefore, neither in the camp of feminism nor in the camp of Church-defined "motherhood."

I suppose it all comes down to trust in the Atonement of Christ. It is more than seeing there is a net below a 100 ft. tightrope, it is knowing you cannot balance, that you will fall, yet trying to walk the tightrope anyways, trusting the net will catch you. Faith is not belief or understanding, it is letting go control of your destiny and placing it into the hands of another.

When I was about 15, I had the chance to rappel down a cliff for the first time in my life. I remember getting into the harness and listening to the instructions of the expert. I pictured in my mind what I had to do, and felt my body preparing for the motions. I walked up to the brink of the tiny, 30-ft. cliff and looked over the edge to see that the man holding the safety rope was a guy in my ward who loved to tease and irritate. I didn't trust him. Despite the fear of ridicule, I simply could not go over the edge as long as that man held the safety rope. Rather than hurt his feelings, I backed away from the edge. To this day, I have never rock climbed or rappelled, I have never had another chance. In order to live this life, you have to be willing to leap over the edge, even though you can't really see who is holding the safety rope. He is shrouded in mist and others' opinions of who He is. Trusting nothing but an internal feeling that it will be okay, you step over. I don't know if I can do that. I don't think I can accomplish all the Lord has commanded me, yet I hope that He believes in me more than I do.