Love and Sacrifice

Typically, I write a blog post when I feel moved by the Spirit. Having a deadline and structure to what I post is not my natural practice. But I felt that I should participate in the General Conference Odyssey, and it has been good so far. But this week, I had a hard time connecting to any of the talks from this session. Not that none of them spoke to me, but they spoke to me in ways I'm not entirely comfortable sharing. So I apologize if this post is a bit stilted. I'm sure it won't be the last like that.

While my children have never gotten along perfectly, as they age there seems to be a certain level of viciousness in what they sometimes say to each other. Few things break my heart as much as hearing one of the people I love most in this world being cruel to the other. It doesn't matter who is right and who is wrong as much as the viciousness.

I can't imagine it's much different with the Lord and His children. While it does matter who is right and who is wrong, I believe He must feel about His children's discord the way I feel about the arguments between my children. The talk "By Love, Serve One Another" by S. Dilworth Young was written decades before our current political and ideological battles, but as I read it, I was deeply impacted by how clearly he challenged us members of the Church, particularly those of us who don't have significant or time-hungry callings, to spend greater time serving the poor and those who mourn. "...Those who are not given great responsibility in the organizations have more time to seek out the poor, needy, and helpless. And this help is badly needed. All about us are those in need of encouragement, assistance, and help...."

"...There are many lonely people, people whose loneliness is hidden...." Is this not just as true today as 1971? The demographics of those who don't feel like they belong to the Church may have shifted a bit, but there are hosts of people who do not feel welcome. It is up to us as baptized members to reach out to them, no matter their circumstances. There is nothing that says "mourn with those who mourn for reasons we would mourn," or "comfort only those whom we perceive as victims," or "stand as a witness of God unless it hurts someone's feelings." I'd like to share a parable. Don't read too much into it, I'm just trying to illustrate a point.

Taking it Personally

I was writing in my personal journal. When I finished, I realized there is something about my heart and mind right now that other people might need to hear. I try to be vulnerable here. It is easier, behind the protection of an online persona, to share the uglier parts of my personality. The difficult part of trying to serve God. My insecurities and doubts.

I know that distance makes it easier to hear, and not to worry about me. Because I'm ultimately all right. I've been through a refiner's fire, and I am stronger than a little sadness. But I find that allowing myself to be sad is a powerful thing. It helps me grow, keeps me humble, and gives other people a chance to feel safe and acceptable. Hiding the bad parts only makes us all feel like we can never measure up. So here it is:

Objectivity, Subjectivity. Fear and a New Year.

Most of the time, I try to live as objectively as possible. Of course, actual objectivity is impossible, but I generally try. I want to be fair to others, and most of all I want to invite the Spirit, which testifies of truth.

But this isn't a post about what is objectively true, it's a post about feelings. Pure, unadulterated, vulnerable subjectivity. Sharing what I subjectively experience makes it very easy for me to be attacked, but I'm tired of holding myself back so that I won't be vulnerable.

A Ram in the Thicket: a Personal Interpretation of Abraham's Test

Once upon a time, there was a man who had been promised by God that his children would outnumber the sands of the sea and the stars in the sky. But he and his wife despaired as time and time again, his wife was unable to bear a child. They prayed and waited patiently, but still there was no hope. Eventually, his wife even gave her husband her handmaid as a concubine and surrogate, to perform what her body would not do.

Imagine the depths of her joy and self-recrimination when that handmaid succeeded in bearing a son almost immediately.

Imagine her pain when, long after once-beautiful Sarah was too old to have any more children, a perfect stranger wandered up to their home and told her husband she would bear a son.

Imagine her joy and consternation when it turned out he was right.

Her son, Isaac, was a miracle child. Not only was he born to a mother who had long since given up all hope of having a child, he was the fulfillment of prophecy. Through him, all the promises of the Lord were finally possible. He proved that God's promises would never be forgotten.

The "Frozen" Bandwagon; Whereon Sitting, Our Bums Get Cold

A flurry of criticisms, cross-criticisms, and reasoned posts about the movie Frozen have been spinning around like a swirling storm in the wake of the movie's acclaim. This movie deeply disappointed me, not because of any hidden agenda or scary subtext, but because it wasn't enough. The plot was 100% predictable, I knew exactly what was going to happen before it did, and with such a stunning playground of deep relationships to utilize, it lived far below its potential. (Note: my prediction for the next step is a sequel about Anna's marriage and a love interest for Elsa, which will only ruin it more.)

And yet, despite my disappointment in the outcome, there are a few places that the glorious potential of the storyline peeks out, just to show us what we're missing. I don't want to harp on the disappointing parts, I want to explore that great part, and maybe contradict some of the concerns.

Writing About Pain When It's Over

I heard someone recently complain about Ensign articles, that they don't address difficulty or pain until it's over. It's not genuine enough, they said.

On this blog, I have tried to expose my pain even though it's not over. I know that there is something about knowing that other people are going through the same feelings you are that is infinitely validating. It helps someone who has every reason to doubt themselves feel a little less crazy, a little less disgusting, and a little more full of potential. There isn't enough conversation out there that validates pain without celebrating it. And yes, by doing so I've opened myself up to immense criticism. (Which is why I have an approval-only policy for comments here, despite my natural inclination to provide an open forum.) It's been very hard for someone like me, who cares so much about what people think.

A Man, A Woman

When I was a missionary, I was not a very good senior companion. I drove myself very hard, and my companions were along for the ride. This is probably why I never trained anyone. My failures as a senior companion—the "presiding" role in a companionship—illuminate principles of divine leadership and power. What does it mean to preside? What does it mean to nurture, provide, protect? What does it mean to be a good wife, or a good husband? How is the Lord's power different from mortal power?

My thoughts on this topic are a product of my marriage, my dating, the Family Proclamation to the World, some feminist mores, conversations I've had with people, and my observations of others' approach to romantic relationships, divorce, leadership, and parenthood. I talk a lot to people. I'm interested in them, in learning how they deal with life, God, and others. My opinions do not come only from my own experiences, though they are of course filtered through my understanding of others' experiences.

I know most feminists and liberals read the Family Proclamation to the World (the Proclamation) with a critical eye. To them, words such as "preside" conflict with "equal partners." But I have learned to delight in the balance it strikes. It is a remarkable document, especially considering when it was issued. In a recent conversation with my brother about dating, I realized it is what I want out of marriage.

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.

Beautiful Sorrow

In the mornings and throughout my day, my Facebook is filled with people posting "uplifting" quotes. I know that many people feel supported and uplifted by positive thinking quotes, or lists of what to do to be "happy." I'm not trying to put that effort down for them, but just to mull over why it doesn't work for me.

When I hear things that say, essentially, "just think yourself out of sadness or negativity," I hear "your sadness is not valid, your negativity is all in your head. You don't (or shouldn't) feel what you feel. If you were a better person, you wouldn't feel that way." It's a lie, a pervasive and sneaky lie that masquerades as truth. Happiness doesn't drown sorrow, sorrow births happiness. We NEED to experience pain and sorrow, in order to know joy.

We tend to believe in our medicated, comfortable lives that pain is evil. If something causes us pain, it must be changed or avoided. Well, my life has an element in it that causes pain that I cannot remove. Though a part of me wishes it were simply gone, I am thankful for it. It has taught me that not everything which causes pain is evil.

What Love Isn't

In the wake of a failed marriage and two of the most loving children I could ask for, I have had reason to think about love, what it is . . . and what it isn't. I have heard a great deal of rhetoric on love lately, not restricted to but certainly a part of one side of the debate on homosexual marriage.

The recent participation of many members of the Church, some of whom are my friends and acquaintances, in a Salt Lake City Gay Pride march has given me even more reason to think over this eternally debated and perplexing topic. While I sympathize with the efforts these members are trying to make, and also want to communicate somehow to those with a different ideological stance than mine that I care for them as people, though I fear for the consequences of their choices, I have some thoughts that will be uncomfortable for many.

I do not apologize for them, as they are based on experience and wisdom gained through a great deal of personal loss and sacrifice. Before you continue reading, I will remind you now that while disagreeing points of view are tolerated and even welcome on this blog, insults and other forms of denigration are not. I have many more important things going on in my life than your sensibilities, and while I generally try to be patient and understanding, I don't have the emotional resources or the time to deal with immaturity right now.

There are places in the internet for you, this is not one of them.

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.

Daughters in my Kingdom III, the War Chapters

When I began to write about this book, it was with the hope and expectation that my predictions about it would be wrong, that my perspective would change from it. I have found it surprisingly difficult to read and to write, and the chapters about the war have been the hardest so far.

About the time I began to read about war in Daughters in my Kingdom, I began a book called Behind the Iron Curtain: Recollections of Latter-Day Saints in East Germany. This is a subject near to my heart because, no matter that I was born in America, and grew up in America, my soul lives in Germany. I don't tell people this when they ask me where I am from, because it requires too much explanation, but Germany is where I consider myself home.

The German people are stoic, with dry senses of humor. They are friendly, but private, only letting select people into their lives. More than anything, they have an inner strength mixed with a willingness to sacrifice that is unparalleled. They are rooted deeply in reality, and have learned to find beauty and humor in the harshness that life can bring. Their stories of the war can't help but betray this tender-hearted, unflinching nature.

It is this same spirit which permeates the accounts of women during the World Wars.

If You Love Me

"Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another."
—1 John 4:10-11

I have been giving a lot of thought about love. God loved us, and so sacrifices for us, focuses on us. I tried my best to do the same in my marriage, and still try to do it with my children. But the more I think about God's love and trying to actually create room for that type of love in my heart, I feel more and more inadequate. I come to realize more and more that I really haven't the least idea how to make that love a part of my life.

I worry about love and my capacity to love anyone freely again, let alone a spouse. I did the best I could once, let go of my fears, and it wasn't enough. What if it can never be enough? How can I try to give all I have all over again after so painfully recreating something to have in the first place?

I think about Christ, suffering alone in the Garden of Gethsemane and hanging alone on the cross, feeling abandoned by His Father, and not knowing in that moment if anything He gave would be enough to save anyone. Not even knowing if one person would appreciate what He was doing, giving His all.

I can see that Christ's love is not a love that comes with any expectations, not even the expectation of acknowledgment. Broken and lonely, He "finished [His] preparations unto the children of men."

I am afraid to try to love others, to serve others. If I open myself up enough to be responsive to their needs, the tight bands I have wrapped around my pain will burst all over again. And I am thoroughly sick and tired of vomiting out my emotional ugliness.

But then comes the image of the Savior again, crying, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" and I know that somehow, broken and lonely and afraid, I have to find a way.

Thou Hast Not Withheld

The process by which I decided to divorce my husband was a life-altering one. Up until that time, I had, piece by piece, sacrificed everything of myself on the altar of marriage. To take all of that and sacrifice the marriage itself was difficult. The Spirit and I wrestled many nights over that decision. The Lord taught me slowly but surely that He was asking of me a sacrifice not unlike Abraham's when he was called to sacrifice his son, Isaac.

Since then, I have weathered other betrayals, predominantly by those in the Church. My attempts to sacrifice my pride and anger has lead to others discounting me, disbelieving me, and ignoring me. These betrayals are small but devastating aftershocks.

This morning, I realized that the divorce was only the beginning of my Abrahamic test.

Some tests, like Abraham's, are an event. One decision. Some people are delivered from following through with their test, as Abraham was. But sometimes the test is more subtle over a longer period of time. Sometimes you really have to make the sacrifice.

There is one thing every test has in common. You are always called upon to decide what is most important in your life. Is it resentment towards other people that might cause you to become bitter, angry, or no longer attend Church? Is it grief over your loss that you wrap around yourself like an invisibility cloak? Or is service to God, is discipleship, more important than even your own pain?

Each time I have been disappointed by my fellow Saints or by life in general, I have clearly seen a choice of two paths. I can let this turn me away from the Church, or I can choose to learn from my experience and become even more devoted to my Savior. I can gain a greater desire to serve God's children, to not be one of those so embroiled in my own life that I don't notice when someone needs me.

So for me, the sacrifice truly is everything, especially myself. The test is whether or not I will choose to still love even after the sacrifice.

To Know that Jesus is the Christ

I'm not exactly sure when I first knew that the stories were true, that Jesus was real. My parents taught me to turn to the scriptures when I needed answers, to listen to the promptings of the Spirit for comfort and guidance. My first clear memory of a personal experience with scripture helping me happened when I was six or seven years old.

According to witnesses (mostly my mother), I was a very gregarious child. One of her favorite stories is of me jumping into the arms of a complete stranger at the grocery store. But in growing up, somehow that changed. I developed a very strong sense of caution when dealing with other people. I learned not to trust smiles, that kindly old gentlemen might be predators and friendly children might only be looking for an opening to attack.

When I was in college, I began going through a very painful internal struggle with myself. I realized that I had closed myself off from human connections because of my fear. I remember one night when neither of my roommates were home, I was wracked with silent tears as I visualized peeling away layer after layer of emotional armor which I had built over the years. Literally shaking, I remember the distinct impression of arms being wrapped around me. I remember not wanting to move for fear that the sensation would leave.

Similar experiences have happened to me since then, and I have been impressed with strong mental and emotional inclinations at various times, which I believe are from the Spirit. There have been times when those impressions have quite literally saved my life.

I have been going through a hard time over the past two years. In the aftermath of escaping an abusive marriage to the one person I allowed to get deeper into my heart than anyone before my children were born, I have found myself fighting against layering myself once again with emotional armor and closing myself off to the possibility of being hurt that deeply again.

But I know it is important to remain open and vulnerable to pain because that is what my Savior did. The angel asked Nephi once, "Knowest thou the condescension of God?" Like Nephi, I can reply that I know that God loves His children, but that I don't know the meaning of everything that has happened on this earth. More than two thousand years ago, a man who was God came to this earth, opening Himself up to all that mortality means; the pain, fear, discomfort, betrayal and sorrow.

Like me, He knows what it is like to be betrayed and rejected of those He loved most, those He called His "jewels". He knows what it is like to long for a place that feels like home. He knows what it is like to face His duty to the Father only to be afraid and wish that His life were something other than it was. And yet, He came. He came and He finished what He was sent to do.

I know that He is real as I know my own heart is real, for I have felt Him. I know that He is present in this great Mortality Play, and that He knows me. And for a God like that, I proclaim, "Hallelujah!" For a man like that, I will gladly fall to my knees and worship. For my Savior, I will continue to fight to remain open and vulnerable as my offering to an Almighty God, in the hopes of serving Him by serving His children.

I know He is, and He lives. Glory to God, Hallelujah!

Tochter Zion, freue dich!
Jauchze, laut, Jerusalem!
Sieh, dein König kommt zu dir!
Ja er kommt, der Friedenfürst.
Tochter Zion, freue dich!
Jauchze, laut, Jerusalem!

Zion's daughter, O rejoice!
Shout aloud, Jerusalem!
Lo, thy King doth come to thee,
Yea, He comes, the Prince of Peace!
Zion's daughter, O rejoice!
Shout aloud, Jerusalem!

Hosianna, Davids Sohn,
Sei gesegnet deinem Volk!
Gründe nun dein ewig' Reich,
Hosianna in der Höh'!
Hosianna, Davids Sohn,
Sei gesegnet deinem Volk!

Hail, hosanna, David's Son,
Be Thou to Thy people blest!
Thine eternal kingdom come!
Praise be sung to Thee on high!
Hail, hosanna, David's Son,
Be Thou to Thy people blest!

Hosianna, Davids Sohn,
Sei gegrüßet, König mild!
Ewig steht dein Friedensthron,
Du, des ew'gen Vaters Kind.
Hosianna, Davids Sohn,
Sei gegrüßet, König mild!

Hail, hosanna, David's Son,
Be Thou welcome, gentle King!
Firmly stands Thy throne of peace,
Thou, the Father's only Son!
Hail, hosanna, David's Son,
Be Thou to Thy people blest!

Tochter Zion, Freue Dich!
Heinrich Ranke (1798-1876)
Translation by H. Brueckner

The Value of a Woman

I am a mother who has worked outside of the home by necessity. Part of me has resented the fact that I've not had a choice. As I look at the current climate of women's issues, an intriguing thought occurred to me.

Historically, there has been an undeniable lacuna between the value of a man and the value of the woman. Men have been valued by how robust they are, by how much money and how many decisions they can make. Women have been valued by their domestic skills, taking care of others. By their very natures, both have ideally been about putting others needs above their own, but for men that means being assertive, even aggressive to protect the interests of his family, for women it means being passive, yielding and gentle. For ease of reference, I'll call the stereotypical male values as "hard" and the stereotypical female values as "soft".

Over the course of time, intelligent women have looked around and noticed that soft values allowed those more "assertive" to take advantage of them, leading to abuse. Whenever someone is of a giving nature, there is always someone else waiting to push the boundaries of that giving, to strip as much advantage out of it as possible. So, those intelligent women saw a need to become more assertive, to adopt the harder qualities and prove that they, too, could be hard.

As a result, they have elevated the worth of those values even further. By looking at the difference in perceived value, and deciding that in order to become more valued, they must adopt hard qualities, they have essentially bought into the myth that the hard qualities are of more value than the soft ones. In a way of speaking stereotypically, women have sought value by becoming more like men.

I think this is addresses the symptoms of the problem, and ignores the real problem, which is that historically speaking, women do not feel valued.

Interestingly, the gospel teaches us the exact opposite: that the softer qualities are more valuable.

We see in scripture, however, that there are times which softer qualities are in danger of being completely wiped out by those willing to take advantage of them. In such cases, it is appropriate to take a stand. In other words, when abuse threatens, those harder qualities of assertiveness and even aggression have value.

So my thoughts are summed up like this: I think that women (and men) will be more benefited by lifting the value of softer qualities, rather than continuing to support the value of the harder ones. Let submission be seen as praiseworthy, let avoidance of the limelight be valued. Let those who sacrifice their own interests to clean house, take care of kids, serve in the community behind the scenes, be honored equally with those who gain educational achievements or business success.

The trick is knowing how to do it without being condescending. They have to be honored with more than lip service.

And, of course, by honoring those values loudly and publicly, perhaps their worth would be compromised.

The Five Selfish Virgins

"Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet the bridegroom. And five of them were wise, and five were foolish. They that were foolish took their lamps, and took no oil with them: But the wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps. While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept.

And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him. Then all those virgins arose, and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish said unto the wise, Give us of your oil; for our lamps are gone out. But the wise answered, saying, Not so; lest there be not enough for us and you: but go ye rather to them that sell, and buy for yourselves. And while they went to buy, the bridegroom came; and they that were ready went in with him to the marriage: and the door was shut.

Afterward came also the other virgins, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us. But he answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you not. Watch therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour wherein the Son of man cometh."
Matthew 1

When I was a little girl, I had a bookmark like the picture above. I remember studying it for hours, along with the description on the back by the artist, Gayla Prince, during various Church meetings.

It wasn't until lately that I began to understand the parable of the ten virgins in a different way. Now I understand better the pain that both sides must have felt. Now I see that the parable is not one of five who are righteous and five who are wicked, but about ten righteous people, five of whom believed they understood and could control their circumstances. It wasn't just a matter of not being prepared, it was a matter of feeling that someone else would solve their problems for them.

I am naturally inclined to what I've come to call a "Savior complex" in that I attempt to save everyone. I want everyone to be happy and enjoy blessings. In the past, I have been willing to neglect my own salvation in favor of others, feeling that I was selfish or self-centered for not focusing on others' comfort. Yet, I have since been strongly taught by the Spirit that it is not my place to try to save others.

That place belongs to Christ and Him alone.

It is a nuanced form of pride to believe that I can stand in His place, replace His work in others' lives. I don't yet know entirely what my place is in His kingdom, but I know that "Savior" is not it. The wise virgins cannot save their companions, no matter how much they might wish to. The relationships between Christ and each of His disciples is His responsibility and the individual's.

And unfortunately, that means that those who believe in Him without being willing to do what is necessary to be with Him may not be recognized by Him when the time comes. The five who were wise were not only wise because they were prepared, they were wise because they knew they could not give others salvation.

"Behold, here am I, send me, I will be thy son, and I will redeem all mankind, that one soul shall not be lost . . . ."
Moses 4

Seeking the Pearl

Matthew 13: 45-46
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like unto a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had, and bought it."

I have such a pearl. I was young when I found it, and though it has taken me years (and is still taking me years in many respects), I am selling all I have to attain it. But I never suspected that in seeking after this pearl, I would also have to in some respects, sell my efforts to attain it.

When I first promised to sell all I had for this pearl, I didn't think I had much. Since then, I have gained many things that are precious to me. Some of these treasures turn out to be poisons that I have to cleanse out of my heart—or allow to be cleansed. Some of these things are good, holy, praiseworthy things&mdash things which are nearly if not equally precious as that which I am selling them for. But I have dedicated my heart, and there is no turning back now.

Is there any pearl you would give up everything for? Even if "all you have" is not enough to buy it?

Oh, That I Were an Angel!

I have never really understood Alma 29. In it, Alma expresses the desire to be an angel and to cry repentance with a voice to shake the earth. Then, he says that he sins by wishing that. I always thought that sounded rather falsely humble. After all, is it not a great work of God to wish to cry repentance?

Now I think I begin to understand an inkling of why that was a sin. I have come to a point where I see people I love and others I care about making choices that cause them pain. It brings me a very real sorrow to see them lying to themselves and cheating themselves out of happiness, not to mention all those around them. I have felt the desire to shake them and say "Can't you see what you are doing?!" But Alma's statement that he sinned by wishing the same thing was no false humility. It was true.

Part of the price we pay for our agency is the agency of others. When it is legal to smoke, we are accepting the damage that nicotine does second-handedly to our lungs. When we choose to marry, have children or make friends we are also accepting that they have their own agency which can then hurt us by their actions. When we overcome our own natural inclinations in order to preach the gospel, we must accept that there are those who will refuse it, despite our sacrifices. When we decide to be disciples of Christ, we take upon ourselves His name and, by so doing, take upon ourselves some degree of His sorrows and travails. I wonder if the pain He felt came more from watching those He loves make choices that cause only grief. I have learned how that can be a very real pain, even if the actions of another don't affect me in any more material way. I have felt no agony more exquisite than watching someone exercise their agency in a way that causes unforeseen pain, knowing I should do nothing to restrict them from doing so.

It is a sin, perhaps one of the gravest sins, to desire to take away another's agency. All of the worst sins including murder and chastity infringements center around that desire (or at least that disregard for another's agency). Allowing others their agency in no way invalidates laws required to govern our behavior in society, but it does mean that the execution of those laws must be done with true understanding. They must not be upheld through a desire to control, only a desire to protect. It may seem like a very thin line, but I think it means a world of difference in the realms of the soul.

It is vital to remember that we have each been given an allotment from God. That allotment may include great deeds, but it more importantly and more commonly includes the small ones. It does not matter whether you serve as priesthood wielder, prophet, Nobel Peace Prize winner, sister or mother, so long as you serve as a child of God, with all the powers and divinity which come with your status. Alma was not an angel, nor was he called to be the hand by which the miraculous work of converting the Lamanites was brought about. But in his less glorious and romantic way, he was able to bring about the salvation of just as many souls. And, humbly, he was able to rejoice in the great deeds of his brethren. It may not be the tale to excite the blood of small sword-brandishing boys, but it is beautiful and glorious.

Why Woman Should Serve Man in Marriage

I apologize for the rambling of this post. I'm expressing things as I mull over them, and so am not as articulate as I would like to be. I've observed several conversations of late and I find it unfortunate how "serve" has become a curse. It seems that many equate serving with being walked all over. I think that one of the things that we have lost in the concept of marriage (though we have gained things, as well) is the idea that marriage is for others, for the spouse and children, as well as ourselves. All too easily we are tempted to walk out of a marriage when it is not giving us what we expect or demand. Untold pain to all involved is born as a result.

Women should serve because it is part of woman's role to serve, to make her husband comfortable and loved, to ensure her children have a safe place in her. This truth does not preclude the fact, however, that men should also serve. It is their role to also provide a safe place for wife and children, to protect and love them, to cherish them, to help them feel comfortable and valued. This is not a new concept, and its reality is as elusive today under our "new concept" of a marriage of equals as it has ever been.

I do not know the future of marriage. I am not firmly convinced of who is right and who is wrong in the endless debates on the subject. My mind tells me some things, my heart tells me others. But I can see that one of the primary purposes of the family is to serve each other. Service is at the core of the priesthood as demonstrated by Christ himself, and is the essence of motherhood. I believe it is also the essence of Godhood.

Yes, women should serve men, but so should men also serve women. Her service is intertwined with his. If either breaks their covenant, there is no promise. Both must serve God and each other. I love to serve, even when that service is not accepted. I wish only that I were better at it, and not so easily beset by selfishness both within my marriage as without. Until service—even in the face of ridicule and humiliation—is accepted and performed in spite of rejection, we will never understand Christ well enough to be like Him. He submitted himself to sinners to be mocked so that He might redeem them. We cannot be as He is until we do, to the utmost of our sphere, what He did.