Planning Like God

I workout way harder in my Orangetheory class then I ever could on my own. One major reason the Orangetheory workout is so effective is that the whole class is broken up into small, manageable challenges. Run at a moderate pace for a minute. Yes, I can do that. Now push yourself for one minute, and then go back to a moderate pace for another 30 seconds. Okay, that is also doable. Now run as fast as you can for 30 seconds. Oh, that sounds challenging. But I don’t mind being in distress for 30 seconds. The whole workout goes like that and before long the hour has passed, and I’m dripping in sweat.

There are endless books, blogs and, podcasts about how to be more productive. A major idea that teachers of time management discuss is the importance of breaking up large, daunting tasks into small manageable action items. I am just now, at 41, learning to do this. Probably most of you know this by now, but if you don’t, or if you just need a reminder, consider the following:

Breaking up large tasks is so fundamentally important to our progress that it's featured in the opening story of the Bible. One of the first things we learn about God in the creation account is that he systematically broke up the ineffable task of creating the world. On the first day, God divided the light from the darkness. Then he stopped. And on the second day he divided the waters above from the waters below creating the firmament. Then, he stopped again. On the third day he gathered together the water and created the seas and the dry land. And so on until the sixth day.

Why didn’t God create the world from start to finish without stopping? Why does the creation story so explicitly point out the division of time?

One explanation might be that God was setting a pattern for us, showing how we should go about “creating” our lives. We too must complete our tasks by moving forward step by step. Most large undertakings, both spiritual and practical, don’t happen all at once. Line upon line pertains not only to our spiritual growth, but also to all of our important endeavors.

Popular life coach, Brooke Castillo, teaches that if you’ve broken down a task, but it still seems daunting, then you have to break down the steps even more. She gives the example of writing a blog post. If the hour arrives that you’ve schedule to write the blog post, and you absolutely can’t get yourself to do it, then you need to break down the scheduling even further. Schedule taking out your laptop. Schedule turning off notifications. Schedule writing the outline, and so forth.

What multiple time management and productivity gurus have discovered, God’s prophets taught in the creation account: break up large tasks into smaller parts. This is obviously just one lesson gleaned from the creation story. However, the example God sets in creating the world, speaks to its importance in designing our own lives.

The Space between Hope and Knowledge

"Action will remove the doubt that theory cannot solve." 

--Pehyl Hsieh

Over the years, I’ve had my share of doubts about the Mormon church. Some doubts came from discovering things that prophets and leaders have said or done that didn’t seem in line with the Gospel of Jesus Christ as I understood it. Other uncertainties developed after learning historical facts that differed from the ones I’d been taught at church. And then there are the inherent problems that exist for women in a system of benevolent patriarchy. While some of my issues have been resolved through study, prayer, and revelation, some have not. So why am I Mormon? How can I count myself a faithful and worthy member of the church even when there are times when I feel there are precious few statements I can make beginning with the phrase “I know”?

Well, one answer is that humans are complex creatures. People are not all one way or the other. No one’s all good or all bad. All knowing or all doubting. So, while at times I’ve wrestled with ferocious doubts, there are also many instances when my spirit has expanded with peace and joy in, yes, knowing that my Father in Heaven intently listens to and answers my prayers, that Christ truly is the Son of God and the great healer, that the words of the prophets and leaders of the church radiate with truth, and that we are in the Lord’s restored church.

I’ve talked numerous hours with family and friends who’ve left the church about their reasons for leaving. I’ve read countless blog posts and listened to hours of podcasts, produced by both the faithful and the non-believing, about their issues with the church and read many books about church history. Through all of this I’ve come to a few conclusions about why some are consumed by their doubts, why others can live with them and why some can even find peace in them.  

The first conclusion is that in order to believe and be converted one must accept that knowledge gained spiritually is equally as valid as knowledge gained strictly through rational or scientific means. When I am trying to determine the truth of spiritual things solely through rational deduction, the doubting side of me can easily take the forefront. Sure, there are gospel principles we can know are true through rational analysis just as Alma explains in Alma 32. For example, I can say I know honesty is a true principle because when I’m honest people trust me. When people trust me, I can have successful relationships. Successful relationships bring me lasting happiness. Happiness is what I seek. Therefore, honesty is a true principle.  But on the other hand, there are many things that simply cannot be explained satisfactorily through rational analysis, such as why a loving God cares enough to directly answer my prayers about my lost keys, but not the prayers for safety said by a family just prior to being hit by a drunk driver. Am I to distrust my spiritual experience just because I can’t explain this? Because I can’t explain all things? I’ve decided that, no. It’s not acceptable to discount my spiritual experiences just because I can’t explain all things, because, to paraphrase Joseph Smith, I know that it happened, and I know God knows I know it happened. Elder David Evans summed it up well in the last general conference when he said, “Without knowing everything we can [still] know the truth.”

Each spiritual experience we have, each communion with God, each burden lifted by the Savior, each wound healed by Him, and each tender mercy is a pearl of great price. Each should be treasured, saved and preserved. I am convinced that one’s ability to recognize, label and remember these spiritual experiences determines how she will weather the fiery darts of Satan, the mocking and pointing of others, and, of course, the endless ways that doubts can be placed in our minds.

Another tool that helps us to deal with the doubts that might creep up is learning to distill what is actually the gospel of Jesus Christ from the culture of church and family. When we are growing up we don’t yet have the analytic capability to separate what is the Gospel of Jesus Christ from the well intentioned but imperfect behavior of our parents, church teachers and leaders. Many of these well-intentioned people are dealing with their own issues and, of course, aren’t perfect or all knowing. So, for example in some families a culture of fear might have overshadowed the love of Jesus Christ. Or maybe a dogmatic seminary teacher pushed a more threatening interpretation of the gospel. When one has not felt the abounding love and acceptance that is at the heart of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, there is nothing tethering her to the church when the winds of doubt blow. It is vital that before discarding the gospel of Jesus Christ that we take the necessary time in prayer and scripture study so that we can be taught by the spirit the bounteous love that the Savior offers. We each need to discover the love of the Savior for ourselves, in our hearts.

Not everybody will experience crippling doubt, but even if you don’t, someone you know will. That is the reality. It’s important that we don’t refer to periods of doubting as any kind of crisis. It’s not a crisis to have your faith challenged, nor is bad to have doubts. Consider how the Savior blesses the man who admits. “Lord I believe, help thou my unbelief.” Even though this man did not have a perfect knowledge, the Savior accepted his honest expression of incomplete faith and healed his son. Remember it was Satan’s plan that would force us all to believe perfectly. Inquiry and searching for truth are hallmarks of our religion. However, it is imperative that one stays uncompromisingly close to the Lord and holds continuously to the iron rod while on her journey of discovery.

Whether it is you who is struggling or someone you know, the answer is the same: love through the struggle. Love yourself. Love those who believe differently. And love that we have the luxury to choose what we will believe and to act on it. I’ve heard stories of very faithful members, not speaking to or interacting as much with their doubting or unbelieving family and friends. To withhold love and attention as a means of punishment goes against the Gospel of Jesus Christ. To me, that is a tragedy: sad for everyone involved. We know that the Savior sought out and administered to his lost sheep. President Uchtdorf said, “Whatever problems your family is facing, whatever you must do to solve them, the beginning and the end of the solution is charity, the pure love of Christ.”

There is so much more I could say on this topic. But for time’s sake let me leave you with a couple of things that I’ve found helpful.

First, read David Evans talk from October General Conference. In it he advised us not to take on the doubts of others. At times, we may have a few questions and when we go looking for answers we stumble upon people who are not only questioning the same things we are, but have a longer list of problems with many aspects of the church. It is important that we don’t take on their doubts. If we’ve never had a problem with a certain aspect of the church, we don’t need to adopt one just because someone else has a problem with it.

Second, read a book titled Planted by Patrick Q Mason and another book called The Crucible of Doubt by Fiona and Teryl Givens. They are both published by Deseret Book. The authors are faithful scholars who articulately address the doubts people have without discounting or demeaning them. Both books offer refreshing paradigms for approaching our doubts and concerns about the church.

Finally, I’d like to offer my testimony. As I stated before, there is so much I can’t say I know with absolute certainty, but I can unequivocally say I hope. I hope all of it’s true. And with this hope, I can move forward acting in faith and charity, knowing that I’d rather stand here than anywhere else. Each night when I pray, I feel something that is not from me that fills my heart, guides me, and loves me. I call that something God. I feel Him even as I write about this. I’ve consciously chosen to trust in my God who, through his spirit, has guided me to find the peace I’ve sought throughout my life. I’ve chosen to trust in the God who provided a Son to succor me and heal me as I stumble along the way; and to trust in the God who provided prophets and leaders who have vowed to serve Him the best they could. What my life experience has taught me, and what I could never deny, (so, I guess, what I know) is that each time I act in faith, each time I step out on the ledge and follow what I’ve felt God wants me to do, even when it went against reason, I’ve been blessed a hundred-fold for my small act of faith.

 To those who doubt, struggle, find it hard to be at church or whose hearts are hurting, you are not alone. Whatever you decide to do, whatever path you decide to take, you’ll always have a place at my table. 

Scarcity and Abundance in Mormonism

“…thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.” 2 Nephi 2:2

Seek and ye shall find has several applications. What we “find” in the Gospel of Jesus Christ is often just a reflection of our outlook on life. In other words, we project onto the gospel how we view the world and ourselves.

When I came back to the church at 16, I viewed the world as a place where there were limited resources. Life as I knew it as a young girl had been slowly ripped away from me. My parents divorced. My mom had a mental breakdown. We moved from the only place I’d ever known. I was no longer a little girl; I’d experienced too much. In my eyes, the world was a place of scarcity where people and places you love are not permanent.

While I did have a glimmer of hope in coming back to church, fear mostly guided my outlook. I worked to gain my worth back in Heavenly Father’s eyes because I had no idea that my worth had already been bought with the Savior’s atonement. So, I mistakenly measured my worth in fervent prayer and scripture study, and in conforming the best I could to what seemed to constitute the life of a Mormon woman.

However, my pursuits were futile because I was never going to be like the girls who were raised in homes with attentive moms who make crafts for every season, teach church classes with object lessons and printouts, and who bring casseroles to neighbors in need. Instead, my sister and I were pretty much on our own. Mom was gone and severely mentally ill. Dad was busy figuring out life after divorce and working to support us. I was left feeling fundamentally flawed, because I didn’t fit the Mormon mold.

Going to Brigham Young University only magnified my seeming deficit. I imagined that everyone there had come from intact proclamation families who loved them unconditionally and nurtured their talents and academic abilities. I put the church and its people on a pedestal.

For many years I deeply resented the hand I’d been dealt. I remember thinking, I could have been more accomplished if only I’d been supported academically, and pushed to develop my talents. If only I hadn’t had those emotional and situational setbacks. If only I’d had parents like the Hansen’s or the Christiansen’s.

Over time, I realized that what I saw as “set backs” or a lack of resources were perfectly crafted opportunities that helped me develop the ability to withhold judgement, develop empathy for those who feel marginalized, and foster a deep relationship with Heavenly Father. Could I have developed the deep foundational relationship I have with God, a relationship that at times has been the sole thread holding together my testimony, had I not so desperately needed and relied on him as I tried to figure out if my faith was enough to qualify me for the kingdom?

Our desire to demonstrate faith and do what’s right by God sometimes gets conflated with our very human need to be accepted by the group. This tendency manifests itself in church culture when our attention becomes disproportionately focused on proscriptive limits that can be outwardly observed rather than soul enhancing pursuits which happen in private. We miss the mark when our focus is on things like hemlines rather than a humble heart or when we focus on not drinking and smoking rather than meditating about the connection between body and spirit. Burdens lighten when we make choices from a place of sincerity (seeking approval from God) rather than from a place of scarcity (seeking approval from peers).

What I understand now is that the expectation to fit any sort of “Mormon mold” is self-imposed. I can decide if I want to play the game of trying to live up to some invented social expectation or not. Yes, there might be throngs of people around me with white, subway-tiled back splashes, growing at-home businesses, and taking family pics each week. And I can be happy for their pursuits. But the only thing that I am required to offer is my faith and obedience to God. I was never meant to be like any particular Mormon woman. Each has her mission to fulfill and I have mine. We all make up the body of Christ.

During college and since, I’ve known Mormons who come from diverse backgrounds with all different types of families. All of us seemed to be imagining the same thing about the other: that everyone else had it all figured out and life has been easy for them. But none of it was true. Nobody’s had a perfect life. The one thing that we do have in common is our hope in the Savior’s atonement to heal what is beyond our own ability to repair.

Now I’m trying to view the gospel of Jesus Christ as a gospel of abundance. I try not to pray and read the scriptures to earn my worth, but instead to tap into the bounteous love of God. I don’t attempt to access the power of Jesus Christ to help me be more like the ‘perfect Mormon’, but to soften my heart and help me love more fully. I try not to let fear and scarcity guide my thoughts, but rather pray for the scales to fall from my eyes and to know my true purpose. By seeking abundance in the gospel of Jesus Christ, I’m finding my unique role in the kingdom and better understanding my true worth.

How has your view of gospel doctrine changed as you’ve grown? What “wicked traditions” or false premises have you had to shed to truly embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ? What do you seek from the gospel? Are you finding what you are seeking?



 

The Price of Beauty

I was in 9^th grade when I began to understand that beauty was a societal construct. One day during math, I heard Lamar Hendricks, a charismatic and handsome 10^th grader say, “Dude that girl is thick; she so fine,” referring to Gina Lopez as she walked out of the classroom. I was confused. Did he really just say that a female, who is “thick”, could be considered attractive? I thought to myself, “Forget them white boys.”

I was reminded of this experience when I taught high school in Mexico City. Boys would talk about thin girls as too skinny and medium or heavier girls as attractive. It blew my mind and I further understood that definitions of beauty are subjective and totally made up.

While widening our concept of physical beauty is definitely a step in the right direction a la Dove ads, it still objectifies women, much the way Lamar certainly was. It still says that a woman’s body equals her beauty and her worth. Is that objectification inevitable and okay as long as we have a broad definition of beauty?  Or to what extent should our self-esteem be intertwined with our appearance? And how much time and energy should we devote to our appearance?

I’ve had many debates with people about whether it is virtuous to care about what we look like.  My argument has always been that we should look “neat and comely” which I interpret to mean, clean and presentable for the occasion. But others say it’s fine to gain confidence from trying to obtain a worldly standard of beauty. The problem is that feeling good when we look good is a double-edged sword because when we don’t think our looks measure up, our confidence decreases. I don’t want my mood or my feelings of worth to rise and fall according to my compliance with societal standards of beauty. I know they are made up and mostly by people trying to sell something.

These ideas play out in an interesting way on social media. For example, no one starts an Instagram account with pictures of women who, while still maintaining health, hygiene, and decorum, are obviously not bowing to the invented standards of beauty that we waste our time trying to achieve (eyebrows anyone?) What do we gain when we follow these popular Instagrammers? Do we think that if we buy what they are peddling we, too, might be popular?

I had a friend once tell me that she worked hard at being beautiful for no one other than herself. She was open about her plastic surgeries and her extreme dieting and exercise. She assured me that she feels good because she’s achieved the ideal and if others work hard they can feel good by achieving that ideal too. Indeed, she is winning at beauty. But even though I understand her position, I can’t accept that those who are not achieving the beauty ideal should walk around feeling bad about themselves. Oftentimes, they have much more to contribute than those who spend their time working on their looks and their IG photos.

Because beauty and body image have been such huge issues for me, I’ve always admired no nonsense women who seem oblivious to trends and beauty norms such as dying or highlighting hair, wearing makeup, and dressing for anything other than function.  But alas, even though I know beauty standards are made up, and even with all my high-minded ideals, I still succumb to the hype. I am far from immune. I highlight my hair and want an updated wardrobe. Despite major improvements with my body image issues, I still care how heavy I feel. So, where is the line between maintaining health, hygiene, and decorum, versus self-obsession and vanity?

If we look at what is preached from the pulpit, the message seems clear. Elder Holland has said, “In terms of preoccupation with self and a fixation on the physical, this is more than social insanity; it is spiritually destructive, and it accounts for much of the unhappiness women, including young women, face in the modern world. And if adults are preoccupied with appearance—tucking and nipping and implanting and remodeling everything that can be remodeled—those pressures and anxieties will certainly seep through to children.” It seems something is getting lost in translation when Salt Lake City is ranked with one of the highest number of plastic surgeons per capita (trailing only Miami). The plastic surgeons wouldn’t be there if there wasn’t a demand. Where is the line between desiring to look good and being too preoccupied with looking like what the media says is beautiful?

Beauty and weight are so tricky for woman because Satan has inserted himself into this conversation. He knows that if he has us guessing about our worth, we become more desperate for love and attention. When we feel desperate we are vulnerable and more easily accept counterfeit sources of validation.

After Moses had seen God and beheld his glory, Satan appeared and tried to trick Moses into believing he too was a God. Moses could quickly tell that Satan was lying because Satan possessed none of the glory Moses experienced when in God’s presence. When we continuously take time to commune with God through prayer, scriptures study, nature walks, meditation, service, temple attendance etc., our spirits become more adept at feeling the glory of God in our lives. If we are practiced at recognizing the glory of God, when Satan comes at us with his fake, worldly glory, we, like Moses, can discern the difference.

I’m 40 now and the truth is I care a lot less than I used to about how I look. But, I still care. And maybe, as a wise friend pointed out, it’s okay that I do…as long as caring about my looks doesn’t interfere with things that are more important like being on time, proper attention given to my family and others, and responsible allocation of resources (asking myself if purchasing this beauty treatment is living beyond my means or if the money is more responsibly spent elsewhere).

Sometimes, I sincerely wish I could just wear shapeless caftans, orthotic shoes, and let my patches of grey hair grow out. I’m not that liberated yet. You’ll know I’ve made it once I stop posting on Instagram.
 

Help me better understand the motivation behind why we care about the way we look. How much of it is biological? How much of it is trying to get others to lust after us or envy us? Is dressing up a way for you to express yourself? Do you ever tire of caring about how you look? Or do you even care at all?

Accepting Truth from Non-Members: What Dad and South Park Have in Common

Dad was in the kitchen engaging in his evening ritual: a cocktail of Scotch and water. And as usual, he had some jazz standards playing to help him relax. I sat on the sofa enjoying the breeze blowing in through the open door from the beach across the street. Each summer that I came home from Brigham Young University, I grew to appreciate the perfect Southern California climate I’d taken for granted in high school.

The light from the setting sun painted the room with golden light. But, despite the beautiful evening, I sat in distress. Too bad I couldn’t have a cocktail to take the edge off. I mean, I was 21, and legally I could. But when I was 16, I’d decided to become active in the Mormon church. So instead of joining my dad for a drink, which I’m sure he would have heartily welcomed, I sat ready to go meet my date, unable to bring myself to leave.

That summer, like whenever we were in the same vicinity, I picked up my relationship with my on-again, off-again non-Mormon boyfriend. Yet, as the years went by, it became harder to brush aside our major difference: religion. I’d often reel over how we could get past the religion piece, figuring there must be a solution I just wasn’t seeing, a way for me to remain faithful and still maintain the relationship.

In an uncharacteristic move, I opened up. “I don’t know what to do, Dad.”

Perceptively, he knew what I was referring to without me explicitly saying. He took a sip of his drink and shifted his eyes towards mine with a knowing glance. “Stick with your own kind,” he said.

I laughed, amazed that he knew what I was referring to and at his very politically incorrect way of giving advice. Yet, his words would be the nudge I needed to help me consider moving on from a relationship that didn’t feel right.

At that time, like a self-righteous 21-year-old, I figured there wasn’t much my dad could say that would impact me. After all, I was Mormon and he wasn’t. But when he spoke that phrase, I recognized that his fatherly advice was wise and inspired, even if partially by J&B.

This instance was just one of many making up the long, slow tutorial from God that I am no more spiritually evolved nor wise than my non-member friends and family. There are many important lessons I have learned from having relationships with people who believe differently than I do.

My dad is a jokester. I used to get extremely offended by the wise cracks he’d often make about my religion. When I was in my early twenties it would get me really worked up. “Why doesn’t he know that there are certain things you don’t joke about?” I ‘d think.  “To put down my religion is to put me down.”

But in my late twenties, I had an epiphany. I realized that these jokes weren’t about me. Joking was his way of reaching out, for better or for worse. I could choose to take it personally, or I could let it roll off my shoulders and love him anyway. When I realized his jokes were more about him than about me, everything changed. I somehow didn’t take offense anymore. Even though his jokes continued, they miraculously didn’t bother me. He is loving and generous; it would be foolish to allow something like the way he jokes to ruin our relationship.

I have been blessed since I made the decision to love, instead of to be offended. We’ve grown close and, almost two years ago, my family even moved 10 minutes away from him. He has been such a blessing and example in my life. My dad is a hard worker. With the Lion’s Club he serves selflessly in the community. He is a successful entrepreneur but will paint sidewalks in the ghetto and scrub down greasy grills for community events. He goes to Mexico to donate glasses and fixes up campgrounds for the blind and sight impaired.  I could have easily missed learning from him and enjoying all the love he gives to me and my family if I’d chosen to be offended and to consider myself more righteous than him.

My older sister is talented and vivacious—a free spirit. To be with Terra is to be expanding your frame of reference. When I decided to be Mormon at 16, she remained decidedly not Mormon.  And throughout the years, she’s challenged me. She cleverly uses Mormon teachings to get me to see things her way. She says things like, “If you believe so much in being Christlike, then why won’t you help me with this project.”  Or, “If you believe so much in family, why won’t you travel (from your home in Mexico City even though you have four kids) for this sibling’s weekend I planned.” She’s always had a way of making me think about whether I’m living what I profess to believe.  More than any of that, she is a constant learner. Whether its massage, aromatherapy, yoga, or gut health, she gets certified or becomes an expert in whatever she’s interested in. When I’m around her she makes me believe I am grand and that I should be sharing my gifts with the world. Since she is always creating, she gets me creating and reminds me how good it feels to create and share it. At first, I’d get all bent out of shape when she’d do things like question women’s roles in the church or show me the memorable South Park episode about the Book of Mormon. (It’s really quite accurate, just a little irreverent.) But over time, her critiques of the church led me to research and find out more deeply why I believe and, also, to be able to admit there are aspects of church culture that bother me. In short, she has helped to deepen my faith.

So much of my self-righteous thinking has been challenged by my non-member family and friends. I believe the truth necessary for salvation is contained within the Gospel of Jesus Christ. However, that does not mean we can claim to live that truth better than everyone else. I’ve seen so many non-members who live and understand aspects of the Gospel far better than I ever have. While they may not know they are living in accordance with Gospel truths, to the extent they are, it blesses their lives and the lives of the people around them.

The Book of Mormon prophet Jacob records a similar situation. He explains to his people that among them there are non-believers that are keeping certain commandments more fully than the believers. He tells them, “because of this observance, in keeping the commandment[s],…the Lord will be merciful into them; and one day they shall become a blessed people."

God knows all and loves all. He loves the non-Members of our family just as much as he loves us. In fact, it is my belief that we need the foil that only those of differing beliefs can provide for our faith to mature. While we do have the Gospel of Jesus Christ, we are light years away from understanding all that it’s truths encompass or how to live those truths completely. God provides us with family, friends and neighbors of other faiths to help us get closer to understanding the truth about who we really are and how much he loves and cares personally for all of his children.

What lessons have you learned from your relationships with people outside of your faith tradition/worldview?

Illusions of the First Law of Heaven

There I sat, smoking a cigarette, explaining the Plan of Salvation as I’d learned it back in Heber, Utah as a child going to Sunday School. It was Saturday night in the spring of 1993. I sat on the balcony of our rented beach apartment talking to a friend about the meaning of life. I was 16 and had experienced sadness and disappointment that left me empty inside. I’d gone through many phases searching to fill the void within. I tried hanging out with punks, gangsters, hippies, and the so called popular kids. I couldn’t fully embrace any of these lifestyles because everything felt so contrived, like we were all pretending to be something we weren’t. Maybe it was just me doing the pretending.

This particular Saturday night, I decided to stay home instead of going to yet another Long Beach house party with my sister. Instead, my friend came over and we found ourselves philosophizing about human existence as we understood it.

During the course of our conversation, I all of the sudden heard myself saying something to the effect of, “Yeah, there are all these commandments which sound difficult to keep, but they really just help us stay away from stuff that harms us and lead us to the things that will bring us happiness.”

I was unwittingly bearing my testimony leaving Heavenly Father an opening. He made his move.

The spirit filled my soul and said, “Don’t you want happiness?”

Yes! I yearned for it. Living in a broken home, making bad choices, and having no direction, left me aching for light and love in my life.

Before bed that night, I knelt to pray. It’d been a while. As I prayed, I felt the spirit envelop me and let me know I was needed. I felt that Heavenly Father needed me and my future family needed me. For a lost girl of 16, the message that I was needed was crucial.

I set my alarm, and went to church the next morning. It'd been a while...quite a while.

That decision to obey changed the direction of my entire life.

Obedience is the utmost act of faith because with our actions we tell Heavenly Father: I trust you. I trust that by keeping the commandments, I will be blessed.

But blessed how?

Does obedience really bring happiness?

We’ve all known people who faithfully keep the commandments, but who still experience heart-wrenching trials. The death of a loved one. Debilitating illness. Decisions by loved ones that they don’t agree with or understand. I’ve heard some people, when faced with these situations say things like, “I did everything I was supposed to do. I went on a mission, I got married in the temple, I paid my tithing and what good did it do me?” Because I haven’t been through their trials, I don’t presume to judge them. What’s interesting about their question though is that it implies a belief that obedience ensures that everything will go the way they expect. And when life doesn’t turn out the way they anticipate, they wonder if obedience is worth it.

Why would we be obedient to the commandments if there are no guarantees in this life?

What do we mean when we sing the line, “Keep the commandments in this there is safety, in this there is peace” or when we read the phrase repeatedly in the Book of Mormon that, “If ye keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land?” We need to break down what such phrases mean, because no one should be led to believe that keeping the commandments results in a happily-ever-after. Keeping the commandments does not guarantee an absence of sadness and trauma in our lives.

Yes, in keeping the commandments there is safety from unnecessary trials. Heavenly Father knows our lives will be very hard, so some of the commandments such as those associated with the Word of Wisdom or those pertaining to fidelity in marriage help to keep our already difficult human existence from being even harder. Some problems are avoidable.

And yes, in keeping the commandments, there is peace, because our Savior walks us step by step through the inevitable trials of life, showing us how to manage and potentially grow through them. After all, He will consecrate our afflictions for our gain when we rely on him. So, there is peace in realizing that an omniscient creator is pointing out the next step and aware of us. My most treasured moments in life are when Heavenly Father communicates to me so personally that I know the message is from him. That is in part the peace we sing about. 

Yet, we need to be careful about what we claim the promises of obedience really are.

The blessings of obedience come in the form of refined character and a purified soul.  Once we begin to look at the ways obedience blesses us, it is clear how obedience overtime creates a tapestry of virtues that can then serve us as we pass through life’s trials.

Just looking at some of the blessings of a few commandments shows how much we truly are blessed when we obey:
Paying tithing teaches generosity, being part of a community, humility, restraint, and protects against entitlement.

Honoring your parents fosters gratitude and humility. When we make a practice of being grateful we learn to focus on the positive which brings happiness and helps with problem solving. When we are humble, we can be taught of things as they really are. 

Honesty instills responsibility, hard work and accountability. Hard work and accountability contribute to successful relationships and productive lives.

These commandments and many others clearly bless our lives and enlarge our souls. For me, the biggest blessing of obedience, my promised land, is knowing that I can be the woman of whom I dream. I am her. It took a long time for me to be able to say that, but Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ did not give up on me. It was only by acquiring the attributes that come through obedience that I had eyes to see my divine nature more clearly.

    
How has obedience to the commandments of God blessed your life?

Meet the New Age Boyd K Packer

President Packer famously said, “The study of the gospel changes behavior quicker than a study of behavior changes behavior.”

How could that be?

If a smoker wants to quit smoking but continuously obsesses about how he needs to quit and how he’s addicted, chances are he’ll keep smoking because he is only thinking about his behavior. Instead, Packer suggests studying the gospel to affect change. The disgruntled smoker can study the doctrine of the body as a temple. He can analyze the promise of vitality found in the Word of Wisdom. He can discover how Christ’s power will give him power beyond his own. Packer’s quote implies that acquiring an understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ switches our focus to the solutions found in the doctrine which motivate us to make the changes we strive for.

It makes sense that what we focus on, what we spend time thinking about, we become.

Although unwittingly, many new age teachers, from Wayne Dyer to Ester Hicks, agree with the essence of Packer’s quote. They say we must practice occupying the vibration or energy of what we want to be. For example, if we want to change our unhealthy lifestyle, these gurus suggest that we should practice occupying the energy of what we imagine a healthy person’s mindset would be. Just as Packer does, they suggest living in the solution rather than the problem. Channeling the energy of a healthy lifestyle changes behavior quicker than trying to deconstruct all the psychological reasons why one is choosing an unhealthy way of life.

Dr. Shauna Shapiro explains how science has proven that what we practice grows. It becomes part of who we are and how we perceive ourselves. This means if we say to ourselves each day, “I’m lazy and it’s hard for me to get anything done,” we are practicing a negative mindset wherein we understand ourselves to be lazy, or, in other words, we get better at being lazy. This is why it is extremely important for us to analyze what we tell ourselves about ourselves. 

While science has only recently discovered why what we focus on expands, prophets of God have always taught this principle. Using a tree as a metaphor for true principles, Book of Mormon prophet Alma taught that, "if ye nourish it with much care it will get root, and grow up, and bring forth fruit. But if ye neglect the tree, and take no thought for its nourishment, behold it will not get any root" (Alma 32:37-38). If we spend time practicing, praying and meditating about a true principle, it grows within us and becomes part of who we are. 

If we are immersed in study of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, we practice aligning our energy with the eternal energy of the following life-changing truths. If practiced and understood, these principles help us discover our true worth and potential:

• My spirit is divine-I am a daughter of Heavenly Parents who love me!

• Being divine, my potential is limitless.

• Because I have loving Heavenly Parents, they will provide everything that I need for my growth and progression.

• The eternal principle of gratitude helps me recognize there is an infinite abundance of blessings to go around. I have no need to act from a place of scarcity or feel threatened by others’ successes.

• I have a Savior who will help me, show me the way, and provide that which I cannot for myself.

• The Spirit of Truth or the Holy Ghost, will resonate with my divine spirit when what I am doing or hearing is in alignment with my divine path.

• Because those around me are also divine, I must love and care for them.

These are just some of the beautiful truths that a study of the Gospel of Jesus Christ will reveal. When we come to truly understand them through study and prayer, we begin to discover who we really are, or actually, who we’ve been all along but couldn’t see.  And as both the gurus and President Packer suggest, as we practice living in the solution, rather than wallowing in the problem, our behavior and understanding of who we are becomes closer to the Truth. We begin to comprehend and recognize our divinity, the divinity of those around us and the divine plan of God.

Approaching the Throne of God

The words of Henry B. Eyring about prayer in the Face to Face event a few weeks ago deeply touched my heart. Initially, I was surprised by his insistence that most prayers need to be formal. He described how very seriously he approaches the throne of God. I compared Eyring’s description of prayer with the casual and obligatory attitude with which I’d been praying. 

I certainly wasn’t approaching God with the same reverence fit for the God of all Creation that President Eyring was describing.

That night, I prepared to pray, to focus and to remember the Greatness of God as I prayed. I sought to feel His spirit in each phrase I uttered. Let me tell you, wow, I felt the love of our Heavenly Parents with a new level of peaceful intensity. Since then, I’ve been trying to approach God with more deference in all my prayers. This effort has resulted in a spiritual awakening, a much needed lift that has restored my sense of purpose.

Shortly after this particular Face to Face event, I went to a women’s revival at a church called Garden of Praise Christian Fellowship in Carson, California. The service was like a celebration to God. They sang and shouted, then they brought the volume down low just to build it back up again. What a thrill. I clapped along and more clearly understood why so many singers on the Voice get their start in church. The vocalists were amazing. While I adored being there with my sisters in Christ and will surely go back to worship with these lovely women, I am still convinced that the changing of our hearts happens in the quiet moments of contemplation and reverencing ourselves before our maker. 

There is something soul changing when we feel His spirit as we kneel in faith before Him and know He cares and is listening and waiting to provide us with all we need for our character and soul to reach their potential. Both the loud celebration and the quiet introspection have their purpose and place.

We are all searching for further light and knowledge, whether we’re religious or not. We each choose the path we think is best for our growth and happiness. Whatever path we choose, kneeling before our maker, reverencing ourselves to The Power that allows us to love, acknowledging the greatness of our miraculous universe, earth and existence, CHANGES our souls. If you do this practice morning and night, if only as an exercise in gratitude and intention, your well-being will improve.

Are Mormons Insecure?

The first time it happened was toward the end of my senior year of high school. I’d been back at church just over a year when I decided to meet up with some non-Mormon friends from my days of “inactivity.” As I pulled out of the parking lot in an area unfamiliar to me, I turned the wrong way onto a one-way street. Filled with the anxiety of an inexperienced driver, I panicked, slammed on the brakes and frantically yelled, “What do I do?” 

“Pull to the side,” Allison snapped in an annoyed tone that suggested the solution was obvious. After I pulled over, I waited until it was clear to turn the car around and soon we were safely headed in the right direction.

Just as my heart rate was returning to normal, my friend Renee said in a smug tone, “That’s why you need that church of yours, because you’re so insecure.”

Her words pierced me. My heart rate shot up again and my cheeks flushed.

I’d never had this accusation thrown at me before, although, it wouldn't be the last time. At different times since then, people have repeated the same idea to me in various ways. Despite the circumstance that prompts them, their message has been clear: I’m Mormon because I’m weak. I’m just some thoughtless sheep blindly following the flock.

But in this instance, the hurt came because I knew it was partly true.  Maybe I did need the gospel more than others precisely because I was wracked with insecurities. But I wasn’t going to let her think she had me beat.

“Oh, and the way you cling to your loser boyfriend and smoke all that pot comes from a place of real confidence, I’m sure,” I struck back.

Over time, I realized that I attacked when those critical of my faith journey made judgments that part of me feared were true. In this case, I realized that the accusation of insecurity leading me to God was kind of true. And it took a while for me also to realize that having insecurities is OK, good even, when they lead us to God.

Sometimes, it’s true, God simply helps us get better at things we are bad at, turning our weaknesses into strengths in an obvious way. But other times, our weaknesses become strengths simply by discovering their important role in our spiritual journey.

5 Ways God Reveals Our Weaknesses as Strengths

1. God consecrates our experiences for our gain. That means that all that we’ve been through, including the inevitable heartache of life, the consequences of sin, and our insecurities can be used for our gain when we recognize that God truly is our father and trust that He cares for us personally. That’s the caveat though, we have to turn to Him because, through the Spirit, He teaches us how to use the knowledge of our experience to better our lives and help those around us. Think of Moses and Paul and how God used their worldly training and augmented it for His own purposes and, in so doing, made Moses and Paul great spiritually, despite their weaknesses. It’s beautiful and merciful in an eternal way. Think of how God blessed the Canaanite harlot, Rahab, because she recognized the power and reality of the God of Israel and helped the Israelite spies escape Jericho. Despite the difficulties of this story to our modern sensibilities (everyone in the city is destroyed except Rahab’s family), its miraculous because God uses Rahab’s resourcefulness and even blesses her abundantly despite her obvious weaknesses. Through Rahab’s line is born Joseph, earthly father-figure to Jesus. God indeed uses all that we are for good when we turn to him.  

2. Our Weaknesses teach us to have empathy for others. Because I have hurt and felt insecure, I am sensitive to others that are feeling down and left out. Those who have been marginalized know the sting of being overlooked and under-appreciated. I try to be diligent in my parenting to teach my children to consider how others feel instead of judging others for their differences.

3. Weaknesses keep us turning to God in humility. My insecurities have helped me know that I can’t do it all on my own. I rely on God and turn to him in a way a less insecure person might not. And if I start to forget God, and begin to think I can do it on my own, in His mercy, He quickly reminds me that, with Him, miracles happen and I can do so much more. He rejoices in blessing my life. Our weaknesses serve the same purpose that the Lamanites did to the Nephites: they act as a scourge that stirs us up to remembrance of our God. Turning to God means trusting in His goodness and opening ourselves to the reality of His love. As soon as we believe he will bless our lives, he will.

4. Weaknesses force us to learn how to use the atonement of Jesus Christ.  Most people talk of believing in Christ but really do not use the atonement to better their lives and themselves.  When we are desperate for rescue from the pain of weakness, we put in the work to figure out how Christ’s sacrifice can benefit us every single day. For me, using the atonement looks like me praying and telling God, in the name of Jesus, that I give my particular worry, (I name the worry specifically) to the Savior. Let’s say for example that I’d been engaging in negative self-talk surrounding my body. Because this has been a pattern of mine for so long, and its one so easily triggered by our culture, this old pattern of self-shaming creeps back in from time to time. When it does, I pray more and ask for forgiveness for forgetting my true worth. I ask for help to remember that I am a spirit daughter of Heavenly Parents, and mostly, I ask for help to love and accept myself for where I’m at, mistakes and all. It is key to maintain love and respect for oneself when we make mistakes because Satan’s trick is to get us to start berating ourselves and no healing can begin unless we recognize that our divinity and worth can’t ever be diminished. Finally, I set out to make sure I’m caring for myself as the spiritual royalty that I truly am.

5. Weakness forces us to learn to love and accept ourselves in our imperfection. So many of us withhold love from ourselves because of our weaknesses. We dis-like parts of ourselves and are naively sure that if we punish ourselves enough, we will be motivated to change the parts of ourselves we hate.  But there comes a day when, tired of battling ourselves, we begin to realize that if we can’t love and accept ourselves as we are, insecurities and all, then we cannot heal, truly feel love or love another. We must make peace with all aspects of ourselves to be fully present in our relationships with our spouses, our children and our friends. So many people are numbing themselves because they can’t stand parts of themselves. But the fact is, God gives us these weaknesses so that we will learn to love ourselves unconditionally and turn to Him. We might have bad habits that we’d like to change, but hating ourselves for having those habits only makes breaking the habit more difficult, even impossible. It is not until we recognize, respect and revere the divine part of ourselves (our spirit), that we can begin to break the habits that aren’t in line with the divine being we know ourselves to be.

Sure, it seems a paradox that through our insecurities and weaknesses God can truly teach us how divine we really are. But upon reflection, that idea doesn’t seem so far fetched when we remember the words of Jacob, “God show[s] us our weakness that we may know that it is by his grace…that we have power to do [all] things.”

One Talent

Recently, the moments in which I enumerate all that I have not accomplished have become more frequent. I sometimes have these moments when I see friends and FB associates approaching mastery (an idea I’ve become obsessed with) as they finish their years of “apprenticeship.”  This one’s an editor and writes beautiful prose with ease. That one’s a professor of art and paints beautifully. Another quilts and runs quilting workshops. Still another is an activist striving to make positive changes in the community.  Not me. I’m just trying not to flip out or sink into depression. Sanity is my magnum opus.

In these low moments, I try really hard to say things to myself like, “But don’t worry, you have this beautiful family. They are your work.” But all the people I envy, including the millionaire direct marketers and those of Instagram fame also have families and are great mothers. So, then I try to tell myself, “Don’t compare, we all start from a different place. You don’t need to be doing anything other than following the path that is right for you.” And while I know that is true, that wisdom seldom works to set my mind right. So, I try to think about something else, because I can’t find any personal accomplishment or material possession that will satisfy my ego in the treacherous game of comparison. So, I turn off my phone and do something to get my head space right again: exercise, write, get stuff done, or pray. If I want to wallow deeper, I eat simple carbs and call to commiserate with a friend.

Obviously, we know that it’s a bad idea to compare ourselves with others. But we still do it…all the time. A good indication that we are comparing is when we find ourselves criticizing, either ourselves or the person we’re comparing ourselves to.

How, people, do we get away from this self-destructive comparing?

Part of the answer is found in The Parable of the Talents in which Jesus teaches that talents are innate abilities that the He gives to us. We are responsible for using our talents which helps them to grow and multiply.

In the parable, the Lord gives the first servant five talents.  The servant doubles them and the Lord is pleased and promises to make the servant ruler over many things because he has been “faithful over a few.” To me, these five-talent people are born beautiful and everything comes easy to them. They are musical, athletic, smart, and have probably started a charity. They are the ones we loathe on social media, but masochistically, can’t get enough of.

The Lord gives his second servant two talents, which the servant doubles and the Lord is pleased and makes him ruler over many things. This is the middle-class of talent levels.  Most people think they belong to this category. This group might have one or two talents to list on a resume or win an award for. But the other talents they have are things like ‘good listener’ and ‘organizes closets well.'

Finally, the Lord gives the last servant one talent, he buries it out of fear he’ll lose it. The Lord chastises him and takes it away. These are the people, like me, who are wondrously unathletic, try to gain a musical talent but don’t really make it, and don’t quite have the discipline to be the academic we’re sure we were meant to be. One-talent people don’t have awards or impressive CV’s to share. They might, if pressed, come up with one of those quasi-talents to list such as ‘likes cultural activity’ or ‘appreciates beauty.’

I railed against this parable for a long time. It seemed so unfair that some get to be born into talent-privilege where the system seems set up to help one multiply her talents. Think of the Gwyneth Paltrow’s of the world. Born beautiful by most standards, has a movie producer dad and Steven Spielberg as a Godfather. Girl, you better be winning Oscars. How hard is it to be these people? I get it--the grass is always greener... But the parable tells us, we come into this world with different amounts of capabilities and gifts; that reality is what bothered me for so long.

Could it be true that I’m just not as good and capable as other people? That these Mormon women I’ve been comparing myself to really just come with more talents? Does this parable confirm what I’ve suspected all along, that they really are better than me? 

I haven’t fully come to terms with the answers to these questions. However, I’ve learned that worrying about how I stack up against others and not thanking God for what talents I do have are forms of burying my talents. Not recognizing the source of any gift I have is akin to hiding it beneath the earth or under a bushel.  The moment I begin questioning if my progress and aptitude are as good or better than another person’s, I halt my ability to grow my own talents. Comparing feels so awful because we shift our focus from one that is virtuous to one that is vindictive. Comparing inevitably gives birth to the twin vices of envy and jealousy and no character growth occurs when we keep company with them.  

To be clear, more capable does not mean more worthy; all souls are great in the sight of God, but we can each seek to please Him by using our capabilities to fulfill our unique purpose here on earth.

The idea in The Parable of the Talents that helps me the most when I’m tempted to compare my accomplishments with others’ is that the Lord doesn’t care how many talents we end up with, only that we’ve doubled what we were given.  The person with one talent, only needs to turn that into two. So, I only need to recognize the one I am already blessed with and develop it into another talent. That’s doable. And the Lord will delight in my efforts. We also have the additional promise that the Lord will add gifts as necessary, but he can’t if we bury our talent out of fear that we will never be as great as our Instagram friends or the Johnson’s who make it on time to church each week, perform the special musical number as a family, all while looking like they stepped out of a magazine.

Surely, I will continue to compare myself with others from time to time, even though I’ll make an earnest effort not to.  But, the difference now, and what it has taken me all of 39 years to realize, is that being me, glaring flaws and all, is ok. I get to be me…develop me, and add upon the gifts that are uniquely mine. It is very freeing to finally realize that I don’t have to do this Mormon thing like anyone else, this faith thing like anyone else, or this life thing like anyone else. I get to claim my religious experience, my spirituality, and my existence; that is how I use my talent and multiply it.

The Gods of Christmas

On Saturday, I set out to finally get some of the last presents on my list. But the freeway exchange I needed to take was closed, so I found myself on a detour in a somewhat unfamiliar part of town. I’d almost made my way back to the freeway, but before I made it to the onramp, I noticed a pupuseria, a Salvadoran restaurant.  I couldn’t help myself from pulling into the parking lot. When I walked in Maná was blasting too loudly from the juke box and a soccer match played on the TV screens mounted around the restaurant. I smiled. Families sat at tables eating pupusas and sopa.  A few workers with paint-splattered clothes who were on their lunch break sat eating plates of beans, rice and beef. On the walls hung several El Salvador flags, a few maps of the country and traditional Salvadoran folk art showing women making pupusas at food stands and harvesting corn and local vegetables. I immediately felt at home and my spirit lifted. I walked up to the counter to order.  I could hear the women in the back slapping the masa back and forth between their hands making the pupusas and thick Salvadoran tortillas. I selfishly wanted to speak Spanish to the girl at the counter even though I knew she was from California. I asked first if I could speak Spanish with her because some Latinos get offended if you presumptuously speak Spanish to them. They don’t want you to think that they don’t know English. She said, “sure,” so I ordered. I ate as much as I could, then ordered some more pupusas ‘to go’ for my family. By the time I left, I‘d lost the desire to get back on the freeway and continue shopping. I just went home. Being in the pupuseria pulled me for a minute out of my consumer fetishism. I didn’t want to ruin the peaceful disposition that had come over me. I figured we’d just make do without whatever it was that I was going to go buy … or more likely, I’d just order it online.

I’m just having trouble pin-pointing purpose with Christmas this year.

While living out of the country for over a decade, I didn’t feel a lot of pressure to create Christmas traditions. Usually I’d pull together some decorations and partake in the local traditions to the extent that I understood them. Most years we’d travel back to the US where we’d make the best of Christmas trying to piece together old traditions with divorced parents and spread out family. Now that we live in the States, I feel pressure to establish traditions like the ones I see everybody doing. But they mostly feel contrived and excessive. Not that I’m any kind of minimalist, but Christmastime makes me envy those who are.

How are the none’s handling this time of year, I wonder? No, that’s not a typo. I mean, I do kind of wonder what nuns do at Christmas, cloistered away from the cares of the world.  But the none’s I’m referring to is that group of people that would check the box that says “none” when asked their religion on surveys. I almost envy them at Christmas time too.  They don’t have to pretend that any of our pagan traditions have something to do with the Savior. I wonder if just ignoring that Christ exists is better than making a mockery of Him. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of two loyalties: worshiping the God of Materialism and The True God who gave life, and who gave us His son. So, who or what is lying in the manger of your nativity?  I hope I’m teaching my family to search for hope in the Savior instead of the packages under the tree.

Does God give us a pass on our Christmas excess if we are lighting the world at the same time?

I’ve had people ask me if I celebrate Christmas when they find out I’m Mormon, possibly trying to distinguish Mormons from Jehovah’s Witnesses in their minds. I often reply with a hearty, “Oh, yeah, we celebrate all holidays” with a tone that implies that we’re not as ‘strange’ as those religions that do not.  But there is a part of me that respects the J Dubs too. They’ve thrown off many worldly traditions and have the integrity to label them as such despite social consequences.

In theory, I love the idea of stripping down our Christmas traditions to only the most meaningful. But, in reality, there are many superfluous traditions I don’t want to give up. The preparations to create an inviting Christmas ambiance: glowing candles, a crackling fire, twinkling Christmas lights, the scent of cinnamon and pine. Rushing into a cozy house, greeted by carefully cooked food that comforts and sweet hot drinks that warm you as they go down. Familiar carols that make us happy because we’ve always sung them during a season in which we focus on giving and gathering. Christmas movies that we watch over and over. The sentimentality we indulge in at Christmas time is permitted in a way it’s not at any other time of the year.

Santa is a little bit tougher though. I see Santa as an impostor, a character who has warped the true meaning of Christmas, which is to rejoice in the birth of the One who gives life, saves and is the giver of all good gifts. Some say I have a special place reserved in hell because we’ve never included Santa as part of Christmas for our kids. We’d still fill their stockings and have their big present set out on Christmas morning, but never made any part of it about Santa. Of course, as the kids grew, they asked me about Santa, I simply explained that he represents the tradition of giving without receiving. And then I explained that while Santa isn’t real, people carry on this tradition because it’s exciting and fun to anticipate a stranger coming to give presents.  Then I’d segue into talking about the real giver of good gifts, The Savior.  I am not suggesting anyone should abandon the tradition of Santa. Not doing Santa was something Jeremy and I agreed on and felt worked best for our parenting approach.

I guess we each need to claim Christmas and celebrate it on our own terms.

My neighbor has done this beautifully. Unlike me, she loves Santa because she sees him as the embodiment of The Spirit of Christmas. For her, Santa spreads hope and teaches us how to give without expecting things in return.  Of course, she sees Santa this way because she has spent a lifetime giving to others, providing Christmas for hundreds over the years. She gives all year long and the myth of Santa provides a space for her to give even more than usual.

I’m not sure how to reconcile. Like all things in life, we see Christmas traditions through many viewpoints and we live out and love our perspective. But whether St. Nick is your demi-god of materialism, your sentimental teddy bear warming the nostalgic fire of childhood, or your guardian angel of generosity and happiness, I wish you all a Merry Christmas!

Cycles of Dysfunction

I took a Women’s Studies class at BYU where we explored cycles of dysfunction. Cycles of dysfunction are destructive behaviors that pass from generation to generation and inhibit healthy familial relationships. As part of the class, we each explored the cycles we were subject to through our female progenitors.  It wasn’t until I went through the process, that I realized that I was caught up in a cycle of dysfunction. My mother, grandmother and great-grandmother had all married men who could not, or would not, take them to the temple.  Now, its fine to not get married in the temple if one doesn’t want that for themselves.  But, there is evidence that each of these women wanted a temple marriage. They went to church. They got all their children baptized. They had problems in their marriages, in part, because of their differing beliefs from their husbands.  All the marriages ended in divorce. For my mother, her divorce resulted in a psychotic break, from which she never completely healed. To this day, she suffers from debilitating mental illness. My mother has passed the greater part of her later-adult life as a shut-in, just as her mother did. It was not necessarily the marrying a non-Mormon that was dysfunctional, but the naive thinking that a religion that meant so much to them and nothing to their husbands wouldn’t pose a problem. So, for these believing women, not marrying a man who believed likewise, seemed to be a factor in some of the profound struggles they faced.

While writing up my findings for my class, it became clear to me that I was following the pattern set by my matriarchal line. Of my mother’s two daughters, I was the believer. I was seriously dating a guy who was not, a guy I’d loved since high school.  As I prayed about my situation, a clear answer came: I needed to break things off with him if I wanted a different outcome than my mother. Obviously, the Lord might direct others to do things differently. But for my journey, the Lord made clear to me that I needed to sharply change course.

The night He answered my prayer, I got real with Heavenly Father. I bargained with the Lord, something we are not supposed to do. But I felt like our relationship was strong enough and that I could bare my soul.  He’d seen me through a lot. We had history. I told the Lord, “OK, I’ll do it.  I’m not sure how, but I’ll do it. But, Lord, thou knowest me and how much I need love. And here I have someone who I love, who loves me back.  And I’m going to give that up for thee. But, please realize that if I don’t find love again soon, I might not be able to make it. I want to do thy will. I want to do what’s right. I want the Temple. And even if love doesn’t find me again soon, I’ll try. I’ll always try. But it’s just I’m afraid that I won’t make it. Please help me.”

***

“But I’ll take the missionary discussions,” he offered.

“It’s just not going to work out,” I willed myself to say. Tears began to form in my eyes.  “Believe me, I wish with all of my heart it didn’t have to be this way.  I wish I didn’t believe, it would make things so much easier.” We both cried. We exchanged I-love-you’s and gave one last hug good-bye.

In saying good-bye to him, I laid my will on the altar of the Lord. And it was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done.

As I walked to my car I sobbed. I immediately regretted my decision.  I wanted to turn around and say, “Never mind, I take it all back. We can find a way to make it work.” Every ounce of my intuition, screamed with horror.  Subconsciously, the collective psyches of my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, weighed on me. That weight, an invisible but all consuming force, compelled me to continue in their cycle of dysfunction: choose a man who loved me, but who had little interest in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The gaping hole I felt in my soul seemed almost too much to bare.  The sheer discomfort of it all made me want to vomit. “If I turn around now, I could probably catch him,” I thought.

But somehow, I didn’t go after him. A superior force came to my rescue and repeated to me the clear revelation I’d heard before: “Break it off.”  So, I drove home.

Within 6 months, Jeremy literally came knocking at my door. I honestly believe he was the reward for my sacrifice, but my happily-ever-after didn’t instantly materialize.

When Jeremy proposed, I only loved him 90%, but I said yes anyway. I couldn’t feel that extra spark for him because I was wired and nurtured to feel excited about someone who would display love the same way I saw it as a kid.  But when Jeremy came along, he was so different than anyone I’d ever dated or even met. I knew the Lord was telling me, in essence, here is your chance to have what you want. I knew in my soul that he was sent from Heavenly Father. I knew somehow we’d figure it out.

Initially in our marriage, I thought if Jeremy changed I could love him completely. If he was just more gregarious and more out-going, I could love him all the way. But a few years into our marriage, I had an epiphany that I needed to be concerned for Jeremy’s feelings. I know, big revelation, right? For the first few years of marriage, I was mostly concerned that he treated me right, with the respect I deserved.

At some point in my life, I’d become afraid to love wholeheartedly.  So, to justify not loving fully, I found faults in Jeremy. When I realized that I was the one who needed to change, and that the problem wasn’t Jeremy, it became easy to love him completely. And when I loved him for who he was, a miraculous thing happened. Between his job and callings at church, he grew and developed, and he became really good at connecting with people. Not only that, I started to notice his sense of humor more and more. I’m not sure if my loving him unconditionally allowed him to grow or if my increased love permitted me to see what had been there all along.  Anyone marrying in their early 20’s has a lot of growing up to do. I sure did. But, I’d always been introspective. That ability to look inward led me to discover what I needed to change and helped see us through the self-centered nature that I came to the marriage with.

Looking back now it's abundantly clear that it never would have worked out with my boyfriend from high school. With years of perspective, I understand that what I felt for him was the shallow exhilaration of being wanted, conflated with the weight of dysfunction tethered to me. The pain that I felt in breaking it off was a result of stepping out of the pattern I had learned, internalized and felt comfort in repeating. Sure, some of the sadness came from letting go of someone I cared about, but the soul gripping pain had nothing to do with him. It was the pain of breaking with ingrained models and losing a relationship that was comfortably following in the footsteps of my mother.  It would have been so easy to stay and avoid the pain, and say it was all for love. But that would have been lying to myself, and I knew it.  And deep down, I wanted something more.

If you know Jeremy, you understand that Heavenly Father blessed me a hundred-fold for my sacrifice.  I couldn’t have dealt with my deep-seated issues as effectively being married to any other man. Besides being dedicated to the gospel of Jesus Christ and his family, he is secure and confident without the arrogance that sometimes accompanies those traits. An insecure man would have made me feel bad when I gained weight, because an insecure man thinks of his wife as an object whose looks and accomplishments reflect his worth. When I quit diet pills for good, I knew Jeremy would love me no matter what. His unconditional love made it easier for me to name and face my irrational demons about my weight.  A lesser Mormon man would have shamed me for drinking caffeine, because he would have feared my habits might cause others to question his worth or reflect badly on him. An insecure man would have panicked when I struggled with church history and policy. Instead, Jeremy listened and didn’t try to talk me out of my concerns. He’d only offer his point of view when I asked. Through his support, I passed through a period of deep questioning about the church and came out with a stronger faith than when I began. And when periodic depression overwhelms me, and I can’t stop being sad or do the things that for most people are easy, but for me seem like monumental tasks, he loves me still.  He doesn’t make me feel that I need to be anything other than who I am.

What I have now is a relationship that is mature, full, profound.  It is one where deep trust and complete love exist which has allowed me to blossom in ways that I could never have imagined as a young woman.

Now, lest I paint our relationship too rosily, let me assure you that there are…things. Like he’s not handy around the house. His working from home this past year and a half has proved a challenge, because we’ve had to define new boundaries and expectations. I have to let him know when I want to have an in-depth conversation and then, if he’s busy working or tired we have to schedule it. This works fine when we are dealing with administrative stuff but is maddening at other times. He can be disconnected or detached, because that’s his coping mechanism. But we manage these challenges because we have a solid foundation.

Some patterns of dysfunction or “evil traditions” are less obvious than others. For some families, there might be cycles of gossiping, fault-finding, shaming, holding grudges, only including people who are “active” Mormons, judging those who leave the faith, disrespecting women, differing expectations for sons and daughters about mission and education, an emphasis on material possessions, an emphasis on appearance, or any number of misguided traditions that were passed down through family culture. Obviously, there are many ways to be dysfunctional and we won’t ever have perfect families (the idea that such a thing exists here on earth is dysfunctional). But its important to try and overcome the dysfunction that gets in the way of the happiness we truly seek.

In the end, our lives are really just the stories we tell ourselves.  And in the narrative I’ve told myself, the above story is pivotal. It is this story that is the keystone of my faith.  It is the experience that tells me that when I trust the Lord, he delivers abundantly. When I sacrificed my entire identity at 16 to come back to the church, he delivered. When I gave up who I thought to be the love of my life, he delivered. When I couldn’t get pregnant, and after almost two years of anguish, I told Heavenly Father it was fine and I’d accept his will, I got pregnant with twins.  He makes more out of my life than I ever could alone.