Mother of four boys, aged 5 to 16. I suffer from depression and anxiety, and I have ADHD. Writing about my thoughts and experiences helps me to process through them and connect with others who resonate with the things I have to say. I always find my thoughts returning to my Savior and Redeemer of my Soul. He has led me through my recovery journey and I depend on him every day to help me through. As I feel his love and speak of his healing, my own burdens are lifted. Even so, the depression continues, and probably always will, which is why I will always be his broken-hearted hand-maiden.
This will probably be the last post I will share on Facebook. I have made a few changes to the look of the blog, and I’ve upgraded it, so there are no more annoying ads. I also have a new blog address that is easier to type in and remember. I will also be making my blog private. This was a difficult decision to make.
Up until this point, I have felt a need to share my journey with all of my Facebook friends, and anyone else. I have hoped that many people who don’t understand mental health might be able to develop empathy from witnessing my journey vicariously. I wanted God to freely guide souls to my blog that could benefit from what I have to say. Hopefully that has been the case for some people. I haven’t wanted to restrict my words because I have wanted to think that everyone could benefit from my experiences. Unfortunately, since the Mother’s Day incident at church, I have felt very uncomfortable. I bore my testimony yesterday in church, like I usually do, but it was much harder. It took every ounce of courage I could muster. As I spoke at the pulpit, I didn’t feel the love and support I used to feel. I cried most of the day yesterday because I feel so rejected by my ward family. I met with my Bishop. He tried to help me feel better, but I am still in a lot of pain.
As many people have learned in recovery, just because you love someone doesn’t mean they can be trusted to be in the intimate parts of your life. Just because they are family members, or in my case, ward family members, doesn’t mean they deserve access to your vulnerable places. It is time for me to take care of myself and push those people away who haven’t earned the right to witness my recovery.
Some people enjoy conflict and debate on their blogs. Some people make money on their blogs and want to drive traffic. I’ve done some introspection to decide what this blog is for. It is for me. No one else. I have no desire to make money. My writing is one of my creative outlets. It is a way for me to connect with supportive friends. It is also a way to practice assertive communication, self-awareness, emotional processing, and other mental wellness skills. I think those things would be better accomplished with a private blog.
If you are interested in reading my blog, please sign up as a follower. There should be a button on the bottom of this page that will allow you to sign up. If you have any trouble. Private message me and I would be happy to help you.
Sometimes growth comes in spurts. There are peaks and valleys. Sometimes before I have a period of great growth and insight, it is preceded by profound grief and confusion.
Yesterday I felt drained after I wrote my post about Eminem and my young friend at Sundance. My empathy was exhausted from the suffering my soul sensed in these two troubled young men. Their anger, their suffering, and their hostility overwhelmed my coping mechanisms and I had depressive symptoms for the rest of the day.
I talked to Ben last night about what I was feeling and why. It hard to have empathy for those who suffer. I can’t do it without sufficient self care and spiritual connection to the Savior. Yesterday started out great, but I didn’t eat anything, I exhausted myself emotionally, my ADHD kiddos did not take their medicine, and I found myself irritable and overwhelmed.
In that time of weakness, I came across an intriguing website of an organization called “Room to Thrive.” It is designed to help people recover from religiously induced spiritual trauma. Almost everything this website described, I have personally experienced in my church. For an hour or so I considered whether or not this process of “deconversion” would be beneficial for me. I think in some ways, I am “deconverting,” but I prefer to think of it as a molting or a stripping down of my faith rather than a dismantling of it.
I have my core faith which is comprised of my own personal spiritual experiences with God. I have read my sacred book, The Book of Mormon. I have received a witness from the spirit that burned in my heart, opened my mind, and gave me spiritual vision that I didn’t have before. I have read the New Testament and had spiritual images and insights come to my mind about my Master and Savior. These are core parts of me that I could no more deny or disavow than I could cut out my heart from my body.
On the other hand, there are perceptions, interpretations, traditions, and customs that are not a part of that core spiritual identity. All those things are like branches on a tree. If they are serving the health of my tree, I will keep them. If they are redundant, unnecessary, or diseased, I remove them. My life right now is in a state of pruning or molting.
As I cast off the old concepts and traditions I have outgrown, I allow my core spiritual traits and identity to shine brighter. I become the daughter of God that my Savior intended me to be.
This summer I have been encouraging my boys to incorporate spiritual study into their daily routine. One of my boys has really taken this to heart. One of the chapters of study in Come Follow Me this week is Matthew 24, or more particularly the Joseph Smith translation of that chapter. As we read the chapter together we talked about the signs of the second coming. One verse stuck out in my mind above the others. It is verse 30.
30 And again, because iniquity shall abound, the love of men shall wax cold; but he that shall not be overcome, the same shall be saved.
The reason this verse seemed to jump off the page to me was because of the experience I had yesterday with my empathy and the emotionally draining aftermath. It occurred to me that as the second coming approaches, and our tribulations increase, it will be a normal and natural thing to harden the heart, to withdraw empathy, to simply close our eyes to the suffering of those around us for emotional survival. But this verse says that we must learn to overcome that tendency if we are to be saved.
There is so much suffering at our Southern border right now. There are many desperate children and families seeking asylum and a better life. The resources of the border facilities are being strained beyond capacity. It is a humanitarian crisis. There are also millions of refugees fleeing terrible conditions in Syria. At first, the plight of these desperate people, the images of dead children, or children in cages with foil blankets, or children taken away from their parents stunned me and brought forth my empathy and compassion. I was outraged at those responsible for the circumstances and willing to assist in any way I could to make it right.
As time goes by, I find my heart getting harder. There seems to be little I can do for those who are suffering. I find myself turning away from the stories and images that remind me of my impotence. In this way, I harden my heart.
Likewise, as I see my representatives compromise their principles in service to Donald Trump, I start to feel cynical. I begin to think that my letters and emails will do no good. I harden my hearts toward my elected leadership assuming that they are not capable of standing against corruption.
Likewise, with my church leadership, I feel betrayed and angry. I don’t want to reach out to them or trust that the spirit of the Lord can help us work through our problems. I want to withdraw, to protect myself, and to assume the worst about their character and motivations.
Again the words of my Master come to me. “Because iniquity shall abound,” yes we are in a time of iniquity. Integrity, honesty, fidelity, and kindness are vanishing virtues. Tyrants like Assad, Trump, Putin, and Kim Jong Un lust after power and persecute their own people. “The love of men shall wax cold,” even Christians are showing shocking levels of hard heartedness. On the left, there is a lack of compassion for the unborn. On the right, there is lack of compassion for the refugee. The one tribe points out the hypocrisy of the other, but neither sees it within their own. And then there is the key point, “he that shall not be overcome, shall be saved.” If I can keep my ability to love, to forgive, to reach out, to show empathy, to cultivate compassion, I will be saved.
I’m not going to do it perfectly at first. Like yesterday, I was overwhelmed. Still, I can learn from my failure. I have always known that the only way I can reach my potential spiritually and compassionately is if I can tap into His living water. It is the only way that I can stand the pain of true empathy. It hurts to love people. We are fallen. We suffer and we cause suffering. Connecting yourself emotionally with other people hurts.
And yet, the Savior did not shrink from this. He took the bitter cup. He could handle the pain of loving all of us and suffering with all of us. He shows us the way. He commands us to “Love one another as I have loved you.” He tells us to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those who stand in need of comfort; to bare one another’s burdens; to have charity. This crowning virtue of the true disciple of Christ is painful. To extend compassion and love to every one of God’s children is the most vulnerable thing you can do. And yet, that is what He did.
And so He said, “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, that ye have love one to another.” This charity is the one defining characteristic of discipleship. If we don’t have it, we aren’t his disciples. We are, as Paul described, as sounding brass.
Charity for all seems to stand in opposition to current mental health advice. It is advised by counselors to have circles in your life where you put people. Your inner circle is small and that is where you keep people that you know you can be safe with. You can share your innermost thoughts and feelings with these people. As the circles extend from the center like rings in a tree stump, the people have less access to your trust. This protects the emotional core of an individual from those who have not earned the privilege of your trust.
The concept of vulnerability seems to contradict the trust circle model. As we become more secure in our identity, we are more willing to show vulnerability, even in unsafe places. We can reveal our true selves to those who have not earned the trust to appreciate who we are. We are able to overcome their judgement and shaming because we understand them and have compassion and forgiveness in our hearts. The Savior exemplified this as he was crucified. He understood the Roman soldiers who crucified him. He had compassion on them even as they tortured and killed him.
I imagine the Savior’s inner circle. Who is in it? He didn’t really need support or validation from anyone because he had it perfectly within himself. Instead his love and compassion radiated from himself and touched everyone within his influence. In this way, the circles were obliterated by His love.
People who have managed to live lives of extraordinary compassion like Mother Theresa, have managed to tap into Christ’s capacity for love. Mother Theresa herself said, “I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across waters to create many ripples.”
And so I work to create ripples. Perhaps my words will resonate with others who will dare to love. Perhaps my circles will become ripples that will change the world for the better. Faith, hope, and charity can work miracles. I know that as I strengthen my connection with my Lord and Savior, that my ability to extend trust and compassion to others will increase. I know that through His love, he has shown me the path to my own salvation. I love Him with all my heart and I hope that someday I will meet him and He will say, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” Blessed be His name!
I read an article about Eminem online. I never liked him before today. I guess I judged him because of his foul language and some of the stuff in the headlines about him many years ago. Like so many things about my past self, I am starting to question my old judgement, look closer at others that I have dismissed in the past.
I will never be a regular listener of Eminem’s music. That’s okay. But I can see him, and I can see those who find solace and support in his words. He released an album called “Recovery” after battling with a severe addiction to various pills. I listened to the song, “Not Afraid.” I made a conscious effort to ignore the profanity (warning, it’s explicit) and focus instead on the message of the song. By the end, I was able to see a man, very rough around the edges, determined to improve his life for this children; to become his best self.
I can understand why, for many people, this song would feed their spirit and give them courage to fight their own addictions. It is inspiring to me. Ideally, the addict would be able to come to church and get that support from people they know and love who could lead them to the Savior and their healing path. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, they don’t feel comfortable coming. Look at Eminem in this video. Imagine him walking in and sitting on your row in sacrament meeting. Imagine him getting up in fast and testimony meeting and saying the things he says in this video. And yet, for an addict, Eminem’s rough message of hope and redemption and support is just what many of our members who struggle with these issues need to hear and don’t hear at church. “I’ll walk this path with you, come take my hand, you’re not alone,” he says. The foul language and angry tone are messy and ugly, but so is addiction and the damage it causes to individuals and families. His expression of that ugly through foul language is cathartic for him and for others who struggle including me. It is paradoxical. Through expressing the ugly, we release it and it ceases to control us.
When I was admitted to the Sundance Mental Inpatient facility six years ago, I had an experience with a young man. He was barely twenty or so. I was in my mid thirties. We were in group therapy and he shared his story. He had been addicted to various drugs since he was in gradeschool. He went to the doctor because he was having some health problems. He was told that if he didn’t make drastic changes to his lifestyle that he would die. His liver, heart, and kidneys were in terrible shape. He was just a kid, but his organs were like an old man. He cried as he revealed the desperation he felt. He wanted to live. He said his recovery wasn’t even a choice because if he didn’t overcome his addiction he would die. My heart went out to this boy.
I wanted to connect with him and some of the other group members who had shown some vulnerability. I told about my story of my perfectionism and how my best efforts were never enough even though I got good grades and graduated from college. I was trying to communicate that in my own way, I was as desperate as this young man to escape the demons that brought me to that hospital. Unfortunately, he judged me.
With hatred in his eyes he said, “I don’t know why we have to have these classes with the “depression people.” I still don’t know exactly how he saw me or why exactly he was so hostile, but I was confused and desperate to clarify myself. I apologized for talking about my good grades. I said, I don’t think I’m any better than anyone in this room. I have my demons and you have yours. The therapist tried to salvage the situation. She explained that the underlying reasons people become addicted and stay addicted to substances is because they are often trying to cope with emotional problems. That the “addiction people,” and the “depression people,” are really the same. I tried to talk to this boy at different times, but he actively avoided me. At times I saw him talking to another “addiction person” and glaring at me menacingly. Everyone else at the center loved me. I loved them right back. I listened to their stories and I told them about the Savior and his healing power. I found myself wishing that church felt more like that hospital. It was truly a healing place.
I count myself fortunate that I haven’t become ensnared with substance addiction. I have my coping strategies that are unhealthy and harmful, but none that have destroyed my mind or body for which I am grateful. The Word of Wisdom, which is a chapter in our book of scripture that was written by the Prophet Joseph Smith, teaches about harmful addictive substances and some basic principles for healthy living. Because of this chapter in the Doctrine and Covenants and our willingness to live it, me, my parents, my siblings, and my grandparents have all avoided addictions to drugs and alcohol in spite of serious emotional trauma in their lives that easily could have led to it.
For those who have not been so fortunate, I reach out to you. We are not so different. I don’t completely understand the challenges you face. I won’t assume that I know what you are going through, or dish out a whole bunch of advice. I just want you to know that not everyone like me is judging you. You aren’t alone in your struggles. I’ve had a couple of friends who have gone through rehab and 12 step programs. I celebrate with them in their successes. I want them to know that even if they don’t trust me to confide in me when they relapse, that I am there for them at those times too.
I’ve been studying Carl Jung for a while. He was actually instrumental in founding Alcoholics Anonymous. He worked with many addicts, but found that there was little he could do for them. He met with a man named William Wilson about his severe alcohol addiction. He basically told him that his ailment was spiritual and that the only healing path for him was going to take the shape of a religious conversion. He and his drinking buddy who was in the process of undergoing such a religious conversion to treat his own alcoholism, founded Alcoholics Anonymous. Their twelve step program is designed to guide alcoholics on a spiritual recovery journey. They credit the insights of Carl Jung as a major influence on their program. It is difficult to fathom the good that AA has done for millions of addicts and their families around the world.
“His craving for alcohol was the equivalent of … the spiritual thirst of our being for wholeness, expressed … as the union with God……….the evil principle prevailing in this world leads the unrecognized spiritual need into perdition, if it is not counteracted by a real religious insight (involving a personal and meaningful relationship with God)…… Alcohol in Latin is “spiritus” and you use the same word for the highest religious experience as well as for the most depraving poison. The helpful formula therefore is: spiritus contra spiritum.” (Fight spirit with spirit)
Carl Jung
I have a dream of a day when people can speak openly in church about their struggles with addiction or the addictions of a loved one; that as Christians, we can suspend judgement, mourn with those that mourn, and help addicts and their families bare these crushing burdens. Families are warped and disfigured by addictions that are hidden. When addictions are seen and appropriate support given, healing is inevitable. When addictions are hidden and support withheld, the addiction cycle will continue to poison families for generations. I sense, as Jung did, that some of our most spiritually gifted people are chained by addictions; that if they were set free, we would see His power greatly magnified in them.
I send a prayer up for my young friend at Sundance. His hatred and hostility were born of his pain. I hope his rehab was successful. I hope that whatever his healing path looks like, that it leads to the Savior. I know that the Savior understands as I never will, the suffering that he has experienced in his life. I know that the Savior knows how to help him to find peace and happiness and a life he can be proud of. Blessed be the name of Him who is Mighty to Save!!
I walked into sacrament meeting today. Fortunately we were actually a few minutes early, so we didn’t have to do the walk of shame. That’s always nice. I talked to a few supportive friends and said hi awkwardly to a few others.
I knew it would be hard to sit near the front and endure the stares I imagined boring into the back of my head. It wasn’t too bad. I had friends on the row behind and friends on the row in front. The talks were amazing. Amazing. Just what I needed to hear.
I kept feeling the depression welling up inside me, but the spirit in the meeting helped me to discern the underlying messages seeping up inside me from the pit of hell.
“You call yourself the handmaid of the Lord. What right do you have to hear from God? What makes you think you are worthy to speak for him? Look around you at the women who despise you. They have important callings. They are responsible and hard working. You judge and condemn them and you could never do what they do. You lift yourself up in pride rather than humble yourself and learn from them. You don’t say you’re sorry for causing all these problems. You think you have depression. You are weak and unworthy and want to make excuses for yourself and get attention. Other women carry their burdens without complaint. You should have gratitude and humility and instead you lift yourself up in pride.”
Writing these things down helps me to understand how Satan and his depression messages combined with the well meaning messages of friends and family that unfortunately amplify Satan’s messages keep me from feeling worthy, lovable, and at peace with myself. Satan fuels my self-loathing, lies to me about my motivations and my character, and fills my heart with despair.
When I come before my Savior in humility, he has very different messages for me. He has nothing but love, support, and encouragement. He knows that my heart is full of love even for those who have hurt me. The only way I have found the strength to forgive and extend love is because of the Savior’s grace that he gives so abundantly to me. How can I withhold His grace when he has offered it to me so freely? The joy and peace that my Savior offers to me contrasts greatly with the shame and despair of Satan’s messages.
Perhaps the most cutting message Satan has for me is that my depression is all made up. Everyone has sadness. Everyone has hard times. There are many who struggle with depression for situations of severe abuse that make my situation seem easy. Still, I am not so cruel as to judge myself so harshly and compare myself to others whose lives and circumstances are impossible for me to judge accurately. I am a fair person and I will not condemn myself for the very real and difficult condition I suffer with. I am a better friend to myself and a better representative of my Savior than that. He loves me and expects me to treat myself with love and respect, just as I would my neighbor. He commands me to love my neighbor as myself and vice versa. The more compassion and understanding I give to myself, the more I have to give to others.
My Savior gives me strength and courage. He speaks peace to the raging storm of my mind. He assures me of my value to Him and importance of the work I do with my children and my husband; work that is undervalued and often misunderstood. He sees the effort and love I put into my primary lessons. He knows my heart and I am enough for him.
He also tells me to speak out against the hypocrisy and the hardening of hearts that has been creeping over the members of my faith. I see trends that are causing division and strife in our communities. It is partly due to political forces that are increasingly uncivil and full of pride. It is partly due to social media which can amplify the cliquishness and image cultivation that fuels unrest among members. There have been many times of tearful self-reflection in which I have asked my Lord if I am contributing to the problem, or if my efforts are doing any good at all. Still, I come back to my blog in hopes that I can with my words, touch some hearts and bring us all closer to Him who is Mighty to Save you and me.
I am no better than anyone else. In fact, I might be a lot worse. Why do I feel compelled to speak about making our churches and communities more compassionate, more open, and more safe for those who seek the Savior? Why has God asked me to speak? I can only think that it is because I am willing to speak. Why am I the Handmaid of the Lord? Because I decided I wanted to be. God doesn’t take the worthy as his servants. He takes the willing.
As I have built up my reservoir of Christ’s love, I have felt guilty at times for the choices I have made in the past. I have played the Pharisee in the stories of some other’s lives. I like to think I am better than I was, but the knowledge that my choices may have hurt others and driven them from the Savior has weighed on me. I had the blessing of being able to ask forgiveness this week of two girls that I was unkind to in school growing up. I judged them and considered them to be of little value. In fact, they have been very supportive of me in my recovery from depression which is the sign of the truest friend; one who loves you even when you feel unlovable. When you have little to nothing to give, those that still see value in you are worth more than a million of the other kind of fair weather friends that seem so important when times are good. They forgave me so quickly and with so little thought. They dismissed my lack of love and kindness as childishness. How compassionate! How much better I feel because of their mercy on me! How much easier it is for me to forgive the slights of others when I think of their examples.
I’m glad I went to church today. I’m grateful that I was able to partake of the sacrament and teach my primary class. I’m grateful for the talks that were given and the spirit that was there. I have hope that someday me and my message of love, mercy, and acceptance will not be so controversial; that God will soften the hearts of those who disagree with it or find fault with the imperfect way in which I deliver it. I also pray that God will continue to guide me in my recovery, that my fears will give way to faith and confidence. Happy Sabbath to all of my readers! May God’s spirit be poured out upon you in abundance.
I’ve had a major increase in my depressive symptoms since the incident at church and the aftermath. This is the last day of school for my kids and this week has been crazy. Ben is out of town, so that makes it extra difficult. Next week I will have the kids all day every day which will challenge my ability to cope for sure. Still, I am stronger than the depression and each day I come back to my Savior for comfort and healing. His power is real.
As I’ve studied my Lord’s life and teachings, I’ve had questions come into my mind. He was around 30 when he began his ministry. What was he doing before that? I’ve heard that his father was a carpenter. It would make sense that he would have been one also. But everything about Him tells me that he had extensive experience healing, leading, and guiding living things. His insights were too keen, his metaphors too on point for him to have been working with dead wood and stone.
I suspect that, whether as a hobby or a career, Jesus Christ cared for animals, most likely a flock of sheep. He developed his skills as a leader and a nurturer for his sheep. He healed them, loved them, protected them, and then His father told him to go and do the same with the children of men. That makes sense to me. God sent us the animals to teach us how to love and care for one another.
I’ve looked at Pepper sometimes and thought, “She must see me as a God.” Compared to her, I am so powerful! She doesn’t understand how I can open a box in the kitchen, make cold air come out, and then present her with leftover steak. Her needs are simple and direct, and I’m able to meet them and she loves me dearly for that. People are more complicated. We learn to hide our needs, conceal our deficiencies, and make nurturing us very complicated.
Dogs are especially interesting in human culture. We created the domesticated dog for our own purposes, but like all things we create, it is fallen. We created a species, but we often do not take responsibility for their quality of life as we should. Ben told me stories about his mission in Brazil. He said that the streets of the cities are full of mangey curr dogs that carry various diseases and eat garbage. They are very dangerous and they smell terrible. The sight of them engenders the greatest feelings of revulsion. A healthy dog that is loved and cared for can be a source of great joy. The opposite is a disease ridden curr, the evidence of our neglect of creatures we have created and the devastating effects inspire loathing, fear, and sometimes guilt. We turn our faces away from such creatures. The more cruel and sadistic members of human society prey upon these animals. They capture them. They torture and maim them. These acts bare witness of the depravity of the fallen human condition.
I came across, quite by accident, a YouTube Channel of Animal Aid, a group based in India. Ben has been to India several times. It is, from what I have heard, an incredibly fascinating place. Like many developing countries in warm climates, they have serious problems with pest animals. Animal Aid is a charity that works specifically to rescue dogs, cows, cats, and other animals that become injured or diseased. They post the plight of these animals and the ways the organization works to help them on their YouTube channel.
My most tender hearted son watches these movies with me. Sometimes he turns away from the more grotesque injuries. I tell him, “It’s okay. The injuries are only horrifying if you don’t think they can be healed.” We watch limbs be amputated, maggots be pulled out of wounds, terrible cases of mange and starvation, and we wait on the resolution. We know that Animal Aid and their compassionate efforts will give hope to these hopeless and pitiful creatures. By the end of the videos, we are laughing and celebrating the recovery of these precious animals who have been given names and a new life. Wesley announced, “I want to OWN that company!” It isn’t surprising to me that this beautiful child wants to dedicate his career to helping suffering creatures. I only hope that I can nurture that desire in him. If like my Savior, Wesley becomes a healer, I would not be more proud.
I can’t help but see the serendipity that brought these videos into my life. They symbolize to my mind with great power, the transformative, restorative power of the atonement of Jesus Christ. He does not turn away from our disease ridden, maimed, fallen reality. He approaches us in Love, knowing that no matter how grotesque our injuries, that his Grace is enough. He can heal it. If we allow his treatment, we can at last be the creations we were designed to be, happy, loving, giving, and able to receive of love. The transformations of people who turn their lives over to the Savior can be as dramatic as the videos of these animals.
Jumper is so dramatically different at the end of the video. Compassion and treatment transformed him to look and act like the animal God created him to be. The Savior can likewise change us, redeem us, and bring out our inner beauty and potential.
I think of Mange, that scourge of the street dog, of the creeping hardening of my heart against others; the grudges I am tempted to keep, the cynicism that deadens my spiritual and emotional power. The scaly scabs of the mange warn others to stay away, that I am in pain, and I don’t want to be touched. I choose to suffer alone and avoid the pain of contact with others.
The Savior puts his lotion on me. He softens the scales of my protective armor, reveals my vulnerability, and gently gets me used to feeling loving contact with others and my fear, loneliness, and pain are replaced with love and joy.
The videos of the animals encased in tar are wonderful metaphors for those who suffer from addiction. Trapped by its sticky power, their free will is crippled. Without help they will surely die from it’s terrible pull. It takes patience and hard work to remove the stains of addiction from its victims. It takes an understanding of the substance that binds and the methods best incorporated for success.
The videos of injured animals are perhaps the most heart breaking. Sometimes the injury is not so severe, but neglected it becomes infested with maggots and bacteria which feed on the flesh and necrotize the tissue. These injuries go on to poison the animal’s life making it smell bad and ruining what otherwise would be a gentle and pleasant temperament. This causes isolation in addition to pain and misery. This is a metaphor for the victims of abuse. Many abuse victims receive unhelpful advice about the consequences of the abuse. They are told that they must ignore the underlying injury and focus on getting over it. Rather than deferring to those who truly understand abuse injuries and the healing process, they often want to focus on fixing the outward signs of the abuse. True healing from abuse requires cleaning and sterilizing the wound which is painful and can make things worse before they get better. Often the victim is left with scars that will never go away, but happiness and peace are possible after traumatic abuse injuries. The Master leads those who suffer from these kinds of injuries to their healing path if they will put their trust in Him. He has done this for me.
This video has such powerful symbolism. He is found hiding in the temple. He is removed from the temple for healing. Sometimes our abuse injuries cannot be healed at the temple. We must go with those that are trained. This is not a lack of faith, just an understanding that God’s healing power is not limited by time and space.
I think of the Savior and how he approached people that others turned away from. He listened to them. He loved them. He healed them physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I think of how I drive past the prison in Mansfield. I’m afraid. I turn away from those people. Strip clubs are the same. The homeless are the same. My Master was not afraid of sin or its victims. He was the Master of sin. His perfect love and penetrating perception gave him the ability to heal even the worst of sinners. He could and would reach out to those whose physical, emotional, and spiritual injuries were severe. He healed them. I take his name upon me every week as I partake of the sacrament. He is willing to give his love and insights to me today, that I might be his hands in healing those around me who suffer. I can be like Him. I can refuse to turn away. I can tune in to His healing grace and be an instrument in his hands to help his lost sheep.
I take heart in people like those at Animal Aid. They are not wealthy. They likely do not have much political power. Even their medical methods and facilities are not world-class. Far from it! They do what they can with what they have. The cynical would say that their efforts make little difference to the plight of street animals; that systemic processes like sterilization and euthanization are more effective at relieving animal suffering. (Animal Aid does do spaying and neutering). I find that their work means so much more than anything that could be measured or put in a law. They show us the way to push away our revulsion at pain and suffering, to confront the causes of the pain, and to give creatures a second chance at life. Their redemption stories give me faith and courage. I’m even going to donate some of my birthday money to them. I don’t have much, but I know that my Lord can magnify my efforts to bless the lives of those who lift and inspire me. Someday, maybe I will be able to travel to Rajasthan and meet these heroes and tell them how much they have inspired me and my boys to show more compassion.
As I continuously come unto my Savior, I have doubts about myself. My inner voice says, “Your blog is all wrong. Your Facebook is all wrong. Your parenting is all wrong. You’re all wrong!” I say to Him, “Show me my sin, that I may repent.” Its hard. I feel a tinge of doubt. What if he tells me I’m all wrong? His peace comes over me. “Fear not and be of good courage, for you shall carry my words to many. My sheep hear my voice. I will make of you my instrument. Your weaknesses are swallowed up in me, for I am Mighty to Save.”
I am grateful to my Savior for believing in me and my voice, even though I know I have so many flaws. He calls upon the weak and simple of this world to testify of Him and his matchless power. I raise my voice in praise to Him. He is my Redeemer! He is the balm that I rely on in my time of trial. I love him. I testify of Him. He is Mighty to Save!
I’ve had a really hard time this week with worrying about what other people think of me. It’s hard when you live your whole life trying to please everyone, to make the kind of shift I am trying to make. There is only one person I have the power to control, and that is me. There is only one person whose opinion of me matters, and that is my Savior. I know that, but teaching my brain to think differently takes time.
Last night I had a session with my counselor. She is pretty amazing. She was very sympathetic and encouraging, which I always need. She had a lot of good questions for me about why the opinions of the Relief Society sisters in my ward are so important to me. My whole life I have allowed them to shape my behavior. I’ve felt driven to be the person they think I should be. She encouraged me to work on developing a support network outside of the Relief Society. She suggested a hobby or something. I need to be with people who can give me permission to be myself, color outside the lines, and be okay with messy.
The thought of reaching out to people outside my faith and trying to find acceptance and love is daunting to say the least. Still, sometimes the Lord’s path leads me out of my comfort zone. Maybe its time to venture a little and cast my net on the other side of the ship like Peter did.
I fell asleep early last night, but then awoke upset at about 3:30. I couldn’t go back to sleep and ended up waking Ben. He talked to me for a while, and gave me a blessing. In the blessing he encouraged me to seek for the Savior in the scriptures and to find his peace. I opened my phone to the Come Follow Me manual and I read the lesson.
Reading scriptures and conference talks can be tricky when I’m struggling with depressive symptoms. It’s like my brain is on high alert for any judgement from anyone. I even find it when it isn’t there. It’s kind of like after you watch a scary movie. Every shadow hides danger, every noise indicates a threat, every innocent looking person is a serial killer. It isn’t reality, but telling your brain that doesn’t change much.
Part of the reason I have a hard time when people tell me to read my scriptures when I’m depressed is that they don’t understand that sometimes the scriptures help, and sometimes they hurt. Same with going to church. The depressed mind takes well intentioned correction like a knife to the heart. Even the most gentle reproof can be excruciating when you feel you are at the emotional breaking point.
Anyway, I was anxious to read the lesson for fear it would send me over the edge, but on the contrary, it was just what I needed. It helped me to clear my mind and see the hand of the Lord in my suffering.
Here’s Pepper in the exam room. Love her to bits!
Saturday night Pepper came down with a bad case of diarrhea. Overnight she started vomiting as well. Her poop looked like piles of melted chocolate all over her pen mixed with what might have been vomit. It was awful. I was planning to go to church. Devin was giving a talk and I wanted to be there, but Pepper wasn’t getting any better. She was clearly miserable, so I took her to the Animal Emergency Room. I had a black dress on for church, and I put a paper towel on her bottom to try and keep the filth off of me. It didn’t help much.
After tests and X-rays, we still weren’t sure what the problem was. They prescribed her a bunch of medications and gave us some special food to give her. I brought her home with the understanding that I was risking her life. Taking the more economical and conservative treatment path might result in her death by bowel perforation. The more aggressive treatments and tests would cost up to $2,000. I took that decision onto myself and decided to bring her home.
As I sat with her on my lap, so weak and helpless, I thought of how badly I would feel if she did die. She reminds me of the sheep in “Mary had a Little Lamb.” She follows me around everywhere. She loves me so much. She has helped me learn what the Savior’s metaphors about shepherds and sheep mean. She hears my voice and she follows me. I love her as she is and she trusts me. Even when I have veterinarians poke and stick her, she still comes to me for comfort and love. Just like I trust the Savior, that whatever happens in this life, it is part of his plan for me, and that he will help me through it. Unlike my children, she will never grow up to be my equal. Our relationship will always be of master and pet. Because of that, I don’t completely understand why I love her so much. In the scriptures it says that the good shepherd would lay down his life for his sheep. He would, as a human, give his life for animals? Yes. Just as the Savior was God, he gave his life for us lowly humans. Such love for something less than has a sacred quality about it.
As I pondered on these things, I felt the love I had for Pepper swell inside me. I wished I had the Priesthood, so that I could lay my hands on her tiny head and bless her. I thought of the power of the Savior; that perhaps through my faith, I could bless her, not with a Priesthood blessing, but with my own faith and humble prayer.
I stretched out my hand and laid it between her big furry ears, and said a prayer. I prayed that God would have mercy on my little sheep. That she would recover. That she would be healthy again.
The kids and Ben came home from church and the chaos of Sunday afternoon swept all of us up in its wake. Pepper started eating and drinking and peeing. By bedtime, she was playing and running. It wasn’t until this morning as I pondered on Pepper’s rapid recovery that I realized that she had been healed. My prayer was answered!
I also noticed that Ben had woken up to help me. For anyone who knows how soundly that man can sleep, that is surely a miracle. Also, the words I read in my scriptures were exactly what I needed to read.
The Come Follow Me lesson for this week is all about hypocrisy, Pharisaical worship patterns, and the ability of the Savior to see the hearts of men and judge righteous judgement. Whether the widow who cast in her mite, or Zaccheus the righteous chief publican, the Savior was able to see his sheep. They also know him.
In Matthew 23, the Savior has some serious shade to throw at the scribes, Pharisees, and Sadducees. I imagine it was shocking for the people to hear their leaders criticized so sharply by the Master. This man who was so gentle and forgiving to the harlots, sinners, and publicans, was filled with rage at the hypocrisy of the Jewish leadership. They appeared so righteous on the outside! I don’t think we have any idea how much respect they commanded from the people, and yet the Savior was not impressed. The lesson warns us about focusing on the outward appearance in our religious practice. We each have the capacity to become Pharisees.
It occurred to me how much I have changed in the past year. I can’t say that I am completely stripped of pride, envy, and vanity; but I feel like I am more honest about myself. This talk, On Being Genuine, by Elder Uctdorf was linked to the lesson. I felt like it was especially powerful. He said:
We come to church not to hide our problems but to heal them.
Elder Uchtdorf
In the past, I have done everything possible to hide my mental health problems from my ward. I have put up my Potemkin village, hoping I would not be found out. No more. In being open and honest about my struggles, I can more authentically testify of my love for my Savior. I don’t need to hide.
With patience and persistence, even the smallest act of discipleship or the tiniest ember of belief can become a blazing bonfire of a consecrated life. In fact, that’s how most bonfires begin—as a simple spark…… And if we continue to embrace and live true principles in our personal circumstances and in our families, we will ultimately arrive at a point where we “hunger no more, neither thirst any more. … For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed [us], and shall lead [us] unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from [our] eyes.”
Elder Uchtdorf
The whole talk is really good. It was exactly what I needed to hear to give me the courage to continue on a path of authenticity. Miracles have come into my life as I have earnestly sought after my Savior. As I learn to be kinder to myself, surround myself with supportive friends, and continue on my path to recovery, I hope that I can see those miracles and remember that my Savior doesn’t judge my outward actions. He sees my heart. And it is His.
May 11, 2019 the world was introduced to a true hero. We don’t often meet them, but this extraordinary young man captured the hearts of the world with his heroic actions at his high school to disarm a fellow student and save the lives of many who would have been his victims.
Kendrick Castillo. When I read his story, pondered on his remarkable young life, and grieved his passing that has left a hole in the world where he held a special place for so many; I thought of my Master’s words. “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” This boy had that greater love. Just like the two young men who helped the handcart pioneers cross the river and then died themselves, he earned his ticket to paradise with that holy act. He laid down his life for his friends.
The scriptures prophecy of the last days when men’s hearts shall fail them. We are seeing those prophecies come to pass. Think of these young school shooters. There is no love or compassion in their hearts. They are murderous and full of hatred, for what or whom it is unclear. They arise in the fulfillment of prophecy. They are born from the breakdown of the moral fabric of the nation. They are the bitter fruit of the last days. There is only one way to fight back, We must have greater love. Just as Kendrick did.
Some think that the battles must be fought in the courts, or our legislative halls; some believe that forcing their interpretation of God onto others is the solution. There are so many op-eds, so many statistics, so much pontificating on these shootings whenever they happen. I applaud all those who wish to make schools safer for our children, but I think Kendrick had the best answer.
I don’t believe that we will see less of these acts of mass violence. I think we will increasingly see more. What we need are not more weapons or less, but more love. Greater love. Love like Kendrick had.
Love is nurtured in the garden of the soul. Pouring shame on the soul is like pouring salt onto a garden. It will kill everything. It will disturb the PH of the soil for a long time preventing many things from growing properly. People with soul gardens of salt reek havoc on the world. They sow discord and cynicism. They endlessly take from society while refusing to show any gratitude. They produce nothing. They give nothing. They are not born, although some souls are challenged in ways that others are not when it comes to developing their gifts; these souls are made. We make them by using shame instead of love. In our homes. In our classrooms. In our law enforcement. Shame is our go-to tool of choice.
Refusing to shame, choosing to have compassion, choosing to build trust is so much harder to do. With our church congregations. With our families. With our circles of friends. Choosing love is choosing to accept a person as they are, even when they are wrong. We can embrace and protect and nurture each person and help them find their place. When the laws of God are violated, as they will be, the need for love is greater still. If we choose love, the gardens of the souls of those we care for will produce greatly and give back to us again.
Not everyone responds to love. The school shooters killed Kendrick. His love did not prevent that tragic outcome. Still, I have hope that Kendrick in accomplishing his supreme act of sacrifice, has secured for himself a glorious future in the next life, and also for us in which his goodness will inspire many more acts of love and courage.
The rise of so many forms of hate this decade has been for me, an invitation. I have tried to foster greater love. I have laid down my life, in my way, onto this blog. I have laid down my life on these digital pages, for my friends. In doing so, I have exposed myself to the judging eyes of all those who come across it. Still, I lay down my life for you. Take my experiences. Learn from what I have written. May it be a benefit to you.
Some of my friends have encouraged me to walk away from my ward, as they have done. I understand you so much better than I did before this experience. Only you can decide where God wants you to be on Sunday, and I totally respect your decision to put yourself in a place you feel safe and loved. That is where God wants you to be. It isn’t your fault if church members are unable or unwilling to make the holy houses of the Lord safe places for you to worship. It isn’t your fault when uncaring hearts and careless comments wound and destroy trust. I love you. I hope to be an agent of change in a firm and very appropriate way, to make church a safer place for all of you.
When I am strong enough, I plan to meet with my leaders. I plan to help them understand how to make church a safe place for me. In making the church a safer place for me, it will also make it safer for you, and all those who seek the love and compassion of the healing power of the Master. If church feels safe to you now, and my words make you anxious, just realize that not much is going to change. Hopefully, the only thing that will change about church, is that we will understand each other better, and be able to love each other with greater love. That when wounds are given, either purposefully or unintentionally, that those injuries are repaired. That victims are not blamed, that aggressors are not enabled. That patterns of shame are identified and eliminated. That channels of communications are opened and relationships of trust are built.
As we come unto Him in humility and share our experiences, miracles can and do happen! The forces of Satan rage and sow their destruction. The forces of Love and righteousness can likewise rage! Let us consume the forces of hate and Satan with the fire of our greater love! Just as Kendrick did.
Laying in bed at 12:30 AM last night. Can’t sleep. Mind turning over all the perceived judgments of the universe staring me down in my bed. It’s like I’m a warrior, and I’ve been beating back the demons all day. I’m battered and bruised and tired and then, on my bedroom ceiling, is the worst of them all. The darkness, the silence, the empty space looming above me. I just can’t fight anymore.
“You could take a plastic bag, put it over your head, put a belt around your neck. Then by morning, its all over,” my exhausted brain reasons.
“That is a stupid idea,” my more rational brain retorts. “That would not work. You would end up a vegetable and how would that help anything. If you’re going to kill yourself it will be the last thing you do, at least do it right. A better idea would just be to go to sleep. Your brain will process this and you’ll wake up feeling better.”
“Maybe I should search Google for insomnia and suicide. I bet suicides are way more common at night,” I think to myself.
“That’s a stupid plan. You need to go to sleep.”
Silence. Darkness.
“Ben!” I call weakly. “Ben, I’m in trouble and I need you.” His snoring stops for a few minutes and then resumes softly.
Prayer. Silence. Darkness.
“I just want to die! I just want to die! Let this be over!” by brain is shouting at me now, pounding out any rational thought.
More prayers. More darkness. More judgement. More shame. Then God sent me an angel in my weakness. Of course he did. She was my mom. It isn’t the first time the Lord has sent her to me at just the right time when I needed a hand. She doesn’t get the depression, but last night, she said just the right things to calm my mind and help me. How did that happen? I don’t know. It just did.
And this morning I got to feel Austin climb into my bed and snuggle into my arms. I got to feel Pepper’s puppy tongue lick my face in an enthusiastic morning greeting. (I swear, God created dogs to let us know what unconditional love looks like. She runs to me every day like she hasn’t seen me in years and I’m the only thing she has ever wanted in her life.) I got to talk to my husband about the reality that I am a good person, that my doubts and my fears are normal, that my efforts help him to be better.
Then I got to walk in the misty rain to see my flowers. The hydrangea blossoms are just starting to turn pink. The coleus is the brightest yellow I’ve ever seen. They give the sun competition. I got to listen to my boys fight because Layne had thrown a dog toy and it fell into Wesley’s cereal bowl. I got to teach them about earning trust.
Hydrangea has bloomed late this year. It is worth waiting for.
I’m so grateful for another day! I’m so grateful for a God who knows where my limits are and won’t let me be tempted more than my power to resist. Depression isn’t going to kill me because I’m stronger than it is. I can do this and I won’t give up.
No one’s opinion of me is worth my life. No one’s. Jesus is my judge. No one gets to take His place. He knows my heart and he knows that this world is a better place because I’m here today. Even with all the uncomfortable things I have to say, the world is better because I am here to say them. Blessed be the name of the Lord!
Coleus and blanket flowers in my butterfly garden. Pepper explores the flowers.
Unity is a beautiful thing. Harmony, synchonization, choreophraphed movement and sound….unity is what we all strive for. The best and most heart rending compositions have times of great dissonance followed by a glorious resolution. This interplay of division and unity makes music interesting.
Life has moments of unity. Family, friends, hugs, and shared experiences. Then life can be full of conflict, anger, disagreement, and frustration. These moments can set us up for a glorious resolution. But how is a resolution possible? In our families, our wards, our nation? How can we find a path to Zion, that heavenly land where we live with one heart and one mind?
My area of expertise, if I have one, is my boys. They fight constantly. Last night we walked our dog Pepper to a friend’s house. This friend adopted one of Pepper’s litter mates. As soon as we came to the door, Pepper found her brother’s scent! The siblings greeted and then immediately launched into a lively play fight, which lasted probably ten minutes. They were jumping, rolling, yipping, and biting, growling at times, tails wagging, each wanting to dominate the other. As I watched them I thought of how my boys fight. Sometimes its play, sometimes it’s bullying, sometimes it’s showing love. Sometimes I have to intervene, but a lot of times I just watch and listen and encourage them to talk to each other. Sharing feelings is easy to do when you practice it. When my boys talk after a play fight has gone wrong, what I usually find is that there is no trust. “Layne took my toy and he won’t give it back!” says an angry Welsey. “Did you ask him to give it back?” I respond. “No, I know he won’t give it back. He’s mean!” Wesley doesn’t trust Layne. When I address those trust issues with them, teach them how to build trust with one another, and praise efforts to earn trust and be willing to trust, I’m teaching them important conflict resolution skills.
The fundamental reason our country is divided is trust. Why don’t conservatives trust liberal lawmakers not to take their guns? They don’t trust them. Why do liberals not trust conservative lawmakers to deal appropriately with the difficult situations women are in when they have an unwanted pregnancy? They don’t trust them. Trust is hard to earn and easy to lose. Both major parties have lost the trust of their opposition. You can be opponents and still have trust. Two soccer teams can play a game and there is trust that rules will be followed and the rights of everyone will be respected. Those games are fun for everyone. We learn to be better players and better people when we build, earn, and have the courage to trust others.
How can I build trust? As I have opened up about my own story and my challenges, I have found others have shared theirs with me also. I had no idea how many incredibly strong and resilient people I know! I know two women who lived through experiences so much worse than I ever had, and have dealt with them and come out as wonderful mothers that serve in the church and bless other’s lives. They manage their symptoms and have good ideas for me to help with mine. I have a profound respect for them as the heroines of their stories.
As I have opened up about my story on my blog and shared my experiences, I have seen a different response in some others. Its awkward. I find myself wanting to hide from them. I don’t know what they think of me. I’ve shown them my deepest parts of myself. What if they think I’m a bad person? I chatted with a friend last night and she had some awesome advice. She said, just tell people that they don’t have to agree with you. I first thought, “of course they know that, right?” After thinking it over, I thought. No they don’t! They don’t know why the heck I’m writing all this stuff. They don’t trust me that I’m not going to talk to them for a few minutes at church, and then turn around and write some blistering blog post about them.
It is to this group that I am writing this post. You can disagree with me! You can see things differently. You can have any feelings you experience when reading my blog and I won’t judge you for it. I do have a few rules I would like you to consider.
1-Own your choice to read the blog. I don’t have a lot of warm fuzzy stuff on my blog. It’s uncomfortable. If you can’t handle the raw, I get it. We can still be friends if you don’t read my blog.
2-Respect my right to my experiences and my choice to share them. This is an important tool in my recovery and it’s not up for discussion.
3-Own your feelings. If you read something that makes you angry. Think about it. Why are you angry? Anger comes when you feel someone has crossed your boundaries, accused you unfairly, or put you down. If I make you angry with my words, I welcome questions. I promise you, I have no intention to hurt anyone with my words, so maybe there is a miscommunication. Ask me a question.
Example: “Bridgette, when you compared members of the church to the pharisees, I was angry. I see loving leaders in my ward that volunteer their time and talents to help others. I’m a leader in my ward and I feel weighed down by responsibility and people complaining all the time. I wish there was more gratitude and less criticism. I think criticising our leaders just leads to discouragement and bitterness. Why do you think it is helpful?”
I love this comment because she owns her feelings. She disagrees with my decision to share uncomfortable experiences I have in church. When I liken our faults as faithful saints to those of the Pharisees, she sees it as insulting. That’s understandable. No one wants to be like a Pharisee. I totally understand where she is coming from and why she feels angry. I appreciate her courage to ask me about my motivations. If she hadn’t posted, she might carry this resentment toward me into our face to face interactions. Because she did, we can resolve them. Also, others who read the post and feel similarly, will have their questions answered as well. This might be my response.
“Thanks for your comment and taking the time to read my post. First, thank you for your service in your ward! Every calling is a burden to carry. It isn’t easy to serve imperfect people, especially when they are prone to complaining. I totally agree that expressions of gratitude to our leaders are important. I’ll consider doing a blog post on that very thing in the next week or so. In writing about church members and pharisees, I’m not trying to discourage or insult anyone, just to invite introspection, both in myself and in my readers. When I walk out of a meeting and see an unfamiliar face, how does that person see me? Do I look inviting? Do I see them as my Lord would see them? Am I a saint, or am I going through the ritualistic motions like a Pharisee would? I’m likening the scriptures to my life to help me be a better Latter-Day Saint and sharing those thoughts in an effort to inspire others to do the same. I definitely don’t want to encourage bitterness or fault finding. Thanks again for taking them time to read and respond! Hope to hear from you again.”
As I’ve pondered and prayed this week for my ward family, I know that others have been doing the same. Miracles can happen. Hearts can soften. The Savior wants us to come together and approach him in humility. Right now, I don’t have a lot of trust in my church leadership. I feel they don’t understand me and the unique challenges I face with my mental health and the incredibly difficult journey I have taken in my recovery this year. Mental health stigma is real. It is ingrained in our culture and extremely difficult to overcome. Our leaders don’t have the training to get a complete picture of what my needs are. Some are hostile to mental health and think they know better than my therapist how to solve my problems. They are in a difficult position, but so am I. We need a lot of humility and grace to navigate this situation. Humility is not staying silent and avoiding conflict. Humility is not allowing yourself to be mistreated. Humility is submitting your will to the will of the Savior and then acting on his promptings.
This week has been an uncomfortable week of dissonance. I hope that it will be followed by a glorious resolution. My ward has the power to change our town. There are so many strong and amazing people in this ward! There is so much good. I know several of our sisters have been praying in the temple this week. There’s no doubt in my mind that they put my name on the prayer roll even if they think I hate them. (I don’t) To them I say, thank you. The good that you do matters to me. I love you and it’s okay for you to feel however you feel about me and my words. We are all imperfect people, and I am not your judge. I’m your sister, and I hope I can earn your trust and we can come together at the feet of Him who is Mighty to Save, to heal, to unite, and to bless. I know he will lead us to Zion!
I wrote this post a month ago. I’m just getting to where feel comfortable publishing it.
When I started having anxiety and depressive symptoms, I had no idea why. I thought I was perfectly fine. There was something wrong with my lungs, there was something wrong with my heart, there was something wrong with me physically. It couldn’t be in my mind. I was a Molly-Mormon, perfect girl raised in a perfect Mormon family. Why would anything be wrong with my mind?
I didn’t know then what I know now on a deeper level. There are two parts to my mind. One part is divine, a spirit, came from God
and destined to return to him. The other
part is fallen man, living with other fallen men, in a fallen society. Within that society there is a social
construct. It is important to differentiate
what that social construct is as opposed to God’s law. They are two very different things, although
they do overlap in some ways.
Social construct is all too familiar to a young mom like me. You wear shoes to the grocery store. You don’t park in the handicapped parking spots. You drive on the right side of the road. When you go to church you dress nicely and sit quietly. These are social constructs. They are the ways that man has devised to live together and avoid conflict. Children are notorious for disregarding social constructs because they don’t know them. They run out into the road, they scream in sacrament meeting, they tell the bank teller she’s fat. And yet, the scriptures are very clear that they cannot sin. They are incapable of sin. What does that say about social construct and sin? They are two different things. They may seem the same, but they are not. Ignoring or breaking the social construct and the rules of nicety that we have set up may be sin or it may not be. God’s law is not based in behavior. What is God’s law? God’s law is very simple. We are to love God and love one another. The Savior says that upon these two hang all the laws and the prophets. The thing is, love cannot be seen. It exists within the mind and heart. Love doesn’t manifest itself in what we wear, how quietly we sit in sacrament meeting, or how careful we are to obey traffic rules. Love is difficult to measure and more difficult to define. In the Book of Mormon the Love of God is symbolized by a tree that has fruit which is white and delicious. The followers of Christ are drawn toward the tree, a symbol of Jesus Christ. The Savior has said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” Jesus Christ himself was the Love of God made flesh. He came to show us what love looks like. To learn more about this parable in the Book of Mormon, click here.
I love this image. In the Book of Mormon, an entire parable is given centered around a tree that symbolizes Jesus Christ. When we eat of the fruit of this tree, we make a spiritual connection with God through his Son. This connection makes us happy and whole.
I mentioned, in one of my less controversial comments in Relief Society on Mother’s Day, that I am always amazed at how quickly my children are able to find the Savior in every picture. The spirits of the children of God know their shepherd. They know Jesus Christ, and they are naturally drawn to him. As we learn of him through the scriptures, our spirits help us to make sense of this world and how He would have us live in it regardless of social construct. He teaches us how to love.
In the meantime, the schools, our families, the legal system….they
teach us how to be fallen humans. They
teach us to survive, to lie, to hide, to fear.
Most of all, we are taught to follow the rules. You have to figure out who the biggest baddest
person in the room is, and make sure you make them happy. Who has the biggest gun? Don’t get in their way. Game the system, take what you need, look
like you fit in. If it’s in a gang or in
a church, dress the right way, talk the right way. Learn the rules and follow them.
As I have worked through my recovery, I have found myself in
conflict with my social construct. The
way a Mormon woman is supposed to look, feel, and act. I’ve found that the woman I was created to be
is different than the one I’ve been trying to be all my life. Maybe that’s why I have empathized so
strongly with my bisexual friend. Our
journeys have not been so different. She
has found that in her recovery, she is no longer the person she needs to be, or
at least appear to be, to fit in. In
being true to her own core self, she can no longer be what others want her to
be.
As I gain strength, the need to fit into my social construct
fades. I quiet my fears, question my
lies, come out of the shadows of my hiding place, and relax my grip on the need
to survive. I see myself as a lily in
the field, created by God for his purposes, provided for by his divine plan
with sun, wind, and rain. The social
construct that was my prison, is now behind me.
Like a chick leaves her egg, I leave the fallen construct behind, and
search for my Master.
Come learn of me, and listen to my words. Walk in the meekness of my light and I shall
give you peace. For I am Jesus Christ. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for my yoke
is easy, and my burden is light. He
doesn’t care what I wear or how beautiful I am.
Whether I am rich or poor is unimportant. He wants nothing from me. He only gives. Love.
Once you have it; once you’ve eaten the fruit of that tree, you know
what to do. You give that Love to
others. You call to everyone you can see
to come and eat the fruit. It doesn’t matter
if they are in the depths of the river or headed to the building, everyone
needs to have it. Love. Unconditional. No social construct. No guns.
No biggest, baddest guy to fear.
A society of love is heaven!
If each person is eating from the tree and passing that love around,
there is peace and happiness. Our differences
are not important. Our sins are
swallowed up. Our natures are
changed. We have become a new
people. His people. We have no need for the cage of social
construct because we are naturally looking after the needs of one another. It isn’t forced. It comes from a changed nature. A reborn person. No longer fallen, but saved.
There are a lot of lies that Satan tells us, but the one I
have the most difficult time with is the lie that social construct IS God’s
law. That if I please everyone around me,
I have pleased him. If I upset those
around me, I’ve upset him. The
scriptures are full of examples that teach us that this isn’t the case. Many of the prophets of the Old Testament
were murdered because they upset the social construct. They pleased God and enraged those around
them who propped up and profited from a fallen system. Jesus Christ, the Word and Love of God made
flesh was the most offensive of all to the social construct of his day. They not only murdered him, they tortured and
humiliated him. Still, even two-thousand
years later, he continues to lift and inspire those who own him Lord. They can’t kill what lives inside our hearts. We’ve tasted the fruit! It doesn’t matter who is upset by our
determination to love and share Him.
I don’t have a lot of followers on this blog. I make no money. This blog exists for a single purpose. To bring me away from my social construct to
Christ. The reason it must be public is
that courage is required to complete this process. I don’t completely understand it myself, but
I have to do this in the open. Maybe it’s
because every time I tap “publish” I am letting go of that need to write something
people will like. No one is required to
witness this. No one has to agree with
it. It is personal, it is sacred, it is
my story. My journey to Jesus
Christ. It’s real and raw and for many,
including me, incredibly painful; but I know that in the end, He is the only
one who will heal my depression. Because
of this, my blog is a vital part of my recovery journey. I feel the mocking eyes of those in the
building, but my eyes are not on them. I’m
at the tree. I am ever his humble
handmaid. On my face. At his feet.
The Broken Handmaid 