Author: Broken Handmaid of the Lord

“If any of ye lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not and it shall be given him.” James 1:5

If anyone needed answers from heaven I did. Yesterday morning, my fevered three year old lay beside me in the bed while I hugged my knees to my chest, my fingers entangled in my hair doing my best to rip it out. I couldn’t breathe for the racking sobs that did nothing to stem the torment in my soul. I know what hell is. It was me in that moment.

Why was I going through this pain? Someone had told me that I was overly sensitive, I lacked introspection, and was easily offended. Someone I trusted. Someone I had reached out to for help. Someone trained and certified as a therapist. Someone who didn’t know me at all and didn’t take the time to see me because he didn’t have time for me.

I lost all hope and faith. I have exhausted myself spiritually and emotionally convincing myself that I’m worthy, I’m valuable, my feelings and thoughts matter, and that my Savior loves me. That I am enough for him. I have put my trust in therapists, church leaders, and personal revelation, and nurtured the tender tree of hope that maybe God’s plan of happiness could bring happiness for me. That tree of hope was uprooted and put through the chipper, all because I tried to fight a battle for him and I lost. It wasn’t even my fault.

I posted on “Ask an LDS Therapist” about the suicide at BYU and the New York post article that highlights the problem of serving the demand for therapy services at BYU. One woman kept defending the status quo while blaming the family and friends of the victims and suggesting vague unhelpful solutions. Many efforts were made by at least four other women to draw this woman out and expand her views, but it became clear that she wasn’t interested in exploring the subject. She was a troll.

I reached out to the administrator of the site three times to intervene, but he refused to address the toxic and hurtful comments and then finally he deleted my post and blamed me for everything. He told me, “I can’t fight your battles for you.” I responded, “I fought your battles for you!” And I did. I prayed and I searched and quoted scripture. I posted thoughtful and vulnerable experiences of my own wrestle with suicide. I told that troll that I loved her and wanted her to see and understand these difficult issues. Her last post after all the pain she caused was “lol.” I fought his battles, but I lacked his training, his degree, and his authority to appropriately warn and silence the abuse. When I asked for help, I was blamed and shamed. I didn’t start the site and invite the suffering then leave them to be subjected to toxic messages with no one to guide the discussion. I fought his battles, and when I asked for help with what I couldn’t do, he projected his selfish callousness onto me. He told me he had to have boundaries and he blocked me.

With my faith and hope gone, I fell into a free fall of despair. There was so Savior. No truth, no healing journey, no help for me. The “LDS Therapist” had judged me as a malignant narcissist hurling criticism at everyone. What alternative was there? Death. It was the only way forward.

Ben struggled with me as my poisonous cynicism exploded. “I’m a heartless narcissist! Look at me! I am sick and I’m never going to get better! There is no Savior for me, no forgiveness, no heavenly reward! Let me end this and stop the suffering! You can have a real life with a wife that can function right.” His faith and testimony gave me a few more hours and some friends to hold and comfort me.

The therapist apologized to me. In his anger he had treated me unfairly. To his credit he recognized it and had the humility to apologize. He even offered me free counseling sessions. I offered to be his site moderator, but he said he is already hiring a moderator for the site. I hope he is able to fix the issues and to help some people, but I have drawn my own boundaries and will probably not be back to his page.

I’m still processing the experience and I’m going to talk to my therapist, my real therapist, on Friday. I also have an appointment tomorrow with my psychiatrist who is a really wonderful guy I have been seeing for seven years or so. I have some ideas I’ve been researching and there is a medication that I think might turn things around for me. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop writing, but maybe my husband can go to work, my kids will have a mom, and my mom won’t be sick with worry about me as often. Sorry Mom! I love you.

The reason I’m sharing this experience with you is because trust is hard. Trusting a person is always a risk, no matter how lofty their church calling, how many degrees hang on their walls, how many important people say they are brilliant, how much they have helped someone else, or even family ties.  

We are all broken. Even our collective wisdom is a drop of water in the ocean of his omniscience. I trusted the “LDS Therapist” too much. He marketed himself as the great and powerful Oz, but behind the curtain, he was human, just like me, and limited by his own perspective which told him things about me that weren’t true. My perspective told me things about him that were not true. In the end, my Savior will heal me, whatever that healing looks like.  I can’t look to any person to save me.  

I have felt his gentle hand as I have gone through these trying experiences.  We came to this Earth to suffer.  We are surrounded with suffering and death in mortality, but there is hope of a better world and a better life.  No matter how many times I trust, and how many times I get hurt, I know that I can reach out to trust again, because He will be there for me each time to make me whole again.  That isn’t to say that boundaries won’t be necessary, but I can choose whether to give in to cynicism, or nurture my faith tree.  I choose faith, I choose hope, I choose vulnerability.  I choose to reach out and tell my story because I believe in the power of my story, and every person’s story, to teach empathy for the suffering among us, and the truly miraculous power of the atonement to heal us.

Oh Lord, if I was ever thy handmaid, have mercy on me.  Oh Lord, if ever thou didst look down on me with smiling face, have mercy on me.  Reveal to me my sin, for I have taken thy name upon me as thy handmaid.  How can I take thy name and sin!  Far be it from me to tarnish thy image among thy children!  I know I am broken, but I have taken a crown and worn it.  I have lifted my voice in thy name and spoken thy word.  Then I looked in the mirror and saw a ragged girl with a torn paper crown.  I am nothing and no one and least among my sisters.  I am playing a part, I am wearing a mask, and I do so imperfectly and flawed.  

“Show me my sin!  I plead unto thee to show me my sin and give me my stripes.  Here is my back naked before thee.  Apply the whip to me for I know that thy judgement is just.  I will take it with smiling face for I know that it will bring me good.  I know that thy judgement is just and thy pruning will stimulate growth and life in me.  Take all that I have.  I give it to thee for I am nothing without thee.  Without my faith, my life is a dry husk.  Thou art as the sun, the fuel of all life.  Thou art as the pure spring, a fountain of water that never fails.  

Show me my sin, that I may repent and follow thee more perfectly, that my heartstrings may harmonize with the heavenly choir.  Open the closet of my heart and purge my hidden places of every unclean thought, every prideful wish, every wicked imagination.   No corner will I keep from thee, for thou art holy, and I am nothing before thee.

I am broken and sick and all wrong, and yet thou hast had mercy on me and given me a trumpet.  I will sing thy praises all the day long, and into the night.  My tears will fall from swollen eyes, yet my heart will not cease to seek after thee.  In the world shall I have tribulation.  Am I greater than He?  Am I better than He that I should turn away from shame and spitting?  No!  I have taken His name and I will be His vessel, His broken vessel.

I will own my scars and wear them as he did, in his hands and in his feet, and the spear wound that all men might see and behold that He is Mighty to Save!  He is Mighty to Save!  I will not give up and I will not be silent.  I will take up my cross and walk my path to my own hill on Calvary.  For my Lord has said that after tribulation cometh the blessings.  It will be as he has said.  Blessed be the name of the Lord!

One of the most important things to understand in a battle is who your enemy is. Unfortunately, the enemy we fight on this earth is incredibly knowledgeable and powerful. He knows our weaknesses, and he is invisible to us. We are destined to find him and know him before we leave this earth, but he is a wily foe, with many faces. His strategies are designed to slip through our defenses and penetrate our minds and wills while remaining safely in the shadows, unknowable and incomprehensible as darkness.

In the Batman Dark Knight series made years ago Bruce Wayne was forced to fight an enemy that seemed to thrive in darkness. The idea of learning to see without seeing, by using superhuman senses is a common archetype in human culture. Who can forget the critical moment in Star Wars when Luke Skywalker turns off his targeting computer to make his last fatal strike on the Death Star? Blindly, using only the force to guide him, he is able to make the nearly impossible shot.

Is she going to make a Star Wars gospel parallel? Yes. I’m going to go there. How do you fight an invisible foe that knows you on a level that you can’t comprehend? How do you tap into “the force” that can enable you to discern the evil, reveal it, and conquer? I wish I knew the answers to those questions but I’m still a Padawan without a trainer……I know a few things, but have even more questions than answers.

One thing that is clear from the scriptures, is that Satan is a liar. He doesn’t deal in truths, he distorts truth to entrap us in lies. He effectively neutralizes all the light and knowledge that would save us by injecting it with falsehood. He makes allies look like enemies and enemies look like friends. Think of what Satan was able to do between the time of Moses and the time of Jesus Christ.

At the time the law was given to Moses, it had wonderful potential to nurture a people who would be prepared to welcome the Son of God ushering in a era of peace and joy; a renaissance the likes of which the world has never seen. The law of Moses was a preparatory gospel to train God’s people to think symbolically and abstractly. It was ritualistic like the pagan worship Jehovah was weaning them from. Even with the Law of Moses given by God himself, the people were able to find ways to look beyond the mark, justify themselves, and lose the good effects God wanted them to get from it. As in the master’s parable, we can safely say, an enemy hath done this! Rather than welcome the Son of God with gladness and rejoicing, they murdered him.

One of the things that surprises me sometimes is learning that I have behaved the way my adversary wanted me to behave. For example, I came across a fake news story on my Facebook feed about a clown serial killer. I pride myself on my macabre knowledge of serial killers and was surprised at the existence of a clown serial killer I was not aware of. I read the article appropriately horrified by the grisly tale of the fabricated monster. It wasn’t until I tried to google more information about the fictitious crimes that I discovered, I had been duped. I have since been more wary of fake news.

I was surprised to find that the DNC was encouraging two candidates in the RNC primaries in 2015. One of them was Donald Trump and the other was Ben Carson. I wasn’t surprised that the opposition wanted Trump, but I liked Carson. He was my number one pick for a long time. What made them think he would be easily defeated? I’ve also found myself drawn into conflicts on Twitter with trolls who provide no value to my life. I’ve wondered sometimes if some of the people I follow are really foreign agents who are feeding me seductive messages calculated with sophisticated algorithms to deceive me and warp my reality. I haven’t taken to wearing a tin foil hat yet, but in the age we are living in it is wise for us to exercise caution. We face a dangerous enemy and I fear they know us much better than we know them. Is our strategy playing into their hands?

One strategy that serves Satan and his polezny idiots very well is his ability to divide his enemies. He keeps us busy squabbling amongst ourselves about pointless things while he lurks unseen doing the real damage while we are distracted. Look at his work on the world stage! Former allies and friends look at one another with distrust and suspicion. Trump would have us believe that our pool of trustworthy news sources is whittled down to a small handful among hundreds. We are to trust his words and his perceptions over our own as he is our only advocate.

Abusers use similar strategies. They convince their victims that they alone love them, they alone understand and accept them, that leaving the abuse will result in a frightful vacuum of support in which terrible consequences lurk. A victim will defend their abuser even while enduring horrific treatment because the abuser has shattered the ability of the victim to trust the sources of assistance available to them.  Lies entrap.  Lies victimize.  

Some say that we are living in a post-truth era where lies are everywhere.  The facts depend on the narrative to which you subscribe and for every fact there is an alternative fact which is just as valid to someone else.  This is the kind of environment that Satan loves.  Eventually everyone gets used to the lies and becomes cynical expecting the worst in their fellows.  Sometimes the lies seem so transparent as to be ridiculous.  The Washington Post fact checkers used to give out Pinocchios to statements given by public figures when they told a lie.  For the post truth era, they have instituted a new category of lie.  It is the bottomless Pinocchio.  Instead of a score of between one and four Pinocchios, the bottomless Pinocchio is given when a lie is repeated over and over in spite of being debunked. 

The truth is, we all believe some lies.  We believe lies, not because we don’t know the truth or can’t find it.  It is because we want to believe the lie.  We are vulnerable to the lie.  Do we all know that good moral character is important in our political leaders?  Yes.  But when our guy screws up, it is so much easier to say, forgive and forget.  He’s a good guy, he just messed up.  When it’s the other guy, it confirms our worst suspicions.  He’s a monster and should be thrown into outer darkness.   Why do people fall for scams?  The lie just sounds so appealing!  We are vulnerable to it.  The slick salesman that promises the deal that is too good to be true, the pyramid investment scheme that promises health and wealth, the scratch off lottery ticket with it’s tiny chance of a fabulous prize, the shuckster politician with a bag full of empty promises…..it is just too good to not hope for.  

I watched a program today about hormones.  It detailed the scientific journey of the medical world in identifying and understanding hormones and their function in the body.  One of the things that struck me was that often the greatest breakthroughs in the research were the direct result of a failed hypothesis.  When something goes the way we have been taught to expect, there is little we can learn.  When research reveals something truly unexpected, we might be onto something special.  Why don’t we celebrate those moments in our lives?

When I expect that my child will respond a certain way to my behavior and he doesn’t respond, do I think, “Wow!  This is a great opportunity for me to learn something new about myself and my child!”  No, I gripe and complain that he isn’t listening again.  The journey to truth is an adventure.  Each bend in the road is an opportunity to discover hidden truth, as long as your mind is open to receive it.

If lies entrap and victimize, truth sets us free.  It reveals the intents of the wicked and exposes their abuse.  It enlightens the mind and heals the body.  Truth is a gift from God and blessed are those who find it and treasure it up in their hearts.  Truth is the only truly effective weapon we have against Satan for lies and darkness cannot stand against truth and light.

I said earlier that I am a Padawan without a trainer.  Perhaps I do have a trainer.  He is my Savior, even my Lord Jesus Christ.  He is the Prince of Light and he guides my path and my training as I learn the ways of the force.  For he is the light of the world and all those who come unto him shall not walk in darkness, but have everlasting light!

It was a hard week. I had my concert, the house was messy, the kids didn’t do their chores, my therapist was on vacation, and Ben was gone. I did a lot of writing and knitting and Christmas shopping and avoided my chores too. By Friday we were wading in dirty laundry and toys.

Then I read about the suicide at BYU. Past trauma is like a feather pillow. It usually sits unassuming and tidy causing no problem. You forget it is even there. Then a trigger comes along. Like a sharp knife, the trigger slices open the pillow and feathers go flying everywhere making a mess of your world.

My life has been a mess, inside my brain and outside my brain. Even so, today I am seeing my Master’s hand through it all. Yesterday there was anger and swearing and suicidal thoughts. I was going to leave the church and go join a band in San Francisco. Then there were sedatives and naps and lots of knitting. Today faith and perspective are coming back.

I’m at church in the foyer right now. I taught my lesson to my twelve year olds. I told them about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and how they testified to Nebuchadnezzar that their God was Mighty to Save!  Those eleven year olds were mesmerized by the power of the story.  The faith in that room could light the world.   They are amazing kids and I love them more that I can say!

My friends who knew Ben would be out of town brought me meals. My ya ya sisters know who they are! You were my angels. May his blessings be poured out upon you for your mercy. You may have saved my life. It was a hard week, but I know that you love me and that got me through.

Even though it has been hard, there have been angels; some living and some passed that have ministered to me. I’m rising above the pain and finding Jesus Christ. He’s at church beside me in the pew. He’s walking beside me in the hallways helping me be His witness. He’s feeding me spiritually, helping me to see the world as it is, then empowering me to make it better: more compassionate, more welcoming, more filled with the spirit, more ready for His glorious reign that draws ever nearer!

Now is the time to own him Lord! Now is the time to rise up and show the world that He is the God of this world. Now is the time to bare His witness and strengthen the weary. Today is the day to be Saints! Latter day saints, filled with the charity of the Master, not full of excuses and defensive deflections. He is Mighty to Save! Let us show the world the power of our God!

Sitting in the waiting room in the Utah State student clinic the tears fell from my eyes.  I barely tried to wipe them away.  I was broken and nothing would fix me.  I had never seen this doctor before.  I didn’t even know if I could pay the bill to see him.  My new husband and I could hardly afford our weekly groceries, let alone doctor bills and medicine.  His eyes were kind as I explained the symptoms that both of us knew were depression.  He handed me the prescription for the pills I needed, but said, “I can give you these, but you really need to get some counselling to treat your depression.”  I explained that I was in student teaching.  I was in school every day from 8 to 4 and no counseling services were available in the evenings.  He seemed to know the answer before I gave it.  We had no solutions, so I left the examination room with a grandfatherly pat on the back.  I wiped my tears away and put my mask back on. 

I couldn’t give any indication that I was struggling this way.  I had heard that two other girls in the previous semester had been dismissed from the Elementary Education program for their depression.  They were suing the school, but there was no question in my mind that if they suspected that I had depression, they would want me out.  No one wants a crazy woman around kids.

Maybe that was why I couldn’t get pregnant, I thought.  A fresh surge of tears flooded my eyes.  Even God didn’t want me to have children.  I was damaged goods; a worthless waste of space.  I managed to graduate from the program.  I hid my depression, took my pills, and I cried mostly in the school bathroom where no one would know.  I vowed I would never teach.  I didn’t belong standing in front of a group of children training them to be a part of a world I couldn’t function in myself.  I was a fraud and I knew it.

I ended up moving to Texas after graduation and going to LDS social services for counselling in Carollton.  It was good for me.  I got on top of my depression and with my therapist’s encouragement, I got a job teaching school.  Now here I am fifteen years later with four kids and still working through my issues with depression once again.  Some people wonder why I don’t ever get “fixed” for good.  I wonder sometimes too.  Take this week for example.

I tried really hard not to be triggered when I read about the BYU girl that jumped to her death on campus this week.  Then I read about the other students telling their stories about the dearth of services available to them.  I read the heartbreaking letter that some brave girl stuck to the door of the BYU student services.  My soldiers are out.  I am so angry that this is happening!  We are failing our children!  This is not okay.

I’ve read defensive comments and articles saying that it is unfair to blame the church or the school for this girl’s death.  After all, most college campuses are in the same situation with wait times for their counselors.  Becoming defensive isn’t the answer.  Criticizing the Salt Lake Tribune or the New York Post for being anti-Mormon is not going to solve anything.  The fact is, this is the situation we have.  Are we okay with it? 

Are we going to blame the victim?  I’m sure many people are.  She made a selfish decision!  She was a sinner and what was she doing at BYU!  What about the kids on the waiting list languishing in depression?  Do you have any idea how long eight weeks is for a depressed person to wait to get treatment?  They have to close that balcony.  Do you know why?  Suicides like this one inspire copycats.  Why are there promising, smart young LDS people who want to jump off a balcony?  Spoiler alert:  it isn’t because they are sinners.  It’s probably because they are hurting really badly.  BYU is pretty good about kicking out students who break the honor code.  What about giving a helping hand to students who are fighting off urges to kill themselves?  I’m not ready to hand out blame, but if something doesn’t change, I just might.  BYU leadership is looking at making a change, but top down leadership won’t be enough.  Each one of us who have been baptized a member of the church is a representative of the Savior.  Are your soldiers out?  There are reasons to be angry, and now is the time to let that anger motivate change.  I know I have problems and I am working making changes in my own life, but what about everybody else?

Maybe the problem isn’t totally with me and my fellow sufferers.  Maybe the problem is with a society that is so driven by material success that we are starving to death from a lack of human connection.  We are forced to put a mask of perfection on everywhere we go to avoid judgement.  That’s wrong guys!  How long is it going to take before we develop some compassion?  I am willing to put the blame on myself when I deserve it, but I don’t deserve it today.  I am really down today and it isn’t my fault.  It is a broken world and that broken BYU girl, a beautiful symbol of the future, lying on the floor of the Tanner Building with fatal injuries just won’t leave my head.  Maybe she won’t leave my head because she needs to be there.  She could have been me.  She was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s roommate.  She could have been a mom someday.  She died at 19.  She matters.  Who is going to speak for her?

I want to be a peaceful, calm relief society sister just like everybody else.  I want to trust in my church leaders and worry about my own behavior.  I don’t want to be an angry you-know-what standing up on a soapbox and calling people out.  I’m uncomfortable!!  I don’t want to be here!!  But someone needs to be here.  Someone needs to draw awareness to a problem that exists.  We can’t minimize it, or make excuses for it, or blame the larger culture for it without trivializing the people who are suffering.  The Savior wouldn’t want that.  She matters to Him.

Every day this week I am going to flood social media with information about suicide and suicide awareness with the hashtag #BYUsuicide.  If your soldiers are out, I invite you to do the same.  Nephi said that the Lord uses small and simple means to bring to pass that which is great.  Maybe the small and simple posts we make will do enough to change the culture and save some lives.      

November 2nd was the first day of my Broken Handmaid blog. I was looking over the stats and felt humbled by the people who have taken the time to hear what I have to say.

I had 742 people come to my blog. I had 1,377 views. I’ve had clicks from South Africa, the UK, New Zealand, Australia, India, Ireland, and even Hong Kong. I hope that in some way, somehow, my journey has been a benefit to you. I hope that my posts have inspired thought. I hope that my voice has been a voice of love and compassion inviting all people to come to Him who is Mighty to Save.

Tonight I get to bare my witness of Him with an amazing group of musicians. Last night we rehearsed the Brandon Stewart arrangement of Good Christian Men Rejoice. I wish I could post a video or an audio file that would better communicate the power of this incredible testimony. Read these words and imagine a heavenly chorus of a thousand angels singing it, and perhaps you will get the idea.

Good Christian Men Rejoice

With heart and soul and voice

Know ye what he came to do love, love!

Jesus Christ was born for you, laden with your grief and stain!

He suffered all your souls souls to gain.

Now ye need not fear the grave. Peace! Peace!

Jesus Christ was born to save!! BORN TO SAVE!!!

I’ve been practicing for my concert tomorrow.  I sing the Alto 2 part in the Dallas Millenial Choirs and Orchestras and we are having our Christmas concert tomorrow.  Because I have been so busy and troubled about many things, I haven’t taken much time to meditate on spiritual things.  I decided I would watch this video that popped up on my YouTube feed.  

Taking his name, or rather, the name handmaid of the lord, has had a curious effect on me.  It is almost like I have taken on a role in a strange live play in which I pretend to be Him.  It is like I have finally figured out that being a Christian is not really a cultural, political, or religious thing.  It is a spiritual remaking.  

My three year old and I watched this movie together and it always amazed me that he could always tell which actor was the Savior.  I wonder what it would be like to have that role, to try to BE Him.  How would I speak?  How would I walk?  What would my eyes say when they met with another person?  

I think every interaction He had with every person he came into contact with was significant.  Each and every person was important to him.  Could I be more like that?  If someone saw me walk down the street or go through a checkout lane at a store, would they know that I am a Christian?  That I am playing a part?  That I am trying to be like him?  Would they see in me, a shadow of His face?

Who have you met that really captured the spirit of the Master?  Who have you known that helped you know Him better?  What clues did you see in that person’s behavior or aura?