Category: LDS

  • on fathers and stones

    o captain

    In a few days I’ll mark the 14th anniversary of my father’s death from pancreatic cancer. Dad has been on my mind a lot today, as I’ve been mourning for two friends who’ve just lost their fathers.

    If you were to say that I’ve never forgiven God for taking my father, you would probably be right. My most vivid memory of that time was sitting at Dad’s bedside and realizing that neither I nor anyone else could prevent his demise (and cursing God for not answering my prayers and for letting my father suffer the indignity of slowly wasting away as the cancer ate through his abdomen). I was relieved when Dad finally took his last breath–not because I wanted him to go, but because the suffering was so acute. I couldn’t believe how fragile his shoulders felt in my arms as I embraced his body one last time.

    I wrote this poem about Dad a few years ago, and originally posted it here on February 11, 2007:

    Seeing Stones

    “Every man who lived on the earth,” Joseph said to them, “was entitled to a seer stone, and should have one, but they are kept from them in consequence of their wickedness, and most of those who do find one make evil use of it.” (Brigham Young’s journal, as quoted in Latter-day Millennial Star, 26:118,119)

    It was the nights when Dad would have kidney stones that he would call me in
    To sit at his bedside to pray.
    I was the family healer, set apart in my patriarchal blessing when I was twelve
    To have the power to be healed and to heal others on their behalf

    I would sit and hold Dad’s hand and ask God
    and he would breathe deep and say
    “Thanks Jan, the pain–it’s better now”

    But how when it got so bad and the doctors didn’t know why because the stones, they couldn’t see them
    I fasted and prayed my healing prayer
    And the answer
    A time to die
    And then the MRI, it showed cancer. Pancreatic. Uncurable.

    ***

    Dad’s college buddy, Dave, he called today.
    I’d run in to him at Sunstone, recognized him from the funeral
    Asked him for stories about Dad
    Dave said Dad was curious about seer stones. That a girl brought her family’s stone to their Institute class.
    Dave put it in his black felt hat and they had tried to see.

    I asked Dave about Dad’s testimony. Did he always believe?
    He told me of Dad’s mission to the Western States. Dad was dark and could pass for native
    Went to a kiva ceremony and had a manifestation–a Navajo blanket the veil, drawn back and the heavens opened.
    That after that he wondered but never wavered.

    I am angry now that I didn’t know this Dad.
    He never told me the dream stories that Dave tells now.
    Premonitions, knowing, seeing.

    ***

    When I was young Dad stopped at all of the rock shops along the summer route to Utah. I liked the rose crystals, bright pyrite, peacock ores.
    Dad looked, too, but I don’t know what caught his eye.

    Dave says the seer stones give a psychological closeness to the Spirit, remove earthly barriers
    I see myself, a rock-gatherer
    They roll on the floor of my car, mark the bagua of my home, circle the herbs in my garden.
    I see myself, a healer

    Without
    the power to be healed
    Pondering my Father’s stones
    Lacking vision

    ~Jana, 6/2005

    In a revelation from god, Joseph Smith reveals how those who attain glory in the afterlife will receive a seer stone of their own: Then the white stone mentioned in Revelation 2:17, will become a Urim and Thummim to each individual who receives one, whereby things pertaining to a higher order of kingdoms will be made known. And a white stone is given to each of those who come into the celestial kingdom, whereon is a new name written, which no man knoweth save he that receiveth it. The new name is the key word. (Doctrine and Covenants 130:10-11)

  • Heather Armstrong & me (on youtube)

    You can see youtube clips of the talks that Heather & I gave at the recent Sunstone Symposium [note: my trusty ol’ laptop is so RAM-deficient that I can’t preview either of these–can y’all let me know if they’re any good?]:

  • Heather Armstrong & me (on youtube)

    You can see youtube clips of the talks that Heather & I gave at the recent Sunstone Symposium [note: my trusty ol’ laptop is so RAM-deficient that I can’t preview either of these–can y’all let me know if they’re any good?]:

  • Love Makes a Family


    Love Makes a Family, originally uploaded by waiting line.

    I believe in equal marriage rights.

    What makes me incredibly sad about the resources that are being mobilized in California to fight and defend Prop 8 is that those same resources could be far better used for addressing the very real social problems that tear apart families.

    Those thousands of dollars that the LDS church is soliciting from its wealthier members, what if they were devoted to fighting poverty (particularly hunger and lack of healthcare), war, racism, and environmental crises. Just imagine the difference that just a few thousand dollars could make.

    This issue makes me so weary. Why do we keep fighting to remove rights from people instead of working together to make this world a more loving place? I know I’m hippie-dippy-idealistic. But I just don’t get it. How does fighting gay marriage “protect families”?


    UPDATE: One reason I feel so strongly about this issue is that it is so similar to anti-miscegenation laws that were in place not so long ago. Given that my spouse and children are products of mixed-race marriages (duly noting the slipperiness of racial categorizations even as I use them so glibly here), I’m grateful to those who fought to change these laws and make inter-racial marriage both legally and socially acceptable. I am thrilled that I had the right to marry my true love and desire to others to have that same right.

  • the prayer of a stranger

    Upon waking in the recovery room from my recent surgery, I realized that I couldn’t breathe. I gasped and gasped, trying to scream to let someone know that I couldn’t get enough air. Soon a nurse was at my bedside, placing an oxygen mask over my face, asking me questions about my asthma history that I couldn’t answer. Apparently she added a breathing treatment to the flow of oxygen and I was soon able to draw in air without so much struggle.

    After about 10 minutes on the oxygen I was relaxed and the nurse was working around me to disconnect the breathing mask. As she stooped by the head of my bed she whispered to me, in such a way that I’m not sure if I was meant to hear it or not.

    She said, “I’ll be praying for you.”

    *****

    For all of my openness in the blogging sphere, I’m actually a fairly private person in real life. I find it somewhat embarrassing to have strangers take such an interest in my life merely because of my physical disability. Yet at the same time, I’m continually surprised by those like the nurse–or you who read this blog–who are willing to care so much about me.

    In the past I’ve written some posts about the ways I feel pitied and demeaned because of my disability. I still feel that way much of the time–especially when someone’s action seems to be more about making themselves feel good than about offering aid. And even as I feel uncertain about the actual power of prayer, I am not ambivalent about the power of human connection. There’s something beautiful and courageous, and curiously intimate, about a stranger or an acquaintance offering a prayer on my behalf.

    Though I ceased praying in the Mormon fashion quite some time ago, I still spend time each day in silent meditation. Doing so gives me perspective on my life. It helps me to remember what I believe and to put my actions in line with my core values. I can’t claim that my prayers or my meditations have improved anyone else’s life, even though I think often of others as I sit in silence.

    I suspect that I won’t ever approach a stranger and tell them that I praying for them. But in my own way I am saying a prayer with each post that I write on this blog–sending my thoughts, hopes, and intentions out into the ether. Hoping that each of you will know that I care even if I no longer have the faith to couch my intentions into the form of a prayer.

  • when bad things happen to bad people


    Wounded, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    I suspect that many of my LDS acquaintances have thought that when bad things happen to me or my family, that we’re reaping the consequences of leaving the church, breaking the commandments, and/or reneging on covenants. (As in, “If only she had been wearing her temple garments, they would have protected her from injury.” Note to my non-LDS readers–said holy undies are offered with the promise that they will be a “shield and a protection” to the wearer.)

    I suspect that some of my LDS acquaintances have thought that if only I had gotten a priesthood blessing from Mormon elders, my recent ailment would have cleared up much sooner.

    While I can understand this line of thinking to some extent (given Biblical precedence and all), I wonder if any of my readers believe that God works this way? Do you think that God punishes nonadherents? Would he purposefully smite one of his children with an illness as punishment for wayward behavior or for not wearing godly undies? Or would he withhold healing from a person until they submitted to a a priesthood blessing?

  • pilgrimclassic: Casting Faith

    This post originally appeared on Nov 19, 2006:

    On Thursday during my casting appointment there was a group of four people involved in the process—two prosthetists and two interns—each taking a different role in wrapping my residual limb in a flexible fiberglass shell, then shaping that shell into a form that will both conform to my anatomy and will also best contain the tissue, muscle and bone as I walk. This is an intimate process, as the socket of my prosthetic leg interfaces with the major bones of the pelvic girdle—holding in the ischium and pressing against the ramus.

    It is an odd feeling to have two male prosthetists shaping the casting material between my legs and around my hip. Realizing that they are interacting with the most personal spaces of my body. Knowing that it is their job and this is a necessary process for getting a good fitting socket. Me, trying to remain a bit aloof and distanced from the process, yet at the same time having such high hopes that they will get a good fit—that the socket will work well and not cause pain and the suppurating sores that I’ve suffered with for the past few years.

    On Thursday evening I experienced a different form of intimacy. I gathered around the kitchen table of a Friend, holding hands with three Quaker women who agreed to serve on my Clearness Committee. We sat in silence, in prayer, until I felt moved to speak, to tell them of the turmoil in my heart in the process of leaving Mormonism. I spoke hesitantly, nervously. Their role was only to ask open-ended questions. Not to judge. Not to guide. After 90 minutes of speaking and silence, they mirrored what I had spoken back to me. They told me what they had heard me say. They discussed how my body language revealed the truths of my heart. Most of all, they shared their concern for the burdens that I am carrying.

    Perhaps ironically, the Clearness Committee experience was far more discomfiting and intimate than the casting for my prosthesis. For I don’t readily share the thoughts of my heart. Yes, I do this daily blogging, but I speak primarily of mundanity here. I’ve only very hesitantly shared the steps of my spiritual journey with anyone. I suspect that most just can’t understand. Within the Mormon community I feel censure and distrust. I have few friends who can empathize with the loss of faith. Who can grieve with me through this process?

    Outside of Mormonism, I am flummoxed by trying to explain what leaving the church means. That it is a complete change of worldview. Is it, perhaps, like having to relearn to walk?

    There is a popular LDS song called “I Walk By Faith” that I sang often during my teen years. I identified with this song as a young Mormon who was developing faith in Christ and as an amputee, because each step involved trusting my prosthesis in hopes that it would support my weight. So now on my spiritual journey away from the LDS Church I am learning what it means to walk by uncertainty, to walk by doubt, to walk into completely unknown territory as my heart leads me onwards. Ironically, this seems the biggest leap of faith thus far.

  • a high price


    alyssum, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

    “I was born in ancient times at the end of the world in a patriarchal, Catholic and conservative family. No wonder that by age five I was a raging feminist, although the term had not reached Chile yet, so nobody knew what the heck was wrong with me. I would soon find out that there was a high price to pay for my freedom and for questioning the patriarchy, but I was happy to pay it because for every blow that I received I was able to deliver two.”
    ~Isabel Allende

    In this vein, some of you may be interested in reading my SunstoneBlog post about attending a friend’s Bat Mitzvah ceremony and my “Leaving the Garden” story at MindOnFire.

  • the sacrament of doubt

    Just skimmed through Paul Toscano’s latest book, Sacrament of Doubt. This book might appeal to some of my readers with LDS background. It’s a collection of Paul’s recent talks, including a rather scathing critique of Mormon apostle Boyd K. Packer. But what caught my eye was this passage:

    Perhaps faith is to give God the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps doubt is to restrain the narcissism of certainty. For me, the bread of doubt is as sacred as the water of faith. Together they form a eucharist of hope, a wellspring of charity–a love that is neither partial nor sentimental but simply the heart’s desire that God’s love fall like rain in equal measure upon the just and the unjust, that no one claim a blessing one would withhold from another or impose a burden one would not bear oneself.

    Such charity is what, in the end, may be the best remedy for the privations of poverty, the pretensions of priesthood, and the privileging of patriarchs because it does not arise upon the authority of certainty but is a grace flowing freely from the ordinance of faith and the sacrament of doubt.

  • pilgrimgirl classic: Why I Blog

    Friends, I read through this post from 7/24/06 last night and thought it might be about time to repost it. Enjoy!

    I’m preparing to speak about Mormon feminist blogging in a few weeks. So as I’ve been mulling over various thoughts, I thought I’d make a list of the top 10 reasons why I blog….

    1) For reflection. Each time I sit at my computer to write a post, I reflect on my life and cull the gems that I feel are worth sharing. This affords the opportunity to recall joy, blessings, frustrations. I like these moments of examination, they offer great insight.
    2) For FUN. Often, blogging is play for me. I take an experience and try to render it in text. I experiment with phrasing, punctuation and pauses. I attempt to express humor and pathos.
    3) To tell it like it is. I like having the uninterrupted space to tell my stories. No one is cutting me off mid-sentence or censoring my words. It’s probably the narcissist in me that enjoys the blog as both soapbox and pedestal.
    4) To speak the unspeakable. On my blog I’ve often discussed my disability. This is a fairly taboo subject in mainstream culture. It’s empowering to me to tell the stories of my different body without framing them in terms of an inspirational or pity-full narrative. Yet, ironically, it is the parts of my life that are the most visible (my religious practice, my academic pursuits) that I discuss least often. I’m not yet sure why that is. (more on this in #10)
    5) To share pictures. I’ve just started really enjoying photography. I know our camera sucks and my photos are amateur-ish, but they bring me great joy. I love sharing my ‘lens’ with you.
    6) For community. Several of you, dear readers, know me only through my blog. Others of you are old familiar friends who like to continue to keep in touch through cyberspace. I cherish my virtual neighborhood. Your blogs and emails nourish me, your thoughts buoy me, and your comments affirm, challenge, provoke and validate my musings.
    7) For memory. What joy it is to scroll through my blog history and remember the fun things I’ve done!
    8) Because I’m a geek. Hmmmm….yes, I spend a good chunk of my day sitting at my laptop writing emails and composing blogposts. ‘nuff said.
    9) To mimic John. I’m not really the jealous type, but I saw all the benefits that he’s gotten from blogging through the years, and I wanted in on it, too!
    10) To be vulnerable. Though the personal essays and other opportunities I’ve had to share the intimate parts of my life over the past 10 years, I have often been afraid. I’ve been afraid to tell the truth as I see it, I’ve been afraid of offending, I’ve even been afraid of ‘discipline.’* But there is something so empowering about laying out truth bare. My truth-telling brings me closer to others, creates bonds with strangers, allows an intimacy that is both frightening and exhilarating.

    *I suspect that the reason I feel reticent to discuss school and church are because of fear of backlash. Within academia there’s a pretty high barrier to becoming personal and vulnerable. The LDS church has a history is censuring its more outspoken members, especially feminist women. So far, no one in the Mormon ‘Bloggernacle’ has been disciplined by church authorities for what they’ve written on their blogs, yet I am still wary. I love the freedom of the LDS community on the Net. I don’t want to see that change.

  • reverence

    As Mormon children we are taught a lot about reverence. In Mo parlance reverence doesn’t have anything to do with respect or awe, it’s about sitting quietly in your seat with your arms folded across your lap (and I’m not at all exaggerating about the posture) for the 3-hour block of meetings each Sunday. As children we are repeatedly told this and every week in the children’s Primary meeting there are ‘reverence songs’ to underscore these ideas.

    I haven’t heard the word reverence discussed in Quaker circles, at least not in any memorable way. What did move me greatly recently, though, was this blogpost about a Silent Quaker Meeting that wasn’t silent. Because there was an autistic child experiencing silent worship for the first time and it was not a wholly comfortable experience for him. He spoke loudly and was somewhat belligerent. While I cringed just a wee bit at the spectacle aspect of this story, the author does a fine job of illustrating the difference between silence and silent worship. IMO, silent worship does not mean that there is an absence of sound (and anyone who’s worshiped in our downtown Santa Ana Meetinghouse can attest to the fact that street noises don’t preclude Silent Worship).

    A quote from the article, explaining what occurred after the close of the not-Silent Meeting:

    Friends greeted the mother and the boy. The mother attempted to apologize. No one was having any of that. We knew that we had experience a first rate Quaker meeting. We know that the purpose of meeting is not to escape from the world to a place quiet enough to listen, but to learn to listen well enough that we can listen anywhere, under any conditions. It had been a good and rewarding morning’s practicum. We were grateful. There was not a single kvetcher, not a single grumbler, not then, not later.

    One of those present was a new attender, a new Christian, a new Quaker. She is a transgendered woman. She has lots of tattoos. She was checking us out, watchful. She had been burned by church people. She walked up to me after meeting and said “Well, hmm. I guess you really mean it. I guess everyone really is welcome, wow. Walking the talk, hmm.”

    God told the psalmist, Be still and know that I am God. Quakers like that verse. Many think the stillness referred to means silence. It does not. The Hebrew verb means to relax, let go, stop trying so hard, release. In order to see God, you have to stop striving, stop relying on your own strength. You have to give up your notions of how things should be. You have to let go of preferences and pet peeves. You have to open yourself up to the uncomfortable.

    Then God shows up.

    Because I loved this post so very much and I wanted to share it with each of you, I intended to blog about it today. Perhaps it was just coincidence that I received an email message from my LDS ward this morning that illustrated the contrast between the Quaker approach to worship and the Mormon way. My ward’s bishopric sent out a notice to each of the ward members encouraging them to follow the guidelines for reverence set forth in this article by Orson Scott Card (a well-known SF writer and active Mormon). In this piece Card offers a list of simple rules to enforce obedience and reverence in children. He says that when a young child begins to be loud or unruly, their parent must remove them from the meeting immediately and physically confine them in their arms. Some of his instructions:

    1) Hold the child firmly in your arms (but not so tightly as to hurt).
    2) Hold him in front of you so that he is looking into your eyes. Don’t hold him at your shoulder, like a burping baby, or he’ll kick you mercilessly. And never hold him on your lap so he is looking away from you, toward all the pleasing distractions of the foyer.
    3)His arms must not be free, and any limbs that he is flailing about must be made immobile. It is essential that you achieve this through persistence, not through pain. That is, don’t grip him so tightly that he stops struggling because it hurts. Rather grip him firmly enough that he can’t get his limbs free, but whenever he stops struggling there is no pain or even discomfort. In fact, when he isn’t struggling, he finds that he is merely being held close to the warm body of his loving parent.

    Card also adds details of what the parents are to say to the child and then how to reward them for subsequent reverent behavior. He states that he has “never seen this fail” to produce the desired behavior modification in children and asserts

    If all parents would establish clear rules for their children, and, by persuasion and longsuffering, labor to bring them into compliance with good rules of behavior, not only would our [church] meetings no longer sound like zoos, but within a generation our foyers would be empty because everyone would be in the meeting.

    Our children and each new generation of adults, blessed with skills of self-control learned young, would find themselves living in a world that was more civilized because Mormon parents, at least, were no longer raising barbarian children.

    Am I the only one who found his rhetoric a bit over the top? Sigh….[and to be honest, I suspect that the din on my ward is much more a product of an overly-large ward that needs to be split and not necessarily about unruly children…]

    So John and I have amazingly well-behaved kids. Though I am reticent to take any credit for their goodness, I believe that a large measure of their ability to act appropriately–even in long boring meetings–comes from tolerance and respect. Not merely from learning to respect others, but from being tolerated and respected themselves. We have not tried to “break” the will of our children. Rather, we’ve relished each stage of their development and understood that it’s not appropriate to expect the same behavior of a 3 year-old that you expect from a 13 or a 30 year-old. Likewise, we have regarded our kids’ opinions and ideas highly and have tried to hear their frustrations rather than assert our own expectations on them.

    And, honestly, I suspect that if Jesus were to visit my ward’s sacrament meeting, he wouldn’t be sitting on the stand and wishing for parents to more dutifully restrain their young ones.
    Rather, I imagine him in his role as a mother hen (see Matthew 23:7), calling his children to himself, enfolding them in his arms and letting each of them know that they are loved, just as they are. And explaining that he instilled children with a sense of wonder and curiosity and strong voices. That these are divine gifts. And that these little ones have much to teach us.

    Especially those of us who have forgotten what it means to ‘become as a little child’:

    1 At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?
    2 And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them,
    3 And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.
    4 Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
    5 And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me. (KJV Matthew 18:1-4)

  • Motherhood, housework, and who irons the clothes?

    There’s been a furor in the Mormon blogworld about the leader of Mormon women, President Beck, and her speech this weekend about Motherhood. She said such things as:

    “Mothers who know” are nurturers. This is their special assignment and role in the plan of happiness. To nurture means to cultivate, care for, and make grow. Therefore, mothers who know create a climate for spiritual and temporal growth in their homes. Another word for nurturing is homemaking. Homemaking includes cooking, washing clothes, and dishes and keeping an orderly home. Home is where women have the most power and influence. Therefore, Latter-day Saint women should be the best homemakers in the world.

    She adds: I have visited sacrament meetings in some of the poorest places on the earth, where mothers have dressed with great care in their Sunday best, despite walking for miles on dusty streets and using worn out public transportation. They bring daughters in clean and ironed dresses. Their sons where white shirts and ties and have missionary haircuts. [Cultural note: missionary haircuts are short ‘dos for men where the hair is above the ears and above their shirt collar. There is a cultural norm for boys/men to wear white shirts each Sunday for church and for girls/women to wear their best dresses. Mormon mothers who don’t enforce such dress rules for their children are sometimes maligned by church leaders…]

    Wow, this was hard for many women to hear. To equate mothering with housekeeping seems an antiquated notion anyways. I’m also sad to hear her say that women’s power and influence is limited to a domestic sphere. And to call on LDS women to be the best homemakers in the world seems a shallow goal in the midst of so many ways that LDS women could make an impact on the world.

    She said later in her speech:

    “Mothers who know” do less. They permit less of what will not bear good fruit eternally. They allow less media in their homes, less distraction, less activity that draws their children away from their home. Mothers who know are willing to live on less and consume less of the world’s goods in order to spend more time with their children, more time eating together, more time working together, more time reading together, more time laughing, talking, singing, and exemplifying.

    On this, I am on the same page with her in many respects. I think it is important for _everyone_ to carefully guard against too much busy-ness. It pains me that so many of us are too busy for relaxation, eating meals together, or for an evening stroll. Simplicity is an important goal, and perhaps our biggest challenge as 21st century Americans–especially those of us who live in urban and suburban regions of the country.

    As I read through Pres Beck’s talk I thought back on my own mother. She gave birth to 5 children in a seven year span of time. About midway through her childbearing years, our family moved out of state–hundreds of miles away from all extended family members–and she had to care for her own growing family while my Dad traveled extensively with his job, sometimes he was gone three weeks/month. She had a large home to care for (4 or 5 bedrooms) and we moved every 5 years or so. Mom was called to lead the regional LDS women’s organization that covered parts of three states–meaning that she was frequently on the road traveling to distant church branches and leading meetings. During all that time she kept her teaching credential active in each state where we lived, often taking night classes or taking re-certification exams. By the time her youngest child was in the upper-grades of elementary school, she worked full-time as a teacher and was earning her master’s degree.

    My Mom was an awesome mother in so many ways. Yes, she was busy. Yes, her health suffered at times from stress-related ailments. But she raised a great crew of kids. Um, and she wasn’t always the best homemaker. I don’t mean that as any kind of slight AT ALL. The house was rarely ‘messy.’ She had hearty meals on the table every night of the week. We had clean clothes to wear (sometimes even home-sewn clothes, because Mom is a great seamstress). But she hired a housecleaner to help fill in the gap. And later a gardener and a pool-cleaner, too. She taught us to do our own laundry as soon as we were in Jr High. We also made our own lunches and after school snacks and occasionally cooked dinner for the family.

    And probably the most important part of this story is that when my Dad died after a rather aggressive bout with cancer, Mom had a good job (two of them, actually, because she was a school administrator by day and a college professor by night at that point). She had taught us all great life skills, too–we can each sew, clean, cook, budget, etc. Though all of us kids are creative types of people that sometimes find writing a story more important than scrubbing the bathtub, I think we all turned out well (we’ve all been gainfully employed, three of us have graduate degrees, etc).

    I guess the upshot is, if Mom had stayed home and had only been a remarkable homemaker, well I don’t know that things would’ve turned out quite so well for her or for us. Of course everyone’s situation is different, which is why I’m dismayed to see a one-size-fits-all approach to motherhood that’s portrayed by Pres. Beck. IMO, parenthood has so little to do with how clean your house is and _everything_ to do with how you nurture, care, and respect for the children in your life, as well as making sure that you do all you can to teach them self-reliance and to provide for them financially.