When Josh and I joined, we were 100% confident in the decision. We started attending 6 months before and I knew early on that this is the church I wanted to raise my kids in. The actual event seemed a teeny bit rushed, however. It wasn't that I felt we should have 'investigated' more, but part of me regretted the immediate jump we made. I literally taught primary the last week I ever attended an LDS ward. The very next week we went to Community of Christ and never stopped. We dropped off the face of Mormonville and it was a bit traumatizing. I loved what we found and where we landed, but I did slightly mourn the loss of being with myself without the influence of religion. There were a lot of benefits of making the transition when I did and a few key relationships could be unfortunately different had I not gone when I did. For that I will be ever grateful.
Religion is a funny thing. Patriarchal religions are an even funnier thing. I don't want this post to dwell on too many negatives, but just know that I am still peeling back and discovering ways that being a feminist woman in a space where feminism is as evil as the other F-word has altered my perception of just about everything, mostly of myself. To be blunt, I wasn't taught by my church that my voice, talents or inspirations were equal to that of the men in my life. No matter how hard I tried to justify and make it work, I have never been the kind of woman the LDS church wants. When I realized that, I fell out of love super fast (especially since I had considered myself a non literal believer for quite some time) but I'm still recovering from that breakup of the worst kind. I felt like a complete throwaway and had to figure out how to pick up the pieces.
2015 was a year of discovering myself, but I did so very, very timidly. I got involved, but not too much. I thought, "Hey, I can do this." but not too loudly because in the back of my mind there were a million voices confirming what I had internalized for two decades. Just when I would think I had gotten over it, something would happen, a thought would enter, a comment would be said and I would revert right back to my old self doubting ways. I was afraid of failure, but also of turning down opportunities. It was a weird and stressful paradox to live in and in the thick of it, I wasn't always my best self. All the while, I read dozens of books about women who had been on similar journeys, many who had answered the call to ministry in one for or another. Their stories were empowering and fanned my flame ever so slightly.
All of these feelings were happening as I dove into our congregation. I got involved pretty immediately and I loved it. People there were just like me and nobody expected me to have the right answers, they were more concerned with me feeling safe enough to ask questions. Questions that challenged literalism, authority, inequality and how we could be a more radically loving people of peace. I watched in amazement as a dear friend questioned the President of our church in front of a live audience and challenged him over whether the church was doing enough to make women's ministry visible and I watched him apologize in response to her example and admit that we could all be doing better. I was also met with growing pains of figuring out where I thought I could be useful and the congregations actual needs. It's been an interesting balance and one I suspect many of us face at one point or another. All of this seemed to fuel both my confidence and self doubts and I continued to be aware of the scarlet letter I had placed on myself and my family.
The call to priesthood came in August. I wrote a post over at Ordain Women about my struggle to accept the call, but I did accept it and will be ordained in April, by Josh who will be ordained in February. You see, when I got down to the core of what I view the gospel to be, I actually realized I liked it a lot. I'm free to openly talk about how much of scripture is not historically accurate and share my thoughts on where I think Joseph Smith pulled a lot of his theological ideas from. I'm free to focus on what matters most--life right here, right now. The hungry people on the streets, women being told they don't matter as much as their husbands, people being spiritually crushed by arbitrary rules and irresponsible interpretations of scripture. I'm able to face all of this with a community that's figuring it out right along with me and it's been the most transforming thing I've ever witnessed. I've seen person after person after person be led into the waters of baptism to claim their spiritual journey again on their terms. And that has sparked something in me.
2016 is my year to be brave. Turns out, where my congregation needs me is in the pastorate, serving as a counselor and as a priest, ready to preach, preside and most importantly, walk with people in their trauma. I've already had someone approach me to baptize them once I'm ordained and I melted into a puddle of tears when she asked me. There are a few other things looming on the horizon that I'm nervous and even skeptical about, but I'm learning to stop listening to the social pressures around me and instead listen to God. The God who has been both my mother and my father from the start. The God who I know nothing concrete about and again am sometimes skeptical of, but the God I believe is there in one form or another. Equally important, I started listening to myself. None of this is something I wanted, but it's something that I personally feel sacredly compelled to do. You know when you're a kid in a Mormon fast and testimony meeting and your heart is racing because you know you should get up, but are too scared? It's like that. I don't want to regret being too scared to get out of the pews. So I'm showing up, one step at a time and it's electrifying.
I no longer worry about sacrificing who I am for other people's happiness or comfort. Would I like to have more tangible support from loved ones? Sure, but over the past year, I've learned that love truly does conquer all things and because of that, I've been less afraid to be who I am. As the words of my newly favorite (Christmas!) hymn says,
When the future looms before you, posing questions and demands,
and the bright plans you projected fade like footprints in the sand,
live the promise you are tasting, fan the flames of faith within.
In a stable wrapped in starlight you will find your way again.
So let's do this, 2016. Into that nautilus shell and back out again. Over and over again until the world is healed.
