Almost two thousand years ago, Jesus met with his disciples in an upper room. There, he broke bread and poured wine for his friends, sharing nourishment while telling them to remember his body and blood. After this meal, Jesus took a basin and towel and washed their feet. At the disciples’ surprise and perturbation, he told them “I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you” (John 13:15), and he continued to explain in verse 34, “Love one another; as I have loved you.” His final words that evening were a prayer for his disciples, then an extended prayer for the world: “That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us” (John 17:21). We are those last people Christ prayed for. And what Jesus was describing is the atonement or at-one-ment. What Christ himself was able to accomplish through his own divine mortality, a complete loving harmony and genuine spiritual unity with Heavenly Father, is what he (and our Heavenly Parents) want to share with each of us. We know the rest of the story: the unfolding process of Jesus’s atonement continued in Gethsemane, where he suffered alone, his friends incapable of staying and watching with him. Though the ordeal was bitter, he willingly submitted to it. He faced a mockery of a trial, then the torture of the cross, and finally a sword thrust through his side to confirm his death. “Three Women at the Tomb of Christ” by Irma Martin, 1843 Throughout his ministry, Jesus asked his listeners to follow him. This means that the blessings of the atonement, offered so long ago in the love and suffering of Jesus’s final hours, are most fully experienced by emulating his example. The New Testament offers us brief glimpses of the lives of many who knew Jesus and who reflected aspects of his atoning example. Surprisingly, the twelve disciples are not always the best models of behavior in this respect. They asked a lot of questions but only really understood how to be like their teacher after his life ministry was over. But the lives of the women who knew and loved Jesus offer some notable foreshadowing for Jesus’s actions and sufferings in the last week of his life. Before Christ fed his disciples at the last supper, Martha of Bethany fed and nourished Jesus (Luke 10). Martha’s contribution is sometimes dismissed as less important than the spiritual feasting of her sister Mary, but “Jesus loved Martha” (John 11:5), and Martha, in turn, gave bold testimony of Jesus’s divinity and miraculous calling (John 11:27). Just as Christ washed his disciples’ feet, a nameless woman washed Jesus’s feet with her tears, also anointing him with costly spikenard. Though certain of Jesus’s associates criticized him for allowing a sinful woman near him, he rebuked them and praised her, justifying her actions because she “loved much,” while these supposed friends were demonstrating no love at all (Luke 7:47). As Christ offered his will up to God in the Garden of Gethsemane, his mother Mary offered up her will to God at the annunciation. Visited by the angel Gabriel with astonishing news and given the seemingly impossible task to be the mother of a divine child, “Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word” (Luke 1:38). And though the magnitude of Christ’s suffering was his own, this pain and sorrow was prophesied by Simeon, who, in blessing Mary’s baby also gave her a warning, “Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also” (Luke 2:35). Though the disciples were incapable of watching while Christ suffered in Gethsemane, Mary and the other women kept vigil at his cross and watched with him in his last hours. Was it then that Mary felt this sword pierce her soul? Why do the stories of these women matter? In the lives of the women who knew him, the component parts of Christ’s atonement are foreshadowed and reflected. Does it matter that they were women, rather than men? Perhaps. It may be that their gender gave them a special calling to mirror Christ’s mission and atonement. It may be that as individuals they were more aware of or more ready for the grand mission of Christ that was dawning in their world. But perhaps the more important lesson is that these components of the atonement — the sharing of resources, the humble service, the empathetic suffering, the unselfish offering of one’s will — all of these are or can be present in our own lives, and in the lives of any human being regardless of office, age, gender, or race. As we strive to participate in the blessings of the atonement, we can also remember the obligations of the atonement. We can experience the atonement in daily human terms, as Jesus did, and let those experiences bring us spiritual power, inspiration, and — ultimately — loving unity with God and our fellow creatures. So, in commemorating Christ’s atonement, or at-one-ment, let us perform small acts and live and feel both love and sorrow (for true love is inextricable from empathetic sorrow). Let us, like Mary, count it an honor when our souls are pierced with sadness for the trials of our family, friends, and the world. Let us, like Martha, be generous and cherish the chance to nourish our fellow human beings. Let us, like the woman who washed Jesus’s feet, throw our dignity away for the sake of unabashed kindness and love much . Let us, like Jesus’s mother, be ready to exchange our own will for the sake of others. And finally, we should not forget that the first mortals who were told to spread the word of Jesus’ resurrection were the women who watched at the cross and tended his deceased body (Matthew 28). This is also the final injunction for us — to live, serve, suffer, love, and finally acknowledge — at the very least to ourselves, the divinity that is infused in this life we are given, divinity that was with us from the beginning of time but was realized in its human form when Jesus walked the earth. Let us, like the women who rushed to protect Jesus after his descent from the cross and were the first to receive the glorious news of his resurrection, rejoice in the hope of Easter and celebrate the unfolding of the atonement that each new day brings.

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Several years ago, a friend and I signed up for a triathlon. Neither of us had ever completed one before. In fact, neither of us had ridden a bike much since we were kids or had swum in a lake more than just splashing around. Over the next six months, we swam, biked, and ran. We purchased wetsuits and tri shorts and put together training schedules. We practiced swimming in the lake where the triathlon would take place, as well as biking and running the tri routes. When race day finally came, we were ready. While I didn’t finish at the front of the pack, I had a positive experience and felt good as I crossed the finish line. A lot had changed in those six months. When we first signed up, I didn’t have the skills or strength to complete the triathlon. Nothing about the triathlon had changed, of course. But I had changed; I had gotten stronger. It’s easy to make comparisons between becoming physically fit and becoming “spiritually fit.” And probably all of us have heard some version of this comparison in a church talk at some point. Even as I trained for the triathlon, I found myself making the comparison often in mind. Just like physical fitness, spiritual fitness requires training. We build our physical strength to prepare for a triathlon course with swimming, biking, and running workouts. We build our spiritual strength to prepare for our life course through activities like scripture study, church attendance, and thoughtful prayer. Just as we don’t sign up for a triathlon expecting to change the bike route, it’s not productive to approach life expecting to shape parts of the course generally not within our control: other people’s choices and actions, most illnesses and “acts of nature”—those unexpected events that seem to come out of nowhere, among other things. Instead, we should focus on building our own strength, changing the experience we have completing the course. While this analogy provides some important insight, it also has some serious limitations. The problem is, of course, that people opt in to the challenge of a triathlon. They choose when they will compete and they choose the type or length of the triathlon. When they sign up, they know exactly what they need to train for: the distances are posted on the website with maps of the courses. And no matter how hard the race is, it ends after the designated swim, bike, and running courses are completed. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work this way. While we do have some limited control over what course we are on (through decisions we made in the past), we can’t always select between the course with the downhill run at the end or the one known for monstrous bike hills. In fact, sometimes we think we signed up for the sprint triathlon (generally .5-mile swim, 12.4-mile bike, and 3.1-mile run) and instead find ourselves struggling through an Ironman (2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike, and 26.2-mile run). And the end of any particular challenge or course in life is not well defined. In other words, we generally don’t know what we’re getting into, can’t tell how much we have left to go and are unable to pull out even if we want to. What all this means is that sometimes our spiritual fitness will just not be enough. We might find that our spiritual fitness is not up to the course because we didn’t train hard enough—we didn’t put in the work to build our spiritual muscles ahead of time. But there are plenty of other reasons we could find ourselves in this situation. It could be that we prepared valiantly for one course but suddenly find ourselves on a course much different than we expected. This could happen when we envision our family looking a certain way and it ends up looking very differently (perhaps due to divorce, infertility, or chronic illness for example). Or it could be when we face unexpected employment changes. Also, no matter how much an athlete has trained, no athlete can swim, bike, or run forever. Our bodies simply have limits. No matter how much we spiritually prepare, we are not and cannot be infinitely spiritually fit. We have emotional and mental limits. If we find ourselves on a particularly long and difficult course, left to rely only on our own strength, we will eventually become exhausted and collapse. Fortunately though, we are not left to our own strength. We also have another source of strength. We can draw on the enabling power of the Atonement or God’s grace. Before I go further, I have to say that grace has always been a concept that I’ve struggled to wrap my mind around. For me, sometimes grace has an almost mystical feeling to it—or at least an ambiguous feeling. I have also struggled not to see grace as passive. This particularly happens when I hear grace discussed in terms of letting go, of turning things over to God in order to draw on his strength. To be honest, when I think of it like this, it feels a little like resigning yourself to your fate or just bracing yourself until the storm passes. Cast in these terms, calling on something that I only vaguely understood to get through a gritty, concrete problem or life circumstance has always felt like a last-ditch act of desperation. Recently reading the story of Mary Whitmer gave me another perspective. Perhaps by now, many are familiar with her story. Mary Whitmer was a significant figure in early church history, the mother of five of the eleven witnesses of the Book of Mormon and mother-in-law of two more. David Whitmer, Mary’s son, first heard about Joseph Smith and the golden plates in 1828. Oliver Cowdery and Joseph asked David if they could stay at the Whitmer home to escape the harassment they had been experiencing. The Whitmers, who still had four children of their own living at home, agreed to let Joseph, Emma and Oliver stay at their farm. Joseph and Oliver began using the cabin loft for translation and the Whitmers also shared meals and materials with them. Joseph’s presence at the farm meant a steady stream of additional people were always coming and going. In short, the workload on Mary to care for her family and home increased dramatically with their arrival. After some time, Mary began to grow weary. One day, while she was heading out to milk the cows, an older man she had never seen before approached her. “You have been very faithful and diligent in your labors, but you are tired because of the increase of your toil,” he said. “It is proper therefore that you should receive a witness that your faith may be strengthened.” He then showed her the golden plates. (Read the story here .) In many ways, having an angel show her the plates changed nothing for Mary. She still had cows to milk, laundry to do, and extra people to feed. Her work did not decrease. Nothing in her circumstances was altered after that experience. But seeing the plates also changed everything. It gave Mary the resolve, the patience, and the courage to do what needed to be done. In other words, it changed her. And of course, that was the point. God hadn’t intended to make life easier by showing Mary the plates. His intent was to help Mary become stronger. Perhaps it’s the very tangible events of this story that make the enabling power of the Atonement more understandable to me. The story makes clear both that something happens outside Mary (someone shows her the plates) and that this results in something happening within Mary (she feels fortified and able to carry on). In this light, grace feels empowering since it is literally drawing on God’s power to work within us. Grace isn’t about resigning ourselves to our circumstances. Instead, grace can give us the strength to exercise control of our experiences. This could be performing some act of courage to change a situation or extricate ourselves from it, or it could be by using the Atonement to change ourselves instead of waiting for something around us to change or railing futilely against things we don’t have any control over. Grace always requires action or growth of some sort. Of course, spiritual fitness and God’s grace aren’t really separate from one another. They are both spiritual strength, both God’s power working within us. Our spiritual fitness could be thought of as strength we’ve already accumulated gradually over time—muscles we’ve gained through God’s help. Grace brings us an influx of additional strength—by further building the strength we already have, extending it beyond what we could do on our own. Grace is what gets us through when we have nothing left to go on. On our own, we will eventually face limits—a hill too steep to bike up or a course too long to run. But God’s grace does not have limits. It can get up any hill and complete a course of any length. So with his grace then, we can get up the hill and finish that race also. But it’s a mistake to see grace as the rescue mission, the call you make when you’ve used up your own strength and have no other options. Grace can and should be something we apply all along as a companion to our own efforts, something available to us at the beginning, middle, and end, when the water is smooth or choppy. It can be a steadying force, a source of comfort and assurance along our path if we remember to draw on it as we go instead of waiting until our moment of crisis. Building spiritual strength, like building any other strength, is a process. It’s a process that requires effort and dedication. But we have never been expected to become strong enough on our own to complete the course before us. Fortunately, we have the enabling power of the Atonement available to provide us with additional strength. And with it, we can be strong enough to complete any course ahead of us. Leslie Albrecht Huber lives in Middleton, Wisconsin with her husband and two of her four kids (the other two insisted on growing up). She spends her time working as the Communications Director for a local nonprofit, driving children around, and planning trips to exotic places – even if she doesn’t always get to go on them. Leslie loves the opportunity to write for the LDS Women Project and be part of sharing women’s faithful stories and perspectives.

As the Mormon Women Project enters into its twelfth year, we find ourselves in a season of change. This brings new challenges and excitement. Most significantly, the Editorial Board at the Mormon Women Project has decided to change our name to the LDS Women Project. We have loved being the Mormon Women Project (MWP) and were reluctant to change our name. However, in the wake of President Nelson’s request to put Christ at the center of our identification and move away from the term Mormon, we recognize that Mormon has taken on a more complex and nuanced meaning. After considering names such as “The Women Project” and “Women of Christ Project,” we realized that it was important that our name identify our dedication to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The LDS Women Project (LDSWP) is a natural and affirming choice for us. We also have a new editorial board: Long-time LDSWP editor, Elizabeth Ostler, is now our Editor-in-Chief; Rosemary Demos the Discipleship Editor; Trina Caudle the Interviews Editor; Amanda Freebairn the Special Series Editor; and Allie Brown the Fundraising Manager. The LDSWP is a volunteer organization. These women donate their time, talents, and expertise to providing a platform to elevate LDS women’s voices, perspectives, and lived experiences. Learn more about our team on our new website. This year, in addition to publishing new Interviews and Essays in Discipleship, we are seeking stories about our LDS Foremothers and stories of how our church communities are engaging in Cooperative Ministering . The purpose of LDS foremothers is to know the LDS women who helped shape our Church, communities, and families by sharing resources and individual stories. These will be stories of well-known women and the stories of your great-grandmothers and great-grandaunts. Cooperative ministering is a continuation of Neylan McBaine’s call in Women at Church to share ways women and men can work together to build a more egalitarian culture and administration within the Church. Building Zion is a relational and cooperative endeavor. Thank you for being part of our community as we strive to embody Christlike attributes and become more like our Heavenly Parents.

This very morning, my five-year-old daughter wailed in obvious distress, “I know I am supposed to ask God but how do you get an answer when you don’t know HOW to get an answer?!?” Honestly, I sat there stunned. This was a question grown-ups wrestle with. This was a dilemma for the ages. And here was this earnest soul entrusted to me…and I am supposed to teach one of the most important and trickiest aspects of life? I tried to comfort her. I didn’t want prayer to equate to frustration. But, I also needed to think through this more for myself…and I turned to the wise women in my life. There are a few women I have deeply admired for their perspective on personal revelation. My Mom My mom has a relationship with deity like none I have ever known. It is certainly nothing like my relationship. My mom “just” trusts God— at all times. And she prays about everything…like minutia that I can’t imagine the God of the Universe caring much about. And then my mother will ask me, “If God cares about me, then he cares that I am upset that I can’t find my keys/need a recipe/don’t know what Christmas present to buy a friend.” Whether it is related to her methodology or her character of simply trusting God, my mom gets incredibly powerful answers to prayers. Like, jaw-dropping ones. Let me tell you an example: My sister calls in a panic as there is a flood of water gushing out from her new home, so much water flowing from her front door she can’t even tell where it is coming from. I live in another place, but I frantically start looking up emergency services for the town she lives in. She tells me, “I called Mom and she’s praying.” I barely acknowledge that. Yeah-yeah, pray— but we have to DO something here. It’s the weekend. I can’t get anyone on the line. My sister calls back in five minutes…after what seems like an eternity of attempted city service phone numbers. “Hey— we’re good. Thanks for your help.” What happened? “Oh, Mom called me back and told me in step-by-step instructions she had received how to find and turn off the leak.” This from a woman who had been in my sister’s house once and knew nothing about the plumbing. As my mother said, “Well, I needed to know, so I asked God!” This is not the only time my mom has received answers like this. The Healer A friend of mine is a healer. She is a spiritually in-tune person and regularly seeks answers for herself and others who have asked for her help. When I have listened to her pray, it is clear to me that she is talking to someone she knows. What must that feel like? To approach our Father in Heaven with absolute humility, but also as a being you KNOW? A being who is all-powerful…and who is your friend? To know what time feels like when it is spent in the presence of deity? To have that be a familiar feeling? Stunning, truly. My Friend My best friend from university talked to me once about revelation…you get what you need. I thought it made perfect sense. If this earth is designed to be a loving school…(and school is probably not a perfect analogy but you get the point), then everything we experience can be something crafted for our growth. This means, when we interact with deity, we are getting what we need. The perfect parents are NOT going to deny us what we need. If there is the perception of a lack, it must come from our side. And a lack is not necessarily “no answer.” Perhaps we don’t WANT an answer. Or we don’t need an answer. Or an answer is not good for us. “We are often left to work out problems, without the dictation or specific direction of the Spirit. That is part of the experience we must have in mortality. Fortunately, we are never out of our Savior’s sight, and if our judgment leads us to actions beyond the limits of what is permissible and if we are listening to the still small voice, the Lord will restrain us by the promptings of His Spirit.” Elder Dallin H. Oaks[1] The Faithful Talk I once heard a woman in my ward give a talk on prayer. She said she had never received answers. Ever. I sat up straight. This was someone I wanted to hear more from. Who admits that? In public? Over the pulpit? And she went on to describe going about her LDS life. I started to watch this woman. I was fascinated with faith like that. To be a person who doesn’t need a response? Who is still motivated to follow and believe and live her covenants? I was stunned with how impressively faithful she was. As you see, there is a range of experience here, and I think that’s a crucial and intrinsic characteristic of revelation— it works differently for different people. From conversations that I have had, it seems people get personal revelation and inspiration in a very wide array of methods. One woman spoke to me of how she received spiritual impressions in color. I have received them in song (though I am not a musically-inclined person at all). Another conversation told me that a woman heard answers through words. My husband acknowledges that he needs a one-two punch system— he disregards the first revelation that comes to him so the second “knock-out punch” hits him harder and indisputably. I have had experiences where I got no answer except the path seemed to flow out in front of me, times when the impression was a flashing marquee, times when I got lovingly reprimanded by a force that made me immediately realize simultaneously that I was important because I was loved and also I was ridiculously nothing on the scale of comparison between Divine and Me. I have had one single time when I felt a column of light that knocked me to my knees— an answer I could never doubt, though I would feel tempted. Mostly, I have felt vague warmth. Maybe. Or maybe not. And, probably most often, I have simply forgotten to ask. Like, I am part way through writing this essay and realizing that I didn’t pause to ask for help…on…duh…an essay on revelation. Pause. Ask. Carry on. Growing up I had thought that basically revelation was a still small voice or a burning in my bosom. In describing the still, small voice, Elder Packer said, “These delicate, refined spiritual communications are not seen with our eyes nor heard with our ears. And even though it is described as a voice, it is a voice that one feels more than one hears.”[2] For me, this was partially true. One experience I had was definitely a “felt” voice— but there was nothing delicate or refined about it. It was a FORCE to be heard. More of the “pierce even to the very soul” kind of voice. (Hel. 5:30). In an address given to BYU about personal revelation, Lionel Kendrick of the Seventy taught that revelation can come through the mind as: enlightenment, light and understanding, scriptures, instant recall, an audible voice, leader’s counsel, dreams or visions, and visitations. Revelation can also come through the heart as peaceful feelings, warm feelings, compelling feelings, and even dark and confused feelings.[3] A no was a “stupor of thought.” (SIDETONE: the best story I ever heard on a stupor of thought was a man trying to pray if he should marry the girl he had been dating for a while…and he couldn’t even remember her name.) And, I think that gets to the crux of the matter— we receive in different ways. We are different people with different needs and different styles of learning that work best for us— and we have Heavenly Parents who are fully and more thoroughly aware of all this than we are. So, revelation comes. It can come in any way it needs to. What I am more curious about is— how can we foster more revelation in our life? So, I am going to start with some personal experience, a disclaimer, and a personal fierce truth: I had always been taught that you had to be in the right place for revelation…and, while I agree that is helpful, in my experience it is not a contingent kind of relationship. Yes, if I read my scriptures and go to the temple and stay out of “unclean” places— then the Spirit has more conduits to reach me. BUT, some of the most important answers I have received have come from desperation. Humility to receive has been the hallmark— regardless of where I am. And, as I am writing this, I also realize I have had two significant exceptions. I was not being humble at all when I received those…so what makes us able to receive? In writing this, I have had to think through… AUTHENTIC. I think answers to prayer come from authenticity. Authentic humility, or authentic anger, or authentic need, or authentic seeking. Whether we are standing in a bar, are full tithe payers, are in the temple, or haven’t been in years— we ABSOLUTELY can still receive personal revelation from our loving Heavenly Parents. They seek after the missing lamb…they welcome the prodigal Son. Christ “even” spent time with “sinners.” So, do all those other things because they are good for you. But never think the lack of them in some way cuts you off from the love and revelatory power of your Heavenly Parents. “And my soul hungered; and I kneeled down before my Maker, and I cried unto him in mighty prayer and supplication for mine own soul” (Enos 1:4). Writing this has been an exercise in personal revelation. This section of the essay was not what I had first written. But I felt moved that someone (and maybe more than one someone) needed to hear that being loved is not a transactional relationship. YOU ARE LOVED PERFECTLY BY YOUR HEAVENLY PARENTS. We CAN receive from our Heavenly Parents ANYWHERE, at ANY TIME, while doing ANYTHING. The key is that it prompts a new understanding. “By the power of the Spirit our eyes were opened and our understandings were enlightened, so as to see and understand the things of God” (D&C 76:12). Now, going back to the ways I have been trying to foster more revelation… First, paying attention. In thinking back over my life, I can see a few moments I have had clear answers. But, knowing my Heavenly Parents (and knowing me), I bet They are involved a lot more subtly than I realize. A bummed mood? And I spot my favorite-colored flower. Late for an appointment? And I get the perfect parking place. Angry? And a hymn comes into my mind. I think these are moments when the divine has touched me. Moments of little revelation and probably more that I can’t/won’t/don’t see. In fact, I would say A LOT MORE. So, I am trying to pay attention. “God reveals himself to [people] who are prepared for such manifestations.”— President Spencer W. Kimball [4] Second, attribute. I mean, why not? Either that was a divine force benefiting your life, or it wasn’t. But cultivating a feeling of being loved by the universe is never a bad thing. When I am questioning whether something came as revelation or a divine gift or a moment of tender mercy, I now have a policy that I just go right ahead and attribute it to my Heavenly Parents. I mean, why not? “The great volume of revelation … come[s] to today’s prophets in the less spectacular way—that of deep impressions, but without spectacle or glamour or dramatic events accompanying…Expecting the spectacular, one may not be fully alerted to the constant flow of revealed communication.”—President Spencer W. Kimball[5] Third, gratitude. You can say that perfectly-colored flower was chance, or you can smile and say “Thank you!” Attributing and gratitude are powerful. I think gratitude keeps us humble and swaddled. And with all the potential buffeting the world offers, some divine swaddling is a GOOD thing to carry. My mom always said that the most important thing she could teach us was to pray and get answers. President Harold B. Lee said the same, “The most important thing you can do is to learn to talk to God.”[6] He goes on to talk about cultivating ears to listen, as well. In this quickly-changing world, a parent cannot foresee everything a child needs to know and understand in order to thrive. You simply cannot google all the answers to life’s predicaments. There are tricky things in where to go to school, and which job to take, and who to marry and not marry, and how to stay married, and how to reach our children. The ONLY source of all knowledge is God, our Heavenly Parents. So, figure out how revelation works best for you, try to receive revelation, cultivate divinity as a regular part of your life…and stand in awe at the gift of personal revelation. [1] Teaching by the Spirit (address delivered at new mission presidents’ seminar, 22 June 1994), 8. [2] Boyd K. Packer “Candle of the Lord.” Excerpt from Ensign, January 1983, 51–56 [3] Lionel Kendrick, “ Personal Revelation .” from an address given on 20 May 1997. [4] ibid. [5] ibid. [6] ibid.

Content warning: This article contains discussions of trauma, including injury and PTSD. It does not constitute professional mental health advice. President Henry B. Eyring’s district president once counseled him, “‘Hal, when you meet someone, treat them as if they were in serious trouble, and you will be right more than half the time.”[1] The pews of the church are filled with members whose bodies bear the burden of trauma from hard experiences. Some suffer without speaking about it to anyone. Tears slide silently down their cheeks over the sacrament tray, or they weep when they return home from worship. Even if we never see their tears, those who live with trauma are there, all around us. Perhaps this is you. Jesus’ divine mission included reaching out to those who were especially traumatized. Until she touched the hem of his cloak, the woman with an issue of blood suffered the trauma of an incurable chronic illness for twelve years, spending all her money on physicians who could not cure her. Jesus’ response to her was, “Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace” (Luke 8:43–48). Her inability to be healed was a matter of inadequate medicine, not an insufficient faith. He dispelled his disciples’ moral suspicions about a man with congenital blindness, saying, “Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents” (John 9:3). Jesus did not stigmatize anyone for a disability. To the Samaritan woman at the well who carried cultural, religious, and relational trauma, he offered living water and revealed himself as the Messiah. Instead of beholding an adulterer, Jesus led a believer in a Messianic dialogue about salvation (see John 4:1–29). It is not easy to perceive trauma unless we know what we’re looking for, and developing a discerning eye and compassionate heart for trauma survivors has the potential to change how we minister in the church. Defining Trauma The term trauma has a very specific meaning beyond what people usually think of when they hear the word. When talking about how the body of Christ can become more trauma-informed, the specialized definition is illuminating. Trauma is not simply something stressful or a discrete bad event that happened. Rather, trauma is an experience of the nervous system that is caused by a startling or injurious event. The body continues an uncompleted protective stress response after it is situationally useful. Psychologist Peter A. Levine, an expert in the field of trauma healing, writes, “Trauma is the most avoided, ignored, denied, misunderstood, and untreated cause of human suffering. When I use the word trauma , I am talking here about the often debilitating symptoms that many people suffer from in the aftermath of perceived life-threatening or overwhelming experiences.” How our bodies perceive danger is the key. What would traumatize me might not traumatize you. Not all stressful or bad experiences cause trauma. However, even a seemingly insignificant event can provoke a trauma response in the nervous system. Dr. Levine continues, “Perhaps the most important thing I have learned about trauma is that people, especially children, can be overwhelmed by what we usually think of as common everyday events. . . . The fact is that, over time, a series of seemingly minor mishaps can have a damaging effect on a person. Trauma does not have to stem from a major catastrophe ,”[2] although it can. Trauma can be caused by many kinds of events, subtle or startling, fleeting or lasting. As in the case of poverty, or abuse, or systemic racism, the effects on the nervous system are continuous. Surviving an avalanche or an accident happens once but can have long-term consequences. In PTSD, the brain’s fear responses become compromised, and new trauma can resonate with old trauma, causing the nervous system to seek safety by preparing to fight, flee, freeze, or fawn. Trauma happens as a result of many more situations than active combat. Trauma can be interpersonal, including emotional, physical, psychological, and spiritual abuse. Likewise, intergenerational trauma is passed down genetically and can be felt in our bodies. Secondary traumatic stress can occur when doctors treat people who have gone through disturbing events or when we watch an upsetting story on the news.[3] Physical injury to the brain can also inflict trauma. Adverse childhood experiences can result in developmental trauma, which affects the size and functional connectivity of the brain and which has behavioral, physical, and mental health consequences into adolescence and adulthood. Trauma is a common experience, Dr. Levine says. Trauma is personal and often invisible. He notes that the effects of trauma can be barely perceptible or entirely debilitating and that these effects can be a stable part of someone’s experience or surface intermittently because stress triggers them.[4] “In short,” he says, “trauma is about loss of connection—to our bodies, to our families, to others, and to the world around us.”[5] Trauma is collective, too. Large events, cultural practices, and the structure of organizations can cause trauma to be felt in entire groups of people. Seeing Jesus as a Trauma Survivor I feel that one of our most pressing roles as disciples of Christ is to expand our understanding of trauma and to respond empathetically to the brothers and sisters in our congregations who are suffering with its debilitating effects. Everyone has different capacities when they meet trauma in themselves and others. However, it’s always possible to grow in our capacity to perceive and respond appropriately to trauma in the one and in the many. Jesus serves as an example of someone who understood trauma intimately. From the perspective of Jesus as an individual human being, Jesus had the full mortal experience. He developed like we all do, from grace to grace. At the very least, I imagine he experienced growing pains. In addition, his cross-section of identities and life experiences gave him a unique perspective on various kinds of trauma. He was raised by a man who wasn’t his father and so he had the social experience of being perceived as another man’s child.[6] He was a refugee whose family fled religious violence while he was an infant, an adverse childhood experience. He was born into poverty. As the Son of God, being raised by mortals, his identity was entirely unique in the history of humanity. There are other questions about his embodiment to which we don’t have answers, such as, was Jesus neurodivergent? He was certainly intellectually and spiritually gifted. As he grew from boy to man, did Jesus experience cognitive dissonance as he tried to square his spiritual knowledge with the brokenness of the world and the weighty destiny he pursued? Jesus suffered the most recognizable trauma in the days of his persecution, when he bled in the Garden of Gethsemane. He told his disciples, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful unto death” (Mark:14:34), as apt a description of trauma as I have read. In my own way, I have felt deathly sorrow. Jesus was alone, with no friends to witness his suffering. The disciples slept for their own sorrow, while beaded sweat dripped like blood from Jesus’ face. The crushing weight of the suffering cosmos flowed through him. His death on the cross was cruel. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland says, “The utter loneliness and excruciating pain of the Atonement begun in Gethsemane reached its zenith when, after unspeakable abuse at the hands of Roman soldiers and others, Christ cried from the cross, ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’”[7] God withdrew his Spirit to let Jesus feel the heft of spiritual death.[8] Trauma feels like forsakenness, desperation, being beyond aid. Trauma takes sufferers into utterly forlorn corridors, where God may be experienced as absent, in spite of every effort to feel divine connection and hope. Belief is an inadequate bridge to healing when a hurt nervous system is involved. As Latter-day Saints we use emblem to describe the sacrament symbols and Jesus’ scars. The word emblem descends from Latin, emblema , which was a decorative inlay, a mosaic, a tessellation, or a raised ornamental work. Behind the Latin stands the Ancient Greek emblema , an insertion, from the verb meaning “to put in.”[9] Christ’s humanity and his full identification with our trauma and human suffering are carved, like art, into his palms. Our suffering is inlaid in his flesh eternally. Jesus’ resurrection signifies more than simply a bruised survival. It represents a boundless celebration of being made whole-with-wounds in the post-traumatic aftermath of extreme suffering alone. Jesus’ scars beckon us to an understanding of how we can emulate his mindfulness of trauma. As the resurrected Christ, Jesus chose disabilities that identify him forever with the limitations caused by trauma. These scars are part of Jesus’ eternal embodied state, and indicate a continued memory of and tenderness toward the experience of trauma. If Jesus is unashamed to memorialize and gently hold our deepest trauma woundings in his very hands, by seeking to compassionately understand and accommodate the trauma of those around us, we likewise follow Him. Looking through a Trauma-Informed Lens Dr. Thema Bryant-Davis, an ordained minister in the African Methodist Episcopal Church and associate professor of psychology at Pepperdine University, spoke to The Fuller Symposium on the Integration of Psychology and Theology in 2020. In her talk Dr. Bryant-Davis explains, “When some church people see our wounds, their response is, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ . . . ‘Why is she talking like that? Why is he acting like that? What’s wrong with them?’” On the other hand, she says, “A trauma-informed person sees your wounds and asks a different question. They ask, ‘What happened to you?’” Taking the trauma-informed perspective even deeper, she combines it with a cultural and spiritual awareness: “When you are culturally aware and trauma-informed, you ask the question, ‘What happened to you and your people?’. . . . ‘How has your faith been shaped by your trauma?’ And, ‘How has your trauma shaped your faith? . . . When you’re a trauma survivor,” she said, “you might have some doubts.”[10] The world looks and feels less safe when someone is carrying a burden of trauma. Just because someone enters a church building does not mean they do not bring their trauma with them. They cannot wish, pray, or study it away, either. They are seeing the world through the nervous system lens that their trauma has given them, and that includes their experience of faith and the church environment. Even churches, places that many consider to be safe and healing, can be unsafe for (or experienced as unsafe by) trauma survivors. Trauma isn’t a spiritual problem. Rather, wounds to faith or the practice of religion can reveal the imprint of trauma within the nervous system. Making Room for Trauma Healing at Church It is possible to heal the effects of trauma with specialized care. Peter Levine affirms, “In working with trauma for over three decades, I have come to the conclusion that human beings are born with an innate capacity to triumph over trauma. I believe not only that trauma is curable, but that the healing process can be a catalyst for profound awakening—a portal opening to emotional and spiritual transformation.”[11] For my part, I don’t believe it is necessary to make trauma instructive. Learning happens naturally after any experience, and we inevitably make meaning from deeply hard things. Trying to find meaning in trauma, though, has actually been damaging for me at times. The natural and convincing feelings that arise with trauma—alienation, doubt, shame, lack of self worth, fear of God’s punishment—are my brain’s injured attempts at interpretation, not accurate reflections of my soul’s status before God. I’ve seen that the meaning of my experience is that I have trauma, and it’s not always something I can or need to interpret. It’s never appropriate for anyone to say what someone else’s trauma means. In my opinion, the individual needs to decide what to make of their trauma, restoring a sense of agency where it has been taken away from them. Many things happen on earth that should never have happened. The only salvific suffering belongs to Jesus Christ. Because of this, I believe what Peter Levine says. The journey of healing with trauma is an opportunity to find wise depths as we heal. In a trauma-informed body of Christ, we embrace those who may be perceived as weak but who are actually just hurt. They are those with hands that hang down. Living with trauma is walking around with open wounds, and it is a neurological disadvantage and disability that requires extra support. Ministering to trauma, then, requires sustained care and “chronic empathy.”[12] It requires carefulness to not inflict deeper wounds with impertinence or judgment. As Sister Sharon Eubank said, “Let’s not judge each other or let our words bite. Let’s keep each other’s names safe and give the gift of mercy.”[13] What looks like socially unacceptable behavior (standoffishness, inactivity, taking offense, gregariousness, rudeness, gossiping), for instance, may simply be hints that people carry unresolved trauma. Trauma is never an excuse for abusing others or for permitting abuse to happen, though, and it is crucial to maintain healthy boundaries while extending compassion and understanding. If the disciples had been able to bear Jesus’ trauma unfolding in the Garden of Gethsemane with open eyes, I believe they would have. For our part as disciples in Christ’s church, we can strive to be awake and responsive, as is safe for our own nervous systems, to the trauma of those around us. The work starts with us, on the inside, and we can learn how to respond better when people are having a hard time or sharing their experience that they are having a hard time (even if it’s because of people’s actions within the church!). Here are a few practical takeaways to start the conversation on how the church can improve to be more trauma informed. We can educate ourselves about the many types of trauma, including racial, familial, medical, gender, socioeconomic, and religious. Trauma can be experienced at church, just like anywhere else. The responsibility to heal is not on the individual alone. We also need to seek to create communities where trauma is no longer perpetuated. When someone reflects a need for the church to be more trauma informed in certain areas, we can listen, learn, and believe them. We can facilitate meaningful change by speaking up when policies, activities, and topic presentations are potentially traumatizing or marginalizing. We can ask, how can we mitigate the effects of trauma on survivors? We can avoid making assumptions about trauma based on someone’s appearance. People who look fine are suffering with trauma all around us. Trauma can last long after an event, and we can remember that when someone is hurting. Suggesting someone else’s pain is purposeful is improper and can cause them to feel unseen and disbelieved. We can avoid implying or stating that someone needs to learn a lesson from their trauma. Instead, we can simply listen and reflect their experience back to them. Trauma is very private. We can ask non-invasive questions and work on boundaries around wanting to know the details of a tragedy. We can believe that someone’s experience is as bad as (and likely worse than) they are saying it is. For someone with trauma, invasions of personal space or sudden restrictions on their body can be retraumatizing. We can live by the principle of consent. A simple way to ask someone whether they are okay with physical contact is, “Hug, handshake, or wave?” We can accept their answer graciously. We can recognize that the pulpit is not the place to work out trauma. We can learn to identify when we need therapeutic help to deal with a disturbing event. As a courtesy, we can give a content warning before we tell the details of an accident, illness, bad relationship, near-death experience, suicide, mental illness, or death of a family member or friend. We can use neutral, as opposed to graphic, dramatic, or inflammatory language. We can actively make church disability friendly by researching accommodations and consistently making them available. These include wheelchair ramps, closed captioning, sign language, and activities that everyone can participate in, whatever their disabilities. Trauma survivors are strong and are truly doing the best they can. Even if people are looking as hard as they can for help, it might not be available. We all need patience as we learn to heal what is unhealed in us. New Testament scholar Luke Timothy Johnson says, “You don’t have to go through a security gate to get to Jesus. People touch him. He reached out and touched children. His accessibility is one of the most powerful messages of Christianity.”[14] We can respond in kind to trauma survivors by reaching out with the knowledge that the roots of trauma are not personal or spiritual failures. We can learn to speak more gently and approach others more respectfully. We can actively create systemic, institutional, and interpersonal safety. By doing these things, we emulate Jesus as the Savior. If you have suggestions for how the church can be more trauma-informed, please feel free to share in the comments. Resources “The Neurobiology of Trauma,” Dr. Arielle Schwartz (article) “Posttraumatic stress disorder and the nature of trauma,” Bessel van der Kolk (scholarly article) The Body Keeps the Score: Mind, Brain and Body in the Transformation of Trauma , Bessel van der Kolk (book)Peter Levine on Being Human Podcast (podcast on YouTube, 1h) cw: birth trauma, attachment trauma, triggers “What is religious trauma? ” Michelle Panchuk (video on YouTube, 2min) cw: sexual trauma, war, PTSD “Distorting Concepts, Obscured Experiences: Hermeneutical Injustice in Religious Trauma and Spiritual Violence,” Michelle Panchuk (scholarly paper) cw: abuse, religious trauma, spiritual violence References [1] Henry B. Eyring, “ Try, Try, Try, ” Ensign, November 2018,[2] Peter A. Levine, Healing Trauma: A Pioneering Program for Restoring the Wisdom of Your Body (Sounds True, 2012), 7.[3] See “ Defining Vicarious Trauma and Secondary Traumatic Stress .”[4] Levine, Healing Trauma , 19.[5] Levine, Healing Trauma , 9.[6] “That Joseph had become Jesus’ legal guardian and was not considered His biological father seems apparent in at least one passage: ‘Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?’ Here Jesus is known as ‘the son of Mary,’ not of Joseph. The convention of the day would have been to call a person by his father’s name, the ‘son of Joseph,’ not by his mother’s” (See S. Kent Brown, Richard Neitzel Holzapfel, and Dawn C. Pheysey, Beholding Salvation: The Life of Christ in Word and Image [Salt Lake City, Deseret Book, 2006], 23).[7] Jeffrey R. Holland, “ The Atonement of Jesus Christ ,” Liahona, March 2008[8] See Jeffrey R. Holland, “ None Were with Him ,” April 2009.[9] https://www.etymonline.com/word/emblem ; https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/emblem.[10] “ Thema Bryant-Davis on Interpersonal Trauma and the Bible ,” FULLER studio on YouTube, April 24, 2020. Accessed January 7, 2021.[11] Levine, Healing Trauma , 7.[12] See this Twitter thread by Sigrid Ellis https://mobile.twitter.com/sigridellis/status/902885323356741634?lang=en[13] Sharon Eubank, “ By Union of Feeling We Obtain Power with God ,” Ensign , November 2020.[14] Blake, John. “ Passions over ‘prosperity gospel’: Was Jesus wealthy ?” CNN. December 25, 2009. Accessed January 21, 2021.

Since the first time missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints exposed me to the teachings of modern day temples, my soul was hooked. It was like a magnetic pull that drew me to participate in proxy baptisms for the dead. The spiritual experiences I obtained in the baptistery firmly confirmed to me there is a God who intimately cares about each individual soul and His presence can be felt inside the temple. Despite my love for the temple, natural disasters made the road to participating in my own endowment windy and full of hurdles. The only reason I made it through the front doors of the temple was because my spirit knew the way and I was supported by an exemplary, small, loving congregation.  I strive to be a woman of my word, so when it comes to making covenants with God, I hold them with high regard. In my preparation, I heard other’s Endowment ceremony described as “one of the happiest days of my life.” The goal of this narrative is for anyone who feels discomfort while inside the temple, to not suffer from the reality of their experience not fitting into the ideal of immense joy and overwhelming peace. It is okay to be overwhelmed with emotion in the temple, emotions of any kind. The temple can be a tough place to be as mortal and limited souls (“the spirit and the body are the soul of man” Doctrine & Covenants 88:15) try to operate on a Celestial plane. The experience within the temple is familiar to our spirit and intelligence who had a pre-existence in the presence of God, but is brand new to our bodies and brains.  Throughout my debut endowment ceremony, both my body and mind were entirely overwhelmed in an experience of turmoil. I left the temple that day bewildered and in tears. How could this be the House of the Lord if I do not feel peace, safety, security within the walls? Was this ordinance not of God? Or even worse, had my brain fabricated my past spiritual encounters and the temple had no validity at all? In a shaken state of confusion and fear, I would say the day of my Endowment was the opposite of “one of the happiest days of my life.” This was the catalyst of two months of my deepest confusion.  I was visiting my grandmother in the months following my Endowment. She insisted I should visit the local, historical sites of my religion. I hesitantly agreed, not wanting to confess my faith crisis. Our visit was a powerful day. As my grandma waited patiently in the car, I walked up to the local temple. I sat down alone in the small waiting area where I meditated on some deep doubts weighing on my heart. I needed to know if the presence of God was truly within these walls and if the church was leading me astray. God was there. I could once again hear His voice and became swaddled in His love and presence. I did not receive all the answers that day, but just enough reassurance to not turn my back on the gospel or deny my previous experiences as truth.  Then God blessed me with an angel. Within my initial encounter with Madi, we became temple accountability buddies. Suddenly, I was faced with a temple appointment and not wanting to disappoint her smiling face, I went. Every week. And it was hard. Every week. My anxiety-ridden brain and exhausted body did not want to go. Again, the only reason I made it through the front doors of the temple was because my spirit knew the way and I was supported by an exemplary, dedicated, loving friend. It took dedication of time for my body and mind to become comfortable within the Endowment ordinance. However, when I found that comfort, I realized my Spirit and intelligence had been learning and growing the entire time. When my spirit and body learned to operate as one in this Celestial sphere, I felt true the power of my soul in action. I became able to truly call upon the priesthood that I was endowed with. Never should we doubt, diminish, or demean the journey of mortal beings learning how to perform eternal ordinances. For some, it comes more naturally and quickly. For others, it takes more time to settle into the spiritual realm of our Heavenly Parents. For all, it is a lifelong journey in and outside of the temple walls. The temple is a living and breathing experience. It is the embodiment of change. It is where we learn how to behave as spiritual beings living an earthly experience. Change and growth is not always comfortable, pretty, or easily summed up into a nice story.  Faith is acting without fully knowing. Sometimes, we have to let our spirits lead the way when our mortal reasoning fails. Today, the temple is my home. I feel like my true, divine self when I am surrounded by the love and support of my ancestors and commune with my Savior, my Heavenly Father, and my Heavenly Mother. I would not trade the gospel that opened the avenue to such sacred worship. Just as the Divine does not judge my journey to this home or hold back any of it’s blessings from me because of my doubt, we should not judge or punish ourselves or others. “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (Doctrine & Covenants 18:10). Let us show compassion to each soul that takes strides towards divinity. All journeys home are acceptable to the Lord.

I was raised as a member of the church, but gospel principles weren’t taught in the home, and they certainly weren’t lived. My parents’ relationship was fraught with problems, colored mainly by my mother’s serial adultery. We were all aware of it but nobody spoke of it. My dad withdrew from all of us, not just my mom, leaving her alone to parent, which created an environment that was sad and toxic. Of the four children in my family, both boys became drug dealers, and both girls ended up pregnant and single. In my mid-twenties I found myself five months pregnant and married to someone I hardly knew. He was a recently returned missionary, and he and his family blamed me for this shameful downfall. His plan, which he didn’t share with me, was to marry me for about a year, mindful of the optics, then divorce me, and gain custody of our son. I tried desperately to unsuccessfully convince him that I was a good person. He remained unconvinced.  As we began our life together, I took to motherhood in a way that surprised everyone who knew me. I attended church with my husband out of obligation, at first just sacrament meeting, then eventually all three hours. Years passed, my husband loved our son too much to divorce me, realizing that he would never gain custody. We deliberately had another child so that our only son would have a full sibling when we divorced, which seemed inevitable. For reasons I can’t recall, we were sealed in the temple after the birth of our second son, but I was still not converted and took my garments off immediately. I continued to attend church, but never the temple. We moved from state to state and ended up in a tiny branch that met in a middle school cafeteria, and it was sitting in that lunchroom that my testimony started to  form. I started to quietly implement some basics. First prayer, then, a year or more later, reading scriptures, fulfilling my callings, then visiting teaching. Line upon line, I built my testimony from scratch and started to believe in a loving God. My husband and I found enough emotional maturity and love for our children to build a beautiful home life for them, and we ignored our problems as best we could.  At church one week, a friend told me she attended the temple every week. I had never heard of such a thing, but was curious enough to renew my temple recommend. I made a commitment to attend the temple weekly. That was nine years ago and I have only missed due to extended travel. Six years ago, as our oldest son was leaving for his mission, my husband told me he no longer believed in the church. He stopped wearing garments, refused to pay tithing, started and would spew hateful venom any time we found ourselves alone. Again, I wasn’t good enough for him and the person he now wanted was the person I had been when we first married, one without a moral compass. Fortunately, he kept this side of his life from our children, but they had more awareness than he realized, and sensing his thinly veiled anger rooted then more deeply in the gospel.  One day, feeling especially discouraged, I sat in the chair during an initiatory session, waiting for a temple worker to enter. I said a very specific prayer, asking my Heavenly Father to send me a message through one of the temple workers, letting me know if I was handling my difficulties in the best way. As I walked through the third curtain, a temple worker looked at me, already tearful, and said, “I don’t know why I need to tell you this, but Heavenly Father is so aware of you, and is so proud of how you are handling things.” I cried with her. My Heavenly Father loves me all the time, but I believe His voice is louder when I go to His house. I’m still married, my youngest son is a senior in high school. My husband has told me that the end date to our marriage aligns with our son moving out. I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I live in trust and assurance that Heavenly Father is aware of me, and that He’ll guide me when I need Him.

When I was 20, I was raped. I won’t go into that story itself, but for years I thought the story was that I had put myself into a situation where I had sex with a man and didn’t really want to. At the time of the #metoo moment, I learned that I had indeed been raped, but I still blamed myself for putting myself into a vulnerable situation.  One night soon after, I was working in the temple and there was time to do some initiatory work as a patron. Our temple matron had spoken to us before our shift and encouraged us to really look for the cleansing power of the Spirit that night in the temple.  As I was seated in the cubicle for washing, the ordinance worker was performing the ceremony and I had an overwhelming feeling of being fully cleansed from that “sin” at that moment. I knew that I was absolutely not to blame for that offense forty years before and I knew that my Savior was trying to tell me that He loved me and to be free of the guilt and shame. Both women in that cubicle that night were so viscerally touched by the Spirit that tears wouldn’t stop.

During a Stake Women’s Conference I found myself overwhelmed in many ways.  I came feeling so out of place, ashamed, and yet desperately seeking forgiveness and peace.  I sat alone on a pew as the opening hymn began. Dear to the Heart of the Shepherd Dear to the heart of the Shepherd, Dear are the sheep of his fold; Dear is the love that he gives them, Dearer than silver or gold. Dear to the heart of the Shepherd, Dear are his “other” lost sheep; Over the mountains he follows, Over the waters so deep. Out in the desert they wander, Hungry and helpless and cold; Off to the rescue he hastens, Bringing them back to the fold. Dear to the heart of the Shepherd, Dear are the lambs of his fold; Some from the pastures are straying,Hungry and helpless and cold. See, the Good Shepherd is seeking, Seeking the lambs that are lost,Bringing them in with rejoicing, Saved at such infinite cost. Out in the desert they wander, Hungry and helpless and cold; Off to the rescue he hastens, Bringing them back to the fold. Dear to the heart of the Shepherd, Dear are the “ninety and nine”; Dear are the sheep that have wandered Out in the desert to pine. Hark! he is earnestly calling, Tenderly pleading today: “Will you not seek for my lost ones, Off from my shelter astray?” Out in the desert they wander, Hungry and helpless and cold; Off to the rescue he hastens, Bringing them back to the fold. Green are the pastures inviting; Sweet are the waters and still. Lord, we will answer thee gladly, Yes, blessed Master, we will! Make us thy true under-shepherds; Give us a love that is deep. Send us out into the desert, Seeking thy wandering sheep.” Out in the desert they wander, Hungry and helpless and cold; Off to the rescue we’ll hasten, Bringing them back to the fold The words of that hymn touched my heart so deeply that I found myself sobbing throughout the entire song.   I figured I would get up right after the song, during the open prayer, and try to put myself together in the bathroom or just leave if I couldn’t.  Meanwhile, a friend of mine sitting on the stand helping to conduct the meeting fought contrary thoughts to not be disruptive to the meeting and came off the stand during the 2nd verse and sat by me.   She held me while I cried and we both tried to sing the words.  Another Sister who I didn’t know behind me told me that as she watched the scene unfold she had the most distinct impression come to her that she shared with me of how much my Heavenly Father loves me. I had never sung or “heard” that hymn before and felt so much that it was a personal message to me accompanied by ministering through acts and words of love and kindness. From that time another seven months passed and I found myself taking the sacrament again and went to the temple for the first time in over a year and a half.  I felt impressed to stop and take notice of the paintings throughout the building.   I found a beautiful picture of a beautiful sister kneeling in prayer and a young girl in a flower field dressed in white.  The session was wonderful and as I came out of the Celestial Room I was again prompted to look at the paintings. There in the temple hallway I saw a beautiful depiction of Christ holding and rejoicing over one lost sheep. The spirit flooded me with emotions of gratitude for a merciful and loving Savior.  And again that tender hymn was brought to mind as well as the following scripture: “ 4 What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? 5 And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. 6 And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost. 7 I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.” Luke 15: 4-7 I have helped searched for “the one” and have been “the one” and will be forever grateful for the experiences of both.

A few months before my first husband passed away from cancer, his doctor called and told me I needed to come right away—he wasn’t doing well and they were very concerned.  We were still newlyweds in our mid-20s. He was treated and hospitalized 250 miles away, and I had to stay home with our baby to work, which meant I could only visit him on the weekends.  I caught the first flight to be with him. Upon arriving, I found that he was comatose but stable and the Spirit whispered to me, “Go to the temple.” It was only a five-minute drive from the hospital campus, but I was there on short notice, emotionally wrought, and didn’t have much besides an extra change of clothes in my backpack. I hesitated, but I will never forget what the temple worker told me when I called: “The Lord knows where you need to be. Please come however you are.” I went straight there and I well recall how awkward, humbled, and drained I felt when I walked through the temple doors in my street clothes. Despite my feelings, everyone welcomed me with a smile and I immediately felt peace wash over me.   As I went through the session that day, I quietly cried and allowed myself to feel the special reverence and assurance that is inside the temple.  Over and over I felt in my heart that it would all be okay. As I entered the Celestial Room alone, knowing my husband was so sick just a few minutes away, I was overcome with all of the anxiety and fear that engulfed my life at the time.  Several of the female temple workers wrapped me in their warmest embraces—it was truly a sacred experience.  In the following months until my husband died, I visited the temple grounds whenever I needed a break from the hospital. My husband encouraged me to go for both of us since he couldn’t go and we needed the blessings of the temple. I often wandered the garden or sat in the visitors center, meditating before the Christus statue.  Sometimes the sister missionaries would come and sit with me while I mourned.  It’s been 8 years, and I treasure the memory of when I really learned that there are earthly angels and how much the temple blesses us as it gives us the ability to create eternal families.  Because of the temple, our son, who never really got to know his dad in this life, gets to be sealed to his dad forever and we’ll be reunited someday. I am grateful that during some of my darkest days, the temple was there for me in a very literal way, a place for me to feel the love and peace that comes from my Savior and my Heavenly Parents.

Several years ago, I was planning on leaving the continent for at least several years, so my siblings and I decided to have a reunion.  Since we are spread across multiple states, provinces, and countries, we thought Las Vegas to be a fun place to gather.  While there, between the fun and food, we thought that one of the best things we could do together was attend the temple.  Since we had just flown in for the weekend, we all rented our temple clothes, and proceeded to an ordinance room. While we were in the temple there was a point where I was asked to cover my face.  Since I was not wearing my own temple clothes, the fabric that covered my face was more obscure than the sheer material I was used to.  Though covered for only a matter of minutes, I started to feel claustrophobic, dizzy, and I had a hard time standing.  Soon, resentment started filling my heart.  Why did I have to cover my face, while men did not?  Not wanting to focus on the negative while in the temple, I started to slow my breathing and concentrate on the moment.   At that point I felt clarity — an awakening as it were.  I began to see the similarities between this cloth and the veil between ourselves and our Heavenly Parents — the veil between the pre-existence and our earthly probation.  As women, we know so little about our Heavenly Mother and our unique role as spirits before this world began.  She is, to a greater extent, veiled from us. While the roles of the priesthood are often laid out concretely in canonized scripture, we often have to search for ours.  At that moment I felt as if I had complete clarity.   My eyes, as a woman, were veiled, for a reason that I did not know — but they wouldn’t always be.  Shortly thereafter, I was able to look around the room and see my loving siblings.  While I didn’t know any more at that moment about the things I so dearly would love to know, I knew that at some point, just like in the temple that day, all will be made plain and I will be able to see with perfect clarity — whether through additional revelation in this world, or the next. I often think back to that day when I feel lost about my role as a female member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in today’s society.  How do I fit?  But when my mind returns to that moment in time, I am still able to feel that same peace and I am able to go forward with faith.