Exponent II's Blog, page 15

Handbook for Life

“Ask me any question and we’ll look it up in the church’s handbook to see what the church has to say.” 

My dad, who was also the bishop of our ward, was sitting in front of me and all of the other young men and women for a combined Sunday School lesson. I looked around at my peers as some of their hands slowly went up, ready to begin their questions.

“What does the church believe about surrogacy?” one girl shyly asked. 

“Great question!” my dad responded as he began searching through the official Church Handbook of Instruction. 

“The pattern of a husband and wife providing bodies for God’s spirit children is divinely appointed (see 2.1.3). For this reason, the Church discourages surrogate motherhood. However, this is a personal matter that is ultimately left to the judgment and prayerful consideration of the husband and wife.” General Handbook

“Oh, so the church doesn’t support surrogacy?” the girl asked, unsure.

“It seems the church’s stance is that surrogacy is not the best option for a child, especially since they are not born in the covenant. But they also leave that decision up to you.” my Dad responded. “Who has the next question?”

The lesson went much the same for the next hour. All of us asking the fringe questions of our minds, things we had wondered without knowing if we were even allowed to ask about them. Each time, my dad would find the topic, open to the page, and read the church’s official stance. 

I remember participating in this lesson and feeling a sense of wonder at “tapping into” this expanse of knowledge and understanding about the world. This book held all of the answers. My dad held all of the answers through having access to this book. It felt so secure to me, like being wrapped in a blanket. I didn’t question any of it. I didn’t wonder if I should have a different point of view. I soaked up every answer as if it was another missing puzzle piece to my understanding about the world. 

What a thing- to have an actual handbook to life. What a blessing to have such knowledge. 

And then I got older.

And sometimes, those questions would rise back to the surface, scratching at my body and mind, unsettled. Because sometimes, I needed answers that were bigger than the answers in the book. I needed to know why it mattered so much how a child born to loving parents came to this earth. Why did it matter if it was through surrogacy or IVF or adoption? Why did the church feel the need to make a statement about this at all? 

Over and over I came back to that Sunday School lesson in my mind and the peace, the security I felt in knowing I had all of the answers, or at least, I had access to all of the answers. I wanted to feel that kind of security again, but each time I came up against another question, it wasn’t so clean cut. It wasn’t so easy to put back down again. There were too many why’s and the blanket answer of “just have faith” wasn’t enough to ease them back into security.

After many years of wrestling with the questions of life and in my practice as a therapist, I have come to learn that having a “handbook to life” is at best misguided, and at worst harmful to those that believe in it. 

When a parent is teaching a young child to behave, they may begin by giving structured rules. “You can’t say cuss words.” Then, every time the child says bad words, they will remind them. There may even be consequences. But eventually if that child is like many children, they will ask themselves “why?” They may even challenge their parent about it or try it out in other ways when their parent isn’t around. This is healthy development, but it’s a step I don’t think enough people in the church understand or have been taught to engage in. How often are the “whys” we ask shut down with platitudes about being more faithful or obedient? We are not shown the way to wrestle with the information and find an personal answer. We are given a rule and the reason for the rule every single time will be “because the church (God, the prophet, the scriptures, etc…) said so.” 

So often, a client will be sitting across from me, wrestling with their own questions in their lives. “Should I stay in this marriage?” “Should I leave my job?” “What do I need?” “Who am I?” and they look at me, their therapist, as a guide. They have parts of them that would love for me to hand them the answer. They would love for me to pull out a “handbook of instruction” filled with inspiration and guidance from some kind of omnipotent figure that will tell them exactly what they need to do. 

And I understand because I’ve been there. I am there. We all crave that kind of knowing and security. Of course we do.

But I also have been a therapist for long enough to know that there is no possible way for me, someone who is not living my client’s life, to know which choice is best for them. That actually, making that choice for them or telling them what to do is one of the most harmful things I could do to them.

Because when I make a choice for someone else, I am telling them that I don’t trust they can make that choice on their own. I am telling them that somehow my access to power, or strength, or authority is better or more reliable than theirs. I am saying, “I don’t believe you can find what’s best for you.” 

But when I can take a step back and say to my client, “This is so hard and so complicated. I am here in this wrestle with you. I am here to help you find the answer that fits for you because I fully and without a doubt trust you to know yourself”- that’s where the growth really happens. That’s where they learn that they had what they needed inside of them all along. That’s when they start to see their strength in finding their own answers and caring for their own needs. 

I’ve come to realize that the church has an entire handbook of instruction, not because it trusts its members but because it doesn’t. These “stances” on fringe issues that have nothing to do with following Jesus come from a place of distrust, not a place of empowerment. When every stance is run through a filter of “what does the church have to say about this” before we can even question or come to a conclusion on our own, that is an outsourcing of the trust we are supposed to have in ourselves. 

During my formative teenage years, I wish I would’ve known to first ask the questions of “How do I feel about surrogacy or abortion or LGBTQ issues?” instead of “How does the church feel about these things?” I wish I would’ve had someone willing to wrestle with these questions with me until I found my way to my own security rather than outsourcing that security to the church. Because once the church’s answers started to fall short, it left me with no tools and no sense of self-trust to find my way to the answers I needed. 

Handbooks are necessary as guidelines to establish order and conformity to a system. They keep a ship running, but they also keep it small. There is so much beauty and expansiveness in the trust we can give to ourselves when we can take a step back and say, “I don’t know what the answer is here, but I trust myself to find it.”

Guest Post: Culturally Acceptable Suffering

Guest Post by Michelle Bulsiewicz

I stopped attending the LDS church less than a year ago. My brother, recently called to be a high councilman, emailed me a talk he gave in church—as well-meaning, active family members often do. In the talk, he recounted some of the truly tragic, nightmare difficulties his family has been going through lately, then shared how he’s still stayed strong in the church despite it.

I’m sure he meant it to be inspiring. I love my brother, and I ache for all he’s been going through, but I can’t deny that him sending me this talk hurt. The more I thought about what bothered me so much about it, the more it became apparent that whenever people talk about having faith and keeping your testimony strong through trials—there’s only certain kinds of trials they’re usually talking about. To me, there are specific, culturally accepted forms suffering in the church, and others that just aren’t.

For example, just think of what stories are generally shared over the pulpit, especially in General Conference. People will have no qualms talking about a death of a family member—even a child—an accident, an illness, or a natural disaster that destroys their home. All of these can be horrific events that tear apart people’s lives—but there’s no shame attached to them. Possibly because they are all clearly, in our tiny human minds anyway, something a person has no control over. These are the “bad things happen to good people” kind of suffering. You hear about these kinds of experiences from Apostles themselves on a regular basis.

But, you see, there’s another kind of suffering that happens among people in the Mormon church, and it’s much less culturally accepted. If you hear about it over the pulpit, there will often be some sort of condemnation attached, or some uncomfortable shifting in seats from people in the congregation. Some examples—an ugly divorce, an abortion, severe mental health issues or suicidal ideation, struggles coming out as LGBTQ+, neurodivergence, and, of course, crises of faith. Some of these don’t even have to involve much suffering on their own, but suffering often comes with these types of situations in the Mormon church, because of how people will feel ostracized for them. They’ll feel reluctant to share about their difficulties in church settings. They may lose friends. They may even lose standing in the church. Because many in the church think these things are within a person’s control. They think that if you just tried a little harder, you could make this “issue” go away, that in some form, it’s your “fault.” You are to blame, not the system, not your biology, not anything else.

I don’t know that I can point to one difficulty in my life that definitively pulled me out of the LDS church. I’ve definitely struggled with anxiety, possible neurodivergence, and infertility throughout my life, and none of that helped me stay. Instead, they often made me feel different and broken, like I was failing to follow the exact covenant path that had been laid out for me as a woman in the LDS church. In the end, I think I mostly just had a good old-fashioned faith crisis, and at some point I could no longer handle the cognitive dissonance of sitting in the pews and disagreeing with almost everything being taught.

But I don’t think anyone should accuse someone of not having enough faith through their trials—because chances are, if your faith is being affected, it’s not because of you. It’s because of how the church community itself has framed your circumstances against you.

Formerly an arts and entertainment assistant editor for the Deseret News, Michelle Bulsiewicz now lives in inland Southern California with her husband and two sons. She loves books, yoga, tea, cats, and the beach, and has been known to moonlight at her local Community of Christ congregation.

What Really Is Quintessential Mormonism Anyway?

The most quintessentially Mormon thing I’ve done lately is honoring my promise to help a friend move the weekend after my husband dislocated his ankle and broke his fibula.  

We are so banged up at the moment that our town community set up a Meal Train and that act of kindness is saving us while I do all my own usual chores plus the things my husband usually does (he grocery shops, meal plans, and makes dinner y’all – this is semi apocalyptic for me!). 

Despite the strain, that Saturday I and my tweens left the dad on the couch with his leg elevated, dropped the 8-year-old off at a friend’s house, and spent most of our day ferrying furniture and boxes up and down stairs. It was pouring rain, my back ached, my legs trembled, and my mind was tallying off the to-do list at my house. When I got home, I wasn’t going to have the spoons I needed, but there it was. I chose to do this to myself.  

When I try to explain how, no matter where I sit with the institutional church, I will always be Mormon, this is what I mean. It’s my DNA, my first worldview, my soil from which I rose. And I’m not sad or bitter or regretful about that fact. 

It does boggle the mind that I am somehow the round peg in the square hole of the church.  

By rights, I should be the most Mormony Mormon who ever Mormoned.  

I’m a descendent of Nauvoo-era Mormons and people in Europe who converted and colonized to the Western United States before 1900. I graduated from BYU-Idaho. I not only married in the temple, but waited for my adult convert husband to be eligible for that temple marriage, because a civil wedding wasn’t good enough at the time. I had the kids and shifted to stay at home motherhood. I apparently have no problem sacrificing my wellbeing in the name of service. The church should be the very center of my existence.  

I plan a social event for work and, without trying, come in way under budget (Mormon). I meet a single mom and I’m suddenly babysitting her kids when she needs me (Mormon). I can make some killer funeral potatoes (Mormon, but bread crumbs Mormon, not corn flakes).  

I study the scriptures because I actually want to know what they mean and apply those insights to my life. I truly believe in making Jesus Christ the model for my discipleship and acting as Christ would in my day-to-day lived experiences. 

I am a Mormon, through and through. So why don’t I fit? 

Too much of a feminist? Too drawn toward the journey that is the road of Fowler’s Stages of Faith? The church swinging the pendulum away from the Hinckley era “big tent” inclusiveness under which I fit best? I like my scripture study aids to be written by scholars of all faiths?

Well, yes. 

The truth I am sitting with at this stage in my life is that I don’t need the church. 

It’s apparently perfectly possible to lift the good of my heritage – my Mormonness – and have it fit in my community life. We’re still serving others, building relationships, affirming faith, and building a moral framework for our lives.  

I don’t need a church to make me behave. I’ve chosen my code of ethics. Literally. We made a family code of ethics. It heavily features valuing sacredness wherever we find it and practicing the “mourn with those that mourn” ethos.   

I don’t need the threat/promise of heaven to keep me in check. I have chosen my earthy pleasures (it’s gardening and chai lattes) and my self-discipline (temperance works for me).

Me and Jesus are good. Heaven, should it exist, will at least be a place where I can stand firm in the knowledge that I intentionally made my choices, even if it turns out I was dead wrong.

For quite a long time now, I have been not needing/choosing the church.  

Not choosing in the way that a church leader would want. I set my own parameters. You should have seen the eye roll when I agreed to be the ward chorister, but only for two Sundays a month.  

Not choosing in a way that is always understandable to my fellow coreligionists. Again, I have set my own parameters.   

But I am still choosing this church. 

That’s the most quintessential Mormon thing I ever do.

Photo by Michal Balog on Unsplash  

Guest Post: Wait, what?! Shifting Endowment Requirements for Young Women

By Emily

I recently saw an Instagram post on the official Relief Society account. It was a “Wait, what?!” moment as they explained the four requirements for a young woman to receive her endowment.  #1 Be at least 18 years old.   #2 Completed high school or equivalent.  #3. Have been confirmed a member for at least one year.  #4. Have a desire to receive your endowment.  They specifically mention that you do not need to be going on a mission or be getting married to receive your endowment.  WAIT!  WHAT?

I started at BYU in 1997.  As a young adult, I had big decisions looming in my near future.  I was doing a lot of soul searching.  I prayed, read my scriptures, served faithfully, and attended all of my weekly meetings.  I’d always known that the temple was a place to receive revelation, so I sought refuge there.  I had a limited use recommend.  I was able to enter the temple, but only to do baptisms. 

After many temple visits, tears, and pleading with God for guidance, I knew it was time for me to receive my endowment.   I was almost 20 years old.  Many girls around me had gotten married and had had their endowment for two years already.   I met with my bishop and told him that I was ready to go to the temple.  The first thing he said to me was, “Oh, you’re engaged?”  Well, no.  “Oh, so you are dating someone and think it might get serious?”  Well, no. Not that either.  “Oh, then are you wanting to put your mission papers in?”  Well, no, I haven’t decided about that yet.  “Then why do you want to go to the temple?”  I wasn’t prepared for that question.  I stumbled through an answer about needing spiritual guidance in my life and that I had felt the call of the temple.  He ended the interview rather abruptly and let me know that I was welcome to return when I was old enough to put my mission papers in (21 years old, ie the next year) or I was engaged or close to being engaged.  I left defeated and confused.  I had really thought that I was taking a righteous step in seeking my endowment.  I thought that I had felt God give me the thumbs up.  But the bishop was my priesthood leader and I respected that.  I had misunderstood everything. 

I started my junior year in a different BYU ward. I made an appointment with my new bishop.  Maybe now was the time for me to go to the temple!  Our conversation was almost a word for word match:  “Engaged?”  No.  “Serious dating?”  No.  “Mission?”  I don’t know.  Ok, then no temple for you!  This time I was composed enough to ask a single question:  Why?  And this time bishop was the one stumbling though an answer.  “Well, we don’t want you to receive your endowment and then “mess up” (code for: sex) because you’d be in a lot more trouble.  If you are about to get married or go on a mission, your chances of messing up are less.”  I thought, “Why wouldn’t the endowment and that commitment to God be a protection and a help to live a worthy life?”  But he was my priesthood leader and I respected that.   I had misunderstood, again.  I left, defeated and confused, again. 

Nearly five years later, I finally got to go to the temple.  I had played bishop roulette enough to find one who would let me go.  Perhaps he took pity on me because I was too old to go on a mission and, at age 25, I had long missed my chance to get married.

To hear that now the requirements are simply to be 18, a high school graduate, having been confirmed for at least a year, and to have a desire to go:  Wait, what?!  I checked every one of those checkboxes.  Every. Single. One.  And yet I was held to a higher standard that I had no control over and those temple blessings were withheld from me for many years.  Why would God change his rules for who could access his holy house?  Were the requirements ever really rules in the first place?  Why was my connection with God, that I felt called to seek, denied by man after man?  Why did I let them turn me away?  Why did I not stand up and say, “This is MY relationship with God!  I don’t know what my future holds.  I don’t know if I’ll ever get married!  God wants to talk to me NOW, not after I’ve made a decision on an eternal companion!”

I know the answer I’d receive if I asked a church leader (ie a man who likely received his endowment shortly after high school, whether he had a desire or not) about the shifting requirements:    I didn’t need to be in the temple for God to help me with big decisions.  As a woman, I’ve always had priesthood power.   It’s all fine.  That’s just how it was.  Don’t be upset.   It wasn’t that bad.  And it has been changed!  Now young women don’t have to worry about it the way that you did!  It’s all fine now.  

Editor’s note: Emily isn’t the only one who had this experience. These are some comments directly from the Instagram reel itself:

Emily is in her mid 40s.  She had four kids and a tabby cat.  She’s a stay-at-home mom, because she was supposed to be.  She’s married to a very smart engineer.  She’s well known for her beautiful yard, bountiful garden, and her absolutely fantastic humor.

Main image by Engin Akyurt.

  

 

Guest Post: Taking the Road Less Traveled, But Not by Choice

Guest Post by Sarah Schow

Photo by Patty Brito on Unsplash

My youngest sibling graduates in about a week, and I just recently attended a convocation for my cousin. This time of year always makes me think back on that time in my life, and how much has changed since I graduated from high school 14 years ago, and how much will change in 14 years’ time when I anticipate my oldest will be walking across a stage, accepting her diploma, and moving on to the next chapter.

Graduation season is upon us!

I am not used to the format in which they did convocation. The graduating class for my cousin’s high school is a bit smaller than mine was, which makes sense because I attended a bigger high school in a bigger city. They announced what their plans were after high school—some said they were going to college, one guy said he was going to be rich, another a stay-at-home dad (I actually love that), and a lot of the LDS crowd announced that they were going on missions or going to school and then a mission.

The ones I admired the most were the ones who were blunt—they didn’t know their plans, and they were just going to figure it out.

I wish I knew that it was okay to take time to figure it out back then. But if my future self came to give me that advice, I doubt I would have listened.

“Hey Sarah, you know how you thought you’d go to BYU-I and then transfer to BYU to be close to your best friend? Yeah, well that never happened. In fact, you never actually go to BYU-I.” I would say to my past self. Past me would have a million and one questions.

I would probably ask if I did something against the Honor Code that would jeopardize my standing and prevent me from attending.

I often wonder if people think that’s why I never ended up there after high school. The shame I felt from something that was out of my control, and that it was simply a visa I needed to attend, and the way I was going didn’t work anymore.

But people wouldn’t know that unless they asked, and I’m sure people would jump to the worst conclusion. Past me would definitely have jumped to conclusions.
Playing the waiting game is hard, and I had six months of waiting to do after graduating high school and starting on the Winter-Spring Track. Picking a major, finding housing, working, and saving up, all of that was weighing on me, but I still didn’t know if I’d actually end up there. Once I knew I’d be in Canada for post-secondary, I felt a little deflated. This wasn’t in my plans—none of this was.

I definitely felt like my only option was a BYU school; in fact, I never actually applied to any other schools when I was in high school. I mean, who can blame us?! We’re kind of indoctrinated into thinking that going to a church school is par for the course—how else are we to meet our future spouse? Where else has affordable tuition?! It’s not like there are conversations had in YWs and YMs about doing things differently. It’s just an unspoken expectation that we do the same as everyone around us. To do things differently by choice, or because our circumstances force us in a different direction probably makes a lot of us feel like we’re outsiders and possibly failures for not doing things like all of our church peers.

Once I knew for sure that I wouldn’t be attending BYU-I, I enrolled at the local college and decided on my major. I felt a huge sigh of relief—this is my next move. I felt like my Heavenly Parents were literally pushing me to my destiny with the heavy winds on my walk home (if you’ve been to Lethbridge, AB, you know what I’m talking about).

And then came meeting my husband. I’ve talked about that in a previous post, but the thing I didn’t mention was that I always expected to marry an American. I was dead-set on that. I have journal entries from high school about how I longed to be an American (I’m a Canadian that was raised in the States).

I thought I’d probably be married by 20, and start popping out babies while also pursuing a music career, or maybe I’d be doing something with interior design. That I would have married in the temple and lived happily ever after in the US of A.

It’s laughable now. But I learned so much along the way. This is my path, and I’m so grateful that it didn’t go the way my 18-year-old self thought it would. I know even 14-year-old me would have judged the fact that I am a working mom. I’m sure past me would have been devastated that I am an outspoken feminist who pushes against church culture and embraces a nuanced look at things. I’m glad that people have the ability to change. I’m glad I’m not the same person as I was 14 years ago.

So I sat there in that arena, as I listened to all of these hopefuls list off their plans, and I wondered how many of them would have their plans change on them. Whether those future plans change by choice or by circumstances out of their control, I wish I could tell them that it’s okay if they do. I’m here to tell you that it’s okay if your plans change. We don’t need to answer to anyone but ourselves.

So here I am, giving you all the little reminders that you may need.
If you need to take time to figure out your life, do it. If you need time away from the church to figure out your testimony, do it. If you feel like changing career paths or majors in college, do it. If you put in your mission papers and you feel like you shouldn’t go anymore, then don’t go. If you feel like you’re done having kids, even though you idealized a certain number in your head, please don’t feel shame about it. It’s your body, it’s your family, and you and your partner get the final say! Whatever the choice may be, I hope you know that it’s okay.

We don’t need to have all the answers. We just need to have the courage to press forward, even if it looks different than what we envisioned.

Sarah loves spending time with her husband and two kids, referencing 30 Rock whenever she can, and drinking copious amounts of Diet Pepsi.

Guest Post: Some Reflections on Father’s Day and LDS Theology about Fatherhood

Guest Post by Rose

Just as Mother’s Day can be traumatizing for some, Father’s Day can be as well. Paying homage to fathers at Church can be difficult for those children who have no dad or whose dad is less than kind. It can trigger complicated emotions for adults who have buried their fathers or who never felt fully accepted by them. No matter how many mixed emotions folks have regarding Father’s Day, it will be honored by the LDS Church each year, too often with grand sermons about the supreme role of fatherhood, which is only secondary to the role of mothers, whom our benevolent patriarchy views as a role close to the angels.

I was fortunate to have a great dad who encouraged me to be my best self and valued me as much as any of his sons, but he died when I was a teenager, so Father’s Day can be bittersweet for me. Because my dad was loving and kind, I have viewed God that way even though some LDS leaders, including our current prophet, describe God as having “conditional” love, something I cannot fathom for anyone worth worshiping.

The LDS Church has created a God who is sometimes wrathful, warlike, and white. He is bearded with longer hair, and he values men a lot more than women, especially if they are fathers. Woe to the faithful LDS man who has a low sperm count or whose wife cannot conceive, for many will assume an infertile couple is selfish or disobedient to God’s command to “multiple and replenish the earth.”

LDS scripture paints a complex version of Heavenly Father. In the 1835 Lectures on Faith, Joseph Smith described God the Father as an omnipresent personage of spirit without beginning of days. In 1841, Joseph Smith began teaching that God the Father has a body of flesh and bones as tangible as man’s. Brigham Young took that concept a step further, stating that Jesus “ was begotten of Elohim, the Eternal Father, not in violation of natural law but in accordance with a higher manifestation thereof.” This teaching was quoted in LDS manuals in 2006. I find the thought of God having sex with young Mary as reprehensible as Joseph Smith coercing little girls to “marry” him, so I refuse to accept that teaching as true.

God can be vengeful in Scripture, slaughtering innocent men, women, and children and destroying entire nations who offend Him, yet Jesus, who said he epitomized the Father, was kind and merciful to the sick, hungry, and lowly folks, valued women, and chided religious leaders who were selfish and unkind. I choose Jesus’ version of God over the Book of Mormon and Biblical passages that paint Him as a tyrant.

LDS theology states that Heavenly Father is married, but somehow his wife is silenced and ignored, just as women in the Church are. The LDS church also teaches that a corporeal God fathers zillions of spirits with his multitude of polygamous wives, an incomprehensible feat for someone with a body of flesh and blood. I prefer to trust that God is love and that “if we love one another, God abides in us, and His love has been perfected in us.” As I review any religious teaching about God, I filter it through the lens of love and discard it if it is an unloving teaching. I choose to ignore any wrathful version of God and stick with my memory of my dad, who was kind and generous and forgave me quickly. I would hope that God loves me at least that much.

As a Church that often encourages us to hustle for God’s love, I choose instead to remember the words in John 4: 18-19: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love. We love Him because He first loved us.” I feel His love when I notice the smile of a child, the kindness of a stranger, and the hug of a friend.

I love God because I trust that He loves me and everyone else, just as we are. I honor good fathers everywhere, but don’t believe a man has to be a dad–or that a woman has to be a mom–to be fulfilled, worthy, and wonderful. I’m grateful to my dad, who loved me even when I was sometimes an obnoxious teen, a pouty child, and a whiny toddler. His love was unconditional. Surely, God loves each fallible, imperfect soul even more.

William Blake’s painting of God judging Adam in the Tate Museum

Rose loves to serve and learn from those whom the LDS Church has chosen to marginalize.

Guest Post: The garment hack that changed my life (and very well might change yours too)

Guest Post by LDS girl with opinions

My obedience game is strong.  All of my adult life I have checked all the appropriate boxes without too much resentment.  One of the biggest pride points of my life is that I wore garments without really complaining about them for 25 years! 

But that all changed one day as I folded a white load of laundry a few weeks after my young, recently endowed, soon-to-be a-missionary son had gone through the temple.  To offer perspective, my son and my husband are both a good foot taller than me.  I don’t know what it was about that particular moment in time but it hit me like a train.  I held them up side by side.  My son and hubby’s GARMENT BOTTOMS WERE HALF THE LENGTH OF MINE!   (I’m 5’2” and yes, I wear petites.) I could hardly believe it.  That was the first time it occurred to me that garments aren’t just about reminding us of our covenants.  Clearly, they are a means of policing women’s modesty too.  Why else would men’s garments be that much shorter than women’s?  

My mind flashed back to a scene 2 weeks earlier.  My son was getting ready to go to the gym.  He had on shorts he had worn, pre-endowment, to the gym but they were easily mid-thigh.  I pulled him to the side and reminded him that now that he had been through the temple he should really try to wear his garments whenever he could. He wasn’t much for cardio so I knew he was just going to lift weights.  “I know, Mom, I’m wearing them”, as he pulled the short up just enough to see the white indicator below his shorts.  “That’s crazy, I thought!  What I wouldn’t give to have garments I could wear with my tennis skirts.”  I thought of all the time I lost over the last 25 years  running home from the gym to dutifully change out of my gym clothes into my garment-accommodating ensemble for the rest of the day.   

I gotta admit I stewed over it for a week or so after my epiphany.  This is such a HUGE double standard!  It was so unfair!  Men can pretty much wear whatever they want!

I live in Texas and most summer days are at least 100 degrees.  The summer before I had found some really cute dresses just above the knee that kept me cool and yet I felt comfortable in them.  Imagine my surprise when the very next summer I pull those exact same dresses out of my closet and they were too short for the new garments I had.  Have you ever felt like the length line of your garment bottoms was a moving target?  Well, apparently it is!  I remember being so frustrated because as the obedient rule follower I was this only meant one thing!  I wasn’t going to be able to wear ANY of the dresses THIS summer that I wore LAST summer. 

I thought back to a line in my patriarchal blessing that has always stood out to me.  It tells me about how I rejoiced about the chance to get a body and to come to earth.  If I’m being honest, I don’t know that I had the best feelings about my body.  I workout most days each week,  observe a pretty healthy nutrition regimen, and I like to dress in cute clothes.  But I don’t know that I (at that time) really LIKED my body.  I pondered this for a while and realized that my shoulders and legs happen to be my favorite thing about my body and since they are always carefully covered, I don’t really see them very often.  Looking at my garment-clad body in the mirror left me feeling..not very feminine and not very joyful.

So I did something that shocked even myself.  I went online and ordered every type of men’s garment  bottom in MY size. 

Yep, you guessed it.  I wear men’s underwear.  (Technically if you wear garments, you do too because ALL garments are fashioned after men’s underwear.)  There aren’t any rules against this in the handbook. And I can confidently affirm that I do indeed wear the garment as instructed when I’m asked in my next temple recommend interview.

But now I can wear a lot of things that show more of my legs.  (I’m looking forward to the new sleeveless Gs so that I can wear tops that show my shoulders soon. )  My brilliant solution has opened up a lot of clothing options I never had before.  And for the first time in my adult life, I am so much happier about being in my body.  

So try my garment hack for yourself.  And if you see me in a cute skirt that’s way above my knee, know that I’m wearing garments.  (They may or may not have a penis pouch.) 

LDS girl with opinions and her husband are the proud parents of five children. Not because they can check certain LDS boxes but because they are just all around good people. She is a Licensed Professional Counselor that works with females. She spends her free time reading good books, journaling, magnifying her calling(s), and FaceTiming with her missionary.. She also enjoys simple pleasures like a dirty Diet Coke and a Target run.

Guest Post: In Defense of Soaking

Guest Post by Juliet Miller

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

Mormons love urban legends.

Disobedient missionaries forming secret combinations and calling themselves “The Twelve Apostates.”  A temple being spared from a natural disaster in which every building surrounding it was flattened.   A child announcing something scandalous about his family in testimony meeting, only to have his embarrassed parent follow with a detail that makes the account perfectly innocent.   We love to hear them.  We love to tell them.   But there might be one we love to hear and tell more than any other: Soaking.

“Soaking” is the alleged sexual loophole exploited routinely by BYU students.  To be blunt:  Sexual intercourse wherein the penis is inserted into the vagina but no thrusting occurs.  (It’s often accompanied by “jump-humping”, which we’ll have to get to on a different day.)  Soaking is performed in order to prevent the sin or risk of church discipline that comes with…movement, I guess.

Faithful members scoff at the idea that such a clear violation of the law of chastity would be overlooked by God, while exmormons seem to delight in the naïveté of such a sexually-repressed group of young people.

But like all urban legends, soaking exists in second- and third-hand accounts.  In all my internet searching, I found one anonymous Reddit comment that stated that they themselves participated in it.  I’ll take their word for it.  But soaking seems to me a phenomenon that…simply isn’t real.  It’s not all the rage at BYU.  It isn’t “this one weird trick” making the rounds in YSA wards.  Priests aren’t texting Laurels asking them to meet up for a soak after mutual.

So why is this urban legend so persistent?  I think it’s because idea that one can best God at his own game by getting off on a technicality seems evil to some, pitiful to others, and absurd to all.

But- and here is my defense of soaking- are we not a religion that thrives on technicalities?  During my time as an ordinance worker, I monitored patrons for technicalities in language, dress, and actions.  One would never address God as “you” in prayer.   It must be “thou,” which means the same thing as “you,” except fancy.  Every hair must go under the water at baptism.  The bishop must verify that the sacrament prayer was recited perfectly before the ritual can continue.  A motion, a word, and a hair all matter in Mormonism. God requires technicality.

Here on earth, God takes the form of a suited man sitting across the desk from you in his office down at the ward building.  Or the stake center.  Or the mission home.  And when it comes to sex, things can get awfully technical.

Were your nipples hard?  Where and how did he touch you? Did you orgasm?  Did you ejaculate?  Where did you ejaculate?  How many times did you ejaculate?  Did you get wet? What color were your panties?  Did you like it?  And, importantly, was there thrusting?

These are all questions that members of the church have reported being asked by priesthood leaders in worthiness interviews.  They’re our judges in Israel.  They hold the key to our community and acceptance in the present and are salvation and exaltation in the hereafter.  If the answers to these questions matter to them, they must matter to God.

So, if I’m 20 years old and finding myself in a sexual encounter (which, for purposes, is consensual), I need to remember to have on the right color of panties, to not let my nipples get hard, to not quite orgasm, to only let him touch me in the ways that aren’t quite as bad, to not get too wet, to not like it, and importantly, to make sure there is no thrusting.

And then, though I might still be bad, I won’t be as bad.

Urban legend or not, soaking makes sense.

Juliet is a Mormon convert, a midwife, and an unapologetic feminist.. Check out her hot takes at @angryfeminjstcookies on IG.

The Come Follow Me manual asks the wrong questions about ex-Mormon Leman Copley.

The Doctrine and Covenants 51-57 Come Follow Me lesson scheduled for this Sunday at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS) describes the aftermath of Leman Copley changing his mind about hosting a Latter-day Saint commune on his farm in Kirtland, Ohio. Leman Copley eventually left the church, a fact which seems to have biased church manual writers against him. The manual suggests this question:

Have you ever suffered disappointment when someone you depended on didn’t keep their commitments?

— Come Follow Me, D&C 51-57

The manual doesn’t ask the question, “Why did Leman Copley change his mind about hosting a Latter-day Saint commune on his farm? What led to that change?”

Scrolling down to the children’s section, the lesson provides more details about the Knights, a Latter-day Saint family who moved to Kirtland, Ohio from Colesville, New York, expecting to live at Leman Copley’s farm. A video shows drawings of the Knights looking devastated as Copley turns them away.

Image from Come Follow Me children’s curriculum for Doctrine and Covenants 51-57.

Like the Latter-day Saints who wanted to live on the Copley farm, we will all experience disappointments in our lives when people do not behave in ways we expect. It’s a good idea to talk about how we will handle these disappointments in Sunday School class. But if our goal is to become better, more moral people, we should practice reacting to those who disappoint us with empathy, concern and, at the very least, an attitude of curiosity about their point of view instead of judgment and condemnation.

The Come Follow Me manual encourages children to practice empathy, but only for the active Latter-day Saints who were turned away from the farm, not for the soon-to-be ex-Mormon who changed his mind. The questions we are instructed to ask children encourage them to think about how Leman Copley’s actions hurt active church members and steer them away from considering Copley’s perspective.

Your children could pretend to be a member of the Church who has arrived in Ohio. How would they have felt after Leman broke his covenant? What does this teach us about keeping our covenants or promises?

—Come Follow Me, D&C 51-57

Labeling Leman Copley as a covenant-breaker without bothering to learn his side of the story is not a great pattern to teach. An important part of coping with disappointments about others’ actions is learning to keep an open mind and hear out someone else’s point of view.

The questions the Come Follow Me manual ask about Leman Copley echo the judgmental questions active church members too often ask about friends and family members who choose to leave the church:

Why didn’t they keep their commitments?Why are they breaking their covenants?I feel hurt because of their choices. How could they do this to me?

If we want meaningful answers, we need to ask better questions.

So let’s ask the questions the manual didn’t ask. Why did Leman Copley change his mind about hosting a Latter-day Saint commune on his farm? What led to that change?

We were introduced to Leman Copley just last week, when we studied Doctrine and Covenants 49-50. But most church members won’t know his story because adult Sunday School classes skip every other week’s lesson plan for Relief Society and Priesthood Quorum, and even people who took the initiative to study on their own may have missed pertinent details about Leman Copley’s experience with the LDS Church because manual writers referenced them in the ancillary materials instead of the main body of the lesson plan.

Leman Copley was a convert, the kind that modern missionaries might call a “golden contact.” He had so much enthusiasm for the LDS Church when he converted from Shakerism that he not only offered to host a Mormon commune on his property, but also volunteered to serve a mission to his previous religious congregation. However, the church leaders who served as his missionary companions were so disrespectful to the Shakers that the experience was deeply traumatizing to Copley and led him to reconsider his membership in the LDS Church. Meanwhile, the interfaith relationship between the Mormon and Shaker communities in Kirtland, Ohio, which had been friendly until that point, rapidly deteriorated.

You can read more details about these events here: Doctrine and Covenants 49-50 “That Which Is of God Is Light

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 49-50 “That Which Is of God Is Light”

When we ask just a few curious questions, instead of assuming the personal failings of the person who left the church are the root of the problem, we gain crucial information that leads to self awareness, and self awareness inspires more introspective questions about our own faith community, such as:

As church members, how can we better ensure that our faith community is a safe place for people to worship and thrive?How can we work to better build bridges, instead of burning them?How can we rectify the situation if we fall short in one of our stewardships?How can we better nourish new members of the church?

These are the questions I asked in my version of the lesson plan for Doctrine and Covenants 51-57 “A Faithful, a Just, and a Wise Steward” And these are also the kinds of questions we should be asking when our friends and family members leave the church.

Come Follow Me: Doctrine and Covenants 51-57 “A Faithful, a Just, and a Wise Steward”

Guest Post: Holding Flowers, Letting Go

Guest Post by Anonymous

Photo courteous of Olga Shenderova

Preface: I don’t know if any LDS mother is ever really fully prepared to hear their child utter that they have left the Church. As a full-time stay at home mother most of my kids’ lives, my view of success was entrenched in the idea that my adult children’s choices were a result of how well I had taught them and emulated the gospel of Jesus Christ. I know now this expectation is unrealistic, unhealthy and unfair for parents and children. 

This memory is shared in gratitude for my daughter who delicately and lovingly opened her heart to me.

Steering wheel. Windshield. Mirror. Air vent. Flowers.

It happened during a routine outing with my eldest daughter, sitting in the car in a crowded Trader Joe’s parking lot. A rush of adrenaline—fueled by deepening anxiety—washed over me as she poured out her heart about her faith journey. We had run errands together and stopped to pick up flowers for her mother-in-law’s birthday. The bouquet rested in her lap as the conversation unfolded naturally—organically. It was one of those sacred moments as a mother that you hope not to mishandle.

She is my daughter—my firstborn. When she speaks, you listen. Her words are thoughtful and deliberate. As she began, I held my breath. My heart pounded. And deep down, I already knew what was coming. After all, I am her mother.

If it’s possible for a heart to break and swell with pride at the same time, that’s what happened. Time seemed to pause. Intrusive thoughts raced through my mind. What did I do wrong? Was I hearing confirmation of what I had sensed for some time—that she had stepped away from the Church? Shamefully, my first instinct was concern over how this would be perceived by others—especially extended family.

Blue eyes. Dark hair. Earrings. Tears. Slender fingers.

But her gentle voice brought me back. Her words—full of grace and love—quieted the noise in my mind. In that car, love enveloped us. Pure, unconditional love. The kind that reflects the pure love of Christ. I inhaled, centered myself, and truly listened.

She was brave. Clear. Kind. Her journey had not been a casual detour but a pilgrimage—marked by soul-searching and sincere effort.

That conversation, one of the most sacred of my life, unfolded with honesty and care because of her. She anticipated how I might feel. She affirmed her love and gratitude—for me, for her dad, for her sisters. And she has continued to show me, every day since, how it’s possible to lovingly pursue her own spiritual path while fully supporting those who find comfort and faith within the covenant path.

Years later, I would come to understand what a faith journey truly means—an odyssey of deep reflection, growth, and sometimes painful reconciliation with belief.

Now, I sit with those memories—at peace, still learning.

Anonymous is deconstructing her LDS faith and happily living her best life with her husband of 34 years. Her favorite pastimes include reading, writing and learning from her four daughters.