“I feel like I’ve been lied to”, I said to Susan as I cut up my enormous piece of french toast in an overly-air-conditioned Kneaders last week. “My whole life I’ve been told we needed the Restoration because of spiritual darkness and to restore priesthood keys.” It seems that now—in this century—the LDS church only focuses on the latter part—the lack of keys. But like so much of the revisionist history happening in the church right now (we never hid Joseph Smith’s polygamy, women were never told not to work, etc.), we’ve been slowly backing away from the “spiritual darkness” part of apostasy. And we should! We should back away from such ignorance, but maybe we should back away from it with a bit of humility and an acknowledgement of harsh statements such as these—

“Because of apostasy, there was no direct revelation from God.”

“For many years people lived in spiritual darkness.”

“There were no Apostles or other priesthood leaders with power from God, and there were no spiritual gifts.”1

And from the Church’s style guide–

Apostasy; widespread apostasy; falling away; the phrase “Great Apostasy” is acceptable in member-facing materials but not recommended for a friend audience or for materials intended to help missionaries teach a friend audience2

I don’t want to say much about the priesthood keys part of the apostasy, except for this. How am I, as a woman, supposed to care one whit about keys that can only be held by men? How does that not make me, and my entire gender, feel like an outsider? As second class? It almost begs the question, if women could have been Key Holders, might the apostasy never have happened? Couldn’t God, in all of God’s cleverness, have hidden the priesthood keys in the most unlikely place? With a lowly woman or two, or thousands? I know…I know…. I am forgetting that patriarchy demands hierarchy, and women have always been excluded from the hierarchy of Church governance—then (ahem, Catholics) and now (ahem, Catholics and Mormons and Baptists…and on and on) but that’s another convo for another day…….End of rant about keys, back to the LDS claim of spiritual darkness.

I don’t know how Church leaders and their curriculum writers could even keep a straight face and say there were no spiritual gifts on the earth between the time of Jesus and Joseph Smith. Really? No mercy? No giving? No hospitality? No faith in God? No shepherding? Those are all spiritual gifts!

My entire formative faith life (80s and 90s) I heard that Amos scripture up above—that there would be a famine of God’s word during the Great Apostasy and that that’s why we needed a Restoration. And like so many of you, I was a good student in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and I believed my seminary teachers, Sunday school teachers, prophets, apostles, and BYU professors when they taught me that there was a long period of spiritual darkness after Jesus died and the apostles died.

But this is why I told Susan over my breakfast last Saturday that I feel lied to. Because nothing has changed me more than to read about the faith and works of Christians—mostly women, but a handful of men too—during this supposed Great Apostasy.

I have no idea if there was a famine of keys. The idea of keys is no longer a weight-bearing question for me. But it’s clear to me that there was definitely not a famine of Christ-following women, overflowing with spiritual gifts, who also did the Jesus work. And if I had to choose between the importance of priesthood keys (which Jesus spoke about only once) and the love of God and service to our fellow humans that Jesus couldn’t shut up about, well, I am going to choose the latter to focus my life on. There have always been faithful saints continuing the movement of Jesus. That has never been “taken” from the earth. We have receipts! Here are a few—

Teresa of Avila, the Spanish Carmelite nun in the 1500s, was known for her leadership and spiritual practices. She also founded over a dozen monasteries. In her book The Interior Castle, she said “It is a great advantage for us to be able to consult someone who knows us, so that we may learn to know ourselves.” Does that sound like a woman in spiritual darkness? Sounds to me like a woman who understands how relationship with God works.

Or how about Marguerite Porete, the French beguine in the 1500s whose book The Mirror of Simple Souls in which she argued that a soul completely consumed by divine love transcends personal desire, sin, and fear. That transcendence allows one to enter a state of unmediated union with God. Show me the spiritual famine in those words?

But Christian women didn’t just speak, preach, and write about theology and spirituality, they did the work Jesus calls all his followers to do. Faith without works is dead, ya know? I’ve heard that somewhere before.

For months I have been studying about the beguines—books, podcasts3, and blogs. Honestly, I feel changed knowing about them. Beguines were medieval European women who lived in semi-monastic communities (beguinages). Unlike traditional nuns, beguines did not take permanent, formal religious vows and were free to leave or marry at any time. They focused on prayer, spiritual study, financial independence, and caring for the poor and the sick.

If I were a woman in the middle ages I would totally see the attraction of living in a beguinage. Let’s see…women had no power in government or the Church. Childbirth is beyond dangerous, and marriage makes you male property. So yea, why wouldn’t women of God decide to form their own communities and financially support themselves so they could take care of one another and the sick and the poor? At their peak, estimates suggest there were approximately a million beguines all across Europe. A million women of God cultivating a spiritual life while doing the Jesus work?!! Where exactly is the spiritual darkness in this scenario?

Of all the beguines, my new hero definitely has to be Mechtild of Magdeburg who lived during the 13th century. Forgive me for writing about her again, but I have a thing for mouthy women of God who piss off the Men in Charge. Laura Swan, author of The Wisdom of the Beguines: The Forgotten Story of a Medieval Women’s Movement, writes,

“In a synod held at Magdeburg in 1261, Archbishop Rupert of Magdeburg revoked the right of local beguines to self-governance, their relationship with the Dominicans was suppressed, and the women were placed under the authority of local clergy. This series of changes did not go over well with the beguines, and Mechthild became increasingly critical of the institutional church.

In The Flowing Light of the Godhead, Mechthild claimed that “God calls the cathedral clergy goats because their flesh stinks of impurity with regard to eternal truth, before His Holy Trinity...” and she went on: “Alas! Crown of holy Church, how tarnished you have become. Your precious stones have fallen from you because you are weak and you disgrace the holy Christian faith.

If calling truth to power isn’t direct revelation, well, what is? Anciently, prophets were always called from outside the system—think Samuel the Lamanite and Abinadi in the Book of Mormon. And Nathan, Elijah and Jeremiah in the Bible. Mechtild was a prophet in every sense of the word. She had the action and the contemplation; faith coupled with works. A prolific writer, she wrote parables, allegories, prayers, as well as writing about her visions. And like so many prophets, she lived the remainder of her days in hiding, protected by the Cistercians because she just couldn’t shut up about the corruption in the Church. Things rarely end well for mouthy women of God. Again, where is the famine of God’s word in Mechtild?

Again from Laura Swan–

“Beguines and other laypeople asked themselves: How did Jesus want us to live? How did the early followers of Jesus behave? Why does our own church not look like the church of the early apostles—why is corruption tolerated?...Medieval followers of the vita apostolica4 sought to make Christ present on earth and to restore the church to its original, primitive expression.”

Perhaps we are always in need of lots of restorations and not just one big Restoration? Our own Book of Mormon warns against the pride cycle. Pride/sin inevitably leads to suffering which leads to humility/repentance which leads to righteousness/prosperity, which then circles back to pride/sin/apostasy. Rinse and repeat. Humans are gonna pride. Always.

Reading about the beguines and other Christian mystics has changed my entire view of women in Christianity. On the one hand, it has filled my soul to know about these badass women who took control of their faith and their lives. And on the other hand, I can’t help asking all the ‘What Ifs’. What if patriarchy hadn’t shut out women, would there have been an official “apostasy” in our LDS doctrine? What if we took women of God seriously, could the beguines have started the reformation long before Martin Luther? They certainly were reformers!

What could all of Christianity have looked like had we taken their leadership seriously? There was never a famine of women’s words and deeds! Why does society always, always, look past women’s ministry? And lastly, what if women were the physically stronger sex? Would we have been bullied into submission and hierarchy? I have no answers and I mourn all these ‘What Ifs’, but I am heartened to know that women have always made their mark in Christianity, doing the Jesus work. I see no evidence of spiritual darkness. No famine of ‘the words of the Lord’. I only see a famine of recognition.

Cynthia Winward

Share At Last She Said It

Thanks for supporting Say More and ALSSI. Have something to say? Join the conversation: Send us a voicemail, start a chat thread, or write a piece for a future issue!

say it

chat it

write it

What Do You Say? That's what Susan and Cynthia ask Pat, Melinda, and Jere In Episode 279. It's a conversation about everything, inspired by 3 Latter-day Saint women's answers to a handful of randomly picked questions exploring their memories, insights, and beliefs.

Notes & Quotes:

Navigating Faith Struggles & Building Marriage Resilience, by Melinda Kopilow, Say More: At Last She Writes It No. 22, 8/2024
ALSSI Ep. 201, What About Certainty? What About Conscience?
I Don’t Want to Live in a Monoculture, and Neither Do You, by David French, New York Times, 10/20/2024
Controversy over dress and grooming standards nothing new, by Kimberly DeMucha, The Daily Universe, 3/13/2000

“It's a fact of human nature that when like-minded people gather, they tend to become more extreme. This concept, called the Law of Group Polarization, applies across ideological and institutional lines. [...] In my experience, the more ideologically or theologically pure an institution becomes, the more wrong it is likely to be, especially if it takes on a difficult or complex task. Ideological monocultures aren't just bad for the minority that's silenced, harassed, or canceled whenever its members raise their voices in dissent. It's terrible for the confident majority. And for the confident majority's cause.” —David French

Share

Happy end-of-one-month, beginning-of-another! Here’s what’s happening—

November Calendar:

11/3 Ep. 279: What Do You Say?

11/5 Say More No. 73 | Cynthia Winward

11/6 Friday Live Chat, 10:00 am Mtn

11/10 Ep. 280: Queering Contemplation | A Conversation with Rev. Dr. Cassidy Hall

11/12 Worthy Stuff | Cynthia Edition

11/13 Friday Live Chat, 10:00 am Mtn

11/17 Ep. 281: Big Ideas | Presence

11/19 Say More No. 74 | Listener Submissions

11/24 Ep. 282: Garments—Sacred & Secret | A Conversation with Nancy Ross

No registration required for our Friday Live Chats—watch for the Zoom link in our regular Substack chat shortly before the meeting.

It’s that time again—

As we approach the giving season, you’ll be hearing reminders from ALSSI team members in the coming weeks. We’re hoping you’ll remember our project when considering year-end donations. At Last She Said It is a 501(c)(3) organization, which means your contributions are tax-deductible.

Substack subscriptions are another good way to support the podcast—paid subscribers have access to our ongoing community chat (the best online group ever) and also twice monthly Friday Live Chats.*

Thanks for your continued support! We’re humbled by all the ways you make our work possible, and by the support you offer each other every day.

Most of all … thanks for listening!

At Last She Read It Book Club

Our first meeting of next year will be here before you know it! Here’s the book chosen by group members for the January discussion:

Hopefully the busy months ahead will include a little gift to yourself: holiday reading time!

At Last She Read It Book Club
Thursday, 1/21/27
7:00 pm Mtn
Register by clicking here

Speaking of books …

At the beginning of the month we were thrilled to have our book honored as a Notable Read at the 2026 Utah Book Awards. Our thanks again to Utah Humanities and Signature Books!

Just a note:

If the beginning of each episode skips or stutters for you on Apple podcasts, might we suggest listening on another app? We’re well aware of this and can pinpoint exactly when it started, but unfortunately our syndicator assures us that Apple problems are Apple’s problem. We take pride in our production values, so we’re disappointed the glitch persists. Meanwhile, we apologize for the inconvenience!

Happy Halloween!

Fondly and with an eyeroll,

Susan, Cynthia
& The ALSSI Team

*As always, we want everyone to be able to participate in our community! If you’re unable to swing a paid subscription, we’re happy to comp you. Send us an email at atlastshesaidit@gmail.com, and Katie will take care of it for you, no questions asked.

Share

What about heaven? It’s a broad word with which everyone has personal associations. Ask people what ‘heaven’ is to them, and you might hear about anything from walking on a beach to time spent with family to a rainy day with a good book. But The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has specific doctrine detailing what happens after earth life. Many—but not all—members find comfort and answers to their questions in Church teachings about how heaven is organized, how and by whom we are judged, who we’ll spend eternity with, and how we can qualify for exaltation by keeping covenants now. In Episode 278, Cynthia and Susan discuss voicemails from ALSSI listeners sharing personal questions, ideas, hopes and beliefs about what comes next.

Notes & Quotes:

Kingdoms of Glory
Spiritual Separators, by Susan Hinckley, Say More: At Last She Writes It | No. 33, 03/2025
Jason Reynolds on Wildcard, NPR on Instagram, 11/27/2025

“Through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, all people will be resurrected. After we are resurrected, we will stand before the Lord to be judged according to our desires and actions. Each of us will accordingly receive an eternal dwelling place in a specific kingdom of glory. The Lord taught this principle when He said, ‘In my Father’s house are many mansions.’ [...] The glory we inherit will depend on the depth of our conversion, expressed by our obedience to the Lord’s commandments. It will depend on the manner in which we have ‘received the testimony of Jesus.’”—from Kingdoms of Glory (on the Church website)

Share

Many thanks to listener Ginger Hyde for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 278

SH: Hi friends, Susan here with a quick message. We’re about to head into the giving season, and we’re so grateful for all of you who support this project. For the next few weeks, you’ll be hearing from members of the At Last She Said It team asking for your continued support. Our costs have continued to go up as Cynthia and I have needed more help.

Whether it’s through a paid subscription to our Substack or a tax-deductible contribution, we hope you’ll keep us in mind when considering end-of-year donations this year. As always, our goal is to keep the mics on and keep the conversations ad-free. Thanks for listening.

CW: Hello, I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinckley.

CW: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is “What About Heaven?” So why are we having an episode called “What About Heaven?” Susan?

SH: I don’t know. I wonder if any of our listeners are wondering about that, or if they’re like, “Of course, about time you guys got around to talking about this.” I don’t know.

CW: Maybe.

SH: Yeah. It feels kind of like a no-brainer to me. Okay. Well, that’s a good place, that’s a good way in, actually, because just for grins, when I sat down to work on the notes for this episode, I asked Google which Christian denomination focuses most on heaven. I did not want the answer that I got, Cynthia.

Do not ask a question to which you do not want to know the answer.

CW: Uh oh.

SH: Oh. Here you go. This means that my hunch, the thing behind the question, was actually right. It said, “Most mainstream Christian denominations share a foundational belief in heaven as the ultimate eternal destination for believers, meaning no single traditional group holds a monopoly on the concept.

However, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints stands out for having a uniquely elaborate, tiered, structural focus on heaven divided into distinct celestial, terrestrial, and telestial kingdoms.”

Read more

Is there a link between “being good” and “being happy?” Author Natalie Brown writes that for Latter-day Saints, “Again and again, happiness is scripted as the result of making the right choices, keeping the commandments, or following the proper path.” In Episode 277, Natalie joins Susan and Cynthia for a conversation about happiness: what that word might mean (or not), what we’re taught about where and how to find it, and trusting ourselves to pursue happiness in our own ways and places. Natalie asks, “How do we find the courage to make visible our own desires and claim our spiritual authority in a culture that has so many techniques for discouraging yearnings that fall outside the sanctioned formulas for happiness?”

Notes & Quotes:

Find another conversation about happiness in ALSSI Ep. 14, What Plan of Happiness?
Find more conversations with Natalie in ALSSI Ep. 211, Who’s the Decider? and Ep. 235, Is It Too Expensive to be a Latter-day Saint?
After Happiness: Living with Faith in a Time of Crisis, by Natalie Brown

“‘[T]he phrase ‘plan of happiness’ appeared in only one general conference address from the 1850s through the 1960s. There were 2 mentions of the phrase in the 1970s, 12 in the 1980s, and then an astonishing 85 in the 1990s, 125 in the 2000s, and 132 in the 2010s.” During this period, church leaders moved away from messages that focused on the rhetoric of salvation and toward messages that focused on happiness, a term that has greater crossover usage in secular culture. ‘This is not to say that Latter-day Saints did not care about happiness prior to the 1980s,’ explains Mason. ‘Only in recent decades, however, has ‘happiness’ become so closely correlated in official Church teachings with God’s plan for humanity.’ In critiquing the link Church leaders have drawn between between obedience and happiness, Emily Updegraff similarly opines that she does not believe ‘God has made any promises about happiness,’ noting that ‘happiness’ is a modern substitute for ‘joy’ that ‘has little support in the scriptures.’ Specifically, she found that ‘happiness’ only ‘appears 26 times in the LDS scriptures’ whereas ‘joy’ appears over 300 times.

“This stunning shift in church rhetoric mirrored economic and cultural changes in America that de-emphasized community and religion in favor of the pursuit of happiness within a market economy.” —Natalie Brown, (p. 19)

“Again and again, happiness is scripted as the result of making the right choices, keeping the commandments, or following the proper path. Happiness is surprisingly easy to obtain if one but finds and follows the right directions. It is sometimes used synonymously with the term ‘joy.’” —Natalie Brown, (p.22)

“Although Latter-day Saints theoretically believe that Christ’s Atonement offers a way to repair our mistakes, they might be forgiven for internalizing the message that being perfectly happy requires a perfect performance.” —Natalie Brown, (p. 32)

“Happiness comes only to those who know the proper place to look.” —Natalie Brown, (p. 39)

“As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are blessed to know how and where true happiness is found.” —Becky Craven, (p. 40)

“I am more orthodox and better educated than many male Latter-day Saints of my acquaintance, and it is not enough to give my opinion equal weight with theirs because of my gender. Indeed, my educational credentials, which would be praised in a man, are often a source of suspicion in a Latter-day Saint woman.” —Natalie Brown, (p. 93)

“How do we find the courage to make visible our own desires and claim our spiritual authority in a culture that has so many techniques for discouraging yearnings that fall outside the sanctioned formulas for happiness?” —Natalie Brown, (p. 89)

“Finding the courage to tell our stories often means identifying and setting aside the voices in our heads.” —Natalie Brown, (p. 94)

Share

Many thanks to listener Rebecca Bigelow for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 277

NB: There is a huge amount of pressure within LDS culture to perform the image of a happy family. And it’s like this prosperity gospel is quite evident within the church right now.

SH: Oh, it’s such a great way to put it. We’re almost to this place where the word happiness doesn’t mean anything-

NB: Yeah, that’s correct.

SH: anymore, right? So they can say it ‘cause it sounds good like, like other words get-

CW: But never have to define

SH: ... said sometimes, but they never define it. And it sort of means nothing

Hello, I’m Susan Hinckley.

CW: And I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is Let’s Talk About Happiness, a conversation with Natalie Brown. Hello, Natalie.

NB: Hello. It’s great to be back.

SH: Oh, we’re so happy to have you. It’s always a good day when you’re here recording with us. And I particularly love the topic today. We’re gonna get to that, but, you know, happiness is something that our listeners may know is a topic near and dear to my heart, and we have discussed it from the very beginning on At Last She Said It.

Yeah. I mean, episode 14 was called What Plan of Happiness? And that came straight out of my life onto the page. So that title speaks to a lot of feelings and a lot of experiences for me. So I’m excited that we’re gonna have this topic, and I mean, spoiler, Cynthia and I both blurbed your book because it spoke so-

CW: We loved it.

SH: Yeah. It was- ... it was just right in our sweet spot, so we can’t wait to talk more about it. Our listeners may also know you from two other At Last She Said It episodes, episode 235, Is It Too Expensive to Be a Latter-day Saint? And then episode 211, Who’s the Decider? So we’re delighted to have you back.

Do you want to just give us a quick little bio, a little minute of introduction for yourself for maybe our listeners who aren’t familiar with you or your work?

Read more

Walking into Metal Chairs

by Karina

audio

Let me share an old Young Women’s activity that I went to when I was a Beehive.

The activity setup was about discernment: identifying the right voices and listening to the Holy Ghost. A maze of folding chairs was set up in the cultural hall, and the point was to navigate the maze from one side to the other. You would wait outside the door, a leader would put a blindfold on you, and then open the door for you and guide you gently to enter. Once inside, directions were shouted to you by the YW president (who I didn’t really click with) and a member of the Bishopric.

At the time, there had been a lot of lessons on priesthood, so I thought the answer was to follow the directions from the bishopric counselor. I thought this had to be an activity to reinforce those lessons. I started to follow the directions from the man, and I felt like I was going in the correct direction, but I kept walking into the folding chair obstacles and I thought it was my fault. It was never fully direct contact at the beginning, but more like when you cut a corner really quickly and get a sharp counter top edge right in your side.

Over and over again, I was clipping these folding chairs with my foot, my knee, and then finally I was fully stepping forward into these chairs over and over again. I realized I was at a dead end. So, my assumption was incorrect, and I had chosen the wrong voice to follow. This activity was not about listening to the priesthood or to the Holy Ghost or to God as male voices. I don’t think that it was thought about that deeply. I did begin listening to the directions from the YW president and was able to navigate the maze and back out to the hall.

Recently, I experienced internal moments of intense, hopeful personal growth, followed by frustration from external sources that felt like two hard-won steps forward, and then getting hit by a car and dragged 50 feet back. As I was trying to process these heavy feelings, this memory from the cultural hall suddenly popped into my mind. Stewing on it over the past couple of days, I realized a painful truth: I have again been walking into folding chairs for a very long time.

On a drive early this morning, on my own, I was ruminating on this past again and snapped! I shouted at myself in the car saying, “Enough! No More Reliving the Yuck! What would you re-craft this memory to be instead!?!”

So, here is what I would re-craft, recreate, and replace that Beehive experience to be for my thirteen-year-old self.

I can’t change how the leaders did the activity and I would probably still do everything the same up to the point where I realized that I was at a dead end. And then, I would stop, take a deep breath, and take off the blindfold. I would realize that I don’t need to strain to hear outside voices in order to get directions or instructions telling me what to do. I have all the information and context I need through my own senses, physical and metaphysical, to take the first step in front of me and then trust myself to continue to evaluate what to do next.

I HAVE ALL THE INFORMATION AND CONTEXT I NEED THROUGH MY OWN SENSES, PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL TO TRUST MYSELF.

The maze hasn’t changed, and the room is still loud with competing opinions on how I should move through it. But the blindfold is off. I no longer need to bruise myself against obstacles just to prove I am listening. I am responsible for my own choices, and I am the one who needs to make them. The real dead end wasn’t the maze itself—it was the belief that someone else held the map to my life.

Breathe

by Carri

Naked, exposed, 
no shelter but the cascade of scalding water.
But here I stand, In a shower of realization. 
Truth, in glistening drops, 
bounce and trickle all the way down.

Breathe

I am afraid, 
afraid that you won’t love this version of me, 
afraid you will only judge and judge and judge.
And when I’m afraid, I retreat.
And when I retreat, you feel unloved and abandoned.
And then you are afraid, 
and you don’t have words to express that fear.
The flood of anger, blame, and judgment
swirl about my feet.

Breathe

We both recall how you took my hand, 
led me from who I was to a new me,
the me who clothed my nakedness with Love and Spirit. 
Yes, for a season, certainty held me, 
Wrapped me up safely, and perhaps too tightly. 
“Conform; don’t grow more than this.”

Breathe

But life and growth are inseparable, 
and maybe pain, too. 
Naked again, 
perched atop this tattered cocoon, 
and stretching cramped wings, 
still trailing shame and fear,
I breathe in freedom, expansion, and hope. 

Breathe

The woman, the girl, the child, the infant, 
All I have ever been, all still there inside me—
Some so obedient, so compliant—
But this season, this me, 
She is beautiful, and intricate, and new, 
With unfamiliar colors and patterns. 
If she surprises me, why would she not surprise you?
Where I find newness and growth, 
Like nectar, like air,
Perhaps you feel only the loss of that earlier me. 
The one you chose. 
The one you know. 

Breathe

It’s still me in here.
I’m still me, and I’m still here. 
And I want you to see me. 
I crave your love and acceptance, 
but I feel from you only what I fear:
Disappointment, judgment, resignation.
Do you see? 
Not standing in my way doesn’t feel the same as love, 
Not the same as acceptance. 

Breathe

I want to bridge this gap in hope,
No sting of disregard, of otherness, 
From the very one with whom I should be one. 
Growth is painful—
Sweet, bitter, beautiful, painful growth— 
But here I stand, 
On the eve of something,
On the morn of something.
Mourning something.
Wings untested, 
Waiting.

Breathe

The Night Hike

by Kristine Napper

Before I can tell this story from Girls Camp 1997, I have to

acknowledge that every adult involved genuinely loved us and believed they were doing something good. With that caveat on the record, I take you back to a Wednesday evening in the woods…

Gathered in the camp’s amphitheater, we’d been singing silly songs and performing skits. With the sun about to set, the stake president took the stage. We assumed he was going to kick off the annual night hike. The year before, we’d pretended to be the children of Israel following Moses through the wilderness, with lots of costumed visitors and immersive activities along the way. We were excited to see what this year’s theme would be.

Instead, the stake president told us gravely, “I’m sorry, but we need to delay the night hike. We’ve received word there are unauthorized guests on the premises. Until we get the all-clear, nobody should be crossing the grounds. Just head back to your ward’s tents, and sit tight.”

(Spoiler: This was a lie; the night hike had already begun. It’s obvious now when I’m telling the story, but I was an innocent barely 13-year old in an innocent decade to be a child. At no point in this story will my young self suspect she’s in a simulation.)

We all went back to our campsites and gathered around the fire. It was getting dark, and we were getting nervous. We didn’t know what “unauthorized visitors” meant, but it didn’t take us long to start freaking each other out with what it could mean. I tried to keep my own voice calm, but only because the girl sitting next to me had grabbed an axe from the woodpile, and I was afraid she’d take a wild swing if startled.

I’m not sure how long we waited, but I know it was completely dark when we heard the junior staff running down the dirt paths. The ones from our ward stopped and shouted at us, “We’re evacuating the camp! You can bring one personal belonging, but we need to get out of here now!”

Pandemonium. Girls ran every which way, grabbing stuff and screaming at each other. A few of the most practical girls carried flashlights, while others snatched their journal or snack stash. The one girl clung tightly to her ax. My own fight-or-flight system was entirely focused on fleeing the danger, so I stayed empty handed. Nothing I’d brought to camp seemed even a little bit important. Somebody, presumably an adult leader, put out the fire.

We followed the junior staffers through the dark forest, quickly losing any sense of where we were. I use a power wheelchair, and I normally move slower in the outdoors because the bumpy terrain is rough on my body. That night, I didn’t care how bumpy it was. I was racing along as fast as the rest of the crowd.

Until a leader stopped me. I was told the others were taking a route that wasn’t wheelchair accessible, and I’d have to go a different way. I didn’t ask questions. My mind was only repeating let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. I followed whoever they told me to follow, and a small group went with me. I remember a ward leader, the stake president, and Axe Girl in that group.

Now separate from the main group, we heard gunshots in the distance. My heart was racing faster than it ever has before or since. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. We couldn’t move fast enough for me. New thoughts started crowding my brain, like Where is my dad?? He was a camp dad that year. Why hadn’t he come and found me? If he wasn’t with me, protecting me, was he ok? More gunshots. Crying, holding back screams, trying not to make noise.

We emerged from the path we’d been following through the woods into an open field. The gunshots sounded closer. It was pitch black except for the lantern we carried. “They’re going to see us!” I whisper-screamed. I thought I heard men’s voices shouting in the distance, something about getting those Mormon girls. We tore across the field, an easy target. Ax Girl and I sobbed hysterically. I kept repeating under my breath, “Heavenly Father, please keep us safe, please, please, keep us safe, Heavenly Father, please…”

We continued like this on another path through the woods, and the next thing I remember is arriving in a clearing where the rest of the girls were gathered. White lights were strung around the area, and an adult was addressing the group.

Jesus taught through stories, healings, lectures, discussions, example, and probably more, but never through manipulation. It takes faith to let our young loved ones walk their own spiritual journey and discover their own truths, and it is our job to offer guidance.

At this point, we were supposed to understand that the whole situation was staged and there was never any danger. I don’t know how long everyone else had been in this meeting spot calming down, but I was too deep in panic to connect the dots right away. It looked to me like a space that had been prepared for the real night hike, and now we were using it to gather, load the cars, and escape. Some of the other girls were still as distraught as I was. Others were acting calm. A few were giggling. It was so confusing. Why are we standing around? We need to go!

Slowly, my amygdala ceded control to the reasonable parts of my brain, and I was able to hear the camp director talking about our pioneer ancestors who’d been chased out of their homes by violent mobs. This was supposed to help us understand the Mormon pioneers. We had never been in real danger. The gunshots were firecrackers. The voices were the camp dads. My dad hadn’t rushed to save me because he was busy scaring me.

They sent us back to our ward campsites, which looked like a tornado had passed through. As we cleaned up and relit the fire, we were instructed to hold testimony meetings.

Tears kept flowing as we sat in a circle, taking our turn to talk about what a spiritual moment we were having. We needed to explain the feelings that overwhelmed us, and we needed this to be the positive experience Girls Camp was supposed to be, so we scrambled for the words to make it so.

It’s been almost 30 years now, and writing this story still makes me shaky and tense. A family member who doesn’t know what I’m writing just passed by and asked if I’m ok; apparently I don’t look it. Every time there’s a mass shooting in the news, I flash back to being shot at while carrying the only light source across an open field. I’ve never actually been shot at, so I don’t feel like I’m allowed to claim an experience that’s real for other people. But at the same time, my nervous system believes it was real. There was no blood, no injuries, no loss of life. Everything was fine. But it didn’t feel fine. It still doesn’t.

To his credit, the stake president apologized for the part he played in the deception. He belatedly realized that he had given the Young Women reason to lose trust in our leaders, and he wished he hadn’t done it. A few parents in the stake were vocally upset about the whole ordeal, but only a few. Mostly I heard sympathy expressed to “the poor camp director” who cried when she got negative feedback.

At the time, I said everything I was expected to say about how much I learned and was touched by the Spirit. But I quietly felt conflicted. As an adult, at least I can say that I’m no longer conflicted. The whole activity was a terrible idea. It was well-intended by faithful and loving leaders, but somebody should have realized early in the planning process that it was a terrible idea.

At the most basic level, I can’t believe nobody considered the “what ifs.” Convince hundreds of teenage girls that they’re in mortal danger and send them running through dark woods. Some grab weapons. Some panic. It’s a miracle no one was seriously hurt.

We didn’t just learn about trauma that night; we experienced it. Trauma rewires the brain and continues to live in the body, especially if there’s no support afterward to help with healing. Nobody encouraged us to process our trauma. Just the opposite, we were immediately led through denying anything traumatic had taken place. We were expected to express gratitude and speak positively about the whole experience.

Everybody responds to experiences differently, and I’m sure plenty of girls left the night without any lasting scars. But I can’t be the only one who permanently lost some degree of my sense of safety. I now lived in a world where life could turn upside down or even end in an instant; a world where the adults who’d always represented protection and truth might lie to me. I recognize these are lessons everyone has to learn eventually, and it’s a privilege to avoid it in early childhood. But I believe in letting the cruel world teach its cruel lessons in its own time. It’s our job as loving adults to be sources of kindness and safety in kids’ lives, not the intentional source of pain. In other words, trauma will touch us all in some shape or form, but we should never manufacture trauma to teach a lesson.

I’m afraid this night at Girls Camp embodied one of the most toxic patterns of our religious culture—spiritual manipulation. The whole event stirred up overwhelming emotions and lots of crying. We’d been trained our whole lives to associate big feelings and tears with spiritual experiences. The lesson was heavily reinforced that night. We felt outsized emotions that most of us had never felt before, and were told it was the Spirit. We cried, and were brought into a testimony circle. How were we supposed to learn to listen to our bodies’ danger signals, when they’d been identified as spiritual? How were we supposed to trust our spiritual intuition, when emotions and spirit were indistinguishable?

If this piece makes it to any of the people who helped lead my Girls Camp in 1997, I hope they know I have nothing but love for them. I also hope that with time, we’ve all gained more wisdom. As we teach the next generations of children and youth, let’s keep referring back to Jesus Christ, the Master Teacher. He never needed tricks, manipulation, or gotchas to teach powerful lessons that resonate through the centuries. He calmed the storm to ease His disciples’ fears, but He didn’t create the storm. He was asleep when it started; it was a natural phenomenon. Jesus taught through stories, healings, lectures, discussions, example, and probably more, but never through manipulation. It takes faith to let our young loved ones walk their own spiritual journey and discover their own truths, and it is our job to offer guidance. Teaching without overstepping is a tricky balance, but Christ has set the example for us to follow.

The Prayer After the Prayer

by A.L. Call

Only after I kneeled
And said the opening dear,
Remembered to start with thanks
Before asking for needs
Never forgetting to dot my thys
And cross my thees
And close in His name
Amen

Could I crawl into the lap of my bed
And wrap my blanket tight in a hug
And feel the weight of the day
Be soothed by the tears on my pillow
It was really hard, I’d cry.
Where did I go wrong?
How am I going to do this?
Is this all there is?
Is it enough?
Am I enough?

Then an inner peace
Would caress my wounds
And heal my sorrows
My burdens lifted and set aside
And love would cradle me to sleep
Singing me the lullaby
Of the worth of my soul

The first was a formal letter.
A once drafted letter
Which I copied and pasted
And copied and pasted.
Someone else’s prayer.

The second is a visit with a friend
Where I don’t have to hide
But can share, listen, confide.
When I tossed out the one
The other was still there.

From a listener:

Hi,

I was listening to your book yesterday. I’m not at the end yet, but the chapter I was on talked about talking out loud at church about things not working for you. I tried that about 2 years ago and it didn’t go well. It was the first Sunday of the month. We had all received an email from a young man serving a mission in which a man in Oklahoma who was a native American wanted to join the church. First he smoked. He switched to vaping, but they had to tell him that that too was forbidden. Secondly, in their tradition, they smoke a peace pipe and they take one inhale and pass it around. He would have to give up that ceremony to be initiated into the church. My heart broke for him. I got up and shared that. I was crying. No one should be turned away who wants to join. Jesus wouldn’t turn someone away and say, “Go fix yourself and when you’re nice and clean, come back.” In addition, on that very week we were reading Galatians which says that no man is righteous enough to save himself. We are saved by grace and our good works are insufficient. (Paraphrasing!) I suggested that we should lower the standards for baptism but for those wishing to go to the temple and who’ve been around for a while, then impose these standards. How is it reasonable for someone to fix themselves without the support of the church? And when you get baptized, the Holy Ghost is your constant companion. So before you have the help of the Holy Ghost you need to fix yourself first. If we could fix ourselves, then what would we need with the church and God? (I joined the church 11 years ago, so it wasn’t that long ago that I went through having to reorganize my life into a tiny box to be acceptable to the church to get baptized.) In addition, I pointed out that the word “Unworthy” in the dictionary means “worthless; of no value.” We ought to use a different word, like not qualified, etc. It is brutal to say that to someone who is being turned away and told that their sins are too awful for them to associate with us or be in the temple. I know, because it happened to me. But when a person is in a situation to not pass the inspection, sometimes they are in a fragile place. I was. I was a single mother with 3 kids with no family and no friend. We were having a financial hardship. Then I found the church and was so happy. Then I was denied a temple recommend and found to be “unworthy.” I was excluded from events. It was humiliating. I was already fragile. I cried and wailed for months. My daughters and some other people saw the pain I was in and never wanted to have a part of the church. Doing this to me did nothing to make the church attractive to other investigators.

The result of sharing this? A lady came up on stage and interrupted me and reminded me that the purpose of this time is to share my testimony of Jesus Christ. So I concluded with, my testimony of Jesus is that he would never turn away one of his lambs who wanted to come to him and say, “Go fix yourself first and then come back.” As I spoke I saw a stone-faced crowd. No one had anything to say to me afterwards. I cried the rest of the hour as I was so distraught over the man being rejected. The bishop recommended I speak with the missionary when he returned. Other members told me that “unworthy” doesn’t mean “worthless” even though that is what the dictionary means. They didn’t know what it did mean. When I was found unworthy I was told I couldn’t go to the temple cause my presence would cause the Holy Spirit to leave the temple and my presence there would ruin the experience for everyone in the building at that time. Wow, I’m pretty powerful. We have a suicide epidemic that even the US government recognizes. They call it “suicide alley,” the corridor west of the Rockies—Idaho, Utah and Arizona. Their suicide rate is 2 1/2 times higher than the rest of the country. I would propose it is this use of the word “unworthy.” The Bible says, “worthy is the lamb” in Revelation. It is the only place where worthy is used, as best as I know. Men were righteous, but not worthy, in the days of old. They could call us “unrighteous.” Or even straight up sinners. But being told you are worthless and of no value is hurtful beyond measure, when your family members will not get saved and be in the same heaven as you. Or the reverse, they will get saved and you won’t get to the right heaven. Your golden ticket into heaven is what will make it possible to be united with your family and the bishop, one man’s opinion, keeps you in eternal outer darkness or some lower heaven. There is no appellate court. If you disagree, only his opinion counts. I told him I am worthy, but he disagreed and informed me that I had unholy thoughts. The Bible says, no man knows the thoughts of another man. But this man did! My daughter’s name is Daniella. The meaning of Daniel is “God is my Judge.” Well, the bishop is my judge. And isn’t Satan’s sin wanting to be like God, or have his power? So, isn’t the bishop doing the same thing as Satan? How could someone detest me so much as to wish me into outer darkness or a lower heaven and never to be reunited with my family? When I show up, tithe, help others. Yet he condemns me to who knows where but somewhere bad. How could anyone have such hate in their heart to do that to another?

Here’s another question that hasn’t been answered adequately. Genesis 1-3 We made man in OUR own image. Male and Female WE created them. From there we know that God was male and female and they together created Adam and Eve. So how is it that in the temple ceremony, the mother isn’t there participating in the creation of man? How is it Father and Son are doing it all together and the Mother isn’t even there at all. The ceremony goes against Genesis. Am I the only one who sees this?

One of the core issues that bothers me is that no one has an opinion about anything. They see nothing wrong with the word “unworthy.” They think it’s great that this man won’t get baptized. I guess they’ve never been on the receiving end of the rejection. I had a concern about why women couldn’t be witnesses in the temple. Oh, no no no, women can’t be. We don’t have the priesthood. No, no no. They like it that way. Then suddenly women can be witnesses and isn’t that great! Well, pick one. It’s great or it’s wrong. I see many things change. Prior to the change I said to the lady missionaries, wouldn’t you like to wear pants during the week? Oh, no. It is such a privilege to make this small sacrifice for the Savior and the building up of the kingdom for Christ. Then they make the change and they wear pants. What happened to building up the kingdom. Remember, it could only be accomplished in a dress? You loved wearing a dress? And now they are so happy for the change when a short time ago they defended the practice and loved it. Why can’t anyone have an opinion. Something as small as changing a light bulb. I said, wouldn’t it be great to get recessed lights instead of fluorescent? No takers. But if we got them, they would then think it was great. How can I be around people with no thoughts in their brain? It makes me crazy. I beg them to name one thing they don’t like, but are willing to go along with cause those are the rules. They can’t think of one. I’m like, how about new light bulbs? How about women being able to give a blessing for healing? They are just silent. Have they never thought about it? How do they have college degrees but no ability to have rational thinking? And I wind up castigated ever so gently. We are to show support and not be contentious. We must obey when we don’t understand. But what happened to democracy? And everyone’s opinion mattering? And trying to make a place better for having been there?

So I’ve been beaten down to showing up, like you, but keeping my mouth shut. No one wants to hear my opinion. My daughter too is gay. I think most families have a gay in there somewhere. And if not gay, some other thing that is unacceptable to the church. But they deny it. They don’t know a single gay person. Well shame on you. You have to be so holy to be acceptable in the temple that you can’t associate with the homeless, the prisoners and the gays. Only from a sanitary manner. Ok, it’s not always like that, but sometimes. One day on a Sunday morning after the coldest rainiest night, a lady read a fictional story about a little girl who froze to death. Everyone was in tears. I said, isn’t it interesting that this was read today. Last night surely many people in Los Angeles froze to death. When people are wet and the temps are below 40°, some people freeze to death. Their response? “That’s not true.” I don’t know how to help people who just want to live in a fantasy world of rose colored glasses. It is scientific. Street people die. I personally know of 3. And the quick and simple answer, instead of feeling the pain of someone dying is, “That’s not true.” I said, well, what do you think they do? “They go inside somewhere.” Did you provide shelter to anyone last night? “No.” Then where do you think they go? “The government has somewhere.” All 70,000 were housed? Impossible. Why do they fight me? They could just say, “That’s a tragedy.”

So I enjoy the friendship and activities. I believe in some of it. I like most of the lessons. But I have learned to keep my mouth shut or I will be publicly rebuked. Sometimes someone has quietly shared a hurtful story, but mostly I have learned to keep my mouth shut or I will not be welcome. So, when you encourage us to share, I have learned that this is not a safe place in which to do that. I really hate that part of the church. And, in fact, my attendance has been sloppy this year and I stopped tithing. The magic is gone. I no longer aim for a temple recommend.

—Cathy Williams

Hi,

I just was listening to your Episode 235 and there are several things that stuck out to me.

I am a mom of a young woman. She’s 14. Every path that she’s been told will lead to success is probably not there. Nursing, education, computer science, science at all—these are paths that are traditionally held out. Doctors. Lawyers. But the costs of education are so high. She’s an athlete. She’s trusting in her athletics to cover her schooling so that she can get a degree in the first place.

She’s getting the same messages her aunts got. I was never a YW. I’m a convert. And I always grew up with the idea that I will work and have a career. Being a mother was never ever on my radar. And being a mother isn’t on her radar. She pushed back in seminary when they said the equivalent of priesthood for women is motherhood. She asked what happens if she can’t physically have kids? Or if she can’t afford them. What happens if things don’t work out. Is she less? And why is her spirituality tied to something about her body? Isn’t she worth more than that. And I guess she inspired a revolt because I got the joy of meeting with the seminary teachers.

I’m shocked at how resilient these girls are. And how willing they are to take their friendships from seminary and all into the real world and rely on those. They have hope. They have amazing ideas. And they do not let adults squash on them at all. But the messages they’re getting are still the same ones her aunts got. It is just not the same world, but it is the same messages.

At some point the church is going to have to adapt or they will lose all the young women. She knows several gay young women who are in seminary because they believe, but who have plans to leave the church because the church can’t accept them. She’s decided that she won’t continue when she’s on her own either because the church lacks the flexibility or general desire to change with and support the youth as they are experiencing the world, and relies on the “older” times instead of leaning into what they are going through now.

Just wanted to throw all that into your discussions. Again, I love your podcast. But the church is going to lose them all.

—Natasha Wunderlich

I just finished listening to episode 170 and 171, and one part stood out to me. Susan and Cynthia and C.A. Larson were talking about how in the Bible it says that our sins will be shouted from the rooftops and how terrifying that was to learn and think about as children and youth in the church.

I’m currently reading books about the Bible and am taking a break from attending church meetings—though I still consider myself to be a faithful member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I discovered, to my horror, that only 8 of the 27 books in the New Testament can be traced back to their authors. And that the apostles never ever claimed to have written a Bible, or even wrote records for that matter. Almost every biblical scholar through the years has agreed that the Bible is a compilation of copies written decades AFTER Jesus had already been crucified. Luke was not written by the apostle Luke. Matthew was not written by Matthew. The apostles were illiterate and simple fisherman, how could they have kept records? They didn’t. Rich gentiles from the other side of the country heard accounts of Jesus, years after his passing, and wrote them down. It is horrifying to me that I never knew this. And while I know the Bible is flawed and has always contradicted itself at times, why was I never taught this?? All of these biblical teachings that were held against me and made me feel little, small, and worthless…and only one apostle can be traced to being a TINY part of it. Here I was thinking I was receiving everything I should know on how to repent and live my life along with the Book of Mormon.

I remember that verse about sins being shouted from the rooftops terrifying me as well, and I’m 26! Times are not changing quickly and neither are the lessons the church is choosing to emphasize. I can only hope that my daughter does not have to listen to these same teachings based on copies of copies of copies of rich men and who knows how many different accounts and eyewitnesses they used to write the Bible. Or I don’t know what I will do about my attendance in the church. I don’t want her to be afraid of my heavenly parents like I was and am.

—Olivia Muller

Sources : Jesus, Interrupted by Bart D. Ehrman.

Contributors:

Karina

Carri

I’m a communications professional who is still working to claim my voice in my own life. I both joined the LDS church and became a wife at 18. After 30 years all in, I’ve been navigating the journey toward differentiation and the 2nd half of life for about the past 10 years. I’m a mother to three amazing humans, and I find my joy in family, words, ideas, mountains, stars, and green things growing.

Kristine Napper

I am a lifelong reader, writer, wheelchair user, and taco aficionado. Born and raised in Washington, now living in Oregon, I have a a very Northwest soul. I teach 7th grade social studies. I also spoke at TEDxPortland and wrote, “A Kids Book About Disability.”

A.L. Call

Share At Last She Said It

Thanks for supporting Say More and ALSSI. Have something to say? Join the conversation: Send us a voicemail, start a chat thread, or write a piece for a future issue!

say it

chat it

chat it

If faith is a moving thing, that implies change. To say you’re on a journey means you’re actively engaged in going somewhere. In the ALSSI community, the word faith often gets paired with the word journey, but also with deconstruction, shift, or transition. None of us are standing still, but it can feel frustrating or even lonely when we’re each moving at our own pace. Fueled by recent conversations with listeners, Episode 276 is a check-in with Cynthia and Susan: an honest look at where we’ve been, where we are, how we’ve gotten here, and where we want to go.

Notes & Quotes:

ALSSI Ep. 82, Holy Discomfort
Here’s what I said yesterday from the pulpit at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, by Nadia Bolz-Weber, The Corners, 9/14/2026
Whatever happened to Rob Bell? The pastor who questioned the gates of hell, by Sarah Pulliam Bailey, Religion News Service, 12/2/2014
What We Talk About When We Talk About God, by Rob Bell
Faith As Participation, Center for Action and Contemplation, 12/8/2022
Think Celestial!, by Russell M. Nelson, 10/2023
Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith, by Rob Bell

“So when we ask Jesus how we can possibly forgive people who have hurt us, I
wonder if the question is actually a much more tender one. Maybe what we are
really asking is Lord, how do we stop feeling the pain.
Because even when we want to move on. Even when we try to move on. Our hurt finds a way to keep tapping at the window [...] and then we let it in and put the kettle on and rehash the whole precious thing again.
How many times Lord, will it take to stop telling the same story the same way, how many times will it take to stop feeling the hurt, for the whole thing to finally be a scar and no longer a wound.
How many times, Lord?
It’s going to take a lot of times, Jesus says, more gently than we would.
Then he adds, It might even feel like 7 times 70.
But the repetitions all count toward the day you don’t hear your hurt self tapping at the window. And even if you do hear it, maybe you no longer open the door. Maybe you compassionately say to the part of you that was wounded: I see you, I see what you endured, thank you for what you taught me, but I don’t have room to make you tea and serve you biscuits anymore.
Until one day, you are free.” —Nadia Bolz-Weber

“I never spent a minute wondering whether I’m in or out.” —Rob Bell

“Or to say it another way, God has made my life better. I don’t mean this in a shallow, trite, then-I-believed-and-now-I’m-happy-all-the-time way, but in a deep, abiding, satisfying way. I move more slowly than I used to because I don’t want to miss anything. I find more and more beauty and meaning in everyday, average moments that I would have missed before. I need fewer answers because I see more.” —Rob Bell, (pp. 125-126)

”God refuses to be known intellectually. God can only be loved and known in the act of love; God can only be experienced in communion. This is why Jesus “commands” us to move toward love and fully abide there. Love is like a living organism, an active force-field upon which we can rely, from which we can draw, and we can allow to pass through us.” —Richard Rohr

“Never take counsel from those who do not believe.” —Pres. Russell M. Nelson

“If the gospel isn’t good news for everybody, then it isn’t good news for anybody. And this is because the most powerful things happen when the church surrenders its desire to convert people and convince them to join. It is when the church gives itself away in radical acts of service and compassion, expecting nothing in return, that the way of Jesus is most vividly put on display. To do this, the church must stop thinking about everybody primarily in categories of in or out, saved or not, believer or nonbeliever. Besides the fact that these terms are offensive to those who are the ‘un’ and ‘non’, they work against Jesus’ teachings about how we are to treat each other. Jesus commanded us to love our neighbor, and our neighbor can be anybody. We are all created in the image of God, and we are all sacred, valuable creations of God. Everybody matters. To treat people differently based on who believes what is to fail to respect the image of God in everyone. As the book of James says, ‘God shows no favoritism.’ So we don’t either.” —Rob Bell

Many thanks to listener Lindsay Riggs for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 276

CW: You said something a minute ago that rings really true to me. You talked about the next stop. I’m just picturing a bus, Susan, and a bus pulls up to a stop, and a person gets on, and then it continues on, and then you get off at the next stop, and then you wait for a new bus or whatev- Do you know what I mean?

Like, there’s something really resonant because a minute ago I accidentally said and then corrected myself, like, to where I’ve arrived or where I’ve gotten-

SH: Right ... right.

CW: or what, you know? And I’m not. I have not arrived. But I love the idea that for the last year, you and I were studying through the Center for Action and Contemplation and we were on the bus for a whole year.

SH: Yes.

CW: And the bus just stopped, and you and I have gotten off, and we’re taking other connecting buses elsewhere. So I love the idea of it just being another stop along the way- ... on this journey. That’s more resonant than “arrived.”

Hello, I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinkley.

CW: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is Getting Honest With Susan and Cynthia. Hey, Susan.

SH: Hello. I’m kind of happy to be having a conversation with just us today.

CW: Yeah.

SH: I love our guests, and also, sometimes I miss our conversations.

CW: Yes. But why “Getting Honest?” Because you and I were having a ravenous text session a couple of weeks ago, and I said, “That’s it, Susan. We’re having an episode called Getting Honest.” So why don’t you just introduce the topic today?

Read more

Yes, it’s October and when it’s gorgeous, it’s gorgeous! As these moments grow fewer and farther between, I appreciate them more.

But I’m going to be honest and tell you that when I drew this little cartoon of myself about 15 years or so ago, I was telling the truth. I’m not a lover of fall, nor even a liker. I think this is actually a body-problem for me, not a mind one. The changing light is not my friend.

No matter! I just try doubly hard to celebrate all the goodness, and there’s plenty of that, so let’s check out a few things that are making me happy right now.

Cool Stuff People Do.

Asemic Writing

You may have heard me talk about asemic writing before, a hybrid art form fusing text and image. Your brain registers the marks as writing, though they have no meaning whatsoever. You’re free to interpret it for yourself. This stunning photo from Barbara Galinska of her work reminded me of General Conference: A stream of revelation, pouring down from heaven (as characterized by your average church member).

What does it all mean? That’s for you to decide.

********

Read more

What feels safe to say? It’s a question many Latter-day Saint women weigh before speaking up. Some don’t feel at liberty to say what they really think in certain settings or relationships. Some may speak up confidently for other people but struggle to champion their own needs, values, or convictions. Some self-edit to avoid being seen as difficult, selfish, contentious, negative, ungrateful, or just "too much." In Episode 275, Susan and Cynthia are joined by coach Sara Fisk to talk about how women can develop the skills to say what they need to say and help create change: at church, at home, and in personal relationships.

Notes and Quotes:

Sara’s website, where you can sign up for her free weekly workshop
Find Sara on Instagram here

Share

Many thanks to listener Amanda Gunderson for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 275

SF: I was in ward council meetings when Elder Ballard said, “You know, we want the voices of women, but not too much.”

CW: Right. Get us back on track…and then stop.

SF: Yes. I was in an actual ward council meeting in my ward when a bishop warned the Relief Society president that she was in danger of violating Elder Ballard’s counsel to ward councils.

SH: Ouch.

SF: And so we’re constantly doing what I call good girl math, which is internal, this internal cost benefit calculation. Okay, I wanna speak up about this thing. Is it worth it? Is it too much? Am I being too demanding?

CW: Hello, I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinkley

CW: This is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is Creation Begins With Speaking Up, a conversation with Sarah Fisk. Welcome, Sarah.

SH: Hi, Sarah.

SF: I’m so excited to be here. Thank you.

CW: Well, we’re excited to have you, especially about this topic.

But before we jump into that meaty topic, Sarah, do you wanna just give us a quick bio of who you are and what brings you to this conversation about speaking up?

SF: I’d love to. I am a woman who had to learn, first and foremost, how to speak up in a lot of situations that I was never taught how to express what I wanted.

In fact, I was actively, like a lot of the women listening, probably all of them, taught that I wasn’t supposed to have needs or have wants that inconvenienced anyone else, that were burdensome to anyone else, that cost anyone else anything. I was supposed to be good. I was supposed to be happy and grateful, and I, while I enjoy being a lot of those things, I also am, like all of you, complex and have feelings about the fact that I got married and had a bunch of kids that I wasn’t necessarily always prepared how to mother in the best way and that I grew up with rules and roles kind of given to me that I didn’t fully agree to or take on or know what would cost me.

Read more

by Susan Hinckley

My mom was curious about people.

Whether she knew you well or was meeting you for the first time, she’d ask, “Tell me about a day in your life. What does that look like?” She asked questions, and listened to their answers. She wanted to know, what is it like to be you?

You may have heard me say the ALSSI project has felt like the most meaningful work I’ve ever done. What I mean is I’ve experienced more concentrated personal growth in the past decade than I can remember at any other period. I’ve learned it’s a privilege to sit with women of diverse ages and experiences, to be offered so many sacred stories to hold.

Cynthia and I recently finished our CAC Living School study. Richard Rohr introduced me to Archimedes’ idea:

The yearlong course left me with a feeling that I am at the beginning of the work I want to do, not the end of it. In many ways, our podcast marked the culmination of one specific growth spurt in my life; to maintain my growing edge, it must also be the beginning of another.

Sometimes things conspire to get our attention, so I’ll also tell you that while recording our podcast conversation with Jenny Richards, I had what I can only describe as an experience. Her story of suddenly knowing—in the middle of the night—what she was supposed to do, was hypnotic for me. Or maybe electric? Whatever that feeling was, as she spoke I suddenly “knew” what I needed to do.

So of course I set to work formulating a thousand arguments against it.

Enter Richard Rohr—he’s managed to throw a whole toolbox of the best possible wrenches into my life over the years. This time, several months after the experience with Jenny, he set me on a search for what Archimedes’ words might mean in my own life. Before the CAC afterglow wore off, I wanted to take a concrete step. I set aside my thousand well-crafted arguments—

and enrolled in Spiritual Director training.

Now I always wanted to be the Mormon Anne Lamott, but the one thing I knew was that Mormons absolutely did not want an Anne Lamott. An irreverent writer chronicling her spiritual life that absolutely refuses to stay within the lines? (We’re good, thanks!)

But as I think about that, it occurs to me the only thing members of my church might want even less is a spiritual director. Someone who will light a candle, sit down and invite you to unpack even the murkiest corners of your heart with no judgment (and no testifying, GC talks, or Liahona articles) whatsoever? (Hard pass.)

Well, here’s the report from my first weekend of classes: five minutes in, I was blindsided by my own bawling. I thought, what is happening?!, then immediately knew I was feeling The Big Yes.

My church may not want spiritual directors, and its members may not know what to do with one, but no matter. It isn’t my certainty about where a road leads that makes it worth following.

I don’t know much about spiritual direction yet, but so far I’ve learned it basically boils down to one thing: holy listening.

And if there’s one thing I’ve often not felt as a Latter-day Saint woman, it’s that I’m being listened to. I could explain, but I bet I don’t need to.

Holy listening is described as:

It’s Jesus-listening. Think about the ratio of questions he asked to questions he answered. I believe the disparity between those two numbers is meant to get our attention: Asking and listening must be key to loving and understanding others. My mom knew something.

The holy listening of spiritual direction holds space for people to meet God, right in their own stories. It’s not about “directing” at all, but rather accompanying. In this practice there are always 3 chairs: one for the director, one for you, and one for the Spirit.

Now I might get a bishop who’s a great listener—maybe even a natural, intuitive spiritual director. In an interview, I would generally assume the Spirit to be present and active. But there’s a power differential that, for many members, privileges his inspiration over mine. His office makes him the official Spirit channel, because God is in the priesthood, and that mantle never rests on me.

Only once in my life did a bishop approach giving me a calling through curiosity about what it was like to be me. As a result, it became clear to him the calling was not a good fit at the time. I felt seen. Little wonder that remains my favorite interaction with a leader.

For most of my church life, I haven’t observed or experienced much holy listening among members. If someone raises an idea in a lesson—or even just a conversation—that’s (ahem) not on the approved list, how often are they met with, “Will you please say more?” Which explains why, when something thorny or even just complicated weighs on my soul or psyche, it can feel easier to keep it to myself.

And now we’re really getting to the point of this long introduction: Is anybody listening? How about asking? I mean up there, in the velvet chairs.

I’ll just say it: holy listening on the part of the church organization? Zip. Zero. Nada. At least it feels that way where I’m sitting. I know, it’s anthropomorphizing to suggest an organization could listen, but let me explain.

It’s never a 3-chair conversation: the Spirit is not assumed to be, first and foremost, on the members’ side in our church, but resides (along with the power) with whatever authority is speaking. Any disagreement I may feel, anything that hurts me, any offense I may take, will rest solely on me to resolve, and the Spirit won’t take my side.

There’s no 3rd chair needed when the Spirit is in the leader’s pocket.

If this sounds overly cynical, or even bitter, well—I’m feeling both those things. A few weeks ago, we had a pod conversation with Dr. Jana Riess about women leaving the Church. We wanted to put our heads together to explore and give airtime to some possible reasons behind the statistics. We pulled our ideas for that discussion from a pile of data: Our data was anecdotal, the result of years of messages from/conversations with women that have so often left us saying, “the women are not okay,” and Jana’s data was research data.

Recently I saw someone share that episode on her personal social media, where it was immediately batted back at her with an all-caps reply about the number of converts, punctuated with 3 words: STOP BEING NEGATIVE. I was sad, but not surprised. As I said, I don’t expect a lot of holy listening among members.

But I’ve been flummoxed—I don’t know a better word for it—by the Church’s response to the same data we referenced in that podcast. First, I saw a Church Newsroom post pushing back with:

“Across the globe, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is experiencing a season of spiritual vitality and growth. Official Church records show consistent worldwide increases in both membership and participation. We are encouraged by increased participation among our children, youth and young adults in the United States over the past decade.”

Then, the Deseret News published an article that, in my opinion, went way over the top trying to convince me all is well in Zion, especially for women. Apparently we have more marriage, more babies, less divorce, more overall happiness, and strong testimonies of every blessed thing (they were careful to include the priesthood).

In other words, who cares about that little statistic about young women leaving?

These rosy press releases may accurately describe membership trends overall—I am not privy to their sources. But I am allowed to raise questions when spin conflicts with the reports I receive from women themselves.

The source of my flummox-ment is not an organizational tap-dance around numbers. It’s that, in a church where we’re supposed to care about each other’s spiritual well-being, in the weeks since these stats about young women leaving came out I haven’t detected any official acknowledgment that there might be a problem.

No curiosity (no soul-searching about how we might improve).

No empathy (no sorrow expressed for the pain of others).

No focus groups (maybe there are, but then I wish someone would contact a few of the women of this community with an invitation—seems like it would be a good place to pick up participants).

I don’t think the Church is indifferent to any of the things we talked about with Jana Riess. I don’t think leaders are blind to women’s experiences. Blind-spotted, yes—we all have those. But these are well-educated men who can read statistics and project future impacts. And I think they care as disciples, not just on the level of running a business. But whether or not they do hardly matters, because a total lack of curiosity on the part of the organization—and many of its members—reads as not-caring. It’s a real, “don’t let the door hit you on the way out” vibe.

As a Latter-day Saint woman, have you ever been asked by curious Church leaders, “Tell us about a Sunday in your life—what is it like to be you?” I haven’t.

Is there any conversational room with 3 chairs in it, where I could sit with Church leadership, and they might engage in a little holy listening to some of what I have witnessed, felt, or experienced in 63 years of Latter-day Saint woman-ness? I’m not unique—setting aside my own experience, what about the thousands of messages from other LDS women?

Is there space for holy listening between members and leaders, where the Spirit can move freely on every side—soothing, inspiring, guiding questions, helping us glimpse each other’s hearts?

There’s some real pain among the women of this church. There just is. Not all women, but any is too many within the body of Christ. I can’t think of a justification for arguing with others’ pain.

We’re not alone in having our questions and concerns glossed over or waved off, but I’m focusing on women because Cynthia and I see and hear about it every day. Witnessing this pain is what fuels my desire to improve my skills now: I want to companion people in their spiritual lives with better language, but mostly with holier listening. I want to know what it’s like to be you … and you, and you. As a professed follower of Jesus, I want others to feel God’s love, not indifference.

I want to carry three metaphorical chairs with me wherever I go, creating a space where people feel safe to sit down. I believe any chance of finding God in our lives must reside in our own story.

I remember when Cynthia and I were interviewed on Richard Ostler’s podcast, and he asked us, “Does anyone from Salt Lake ever reach out to you to say thank you?” Then the 3 of us laughed—REALLY laughed—because of course not (they don’t thank him either, incidentally, and I believe they couldn’t thank him enough). Not that we want thanking, but in having our conversations and creating safe space for members to ask their own soul questions, set down hard things, and get curious about one another’s experiences, we’re doing work we wish the Church would do. It would help, and I know this because so many of you tell us every day that it does.

I believe every person—in or out of our church, and every other—longs for holy listening, and I’m counting on that being a skill that can be learned. Anyway, I’ll spend the next two years trying.

Susan Hinckley

Share At Last She Said It

Thanks for supporting ALSSI. We need your voice! Record a voicemail, start a chat thread … or write a piece for a future Say More.

say it

chat it

write it

It’s a commonly stated idea that politics and religion don’t mix, but for many Latter-day Saints it seems there’s no separating the two. And this fuzzy boundary extends beyond the opinions and practices of individual members: While claiming neutrality regarding political parties and candidates, Church leadership sometimes officially “addresses issues it believes to have significant moral consequences.” In Episode 274, Cynthia and Susan dip a conversational toe in this charged topic—at last!—with political junkie (and ALSSI team member) Sarah Morse. Grab your popcorn and your ballot ... but also your curiosity, imagination, and personal authority. Let’s talk politics!

Notes & Quotes:

The Family-Centered Gospel of Jesus Christ, by Dallin H. Oaks, 10/2025
Ejaculate Responsibly: A Whole New Way to Think About Abortion, by Gabrielle Stanley Blair
Pantsuit Politics
Mormon Women for Ethical Government
Letters from an American, by Heather Cox Richardson
The Preamble, by Sharon McMahon

Share

Many thanks to listener Kim Kerhsaw for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 274

Episode 274 (Transcript): What About Politics?

A Conversation with Sarah Morse

CW: Before we jump into today’s episode, we want our listeners to know that we recorded this episode just a few days before The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints issued their statements on abortion in anticipation of the Idaho and Nevada midterm elections. Enjoy this episode

SH: Sarah, I wanna ask you the question: What do you know? What’s one thing that you know today?

SM: Well, as I mentioned, I turned 50 this year, and I grew up in the ‘80s and ‘90s, so I really absorbed a lot of diet culture, beauty standards, supermodels, all that stuff, and so I’ve been spending years now trying to shed some of those faulty ideas.

SH - Detox.

SM - Yes.

CW: Detox.

SM: And what I’ve come up with lately is thinking about … Because as I look in the mirror, I see that my face is aging, and I look different than I thought I’ve looked for the past many years. And at the same time, I’ve never known more than I knew in my life, right? Like, what I know right now, I’ve never known more nuance and details and people’s stories, and I’ve educated myself about lots of different things.and so my brain, I feel like, has never been more full of interesting things, and so I’ve started thinking about my face is the wrapping paper for my brain. Like, my face and my body are just the wrapping paper for my brain and my heart and who I am as a person.

SH: Love that!

CW: Love it!

SH: Thank you.

CW: Hello, I’m Cynthia Winiward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinkley.

CW: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is What About Politics? A conversation with Sarah Morse.

SH: Gulp. What about politics? Hi, Sarah.

SM: Hi there. Thanks for having me.

CW: We are so glad to have you. I’m so glad that complicated is in our title if we’re talking about politics today, ‘cause holy moly.

SM: Yep.

CW: Are we ready for this? Everybody buckle up. Before Sarah introduces herself, we just wanted to say that Sarah is the social media person behind all of our lovely graphics that you see on Instagram and Facebook and Substack. And so thank you, Sarah, for making us look shiny and brand new. We really appreciate that.

SM: Oh, I love it. It’s such a fun job.

CW: Well, let’s jump in then, Sarah. Why don’t you give us a little bit of a bio that will help us give context to our conversation today?

SM: Sure. I am a lifelong church member. I will be 50 this year, and so I think I’m, like, right in y’all’s demographic. I’m from Illinois. I grew up in Illinois, but then I’ve been in Texas for the past 20 years, which means that I use “You guys” and “Y’all” kind of both. And because I live in Texas, I feel like we kind of lead the nation in some of these political issues, so I feel like we’re on the edge a lot of times of some of these debates. Lead the nation not in a good way necessarily, but- ... we have a lot of these hot topics bubbling up in Texas. Anyway, I went to BYU for a year, my freshman year, and I wasn’t quite the right fit. But I studied political science. I transferred to another school in Illinois, and so I have a bachelor’s degree in political science. And frankly, that kind of ends my qualifications. I was thinking about it like, you guys have professors and therapists and all these professionals on. My qualifications are that I am interested in politics, and I read a lot, and I care a lot about it. And so I hope that’s actually kind of inspiring to people who-

CW: 100%

Read more

Hello!

Now that we’ve tipped over into pumpkin spice, it’s time to check in with the ALSSI calendar again to see what’s coming up.

Calendar:

9/29 Ep. 274: What About Politics? | A Conversation with Sarah Morse

10/1 Say More No. 70 | Susan Hinckley

10/1 ALSRI Book Club, 7:00 pm Mtn | The Moment of Lift

10/6 Ep. 275: Creation Begins with Speaking Up | A Conversation with Sara Fisk

10/8 Worthy Stuff | Susan Edition

10/9 Friday Live Chat, 10:00 am Mtn

10/13 Ep. 276: Honest Talk from Susan & Cynthia

10/15 Say More No. 71 | Listener Submissions

10/20 Ep. 277: Let’s Talk About Happiness | A Conversation with Natalie Brown

10/23 Friday Live Chat, 10:00 am Mtn

10/27 Ep. 278: What About Heaven? | Listener Voicemails

Book Club is almost here!

Our last book club meeting of the year is just days away. If you haven’t started reading, there’s still time, and even if you don’t read the book we hope you’ll join us for the conversation. The discussions never disappoint! The selection chosen at the July meeting is Melinda Gates’ The Moment of Lift: How Empowering Women Changes the World.

At Last She Read It Book Club
Thursday, October 1
7:00 pm Mtn
Register to receive a Zoom link here

See you. next week!

Reminder:

Here’s your monthly reminder that Say More can’t happen without your help! We hope you’ll consider sharing an essay, poem, story, anecdote, episode response, artwork—anything! You can find submission guidelines/instructions here, or click submissions on our website menu.

At the risk of repeating ourselves …

September is our ALSSI Substack anniversary, and to celebrate we’re offering a special rate—through October 1, you can snag a paid subscription for $60/yr. You’ll get all 4 of our Thursday newsletters, 2 Friday Live Chats/mo. (if you can’t attend live, listen to the recorded session at your convenience), and access to our ongoing community chat on Substack. It’s the best corner of the internet! We hope you’ll join us. As always, if you can’t swing a paid subscription, we don’t want you to miss out—send us an email and Katie will set you up, no explanation required.

Also, remember that ALSSI is a 501c(3), and your contributions—not Substack subscriptions—are tax-deductible. We’re honored every time you think of us when making the choice where to donate.

To everyone who supports us financially in big or small ways, thank you! You’re amazing, and we’re deeply grateful. ❤️

Hope you’ll plan to join us—for the podcast, through social media, on our Substack, in our chat group, or on Zoom for a book club or Friday live meeting. See you everywhere!

Warmly,

Susan, Cynthia, and
the At Last She Said It team

Share

In Episode 273, Susan and Cynthia ask Mary, Laura, and Evann, What Do You Say? It’s Season 12's first installment of ALSSI’s series of conversations with Latter-day Saint women inspired by their answers to questions in 3 categories: memories, insights, and beliefs.

Notes & Quotes:

Hear more from Mary on ALSSI Ep. 180, Embracing Your Journey | A Conversation with Mary Cox

Speaking of women’s work: “Because we make it look effortless people think it’s valueless” —Asma Khan

Share

Many thanks to listener Rachel Cousin for her work in transcribing this episode!

This episode can be found on any podcast app or can be listened to here on our website as well. All the notes and resources we cited in the episode are found at this link as well:

Listen to Episode 273

EH: I’m not falling for it. I’m not going along with that, so I’m gonna call out the BS when I see it. And I continued to do that, especially into Young Women’s where everything was focused on marriage and children. And I would say, I would make that correction when someone was saying, “When you get married, when you have kids,” and I would say “if, if, if” and I would say it-

CW: Nice

EH: -pretty much every time. And I knew at that point, I knew I was a thorn in their side. I knew that they got what I was trying to say. I also knew that I wasn’t trying to be mean, but I was still trying to say, “No, but you’re forgetting about me.”

CW: Hello, I’m Cynthia Winward.

SH: And I’m Susan Hinkley.

CW: And this is At Last She Said It. We are women of faith discussing complicated things, and the title of today’s episode is What Do You Say? Three Conversations About Pearls Before Swine, Identity, and Rebellion.

SH: I love these wide-ranging conversations, Cynthia. They’re so fun.

CW: Me too. I’m excited. This is our first What Do You Say of Season 12. We’ll have a handful of these episodes throughout the season, but why don’t you go ahead and tell some of our new listeners what is this franchise that we have of What Do You Say.

SH: Okay. Whether you never knew, or you forgot, or you already know, I will just tell you fast that What Do You Say is our At Last She Said It card game, which we stole the idea from the NPR Wildcard Podcast. So if you’re a fan of that, then you’ll know exactly what we’re doing. If you’re not, maybe you should be. Cynthia turned me onto it, and it’s great. But this is a game where we ask women questions from three categories: memories, insights, and beliefs, and they answer the question. And there are a few rules-you can turn the question back on the person who asks it, or you can pass on a question if you want to. I think we actually did have someone pass on a question-

CW: Yes-

SH: -in this episode.

CW: -we do.

SH: So you can do that. And we also played this game at our live event over the summer, and it was so good. It was so much fun.

Read more

The God I Don’t Know

by Erin Gong

For most of my life, I had a fairly simple picture of what

a relationship with God was supposed to look like. If I sincerely sought Him through prayer, scripture study, temple worship, obedience, and sacrifice, He would respond. Maybe not exactly how I wanted, but in ways I would recognize. Peace. Guidance. Comfort. Direction. A sense that Someone was on the other end of the conversation.

As a teenager and into my twenties, I built my life around that expectation. I read my scriptures every day. I prayed. I accepted callings. I paid generous fast offerings. I read General Conference talks and filled notebooks with impressions. And the formula seemed to work. Decisions worked out for my good. Unexpected opportunities appeared. Sometimes I felt prompted toward a particular conversation or choice. Other times I felt nourished or reassured.

One semester at BYU, I took a seminary teacher training course. We learned to identify if/then statements in the scriptures. There was even a name for them: principles packaged for application.

I loved it.

If I do this, God will do that. That was a world I understood.

After graduating, my husband began graduate school and we moved across the country. I was accepted into a graduate program myself, but decided I would only attend if I could find a teaching or research position that would cover tuition. Otherwise, I couldn’t justify taking on debt for a degree I wasn’t sure I’d use.

I applied everywhere and heard nothing. A few weeks before classes started, we doubled our fast offerings. Not because I thought I could bargain with God, but because I believed sacrifice invited blessings, even if those blessings arrived in an unexpected form.

A week later, I was offered a teaching position that paid my tuition, included health insurance, and came with a generous stipend.

It was all working.

I finished school. I found meaningful work. We had three children. We moved again for my husband’s career. Through all of it, I kept expecting God to respond.

Then, somewhere along the way, He stopped. Or at least, it felt that way.

There wasn’t a single moment, but there’s one memory that captures what began happening inside me. I was driving our 1999 Toyota Corolla after dropping our three young children off at preschool. I was headed home to squeeze in a few hours of consulting work before pickup. Life was busy and full and lonely. I started crying. Then I started praying. Sobbing out words that became louder and angrier in the empty car.

Are you there?

I wasn’t asking about doctrine. I wasn’t asking for guidance. I simply wanted to know I wasn’t alone. When the tears subsided, I listened.

Nothing.

I turned onto my street.

Nothing.

I pulled into the driveway and sat for another minute in the silent cocoon of our beat-up Corolla, the one with only a single working door handle.

Nothing.

Eventually I got out of the car and went inside. I needed to start my work day.

My faith didn’t collapse that day. I kept praying. I kept participating. I told myself that silence was God’s way of saying, You’ve got this.

But something had shifted. Sometimes I wondered if I simply wasn’t doing enough. Maybe I needed to read more scriptures. Maybe I needed to pray with more faith. Maybe I needed to attend the temple more consistently.

But I didn’t. Instead, I started setting some of those things down.

After reading Isaiah’s description of fasting, I stopped going without food and instead served meals at the homeless shelter. Walking out afterward, I felt as spiritually nourished as I used to feel leaving the temple.

I stopped assuming that scripture study was the best place to encounter truth and replaced it with reading other religious thinkers.

I reconsidered my relationship with temple garments and found greater ease in my own body, a healthier relationship with my sexuality, and a growing sense of integrity.

I gave myself permission to skip Relief Society when I believed I would leave more discouraged than inspired.

As these changes accumulated, the God I had once known seemed to grow quieter still. And yet every few years, something would happen that felt outside of myself, that I couldn’t quite explain.

Once, after an argument with my husband, I realized I didn’t want to stop being angry. The only honest prayer I could offer was to ask that I would want to stop feeding the anger. And it loosened, almost immediately, like pulling a thorn from beneath the skin. The wound was still there, but something had been released. It was a gift.

Another time, I was holding onto a resentment that I just couldn’t get over, to the point of dreaming about hurting a particular person. I woke up with a voice in my head saying Stop it with a moral authority that was different from my own inner voice. It forced me to see I was not standing on the moral high ground I thought I was, and I finally let the resentment go.

These moments don’t happen when I ask for them, when I’ve earned them, when I need them most. They simply happen. And they feel real. But I don’t know how to build a relationship on experiences that arrive unpredictably. My own children, now teens, have pushed me on this more than anyone.

“I’ve prayed, Mom, and I feel nothing. So God isn’t real.”

I don’t know what to tell them. I reach for answers I no longer believe. I don’t know what I wish someone had told me. I turn my frustration back towards God.

This one’s on You.

The old answers still call to me: Read your scriptures every day. Pray more. Attend the temple more often. Follow the prophet. Sometimes I wonder whether returning to those practices would bring back the God I used to know. The God I still want.

But I don’t want to go back. I like who I’ve become. More thoughtful. More compassionate. More willing to own my decisions.

It would almost be easier if I could conclude that God was never there at all. That all of those experiences were simply the story of a young woman growing into herself. But then I remember the anger that loosened like a thorn being pulled out, or waking with the words Stop it echoing in my mind.

If one of my children came to me asking for connection, I know I wouldn’t parent this way. I don’t know what to make of a God who apparently does.

But tomorrow morning, I’ll get up, make breakfast, go to work, try to love my family, and somewhere underneath all of that, I’ll still find myself listening.

Just in case.

Dissonance

by Carly Carter

A Grandmother’s Blessing

by Angela Delgado

We went to my granddaughter’s baby blessing at

her paternal grandparents’ house. Generally Mormon baby blessings are performed during the Sunday worship service. However, my daughter and her husband had gotten special permission to bless the baby at home because they were visiting from out of town. Both sets of grandparents and one set of great grandparents live in the same area and would be able to attend. My husband and I arrived early to make sure that we had time to hold the baby and chat with my son-in-law’s family before the blessing. The Bishop arrived soon after, and then the great grandparents. All of the men joined in the blessing—her father, the Bishop, both grandfathers, and one of her great grandfathers. They held her gently, but since she is almost six months old, she squirmed and wiggled the whole time. I don’t remember the blessing, and it was nice, but there was no mention of my daughter, her mother. I have watched my son-in-law take care of his daughter very tenderly, and I have great respect for him. I’m certain that my granddaughter will appoint him the “favorite parent” as soon as she grows old enough just as my daughters did. But I felt a sense of disappointment surrounding the blessing, and I remember very clearly pushing down the uncomfortable feeling that women in the church are unseen, unheard, and not appreciated for the very real work of salvation they are involved in.

I looked at my daughter, whose body still carries the evidence of the last year-and-a-half of her life growing, birthing, and feeding this baby, and while I was proud of her for embracing motherhood so well, I felt sad for her. Women should be allowed to at least hold their babies during the blessing. They should be allowed to choose the circle of women who hold the baby while she gives a blessing. Perhaps the father should be involved too. Maybe it should be a circle of both men and women of their choosing. But it’s not even a thought. What would it be like, as well, if the other women in the room, wise women who have raised children, had the opportunity to give her a blessing? It seems like such a lost opportunity of experience and maternal wisdom.

So when they came to our house to stay the next week, we were able to do some things together. One morning we went to an aviary. The four of us wandered among the birds, trying to point out fun things about them to my granddaughter. Her interest would occasionally drift to some of the birds if they were flying or cawing, but her gaze was generally on the faces of the familiar people who love her and take care of her.

At one point, we got to an exhibit in the aviary that doesn’t allow strollers. Rather than take her out of the stroller, I volunteered to stay outside until they had walked through the exhibit. Although the day was already getting hot, there was a canopy of trees overhead that made a cooling shade. There was an empty bench and no one else was around. In the quiet, I sat down in front of my granddaughter and was going to entertain her with a song, when I had an idea. I would give her a blessing. It wouldn’t be official. It wouldn’t be recorded. I wouldn’t start with a prayer, and there were no men with priesthood power around. It would be a Grandmother’s blessing.

As I sat in front of my granddaughter, I looked into her eyes and gently held her feet. I blessed her with the words that came to my mind. They were clear and simple. I spoke my hopes and dreams for her. I blessed her with gifts and talents. It wasn’t a long blessing, but the stillness in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. I closed the blessing in the name of our Mother, the Creator of us all, and said ‘Amen.’ After that, I paused for a long time. I felt like I had been a part of a small, sacred miracle below the canopy of trees.

From a listener:

Dear ALSSI,

Thank you for providing this platform that gives a voice to many women to connect with their experiences. It has helped me to hear the stories of others and so I share mine for not only my healing journey, but because I want to join my link to the other stories in this chain.

My faith deconstruction journey started when my eldest was about to turn 8, which was about 5 years ago now. I had felt the weight of the “covenant path” language pushing heavier and heavier on me just before my son was to turn 8; the April 2021 general conference session seemed to ramp up the usage of the phrase. I was a strict attending ‘all-in’ Mormon but grew up in a nuanced home with a dad who converted while I was in high school, and a mom that left the church almost right after. I have always wrestled with the “covenant path” idea, as I just don’t see there being only one way for people to be close to God, to have His influence and love daily, and that one path and prescription must be followed if there is any chance in the after-life for a family to be together forever.

I also started to wrestle with the idea of my 7, almost 8-year-old, being asked to begin that covenant journey at such a young and naïve age—especially in the middle of COVID, when we hadn’t attended church in over a year. It wasn’t just about making covenants with God, but also about deciding that this was the church he wanted to join and be baptized into. I knew full well that he did not completely understand, because of his developmental age and limited life experience, but also knowing how much I had failed in teaching him. My son is also neurodivergent and never enjoyed attending church due to the environment being so overstimulating for him. After doubling down and diving into more conversations with my son, even purchasing a “covenant path” book for him to prepare for baptism, I began to understand that if my son was going to be baptized at age 8 it would have to be under my immense persuasion and pressure, something I felt completely uncomfortable doing at the end of the day. It felt like I was taking away his free agency at such a young age. There were also feelings of indoctrination surfacing. I felt like this short little life he has experienced was completely censored, intentionally of course, but how could he make an informed decision when I have been the source of his viewpoint on religion and God? How could he fully understand at such a young age, the decision he was about to make? I knew in my heart that this just did not feel right. I had many conversations with my husband and we both agreed to wait on his baptism.

Not soon after, the stories and recordings of more high profile child abuse cases and cover-ups by the church came to light and my husband stepped away from the church first. This resulted in a great unraveling and many difficult conversations; needless to say I cannot unsee and unfeel the things that make my skin crawl when I am at church. I honestly will say that I would like to figure out a way to attend, but I’m still figuring that out. I am also severely introverted and when our ward rearranged right after COVID, I struggled to feel community and camaraderie among the people—something I really had to work for even before when I was ‘all in.’ To put it plainly, I don’t know how to be nuanced in a place that I don’t feel accepts it and me. I am still figuring out how to find the strength and confidence in myself to exist in that space without letting go of my authentic self—inside this version of me that does not see the truth claims with a capital T. And despite growing up in a nuanced home with a feminist mother, I still internalized so many harmful scripts that I fear I would not be able to protect my children from, despite all my best efforts and genuine conversations. I also do not want to let go of the gifts I feel like I am blessed with from stepping away: loving myself more despite (and possibly more deeply because of) my imperfections, shaming myself less as a mother with many faults and traumas, the ability to love others genuinely rather than through the lens of expectations.

I also wanted to say thank you for your conversation with Lindsie Cornia in Ep 238, because I SO needed to hear her experience raising kids in this space after her deconstruction. That was so resonant with me that I felt so much belonging and safety in the not knowing. While I can relate to not knowing what I am doing, I DO know I want my children to feel loved no matter what, to feel divine no matter what, to love themselves and others no matter what—and how to do that safely. I just don’t trust myself to know how to keep them safe from the harmful rhetoric of the church and I feel a strong desire to protect them from it right now. I also don’t know how to protect myself from it, either. How can I teach my children this if I can’t even figure it out myself? It’s so messy and scary, to be honest. It may not always feel that way, but for now, I have chosen to seek out other places and opportunities to teach my children loving values and practice serving and loving others. (I highly recommend the Unitarian Universalist church as it promotes social justice issues and LGBTQ+ equity. It has been a soft landing place, for the moment.)

Thank you for this space; it saves my sanity and instigates many productive and amazing conversations with my husband, who is also a dutiful listener. This work is so important, please keep doing what you do. I’m sure at some points along the way you may feel exhausted from having variations of similar conversations, but they are so important. And the perspectives and meaning speak and land differently, as you already know. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

—Sid

Hi,

I just was listening to your Episode 235 and there are several things that stuck out to me.

I am a mom of a young woman. She’s 14. Every path that she’s been told will lead to success is probably not there. Nursing, education, computer science, science at all—these are paths that are traditionally held out. Doctors. Lawyers. But the costs of education are so high. She’s an athlete. She’s trusting in her athletics to cover her schooling so that she can get a degree in the first place.

She’s getting the same messages her aunts got. I was never a YW. I’m a convert. And I always grew up with the idea that I will work and have a career. Being a mother was never ever on my radar. And being a mother isn’t on her radar. She pushed back in seminary when they said the equivalent of priesthood for women is motherhood. She asked what happens if she can’t physically have kids? Or if she can’t afford them. What happens if things don’t work out. Is she less? And why is her spirituality tied to something about her body? Isn’t she worth more than that. And I guess she inspired a revolt because I got the joy of meeting with the seminary teachers.

I’m shocked at how resilient these girls are. And how willing they are to take their friendships from seminary and all into the real world and rely on those. They have hope. They have amazing ideas. And they do not let adults squash on them at all. But the messages they’re getting are still the same ones her aunts got. It is just not the same world, but it is the same messages.

At some point the church is going to have to adapt or they will lose all the young women. She knows several gay young women who are in seminary because they believe, but who have plans to leave the church because the church can’t accept them. She’s decided that she won’t continue when she’s on her own either because the church lacks the flexibility or general desire to change with and support the youth as they are experiencing the world, and relies on the “older” times instead of leaning into what they are going through now.

Just wanted to throw all that into your discussions. Again, I love your podcast. But the church is going to lose them all.

—Natasha

Contributors:

Erin Gong

I am a creative problem solver, learning to sit still. I’ve spent the last 20 years easing out of the more traditional LDS tenets I grew up with, and at the same time enjoying a delightfully roundabout career—starting as a grant writer for children’s museums, then a consultant for non-profits, then Silicon Valley data scientist, and now a senior manager in tech. I live in Salt Lake City with my spouse and three children. I love to help other women discover their options to pursue a meaningful career, nurture their passions, and have a family.

Carly Carter

I am a paraeducator, mother, and writer who has spent years navigating the tension between deep love for my LDS faith and the feeling of not measuring up within it. My writing explores faith, identity, longing, and the pull to remain connected even while wrestling with difficult questions.

Angela Delgado

I am an aspiring writer living in Salt Lake City, UT. My faith journey continues to be a source of discovery AND frustration, but I am learning to be okay with every new bend in the road. I love traveling to far off places, spoiling my two cats, and spending time with family.

Share At Last She Said It

Thanks for supporting ALSSI! Have something to say? Join the conversation! Send us a voicemail, start a chat thread … or write a piece for a future Say More.

say it

chat it

write it