Most of our listeners are regular LDS women like us but we do have some listeners who don’t quite fit our profile yet they have found our work helpful. One such listener is a young man, a current missionary in Africa, who is openly gay. He recently shared the most amazing experiences with us and we were just gushing! He gave us permission to share, but for privacy and safety reasons, names have been changed and the country he is serving in has been omitted.
First email - “A few weeks ago, a young woman named Rosine expressed to us that she had just heard about Heavenly Mother for the first time in her 4 years of church membership. After sitting down with this young woman and explaining my personal relationship to the Divine feminine, I braced for the worst. Here in <African country>, conversations about Heavenly Mother don’t normally go over too well.
Rosine said something along the lines of, “If I’m destined to become like her, does that make me destined to be ignored and silenced?” All breath was literally sucked out of my body, and my companion and I just sat there for a good 30 seconds in silence. I broke the silence with an, “of course not.” I did my best, but all I could do was, as we say in the business, *testify.* I realized in that moment that there was no good comeback to that other than mourning with and comforting her.
The other week, a young woman of 15 years named Yuia asked me why woman aren’t priesthood holders. I responded that it is because of the patriarchy that opresses women by depriving them of a voice within the church. I then asked her if she still wanted to be baptized. After praying about it, she said that she still wants to be part of this church despite all of its flaws. She was baptized last Sunday, and I have all confidence that she will become a catalyst for change within the church culture here.”
Second email - “Yesterday, I had another real conversation with my friend Yuia. She asked me if her only role as a woman in the church was to raise children. I responded by acknowledging that the church currently has some pretty mixed messaging surrounding gender roles as presented in the family proclamation. However, I encouraged her to pursue higher education and a career if it is what she wants.
“And now, verily I say unto you, and what I say unto one I say unto all, be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst, and I have not forsaken you;” (D&C 61:36)
God is with us, and it’s young women like Yuia that give me hope for the future. Lift up your head, because a time is coming when the kingdom of heaven will be freed from the sin of patriarchy.”
When it comes to a feminine divine, I wish all of our LDS missionaries were instructed to lead with our doctrine of a Heavenly Mother, but instead we choose to bury the lead. As Susan has said, she is simultaneously given to us and taken away. It makes me smile to know that African sisters have the same questions I have….where is the divine feminine? I’m grateful that Yuia and Rosine have this marvelous young missionary with which to talk about such things. Bravo, young man!
I’ll close with Carol Lynn Pearson’s famous poem on this very topic—
A Motherless House
by Carol Lynn Pearson
I live in a Motherless house,
A broken home.
How it happened I cannot learn.
When I had words enough to ask
“Where is my Mother?”
No one seemed to know,
And no one thought it strange
That no one else knew either.
I live in a Motherless house.
They are good to me here,
But I find that no kindly
Patriarchal care eases the pain.
I yearn for the day
Someone will look at me and say,
“You certainly do look like your Mother.”
I walk the rooms,
Search the closets,
Look for something that might
Have belonged to her—
A letter, a dress, a chair.
Would she not have left a note?
I close my eyes
And work to bring back her touch, her face.
Surely there must have been
A Motherly embrace
I can call back for comfort.
I live in a Motherless house,
Motherless and without a trace.
Who could have done this?
Who would tear an unweaned infant
From its Mother’s arms
And clear the place of every souvenir?
I live in a Motherless house.
I lie awake and listen always for the word
That never comes, but might.
I bury my face
In something soft as a breast.
I am a child—
Crying for my Mother in the night.
