Say More: At Last She Writes It

No. 26 | October 2024

photo by the author

My Rowan Tree

by Rebecca Bigelow

I have watched a tree for seven years, cycling every season. This tree

has become my tree, and it protects my home with shade and beauty while providing sustenance for the insects, birds and forest wildlife. Every spring, green leaves bud out, and fragrant white flowers cluster on my tree’s branches. Pollinators flock to the flowers eager for nutrients after the long winter. Moose and deer graze on her leaves and branches. Lush green leaves fill her throughout the summer providing much needed shade. Fall turns the leaves a vibrant yellow and red while small orange berries develop. Leaves drop in the winter nourishing the earth under her canopy, while those berries plumpen and develop into bright, red, full berries hanging on strong, naked branches. The berries drop onto the snow below in the middle of winter, and the robins feast on those sweet berries. She stands strong and stark in the cold winter. In early spring this starts afresh with leaves budding out, and the white flower clusters start the cycle anew. This is my Rowan tree. 

I watch the forest understory cycle in color each season. The first showing of Spring is white Serviceberry, then followed by a glorious emergence of yellow. Balsamroots, Yellow Bells, Spring Gold and Buttercup. Then the pinks and purples emerge. Lupine, Violets, Wild Rose, Primrose. Whites come again with a profusion of Yarrow. Then a dry gold is predominant in the grasses of late summer. This is my colorful wildflower blanket. My comforter. Fall brings shrubs and trees expressing themselves in a final burst of red before all is blanketed in snow. Winter is stark, bare and cold. The leafless trees are strong and resilient. The evergreens stand tall and proud protruding from the white snowy cover. Nature rests. She rests so that she can produce the vibrant rainbow of all colors that come between the black and white of each winter.

I feel Mother God in my tree and in my wildflowers and in the cycle. The divine feminine is not a goddess in the sky or a numbered wife, she is right here alongside us and always within us. A companion while we are journeying through our mortal life. Earth Mother, Mother Nature, she is the Creator, the Nurturer of the flora and fauna, and of our spirit. In our connection to Her, we receive the rest we need in this life, the rewards so vital in nourishing ourselves and others, and we see the glory in Her creations. I carry my Rowan tree and my wildflowers with me and gather strength, rest, and power from Her. They are my connection to Mother God. 

How Father God is intertwined with Mother God is a perplexity. I am damaged by the constant spoon-feeding and concrete answers given to me by a patriarchal church. Do not give me a path, that is your path, that is not my path. Is Father God a sky god separated from me? Or is He closer, within this earth and more concerned about my life, right now? Does he create in me a connection to others and Mother Nature? Is Godde a duality? 

I pray to Her and my prayers are always heard. I pray aloud and my words are carried on the wind and caught in her leaves. I pray silently in my heart and my heartbeat is felt as a vibration within her branches. When my prayers fall flat into the dirt, they are sheltered by her fallen leaves and absorbed into her roots. When I can’t find the words, my connection to Her sustains me. 

This is my experience with Mother Nature, this is my Rowan tree and my wildflower blanket. My personal, spiritual connection can not be prescribed to others, and I can not receive a ready-made answer made by men. What are the colors of your spiritual connection?

---

Is God Found in Me?

by Joleene Watabe

---

Cathedral Trip

by KC Bramer

Earlier this week my husband and I went for a walk

in St. Paul. It was a nice day and I wanted to get outside. We walked on Summit Avenue, a historic section in the city. We decided to walk to the Cathedral of St. Paul. 

I didn’t want to admit it to my husband, but I had a strong desire to go into the Cathedral. I’m wrestling with some issues regarding the Church now. The last time I was struggling, we had gone to the Cathedral on a whim. I found a side chapel with a replica of the Pieta, the statue of the Virgin Mary holding the body of Jesus. I felt the spirit there and was comforted then, I was certain I would find what I need now.

I know that the place to find comfort is in the temple. That is what we are taught. Our temple is closed so the place to go should have been the temple grounds. However, I haven’t been feeling all those special feelings we are supposed to have when we go to the temple.

I used to, back when I first started going to the temple. It was so special to go. For a while, we would go early Saturday morning when there were few people there. I was excited when the temple ceremonies changed. I was unbothered by the changes until the latest ones. It felt like things were going from something active to something passive. Only a little moving around. I could understand some of the changes were needed because of the pandemic so people could attend safely. Now that it has changed to something mostly passive, I have trouble paying attention and sometimes drift off.

We walked up the outside stairs of the Cathedral and stepped inside. Instantly I felt at home in a way I never really felt at the temple. Part of it may have been being in churches like this before. It was familiar, but there was more to it. I pondered this as I walked, pausing to look into the side chapels. I stopped at the side chapel that contains the replica of the Pieta. This time I looked around. There were candles that people could light while praying. There was a picture of Pope Francis and Archbishop Hebda who is head of the diocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis. Both men were wearing ecclesiastical robes and were smiling with good humor in their eyes.

I walked down one of the aisles and up to the sanctuary where the altar is. It’s an ornate place with a baldachin over the altar. I took in all the artwork and carvings. I turned to walk back up the aisle to the back of the church when I realized why I felt the spirit so strongly here.

It was the artwork and the colors. Temples are beautifully made and decorated, but are white and silent. We must whisper quietly and walk softly inside the temple. It is only open to those deemed “worthy” to enter inside.

In the Cathedral there are colors and art. There are candles and kneelers and people walking around talking quietly and respectfully. It is a place where all humans can gather to worship, pray, confess and thank God.  

To me Heaven is more like the St. Paul Cathedral. I can’t imagine God living in a sterile white palace. I imagine them living in a home with artwork from their children on display as many parents do. 

I can’t imagine God who created all of the variety we have in the world living in something colorless. If They surrounded us with all the beauty we have, wouldn’t They surround themselves with it too?

---

Are We not Allowed to Wrestle?

by CiCi Patience

---

Who are you?

by Kim Friedmann

“Tell me who you are, without mentioning your partner,

dependents, or job. Who are you, without telling me what you are to others?”

When my therapist asked me this, I was left with nothing to say. I didn’t have an answer.

In church, women’s identities are built around what we give. We are wives, nurturers, and givers. We’re taught to see our value in terms of how well we care for those around us. Meet a new sister and the questions flow easily: “How long have you been married? How many kids do you have? What does your husband do?” We ask these questions because it’s the script. Her existence, like mine, is viewed through her family, rather than as a whole person standing on her own.

This messaging starts early. In Primary, we’re told we are Daughters of God. This relationship, while beautiful, lays a foundation for how we see ourselves: loved, but with expectations and contingencies.

In Young Women’s, we are still Beloved Daughters, but now we’re also Disciples, Ministers, and Witnesses. Our worth is wrapped up in our service—what we do for God, for our families, for others. We’re tasked with strengthening homes, reinforcing family life, and keeping our eyes firmly fixed on the roles we are preparing for.

And then, in Relief Society, those roles are cemented. Wife. Mother. Nurturer. Our value is further defined by what we provide for our families—how well we create a loving home, how effectively we serve our church and community. The message is clear: a woman’s identity, her very worth, is inseparable from her relationships and her service to others. What about who we are beyond that? Does anyone ask? Do we even know?

So when my therapist asked me who I was without mentioning what I do for others, I realized I didn’t know. I had spent so much time being shaped by these predetermined roles that I hadn’t developed a strong sense of self. Growing up in the Church, I was given a script from the very beginning. I never had a sense of identity outside of that framework, and figuring out who I actually am has been a new and challenging process in my adult life.

---

My true identity, the one I had to uncover, is rooted in my creativity, curiosity, and vision.

---

It’s unsettling, isn’t it? To sit with that question and find there’s not much of an answer. The programming of the church runs deep, shaping how I saw myself from childhood onward. So much of my personal deconstruction has been the painful (but necessary) process of peeling back those layers. I’m not just someone who fulfills roles for others; I’m someone with worth on my own terms. But it has taken time to discover that person.

So, who am I?

I am an artist. I sing, draw, write, crochet, craft. My hands bring ideas to life, creating magic from raw materials and making the world a more beautiful place.

I am a visionary. I see possibility where others don’t. I dream, advocate, and strategize, bringing out the beauty and potential in people, places, and systems that are often overlooked.

I am a learner. I research, tinker, and dive into new ideas, craving knowledge. I collect new skills like others collect trinkets, savoring every new piece of information I uncover.

I am a wanderer. I’ve learned to embrace the act of getting lost—whether it’s in unfamiliar cities, books, or experiences. In those moments, I find pieces of myself I didn’t know were missing.

This journey has been one of rediscovery—learning that I am more than what I provide, more than the roles I’ve played for others. My relationships and my service have meaning, but they do not define me. My true identity, the one I had to uncover, is rooted in my creativity, curiosity, and vision. These qualities are mine, and they are what make me whole—no longer defined by what I give, but by who I truly am.

Now, I’d love to get to know you. So, Sister—who are you, without telling me what you are to others?

---

Contributors:

Rebecca Bigelow

I am a solar-powered nature-lover that needs her feet in water—any type will do. Lakes, rivers, streams, but the ocean is the best. A tub in a pinch. I love animals and volunteer my time to help save puppies from euthanasia. I work as a physical therapist and am married with three kids and two dogs. I'm an opinionated eco-feminist, who is often simmering in silence. Always working on saying things diplomatically!  I'm more on the introverted side of the continuum and always the mediator. I love the smell of rain and pine trees, and I'm always trying to just figure this life out. 

---

Joleene Watabe

---

K. C. Bramer

I live in St. Paul Minnesota with my husband of 20 years and our two young cats. I work as a pharmacist. My hobbies are reading, writing, biking, hiking and knitting. I also like baking cookies and banana bread. Raised in a two-faith family, I am interested in the practices in other Christian faiths.

---

CiCi Patience

I am a seeker, an advocate, an ally, an outside- the-box explorer, a lover of words, music, nature, diversity, and people, with a heart that is wholly committed to Heavenly Father, Divine Mother, and Jesus.

---

Kim Friedmann

I am a balcony philosopher and hot chocolate enthusiast. Most evenings, I can be found on my German terrace, burritoed in a self-crocheted blanket and lost in dystopian fiction or giggling at fairy smut. I have a great distaste for bras and pants. Still on my bucket list: traveling to 50+ countries, smashing the patriarchy, and learning how to fold a fitted sheet.

---

---

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.