In July of 2019, I was officially bored of being angry all of the time. It was so old. I had a whole life to live and I was exhausted of hating. I knew I was missing out on extraordinary friendships and family relationships and it was entirely my fault for missing out on them. I was even less inspired in all of my writing ventures. All of the wisdom I once had was gone, and I was a far more bitter and immature person. The place I knew I needed to start was the deep-rooted anger I had towards some individuals who’d come into my life and had been nothing but disrespectful to me.

Recognizing all of this, I decided to pray as an experiment for help to forgive these people. Kneeling, I began my prayer: “Dear Heavenly Father, I know that I’ve neglected and abused the mercy You’d extended to me before. But if You are still there, I’d like some help to turn over this anger and frustration to Christ. I’m so frustrated that anyone would feel free to be so awful to me after I’d done all that I could do to be kind to them.” Then, maybe a bit indulgently, I asked, “Also, God… If You’re there… If You could help me understand why I’d had such a hard time in the temple, why I felt so alone… I’d appreciate that help. If not, that’s okay.”

What I felt after the prayer was nothing short of a miracle. With warmth in my heart, I felt a gentle joy, recalling the past when I heard the Lord say “I’m here.” A series of clarity surrounding the people I’d been angry with and what I can and should do to bring peace to our relationship came like water bursting from a dam (because I was ready for it to and willing to put in the work). Furthermore, an answer concerning my temple experience came in the form of a memory of something an extraordinary man of God I’d once worked with said: “Three socks.” While the connection to this phrase and my experience is not something I think I should explain, I can tell you that God had once inspired this man to impart some great wisdom to me, and I immediately felt I was clear on why it all had happened, and that Heavenly Father did still love me. (A note about this man and the “three socks”: I believe, firmly, that were it not for him and his sweetness, I might have been fully swallowed up by the bitter waters the “ex-mo” community was drowning me in. He’d once been helped in a great way by personal revelation, and I had nothing but love and respect for him. I could never bring myself to discount or explain away his experience that he’d shared with me. He’d become my tether back to strait and narrow path in a very profound way.)

In addition to this, I’d never stopped questioning an experience I’d had years prior that was a very personal, extraordinary, sacred experience. I will not publicly share the details of what I’d seen and felt, suffice it to say that I received remarkable heavenly help from people who love me very much. I could not forget or explain away this experience, try as I might. I knew in my heart that night that I’d be making my return to the Church. I reached out to the sister missionaries in my area and began reading the Book of Mormon all over again. I felt the scales being lifted from my eyes. I informed loved ones that I was going to go back to the Church, that there was no discouraging me from it, and they could take it or leave me. I deleted any and all ties I had to hostile influences who would disrespect my progress. I have not left since.

Heavenly Helpers and a Divine Heritage

Looking back at my life, I’m filled with gratitude as I recognize the hard work Heaven has put into preserving me. I’ve been blessed with a spirit that responds to divine guidance. I’ve been blessed to have a heart full of integrity because of the examples that have gone before me. My pioneer ancestors, my great-grandmother Elda who faithfully and kindly raised 6 large boys on a small farm faithfully with my great-grandpa Levi, my Irish ancestors who fought for their new home, my father… All of these people have left a strong impression on me from a young age. I credit all of them for my development into a person who does what she knows is right the second she gets the opportunity to do it.

Heaven has always reached out to me. No matter where I stray, Christ always comes to shepherd me home. I sometimes feel like I’m getting off easy, like I was getting all of this help as a reward to my ancestors for having honored their covenants. I can’t tell you how much the Lord has intervened in my life, only that I’m deeply humbled because of it.

Reading and listening to my family’s history, I’m moved by the remarkable experiences they’ve each had as well. While I again can not share these beautiful and sacred experiences out of respect to them, I can say that heavenly helpers have walked beside my family for generations. I know that everyone has access to this same source of help, too. I’m sure if I asked, a number of people would have multiple stories to share. Many more would tell me that they believe, but still desire to feel an undeniable, sacred experience.

I want to address those who are wondering, “When will I get my extraordinary experience?” Many mistakenly believe that God reaching out to us so boldly is a sign of favor (or more accurately, favoritism). They ask what they’ve been doing wrong and others so right. I want you all to know that heaven only extends these sorts of experiences to people who need them to continue on their path of righteousness, either physically or spiritually (or because their experience will help to convert someone else in their life). Moreover, we often tend to recognize them only after some time has passed. If you have not felt that heaven has done big things to help you, it may be because you’ve been doing a great job without requiring such boldness to continue. Furthermore, sometimes when heaven is moving large things for our good, it seems like everyday life, or we dodge a potential tragedy so well that we’d never know there was one to begin with! Again, this is a sign that you are already perfectly responsive as you are. Please don’t feel that you are unloved or abandoned simply because you don’t have huge, biblical spiritual experiences on a daily basis.

The Power of Prayer

Something we can all learn from my experiences is the power of prayer. It was only when I was ready to see and hear what was right in front of me that I was blessed with peace and help. I demonstrated my readiness via prayer. Prayer was my way of exercising my free agency for the better. Without my choosing to pray, to approach Heavenly Father, I would not have made the progress I did because I wouldn’t have known what to do in the first place. We absolutely must pray if we want any improvement to happen in our lives. Please bring your troubles, hopes, dreams, deepest emotions, and most secret thoughts to the Lord. It is the only way you can come out triumphant.

My experience with prayer has taught me a lot about the Restoration. I’ve learned that God still answers us just as He answered Joseph in the sacred grove. My experiences have strengthened my testimony of the Restoration. I believe that Joseph did, by the mighty power of prayer, in humility, seek God’s will as to which of the existing churches he should join. I believe that Joseph was answered in a bold, moving way. I believe that Satan tried to interfere with Joseph’s reception of this answer, as he has interfered with mine personally. I believe that Joseph heard Christ, that he found ancient scripture hidden away to be brought forth to serve our days and convert us to Christ. I believe that because of Joseph’s desire, my life, the lives of my ancestors, and the lives of my children will all have been greatly blessed. I am so grateful for prayer. Prayer truly brings about mighty works.

I want you all to know that you will never stray so far that God would not have you sit at His table again. You are never so far gone that repentance isn’t an option. If you have left, you can come back. If you have never believed, you are welcome to ask for help to believe. I ask you all to pray for your testimonies to be strengthened. Seek the Lord in all things. Be willing to go and do the things the Lord commands.

I hope that my experience and testimony can be a comfort to those who love someone who’s left the Church. Today, they may hold nothing but seething anger towards God and His Church. They may be more interested in things of the world or feel that they’d have to give up precious vices in order to come back. They may have left due to hurt or misunderstanding. No matter the circumstance, have hope. Give them your unconditional love while the Lord works on them. Be an example of a loving, faithful follower of Christ. Be a safe, nonjudgmental person they can turn to with questions, concerns, and even confessions. Your gentle ear could be the key to retrieving them. Allow them to come to know God’s never-ending love for them through you.

Let my experience be a lesson to you. God will test each and every single one of us in many ways. These trials will hurt — a lot. There will be an abundance of doubt, suffering, and loneliness. There will come times where we feel abandoned and unheard. God doesn’t allow us to feel these things for His own sick, sadistic entertainment. Rather, He allows these things to happen for our own growth and benefit, much like how He allowed Christ to be brutalized and crucified for all our sakes.

Please do not allow hard times or difficult challenges to have more power and influence in your life than the teachings of Christ. Do not stray away from the iron rod in belief that those in the great and spacious building are somehow wiser and more enlightened or having more fun or living with more purpose than you can by traveling toward the tree of life. If you are considering leaving the Church for any reason, let this be your sign that you need to stay. We know that these latter days are the days of immense trials, where the wheat will be separated from the tares. Do not mistake a lack of comfort or ease for a sign that God isn’t there and does not care for you.

Guest Author

Elisabeth, mother of John the Baptist

My name, Elisabeth, is the germanic variation of the Hebrew name, Elisheva (אלישבע). The meaning of my name is translated roughly to “consecrated to God” (we can do a Hebrew lesson later). This name, let me tell you, has proven to be the most beautiful, sacred aspect of my life.

God has been far kinder to me than I will ever deserve. Certainly, when I am in the celestial kingdom, I will be even more humbled having a full understanding of what all He’s done on my behalf. I need to acknowledge that before I start this story. God is so merciful.

I was born into the Church. My mother’s a descendant of Danish pioneers who came to America with nothing but faith and then walked across the country to help settle Utah and build up the Church. My dad, a marine descended from Irish immigrants, converted to the Church when he was about 23 years old. I was raised with stories of brave, faithful people who were continuously brave in the face of adversity. I had a huge legacy to live up to and I told myself over and over again that if I ever came across opposition, I’d be brave like those who went before me, no matter what. Most importantly, I’d never abandon the faith that so many people suffered and died to build and defend.

My youthful vows of faith were rather short-lived. Due to many unfortunate circumstances, I spent my younger years in survival mode most of the time. As my need to survive increased, my exposure to the gospel decreased. My mother slowly slipped away from the Church for her own reasons, as many did. My sweet, hardworking dad was a single dad trying to make ends meet for his four young children during the recession, and, while he made sure our grandpa brought us to church every Sunday, had little time to do much else for us spiritually. With little understanding of what the gospel was actually about, I decided not to believe in the Church during my early teen years.

The First Reckoning

By the age of 17, I’d moved from a small, virtually Godless (trust me, visit there and you’ll be using the same words!) town in Northern California to my hometown in Idaho, which was full of all walks of spiritual life, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints being especially prevalent. 17 was a difficult year for me. I was on the verge of adulthood and experiencing a deep depression and serious illness (then undiagnosed, so of course I was still being pushed way too hard and given too much flack for my exhausted state). I was terrified that I’d end up unfulfilled and useless. Moreover, I had no real relationship with any of my family for a million different reasons. It was a dark, hard time.

One night, around February of 2015, it had all become too much. Graduation was speeding towards me, the pressure from home was immense, and I had no idea what I was going to do. Enough was enough. I’d been under so much pressure and I felt so hopeless that I decided to end it all. I’d been dealing with suicidal thoughts for years, almost a full decade, and that was the night I broke. I laid in bed that night actively formulating exactly how I was going to kill myself. A thought entered my head to say a prayer, and I quickly dismissed it. It’s just my brain trying to survive, digging into an archaic root of my being. Pay no mind, back to planning.

A second time, the thought to say a prayer came, a tug in the center of my psyche. Why would I do that? I don’t even believe in God. That would be useless, nevermind awkward. And again, it’s just my brain flailing its arms, trying to save its own life. Forget it. Finally, a third time, right when I’d figured out exactly what I was going to do to end my life, the thought to pray came again. It stood out from the rest of my thoughts in such a profound manner that I was almost afraid to ignore it anymore. “Fine,” I thought, “I guess I’ll pray. All it will do is prove once again that there is no God, and then I can get on with this.”

I awkwardly stepped off of my bed, shaking a bit, and got onto my knees. I realized I’d forgotten what it was like to pray. I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and prayed, “Dear God…uhhh…or Heavenly Father, you know how I’ve been. I don’t know if you’re there, or if you’d even want to hear from me after everything if you are. I hope my praying to you doesn’t make you angry. I’m just praying to see if you’re still there, because I felt like that might be the thing to do.”

Before I could finish the prayer or figure out what to say next, I felt the most real, distinct, comforting feeling I think I’ve yet felt. It was as though someone was kneeling by me, wrapping their arms around me in the most loving hug. For those of you who’ve experienced the Spirit before, you’ll know what I mean when I say I heard the Lord tell me, I’m here, I’m listening. I’m here with you, I love you so much, I’m so proud of you. To this day, I can’t say those words or remember that experience without tearing up or feeling overwhelmed by the Spirit confirming that He is still here, He does still love me, and He is most certainly still proud of me.

I crawled back into bed, abandoning my morbid plans, convinced that God was real enough for me. I spent the next two weeks investigating multiple religions and spiritual ways of thought. Inevitably, I found myself investigating the Book of Mormon. It felt good to read it again, and I decided to go to church for one Sunday to see how I felt. The Spirit was so strong that Sunday, confirming that my honest and humble question of the Church’s authenticity was not in vain. The next Sunday, I found myself sitting in the chapel before stake conference. I felt the Spirit testify to me, “This is where you belong. You will raise your children in this church.” From that day forward, I knew the Church was true and I was dedicated to living the gospel the best I could. God is so, so very merciful.

The Stumbling

Yet despite God’s mercy, I went on to waver. There’d been a couple of people in my life who made me feel like I wasn’t being a good enough Saint for the silliest things like not preferring white, not believing certain things (which I’d later discover were debunked by general authorities) and, of course, tolerating certain people (basically anyone outside of the church). I found myself getting caught up in the “what-to-do’s” rather than focusing on the gospel like I should have. I was so worried about accidentally doing something horrendously wrong or offensive to God that my eyes were off of Christ and onto the world, and I hadn’t even noticed.

Soon, the time came where I was preparing to enter the temple. I was throwing myself into studies, but again searching more for “commandments” than I was actually searching for God. Looking back, I can tell you that what I thought was proper scripture study was really just me searching for more “me” in the scriptures, neglecting to remember I’m supposed to live my life like Christ. It didn’t help that I was still facing endless criticism from particular parties about every single thing I did. I went into the temple feeling fear about my worthiness. I was filled with more anxiety than the Spirit.

I can honestly say that despite all of the losses, abuses, and fears I’ve faced in my life, the feeling I had when exiting the temple was the absolute worst of them all — and while I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve it, I absolutely blamed myself. I was hurt. I felt like all of the “inspiration” I’d received up to that point had been meaningless, wishful thinking. I felt my identity as a beloved daughter of God torn away from me. While I recognize now exactly what sort of blessing was being brought about by this temple trip (and that it continues to prove to be the catalyst for massive blessings), I couldn’t comprehend anything at the time other than the hell on earth that had possessed my heart. We often can’t see anything else aside from the trial we are in while we are fighting through it.

After a month of internal battles, I decided to step away from anything concerning God or religion. I wasn’t going to think about being a spiritual being, or God, or what would happen after death, or what was right and wrong. I was just going to do whatever brought me peace. At first, it was just a simple breather. Then, it turned into an indefinite break (which was compounded by new, rather extreme illness symptoms making it a hassle to really go anywhere). The pushback from others for me taking a break brought out my porcupine spikes, and eventually, I’d determined I no longer wanted anything to do with the Church and eventually resigned altogether thanks to certain pressures and circumstances.

At first, my exit was peaceful. I’d felt no disdain for the Church as a whole and I loved so many of its members. I even watched general conference out of habit and a desire to keep up with what would be happening in the lives of my friends. However, I quickly felt isolated and wondered if I could find friends with other people who might understand where I was coming from. This would prove to be a large mistake.

The “Ex-Mormon” community I’d stumbled into was full of obsessive, angry, hateful people. I can’t tell you how seriously obsessed some of these people were. They’d made full-time careers out of bashing the Church and disrupting its members. They kept a finger on the pulse of the Church and its leadership at all times. My generally supportive attitude towards the Church was immediately frowned upon. Being completely inundated by a constant flow of negative attitudes towards the Church eventually turned me bitter, and soon I began to find myself drowning because of them.

To find out how Elizabeth made her way back to the gospel despite having her name removed and feeling hatred toward the Church, come back next week for part two!

Guest Author

When you have a hobby that you love, sometimes it’s hard to wait until the time is right to begin passing on your love of it to your kids. But when the moment is right and you’re all ready to begin sharing the joy of quilting, here are some tips to help get everyone through the process with only happy moments and memories being created.

Patience Above Everything Else

The most important thing you have to realize is that even the simplest quilting project can take a really long time to complete. Don’t force your kids to be doing something you know they don’t have the attention span for, because it will only lead to everyone getting frustrated. “When you begin lessons, if you’re seeing that there’s not really much of an interest, it may be best to hold off on the quilting lessons for a little longer. There’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right moment to teach,” explains lifestyle blogger from Let’s Go And Learn and SimpleGrad.

Safety First

Quilting involves lots of sharp, pokey things, which can be a little bit dangerous around new learners. It’s a good idea to keep things organized in your workspace, and remind kids about using caution when using scissors, pins, and other sharp instruments. If you’ve got any doubts, it may be best to just do the cutting and pinning yourself.

Give Them Options

You may be dead-set on a certain project that you think is just perfect. But if your kid isn’t interested in it, it likely won’t go over well. If a child is able to choose the project they’re going to work on, there’s a much higher chance that you’re going to be able to keep their attention focused on that project. Sure, it may not turn out exactly as planned, but as long as an interest is sparked, you can continue widening the scope of projects.

Take a Tour

There’s no need to get into specific details, but giving kids a general idea of how a sewing machine works and what you’ll need to do to get things done. “Pressing the foot pedal, feeding the material, keeping your fingers away from the needle, and any other basic information would be great to include in the lessons you’re teaching. A great tip for helping new learners see their seam allowance mark is to run washi tape across the stitch line,” says crafts blogger at Writing Populist and ViaWriting, Anna Adams.

Hand Quilting or Machine Done

There are great benefits to both hand quilted projects as well as those that are machine quilted. Machine quilting always seems to be a huge thrill for kids. But there’s always something amazingly fun about hand quilting a project. It’s also much quieter and when you’re quilting with kids, you can go at a slower, more comfortable pace.

Keep It Easy

Kids can do some pretty incredibly things, there’s no doubt about that. But when they’re just learning the ropes of quilting, it’s best to keep projects simple if you have the choice. Start off small so you can pique your kid’s interest, then gradually build up to tougher projects.

“If things are too difficult from the get-go, it’s hard to get kids interested and keep them involved. Even though projects may seem incredibly simple for an experienced quilter, they may be really interesting to a new learner. Interest is everything, so if you can grab a kid’s interest that’s essential,” explains educator Sandra Bunnell of My Writing Way and Studydemic.

Pick Fun Things

There are so many small projects you can do that will be incredibly fun and interesting for kids. From small mug rugs and coasters to little projects for their dolls, kids will be interested in anything that is fun and geared towards their interests. Pillows are another great project to introduce to kids, because they are incredibly interesting to make and they’re also usable.

Enjoy the Time!

With quilting, precision and accuracy is key. But you may have to sit back, relax, and allow you kids to just have fun and enjoy the experience. Things may not turn out exactly as planned, it may take longer than it should, and it may be a little less perfect than anticipated, but the important thing is you’ve got to enjoy every moment enjoy each and every stitch.

Chloe Bennet is a working full-time mom.

Guest Author

John 16:33 “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

How amazing is that scripture to think about? That it doesn’t matter what things are thrown in our way or what hardships we’re asked face, because of our Savior Jesus Christ. His atoning sacrifice really does overcome all things and because of that, we have nothing to fear.

This scripture has been extremely close to my heart the past few months as I’ve experienced a few things that have tried and tested me severely. Life is hard and unfair and can beat you down, but as funny as it sounds, when these times come around I feel like we not only feel the lowest lows, but we also have the ability to feel the highest highs.

Back at the beginning of February on a super rainy night, three friends and I were leaving to go from our university to Vegas for a weekend trip.  I decided to drive because none of my friends had access to a car. Before we even made it out of town, we were driving down a narrow, unlit street when I had the worst moment of my life.

It was raining really hard.  This old man, wearing a dark raincoat with the hood up, arms full of groceries walked right out in front on me. I remember so vividly the impact and seeing his body roll into the street. I was not even sure at that moment what had just happened.

I remember pulling my car to the side of the road and running out in the pouring rain, kneeling by the man’s side screaming “Please wake up” and “Please be ok” over and over again. It was one of those things that you only expect to see in movies. It was terrifying- to say the least, we were all scared and in shock.

During this time, we had many people stop to make sure we were ok, including two people I like to consider my earthly angels. While we were sitting in my car, soaked from the rain and waiting to get my information back from a policeman, a sweet lady walked over to us to make sure we were alright.  Even though we assured her we were fine, a few minutes later she came back to our car and told us she wasn’t going to leave us and welcomed us into her and her husband’s truck.

That was such a tender mercy and we were all convinced that Heavenly Father had placed them in our path that night. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when the lady, whom we now consider a close friend, explained her experience that night. The words she used are better than I could ever try come up with, so I want to share what she said:

“We were headed … to dinner at Café Sabor. But then I told my husband to turn on First East to go to Le Nonne, which normally I would never say because we weren’t dressed up and didn’t have reservations. When we got there it looked super busy so we just kept on driving along First East and that’s how we happened upon the accident.

 

We both felt strongly that we should stop even though it appeared that several others had already stopped. After getting out and helping and seeing that things were under control, I got back in the truck. That’s when I heard the Spirit tell me, ‘Don’t leave those girls!’ That’s when I came to your car and asked you to come to the truck with me.”

She continued explaining to us that she knows they were led to us that night, and I have no doubt that she is right. Right after the accident happened, my friends and I said a prayer asking not only for the man to be OK, but also to have comfort in this awful situation. And I believe this couple was an answer to our prayer. I know without a doubt that Heavenly Father was looking over us that night and was fully aware of everything going on.

Later that night, back at our apartment after receiving priesthood blessings, the detective showed up. He and let us know that even though there was nothing we could have done to prevent the accident, that the man I hit had passed away in the ambulance on his way to the hospital. I was heartbroken! But there was a feeling of peace and calm around us. Once again, I felt that Heavenly Father was aware of me and was surrounding me with people to bear me up.

I remember the next day sitting alone in my room crying. I felt so overwhelmed with love.  At that moment sitting in my room, I literally felt the arms of my Savior wrapped around me. I felt like so many worldly things were being thrown at me, yet I couldn’t feel any of them.  It was when I felt lost in the world, that I was able to find myself in Christ. I’ve come to realize the importance and power of having a foundation of faith in the Savior. He was my continuous rock and anchor- because of my faith in Him, I couldn’t sink.

Sometimes it’s hard for us to find the beauty in heartbreak when we’re experiencing hard things. We feel like everything’s going wrong and that we’re so alone. Sometimes we feel helplessness because we’re so caught up in everything happening that we aren’t able to see the Lord’s hand in the process. In my situation, it took me hitting a low point to allow myself to see Him.  When I did, He was everywhere.

I don’t even think I could count all of the tender mercies I received because of my faith in Him. The next few weeks I honestly did better than I ever imagined I could. I moved on with schooling, work, etc. and I was able to find peace. But I know that none of that was because of me. Obviously, it was still hard, but Christ was lifting me up. Without Him, I wouldn’t have had the strength to endure. Through this experience, the Atonement of Christ became so real to me. He was mending my broken heart and carrying me when I couldn’t walk. I’m so grateful for my Savior.

Guest Author

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to my counselor about what we’ve euphemistically termed the “crummy days,” the period in which I first experienced the symptoms of bipolar disorder, and they seemed to assault me with breathtaking ferocity.  These conversations always leave me feeling numb, vulnerable, and raw.  After our chat, my counselor asked, “Are you a survivor?” I responded with a resounding yes without thinking.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her question, and now I wish that I could change my answer. No, I’m not a survivor, and it’s unsettling to think of myself as one.  I associate survivors with people who had a traumatic experience—people who survived terrible accidents or natural disasters, cancer patients who are in remission, people who escaped a life-or-death situation.  These people came out on the other side, and some were completely cured.

With mental illness, though, there isn’t a cure.  There isn’t a moment where I’ll come out on the other side, where I’ll wake up in the morning knowing that my crisis was a one time deal, and it will never happen again.  Perhaps a full-blown crisis will not occur again, but I can expect small crises and occasional symptoms in the future.  Sometimes, that seems lousy, and I feel frustrated knowing that my life is forever altered.  It’s not exactly comforting that this mental illness and I will always be chums, two peas-in-a-pod, wedded until death do us part.

So, if I’m not a survivor, then what am I?  I’m a bit too generous and prefer to think of myself as a fighter, a trier, or a charming gladiator—someone who is constantly engaged in this lifetime struggle.  Most of the time, my life is good, happy, and ordinary.  But when the small crises come, it’s so much easier to approach these times from the perspective of a fighter, someone who recognizes that while these tough spots are inevitable, life will resume happily and beautifully shortly after.

And from the perspective of a fighter, it is helpful for me to remember that I wield some power and possess a degree of control over my illness.  I am the agent of the treatments for my health.  I utilize the resources and supports available to me, I thank God for the magic meds that I take, and I surround myself with people who de-stigmatize mental illness and help me feel grateful to be me.
I try to take active control over the things that I can control.  And when I do this, the desire for “normalcy” tends to dissipate.  Instead of including mental illness within the rubric of normalcy, I feel far more interested in understanding the disabled mind and in re-imagining my identity as someone who is differently-abled and astonishingly awesome.

I am glad that there are survivors and that people come out on the other side.  But I am also glad that I am not a survivor because I am consistently in awe of how much I learn and grow during this lifelong battle.  Society seems to perpetuate this desire for the end goal, the final state of being, or the ultimate result.  But I think there is glory in reaching, too.

By Bekki

Guest Author

I was lost. I quit my soul-draining job. I didn’t know where to turn to. I didn’t know what to do next. In short, I didn’t know what to do with my life. People were expecting a lot from me. I had graduated from a good university in the US with honors so there was no way I was confused about my life, right?

People were anxious about my plans. They thought that I had it all figured out; they said that I’ve always been the smarty-pants. But I didn’t have plans. I didn’t have everything figured out. I was frustrated with myself.

I dug a pit of self-pity and self-doubt for myself. There were nights that I stared into blank space, not able to go to sleep. This went on for a couple of weeks until I decided that it is okay to get lost, to not know everything, to not have everything all figured out. I realized that people get lost in many ways and it is okay. What’s not okay is to stay in that state and not find myself again.

There were several realizations or gifts that helped me get through this trial.

1.Jesus never forsakes a lost sheep. When I was too confused about which path I should pursue, the Parable of the Lost Sheep rang truer than any time in my life. My hopes soared high realizing that Jesus would find me and help me find myself again. I knew that Jesus would never forsake a lost sheep. This required me to give up questioning many things in my life, trust His plans and let Him find me. In the Book of John, He said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life…” He knows the way because He is the way. There is no other sure way of finding myself than His way, is there? Finding myself again is the gift of Jesus finding me first.

2. I learned to listen to my own voice. There were so many voices around me telling me what I should do, where my career path should lead, how my life should be. These voices only caused more confusion in my head and pointed to countless paths I was not sure I wanted to take. I was pressured and frustrated because I wanted to live up to other people’s expectations of me. As I tried to listen to my own voice, I realized that the desire to improve and grow in this mortal life comes from within and this desire cannot be fueled by someone else’s expectation. I learned to make peace with myself that the only expectation that I should live up to is Heavenly Father’s expectation of me: to do everything I can to return to His presence.

3. I learned to appreciate the Book of Mormon more. While I was lost on what to do with my life, I was looking for knowledge to somehow shed light on things. I spent time reading articles from the most-renowned publications, feasting upon the words of this world’s experts. These articles gave me light, but not enough light to help me see what mattered most. That’s when I realized that when searching for truth and knowledge, why not read the “most correct book of any book on earth”? I spent my mornings reading the Book of Mormon. It did not teach me, step-by-step, how to find myself again, but it taught me principles that helped me face the trial of being lost—faith, perseverance, obedience, and hard work, among many others—all exemplified in the lives of prophets and apostles in the Book of Mormon.

4. I learned to accept that I couldn’t do everything on my own. I grew up always feeling like an independent woman. I felt all the more independent when I moved to the US alone when I was 18, which is not typical for 18-year old Filipinas. I like to do things my own way. I feel like I can do things on my own. But this is not really the case.

My family has always been there to back me up when things don’t go as planned. My friends have always been there to cheer me up when things get rough. And most especially, the Lord has always been in the details of my life. All my life, I was never truly independent of anything because I did not face life alone. Accepting this fact allowed me to seek help and guidance from those who care about me. I learned to pray more fervently and more earnestly. It is during my state of being lost that I felt closest to Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, my family, and my friends.

I have wondered why I had to go through this trial. Now I realize that going through this trial was the way for Jesus to find me, for me to find myself again, and for me to learn the gift of being lost.

Guest Author

That lasted a few weeks!

A New Possibility

The idea of having a baby plagued my mind constantly after we got married.

I thought about how cute a baby would look in my arms. I thought what a perfect addition a baby would be to our new family. I just thought and thought about babies.

This new possibility overcame my mind, and my resolve to wait a year dissolved into baby hungriness.

I constantly had an internal battle that it was the right time and then 20 minutes’ later it was not the right time.

Some days I would ponder and dream about having a cute, button-nosed baby in our little apartment. I would think all day and then I would talk to my husband.

I would ask what his thoughts were about the subject. He would always look at me like, “Where in the world did this come from?! I thought we were waiting a year?”

I guess our resolve stuck with him but missed the mark with me.

Preparation and Faith

I struggled with the concepts of preparing and of having faith. To me they seemed completely separate. But I have realized that these two concepts go hand-in-hand with anything in life.

We were struggling to pay rent, bills, and tuition. We were just married and learning to live together. We were learning how to be financially responsible, keep up on homework, develop our marriage, budget our money, and keep the apartment clean (especially the dishes—which had to be hand washed).

I think I needed faith that I could be a wife before being a mother. The stress of life took over and I soon became afflicted with migraines, sickness, anxiety, and the dreaded weight gain. But I was convinced a baby would help.

Since I was already in pain, it seemed like it would be better to have a purpose for that pain. I would rather gain weight because of a baby than just from not exercising enough.

All you parents must be laughing at me and think I am very naive, but this is what I thought.

Another reason why I thought a baby would help is because in my Patriarchal Blessing it says that I am supposed to be a mother. I took that seriously. Everything I did must bring me closer to becoming a better mother.

I served a mission because I wanted to learn how to teach the Gospel, build a stronger testimony, help others, and become a better mother.

I wanted to finish my bachelor’s degree because I wanted to gain more knowledge, prove to myself that I could do it, and become a better mother.

Then I became concerned that I was waiting too long. I had many quotes from General Authorities saying never to wait to have kids for any selfish reason.

General Authorities

The Church and General Authorities have always encouraged having children. President Ezra Taft Benson said in a Fireside for Parents in 1987 concerning having children,

Do not curtail the number of your children for personal or selfish reasons. Material possessions, social convenience, and so-called professional advantages are nothing compared to a righteous posterity.

When I read this quote, I immediately felt guilty for wanting to finish my education before having kids. Was my desire to finish my education selfish? I only had two semesters left until I was finished, was that too long?

Then I remembered quotes and talks about how gaining an education is so vital and important. My favorite quote is by Elder Nelson,

Your mind is precious! It is sacred. Therefore, the education of one’s mind is also sacred. Indeed, education is a religious responsibility. Of course, our opportunities and abilities will vary a great deal. But, in the pursuit of one’s education, individual desire is more important than is the institution you choose; personal drive is more significant than is the faculty.

After prayer and talking with my husband, parents, and in-laws, I realized that if I finished my education before having a baby, I was not being selfish. I knew that gaining an education would help me be a better mother.

Not everyone had such an easy decision. Alex, my husband, still had 3 years left of college (not counting his master degree years). For us it made sense that we would not wait that long before having children.

Here are some selfish reasons for not having a baby.

1. I don’t want to mess up my body.
2. I don’t want to give up my time with my spouse for a baby.
3. I don’t want to spend all that money on a baby.
4. Sleep is too important to me.

Of course one cannot only base their decision to become a parent on whether they are being selfish or unselfish. Communicating with Heaven and receiving inspiration is a vital part of any decision-making process.

Prayer

I would pray and ask Heavenly Father if having a baby was the right thing. Every time. And I mean EVERY TIME. I got a nice warm feeling. Because guess what…having a family IS the right thing. It always will be. I should have asked if should we start a family NOW.

Therefore, every time I prayed about it and got my nice warm feeling, I assumed the Spirit was telling me that it was time.

I would count out nine months and see where everything would fall in place. And then I would remember some important things.

1. We have only been married a few months
2. I thought we said we would wait to have a baby for a year?
3. I only had a year left of college, how about I graduate first.
4. Nine months from now is in the middle of a semester, awkward.
5. Neither of us are working…how are we going to pay for a bundle of joy?

People have always told me that when the time is right you will “just know.” I supposed that I just had to accept that right then might not be the right time.

Differences in Families

Not only would I pray and seek heavenly help, but I would also seek the counsel of my parents and in-laws. Sometimes this made me more confused because of the differences in our families.

My parents waited over two years before having my older brother. My mother said that those two years were a great time to get to know my dad.  It was a time to learn how they each worked and reacted to different circumstances.

During this past year, Alex and I have learned how to work together during stressful situations. This foundation we have built will continue to strengthen, but I am grateful that we have gained some foundation.

Sometimes I wonder about what it would be like if we did have children already.  Would Alex would know that when I say “Nothing is wrong” it really means “I’m freaking out and something is definitely wrong?”

Alex’s parents did not wait long to have children. They have encouraged us to do what we truly want to do and they reminded us that children enriched their lives.

Even though the experiences of our parents both differ, it always reminds me that both options are possible. And in reality the decision is always between us and the Lord.

My Answer

Deciding when to have children can be a very daunting and exciting decision.  And it may be harder than newly married couples imagine. The initial excitement may turn into baby hungriness.  But with help from the Lord, your spouse, parents, and General Authorities; each couple can learn when the right time for a family is for them….Even if that takes a long process of prayer and confusion. But then again, when was life supposed to be simple?

Guest Author

I used to spend weeks at a time on my Grandpa’s farm. He would explain to me how I could help him best, and the easiest way to accomplish the chores I was assigned. I can picture times when his eyes would warn me of the danger I put myself in when I either misused tools or equipment, or let my excessive energy get me caught in sticky situations. My Grandpa’s eyes always told me when he was pleased with my work, and when he was disappointed. But his disappointed glances never out shined his willingness to help me where I fell short, and learn from my mistakes. Some of my favorite experiences on the farm were when I made silly mistakes, and then I would see my Grandpa’s eyes laugh as he said, “Don’t worry, that happened to me once.”

My Grandpa’s eyes were clearly a window into his character when they shone in anguish from the misfortunes of others. So often I would see my Grandpa’s eyes shimmer with tears over the struggles of others. I never saw my Grandpa complain because of his trials. and he never expected others to share his pain. I’ve been comforted when I saw my Grandpa’s empathetic eyes reach out to me.  He has spent his whole life reaching out to help others- and it showed in his eyes.

Nothing could tell me more about my Grandpa than the marks his eyes have painted on others. I could see the canvas of their lives had been greatly influenced by his love.  My Grandpa was diagnosed with cancer recently. This news rang sharply in the ears of all who loved my Grandpa so dearly. On one occasion, I was driving home from my Grandpa’s house with my dad. He was explaining to me, for the first time, that Grandpa had cancer. As my dad explained the situation his eyes filled with tears that rolled down his cheeks.  That was the first time, as I watched and listened to my dad, and felt the tears form in my own eyes, that I understood how special my Grandpa really was.

All those years spent on the farm, and all those times my Grandpa’s eyes spoke to me; they were just stepping stones that made me love seeing his eyes. But as I drove home with my dad, after visiting him, was when I truly felt the power of my Grandpa’s eyes. And I regretted how long it had taken for me to see it.  That Grandpa’s eyes were magical, that I had been given a great blessing.  And I wasn’t ready to let go.

By Steven Stucki
Wednesday March 11, 2006

William Richard Stucki died Wednesday February 27 at the age of 79, just two years after this memory was written. The inscription on his gravestone follows:

I rejoice that I am born to live, to die and to live again. I thank God for this intelligence. It gives me joy and peace that the world cannot give, neither can the world take it away.

-Joseph F. Smith

Guest Author

Sexuality. I know it’s a word that we don’t address head-on in Mormon culture that often, but I’ve found it to be a central part of fully understanding and living the gospel.

News agencies, bloggers, and other social media influencers love to publish stories about “The Mormons” and their rigid rules that have led to an epidemic of sexually repressed zealots.

Though trendy, this stereotype couldn’t be further from the truth. In my personal life, I’ve found that striving to live the gospel to the fullest has only increased my sexuality, while also building my feelings of self-confidence and worth.

Why I’m writing this in the first place.

Now granted, I’m no expert with a doctorate in sexuality. All I can share is what I’ve learned from personal experience, as limited as that’s been.

You see, growing up I wasn’t one of those girls who was highly conscious of the opposite sex growing up. I was one of those run-around-and-kick-a-ball kind of girls, not one of those run-around–and-try-to-kiss-a-boy kind of girls. I was just a bit of a tomboy and a dreamer who usually had sports or lines of poetry running around in my mind, not boys. But that didn’t stop me from developing my sexuality in my own way—as everyone should.

I never really even thought about sex much.

That is, until I began traveling and making friends who weren’t LDS. Without fail whenever I brought up the “Mormon” card with new friends who didn’t grow up with the Church, they would ask—sometimes bluntly, sometimes embarrassed and beating around the bush—“don’t you guys believe in not having sex until after your married?”

The first time I was asked this, I unashamedly and quickly gave the answer: yes!

But then the follow-up question hit me like a slap in the face: “Isn’t that hard?” Other variations I often hear are “why?” or “doesn’t it seem limiting, to only have sex with one person?” or “how do you even know you’re a good match physically?”

The first few times I got these questions, I didn’t know quite what to say. My entire life my parents, my Church leaders, and my personal experiences had taught me how essential sexual purity was to my health and happiness. It was ingrained into my identity—a truth I took for granted. How could I explain something so basic to who I was—something I felt but had never consciously acknowledged?

I stumbled through some basic Sunday School answers, but I could tell I didn’t leave anyone too convinced, including myself. I didn’t understand why it was so hard for them to understand, because it had never been hard for me.

How I learned things the hard way.

And then, like so many stories in life, everything changed. And it all began with a boy. Suddenly, that soccer-loving, day-dreaming, independent little tomboy didn’t know what she was talking about. Suddenly, she had to bite her tongue and admit she didn’t know everything.

You see, I began to love this boy in a way that spun and flipped and turned everything inside out even while it made my life clearer and wonderfully more vivid. I loved him not in a romanticized way, but in an all-too-real exhilarating, frustrating, exhausting, and totally worthwhile kind of way. I loved, and still love, him completely—in every possible way.

Suddenly, I craved being with him. Suddenly I began noticing that side of myself that had been developing unbeknownst to me. Suddenly I had to agree with my friends.

Sexual purity is hard—dang hard.

In fact, I’d say it’s the toughest and most confusing thing all humans have to face at the toughest and most confusing point in their lives.

Once I finally reached this level of understanding, I realized that simply feeling that sexual purity was important wasn’t enough. With so many other overwhelming and euphoric feelings and emotions added on top of a chronic lack of sleep, I couldn’t always trust my feelings anymore.

I had to know. I had to gain and earn a testimony for myself. And in the resulting hours of prayer and scripture study and painful goodbyes, I came to find the answer to all of my friends’ questions—answers so simple, so ingrained within our eternal nature and yet so divinely beautiful, I simply couldn’t imagine living in any other way.

What I finally learned.

I realized that sexuality and spirituality are not opposing forces. Sexuality is not something that needs to be stamped out of us or hidden in embarrassment. It is an exquisite, sacred thing—something that enhances our spirituality if we treat it with the proper respect and reverence.

So, with this new-found, deeper perspective, is it still hard staying sexually pure? Absolutely! But everything worthwhile in life requires patience and work. That’s what adds to its value—what we’re willing to pay for it. And now I know that what I can gain is so much more valuable than any temporary or sensual pleasure.

My sexuality has not been misguided, repressed, or stifled by Mormonism or the gospel truths I have learned. In reality, my spirituality and my sexuality have both grown equally and side by side as I’ve learned more about the divinity and the potential within me.

And here are just a few simple ways that I’ve found living the gospel benefits my sexuality.

1. It clears confusion.

Did you know humans are the only animals who sexually mature long before they intellectually mature? Before condemning this as a flaw within our makeup, maybe consider the purpose behind this type of development. First of all, humans have incredibly complex brains, so we should be grateful for the nearly quarter of a century we have to develop those brains, along with our identities and personalities.

Second of all, this gives us the opportunity to learn how to fully master our physical nature. If we want to become like God and learn how to master physical creation, how can we expect to do that without first mastering ourselves? The beauty about living the gospel is that during this confusing time, we never have to guess about the changes within ourselves—we understand that they are wonderful, desirable impulses.

As President Packer observed:

“The power of procreation is not an incidental part of the plan; it is the plan of happiness; it is the key to happiness. The desire to mate in humankind is constant and very strong. Our happiness in mortal life, our joy and exaltation are dependent upon how we respond to these persistent, compelling physical desires. As the procreative power
matures in early manhood and womanhood, very personal feelings occur, in a natural way, unlike any other physical experience.”

In waiting to have sex until after marriage, this allows us to have the maturity and comprehension to understand the significance of what we are doing and to keep the Spirit with us. In this way, our sexuality and experiences with physical intimacy actually increase, because the measure of sexuality is not in a number. It is in its meaningfulness in our lives. So many people today take sexuality lightly, but Mormons understand it in a higher, eternal way.

2. It provides stability.

As we become older, we develop a stable identity and an emotional maturity that allows us to have sex without losing a part of who we are. We have the perspective to realize our sense of self-worth does not rely on our physical appearance, our sexiness, or our sexual performance. Instead, it is based on something solid and eternal—our identity as children of God. When we can understand that about ourselves, sex does not become a selfish way to prove or please ourselves, it becomes a selfless act that allows us to connect with another person on a level that completely redefines modern understandings of sexuality.

A huge part of sexuality is about exploring our gender and the possibilities that identity creates. The light of the gospel provides insight into our gender and how it relates to eternity, an understanding that provides stability and clarity in a world which is now so full of gray areas and muddled, politically-correct definitions.

As it states in “The Family: A Proclamation to the World:”

“All human beings—male and female—are created in the image of God. Each is a beloved spirit son or daughter of heavenly parents, and, as such, each has a divine nature and destiny. Gender is an essential characteristic of individual premortal, mortal, and eternal identity and purpose.”

With that understanding of our divinity and our eternal prospects, we can move forward secure in ourselves—if not secure in ourselves now, secure in what we can become and what our Heavenly Father sees in us. And that knowledge can help provide clarity when we are bombarded with confusing media and mind-fogging hormones.

3. It builds more complete romantic relationships.

Waiting until we are mature enough to understand the nature of our own divinity is not enough. Committing ourselves to one person is not enough. As Latter-day Saints, we are blessed to have the added stability of eternal marriage—that everlasting covenant that spans time, death, distance, and even worlds—before we experience physical intimacy.

Said Elder Holland:

“Such an act of love between a man and a woman is—or certainly was ordained to be—a symbol of total union: union of their hearts, their hopes, their lives, their love, their family, their future, their everything. . .  But such a total, virtually unbreakable union, such an unyielding commitment between a man and a woman, can only come with the proximity and permanence afforded in a marriage covenant, with the union of all that they possess—their very hearts and minds, all their days and all their dreams.”

Sexual intimacy is one of the most vulnerable of human experiences—but with that comes exhilarating and beautiful opportunities. It is an act of sharing our full selves, not only physically but emotionally and spiritually. Those who treat sex lightly miss out on the full opportunities it can provide for strengthening relationships. Often times, they hold back to try to protect themselves from the pain or fracturing that can occur with rejection. They do not give of themselves fully, so they cannot experience sex fully.

By waiting for the right time, the right place, and the right person, Latter-day Saints not only have the protection and peace that covenants provide, they also have the added gift of the Spirit, something which can help intensify the emotional and spiritual bond between husband and wife.

And this entire, everlasting experience between husband and wife makes for the most romantic expression of love possible. How lucky are we that we can obtain a happily-ever-after shared fully and solely with our true love?

4. It gives new dimension to sexuality.

As Mormons we understand sexuality in a richer, fuller way. We understand that sex brings men and women nearer to each other even as it brings them nearer to God. We understand sexual intimacy not as a carnal, necessary drive that exists only to carry on the human species. We understand that physical intimacy is an eternal principle—that our Heavenly Father and Mother birthed spiritual children and that our own potential for offspring—physical and spiritual—is eternal and unending.

Through our covenants and our ability to create life, this act brings us closer to our Heavenly Parents.

Elder Holland once again instructs us:

“Sexual intimacy is not only a symbolic union between a man and a woman—the uniting of their very souls—but it is also symbolic of a union between mortals and deity, between otherwise ordinary and fallible humans uniting for a rare and special moment with God himself and all the powers by which he gives life in this wide universe of ours.”

5. It brings heavenly power.

Working in tandem with its ability to bring us closer to God is the way in which sexual intimacy allows us, in a small degree, to participate in God’s ability to create. In His desire to teach us how to become more like Him, Heavenly Father has blessed us with the opportunity to become fathers and mothers ourselves.

Again, I revert to Elder Holland’s superior wisdom:

“I know of virtually no other divine privilege so routinely given to us all—women or men, ordained or unordained, Latter-day Saint or non-Latter-day Saint—than the miraculous and majestic power of transmitting life, the unspeakable, unfathomable, unbroken power of procreation. . . .

And I submit to you that you will never be more like God at any other time in this life than when you are expressing that particular power.

Of all the titles he has chosen for himself, Father is the one he declares, and Creation is his watchword—especially human creation, creation in his image. . . . Human life—that is the greatest of God’s powers, the most mysterious and magnificent chemistry of it all—and you and I have been given it, but under the most serious and sacred of restrictions.

You and I who can make neither mountain nor moonlight, not one raindrop nor a single rose—yet we have this greater gift in an absolutely unlimited way. And the only control placed on us is self-control—self-control born of respect for the divine sacramental power it is.”

Why this all matters.

Sexuality is good. It is a divine, eternal gift given to all of us. And because of that, it is not something we should shy away from, feel embarrassed about, or fear. But it is something that we should treat with the sacredness and reverence it deserves. At the same time, Latter-day Saints can respect the fact that other people have the liberty to live their lives and establish their sexuality as they see fit. But this should never stop us from sharing the truths we know.

I hope that in the future, when someone asks you a question similar to the ones I have been asked so frequently throughout the years, that you will not be afraid to share your testimony. That you will not be afraid to show how the gospel really does increase our spirituality right alongside our sexuality—and in every possible way.

Guest Author

When I was 19, I was set up on a blind date. I had a lot of fun and felt a connection. He was a gentleman, and he came from a strong LDS family. We dated, went to church activities together, studied the scriptures together, and grew fond of each other. We were in love. We got engaged and were married in the Temple.

Unfortunately, as soon as we were leaving the temple, the same level of respect was not there. It was as if a switch had been flipped. At first I thought that it was normal newlywed excitement as he touched me. It was not what I had expected. He was very hands on at our reception, which made me a little uncomfortable.

He would tease me about my cooking, my housework, the way I dressed etc. It took me awhile to acknowledge that this was not normal teasing, he was breaking me down. Then he become sexually and physically abusive.

Fast forward about 15 months; I was sitting between my older and younger sisters in a Sunday School Class in my older sister’s Ward. The only people who knew why I started attending there were my family, the Bishop, and the Relief Society President. The lesson covered D&C 121. As the discussion turned to verse 37-39 we read:

37 That they may be conferred upon us, it is true; but when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the priesthood or the authority of that man.

38 Behold, ere he is aware, he is left unto himself, to kick against the pricks, to persecute the saints, and to fight against God.

39 We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion.” For the first time I truly understood what it meant and it was an answer to my prayers.

Then a gentlemen 2 rows back commented. He said something to the effect of, “We don’t have unrighteous dominion in our church because we are priesthood holders.” I felt my temperature rise, as I raised my hand and waited to be called upon. What happened next shocked my family and silenced the room.

When I was called upon, my secret was out. I can still remember what I shared that day. I said “The whole reason I am attending your Ward is because of unrighteous dominion. I was married in the temple, my husband served a mission, he served in the Elder’s Quorum Presidency.  And he was abusive. He came after me at church and my Bishop counseled me to attend another Ward for my safety and the safety of the other Ward members.”

In the months leading up to this point we had been separated, counseling with our Bishop and going to Marriage Counseling through LDS Family Services. So when my Bishop asked me to come in on my own, I was scared and relieved. We had given permission for our counselor and Bishop to work together. The Bishop counseled me to prayerfully consider my marriage and instructed me to continue counseling on my own but not as a couple.

I had been taught that marriage is a partnership with love and respect, that temple marriages were eternal and that you do everything in your power, and prayerfully with Heavenly Father, make them work. But for me that meant enduring emotional, physical and sexual abuse.

It was during that Sunday School class that I decided it was okay to get divorced. It was okay for people to know that I had been abused. I received an outpouring of support. People reached out to my sister and asked if I would be open to new friends — several that I have maintained to this day.

My prayers had been answered, but it did not get any easier once the decision was made. Where would I fit in a church that is so focused on family? I not only felt unworthy to go to the temple, but struggled with the covenants I had made to my abusive husband. I also struggled with fear of being alone and not having a family. What “worthy” man would want to be with a broken, used woman?

That was over 15 years ago. A lot has changed, and I have seen Heavenly Father’s guidance and hand in my life. I still fear my ex-husband. I still have nightmares and go to counseling. But I am married to an amazing “worthy” man who loves, supports, and understands me. We are true partners in what I thought marriage would be, and even better.

Abuse shows up in many forms.  Verbal, Sexual, Physical abuse, and/or Neglect; all of which leave emotional scars. Abuse happens in EVERY religion, and culture. Abuse happens to MEN, WOMEN, and CHILDREN. If you are being abused there is help. There are people to support you. Don’t go through it ALONE. Be prayerful as you look for help, as getting out of an abusive relationship can be dangerous. If you need immediate assistance or have already been hurt, call 911 or your country’s emergency service number. For a list of resources visit: beyondabuseessentialhealing.com.

Please remember everyone has his or her own journey here on earth. No one experiences abuse exactly the same. We each have our own triggers, and my intent is to aid in the healing process, to add awareness to a growing problem, not cause anxiety or pain. Our experiences may be similar but they are each unique. Even though many people could have been at the same event each person experiences and remembers those events through our own eyes and will recall the event differently.

My blogs will be from my perspective of my life. I am a daughter, sister, wife, mother and friend. I am not a Doctor, Counselor or Therapist. I believe it is important to pray and study the scriptures daily, to trust the guidance of the Holy Ghost, to work with Doctors, Counselors, and Therapists along with alternative and natural methods to find health, healing and balance.

Guest Author