Issues are an interesting thing, because you typically aren’t aware of them until they apply to you. Media blows up with groups supporting things like LGTB rights and other racial and political causes, but issues more specific to our religion and Mormon culture get far less traction. Because of this it is sometimes easy to feel alone and think that the church leaders are unaware or unconcerned with such issues. If recent days are any indicator (and they should be), those assumptions are proving incorrect. I feel that their responses to recent issues are carefully thought through, and provide great counsel and comfort for those who listen. (Things will come out right now, we can make it so) A year ago, I didn’t feel like there was adequate counsel about an issue I felt overwhelmed with, so I wrote to try and get over it, and it made me find answers that had already been given. (Now I recognize that many of the answers they give to address these "new" questions are the same ones they've given before, hoping that more people will listen.) Unlike the political correctness of other non-religious situations, I don't need other people to change to suit my needs, I needed to find a way for me to be okay.
“So where did you serve?” Has become my least favorite question. It was one I didn’t have an answer to. What do you say? Oh, I didn’t. That’s not true, you can serve anywhere and everywhere. I think the reason I disliked it so much was because it was based on someone’s assumption of me and my life as a member of the church, and because it doesn’t have a decent answer for someone in my situation.
(People make mistakes)
I’ve been able to realize through overcoming this issue for myself, that I am not the only one perturbed by this, and that different issues provoke such feelings in others as well. A high counselor in my stake has talked about growing up during the civil rights era, being involved in that, and coming to the church. The way he tells it isn’t like a typical conversion story. He had some serious concerns and issues leading up to his baptism, and into the year when blacks were finally given the priesthood. He described having to explain his beliefs to others, black and white, in and out of our faith. He talked about turning racially charged explanations into a sort of joke so that others didn’t feel uncomfortable when they maybe weren’t as sensitive as they should have been. He said he should’ve been a pioneer because he has no problem walking, but some challenges wear and tear on our soul, and that’s harder. (You decide what's right, you decide what's good) When he heard the announcement, he was hesitant to believe it. He wanted to know for sure that it was true before the other members and specifically kids he knew heard about it because he “could handle it if it was false,” but having that hope taken away from others he thought would be the worst. When he shared that experience, I knew that he had “gotten over it.” When I wrote an essay about the awkwardness of not serving a mission, it was in part to help me get over it, but now I realize that the biggest help for me was beginning a pattern of regular temple attendance.
There are two great ways to stop feeling alone: letting someone reach out to you, and reaching out to someone else. When Christ was suffering in Gethsemane, his friends fell asleep, they didn’t know or understand what he was going through. But God did. He sent an angel to comfort him. (Only me beside you) I have a sister who is my comfort and confidante, but to fill my needs I had to do more. I realized that I wanted to have a stronger connection with God, and I had the time to commit to temple attendance. It helped to remind me of God’s specific love, and his appreciation for my willingness. It wasn’t a direct response to my concerns, but it made my situation feel less like a weakness.
(Someone is on your side)
Now this doesn't mean that there aren't any more awkward situations. Just a few hours ago as someone addressed my ward they prefaced with "We all know that coming home from our missions..." My eyes rolled, I sighed, and then looked around at all the people that I knew they were accidentally excluding. We survived, it's not like the message was exclusive, but because I've reached a point where I can deal with it, I can help others.
Because no one is alone.
(Thank you Into the Woods, also feel free to consider this a preface to the next post, which will be a condensed version of the rewrite of the essay I wrote to "get over it.")
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