By Common Consent, a Mormon Blog

Sitting amid the mess of maple unit blocks and Lego pieces littering the living room floor Saturday afternoon, my ears perked up as they heard the opening words “My message is for the single parents in the Church, the majority of whom are single mothers.”

I admit, I had been murmuring that morning about craving a story about a single mom or woman who had been through hardships that didn’t end with the woman dying (nobly or not). Yes, all of our individual stories end with dying, but I sure would like to have some happy years interjected between the hardship of refinement and meeting my maker.

While Elder Baxter goes on to open his talk with familiar acknowledgement of how hard it is to be a single parent and the various paths that might have gotten us here, he also strikes a subtle but important difference right out of the box:

“Perhaps you have been widowed or divorced. You may be coping with the challenges of single-parenthood as the result of taking the wrong turn outside of marriage; but now live within the framework of the Gospel, having turned your life around.” Read the rest of this entry »

 O to grace how great a debtor
daily I’m constrained to be!
Let thy goodness, like a fetter,
bind my wandering heart to thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
prone to leave the God I love;
here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
seal it for thy courts above.

My youngest child was four months old when life started to unravel. The prescription from the dentist that made my stomach hurt- but made my husband float away- turned into the loss of jobs, homes, security, marriage, and a hot five and half year burn. There were times I thought I could not lift my head another day- and truthfully, there were days I didn’t. Looking at the ground made it easier to not acknowledge anything beyond my breathing. In and out. Keep going. If I don’t look up, I won’t falter. Read the rest of this entry »

Visiting Teaching was something I found especially charming as a new convert. It was novel and sweet- having two women, friendly and attentive- drop by my house each month to share something thoughtful was a soothing balm. As a new mother, relocated a thousand miles from my old friends and support system, I really loved the kindness those women showed. In retrospect, I think they were even sincere. Mostly.

But then the shine wore off. The sisters I thought were genuinely interested, thought genuinely cared, were assigned to someone else. The visits stopped. It was the tiniest bit shocking to realize I had been an assignment. The warmth I felt at the charm of Visiting Teaching dulled just a bit. It was a surprise when I realized what life-long Mormons understand- Visiting Teachers change, and no matter how we spin it, it is, in fact, a duty. Is that bad? Perhaps not. Read the rest of this entry »

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a Mormon. In important ways, I have experienced my chosen faith as Christ is recorded saying in Luke- “Suppose ye that I am come to give peace on earth? I tell you, nay… The father shall be divided against the son; the mother against the daughter…” (Luke 12:51, 53) I wonder at what cost I’ve made the choices I’ve made. Then I remember- despite all of our talk about agency and choice, once you’ve had your eyes opened, you cannot doubt any longer. But don’t think for a minute I don’t entertain the idea now and then…

No, I haven’t seen an angel, and I claim nothing divine, other than my own soul. But this is what my family has never understood: joining this faith wasn’t a choice. Not really. I would have had to deny what I knew as the truth of life and walk away from all integrity and honestly in my heart. Were I to have chosen my family the day I was told to either “be a Mormon or be a daughter, but you cannot be both”, I would have denied Christ. And for me, that was, and continues to be, simply not a choice. Read the rest of this entry »

We have a lot of platitudes. We have things we say as Latter-day Saints that might be unique to our own speaking patterns and vernacular. It took me years of being a member before I had the gist of some of them- I wondered for several months who Bishop Rick was, and I’m still unsure what the Activity Girls are doing or where their ages fall.

Church has become a minefield of platitudes and unintentional hurt lately. Aside from furthering the wounds by insisting if I am offended, the fault lies with me, I thought it might be cathartic to jot down a few ideas on how to make a divorced or otherwise less-than-perfect member feel welcomed and loved. Read the rest of this entry »

Growing up in a family of California hippies, I saw a lot a barely-clad bodies. It was not at all unusual to see my parents fresh from the shower, or even their friends swimming naked in the lake where we would vacation in the summer. I recall many a bath in the galvanized apple tub at the family farm- the only order was the dirtiest kids went last- with our moms waiting to wrap our slippery naked bodies in terry towels and sit by the fire before being tucked off to bed.

We were taught about inappropriate touching and respecting others, but those lessons were never tied to our clothes or our nakedness. It was perfectly normal to see a friend’s mother breastfeeding out in the open- there were no blankets draped over babies heads or removing oneself to another room- or, unimaginable, a bathroom- the mothers simply fed their babies. Read the rest of this entry »

Once upon a time, I dabbled in a a lot of things. One of the things I dabbled in was the earth religions with a fascination in paganism and the occult. Don’t freak out- it’s not a big deal- and there is, like in any religion, good things to be mined. I learned a lot from my time drawing circles in the backyard and paying attention to the seasonal cycles. I have long since given away most of my tools, but still retain my cast iron cauldron and athame (a ceremonial knife), packed carefully in a box in the garage. This stuff doesn’t freak me out one bit- and people who equate paganism with the Christian devil are simply uninformed.

The solstice is one of four cardinal holidays in paganism. The two solstices, winter and summer, when daylight is at it’s greatest, and least, respectively. And the two equinoxes, when the daylight and the night are balance in perfect equilibrium. There are four minor holidays equally spread between the four cardinal: Imbolc, Beltaine, Lughnasadh, and Samhain. All holidays are calibrated to the grand cycles of the Earth orbiting the sun, and the procession of the season. All symbols used in these faiths are tied to the symbols of the season and the cycles of birth and death as seen in the procession of the seasons. It’s actually quite beautiful. Read the rest of this entry »

Last night I had the chance to go to the temple, and I grabbed it. For the rare BCC reader not Mormon, the temple is not a place for our weekly services, but is instead a special “House of the Lord” where we go for additional teaching, learning and to perform services for our ancestors. It’s a place we hold sacred and its somewhere we can retreat to when we are needing guidance, answers to prayers, or just to feel closer to God. Not all Mormons go to the temple, but a great many of us do- myself included- and I love living close enough to one that I can pop in on a few moments notice. Read the rest of this entry »

Our ward talent show was tonight, and was yet another reminder of the imperfectness of my little bedraggled family. Yeah, yeah, I know the platitudes- we’re all imperfect, if we could see them not on Sunday, everyone has problems and we’d all pick our own back from the collective pile given the choice, etc etc etc… I’ve heard them all, and know there are grains of truth in every platitude. Yet there it is, right in my face, the litany of perfect smiling families on parade.

We are many things, my three children and I- but mostly we are battle-scarred and tender around the edges still, a year and half beyond divorce. While it may be unpopular to say, I do believe divorce doesn’t have to always be catastrophic- if both parents can rise above pettiness, children can still thrive with two parents who love them, even if those parents aren’t married to each other anymore. Unfortunately, this isn’t the straw we drew. Read the rest of this entry »

My son told me he hated me tonight. My oldest child– the child who split my soul wide open and cut a chasm into the wilderness of motherhood, the child who introduced me to God and allowed my bright tears to fall on his fiery copper hair while he was still wet and folded and trailing the scent of heaven– told me he hated me.

It doesn’t matter why– it was trivial and meaningless– and it was selfish the way only a child secure in the love of his mother can express. Even as part of me recoiled at his vehemence, I could recognize what was happening. I leaned on the doorjamb as he glowered over his scowled brow at me, using his stocking feet to shove the messy piles of Legos and dog-eared Calvin & Hobbes paperbacks littering the floor around his bed. Read the rest of this entry »

These are the best hours of the whole year. Not the chaos and hoopla and clatter of joyful children that come with dawn’s first light- while those are wonderful too- what I love most is the soft, pregnant richness of Christmas Eve.

The babies are settled into their beds, tucked in for the tenth time already, their eyes sparkling with anticipation and their teeth chattering with excitement. Sleep won’t come quick for them- but then, neither will it for parents tonight. The house settles down, the old timbers creek and familiar sounds come to rest for the night.

Tomorrow, we will have tired eyes as we follow the bounding bundles of childhood down our curving staircase to see what surprises await- and that is its own type of joy. But for now, I relish the quiet. I relish the solitude, when I can take a few moments and think of what a blessing my life is, how richly the Lord has shed his light in my life, and how profoundly grateful I am for this ultimate gift- finding faith and knowing Jesus Christ. Read the rest of this entry »

Several lifetimes ago in Southern California, I found myself listening to a lecture on abstract expressionism. My professor was a painter from west Africa. He wore colorful dashikis with large bone necklaces, spoke with a musical cadence that combined with the droning summer fans and aromatic paints made his class enchanting.  He pushed us- he could tell if we were playing it safe. Most of us students were accustomed to praise, and the first time he threw one of my works in the trash and told me to leave if I wasn’t serious, I was stung, umbraged, offended- and deep down, under the pride, I knew he was right. He didn’t want art from privileged kids who had been petted for their talent all their lives- everyone at that school was talented- he wanted to teach us to be fearless. How to examine our motives, to tear away our safety nets, and build our own wings as we were falling.

Which brings me to Jackson Pollock. If a person knows nothing about modern art, they know Jackson Pollock. And almost everyone has heard someone exclaim, as they look at a Pollock: “My [small child of various bladder control ability] could paint that.” One day a student in Mr. West Africa’s class made the mistake of making just such a statement. Fury sparked, and he turned on the student. Paraphrasing, because this was nearly 20 years ago, he said: Read the rest of this entry »

“It is so important that you young men and you young women get all of the education that you can. The Lord has said very plainly that His people are to gain knowledge of countries and kingdoms and of things of the world through the process of education, even by study and by faith.”

~Gordon B Hinckley Read the rest of this entry »

Today was my kids’ last day of school. I now have a fourth-grader, a first-grader and a pre-kinder kid. My baby-years are officially over. So what do I do to celebrate? Monday is MY first day back at college.

It’s odd to find myself again in a time of making big-decisions. We usually attribute (and I did too) those times to our younger years. What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you want to major in? How will you chose a partner or spouse? I thought the Deciding Years were far behind me. Ha ha! Joke’s on me! Read the rest of this entry »

Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; and this shall never be taken again from the earth, until the sons of Levi do offer again an offering unto the Lord in righteousness.” Doctrine and Covenants 13

One of the things that frightened me most about getting divorced was the lack of a father figure in our home. I know I can accomplish a lot as a competent mother- but I also know, for both my sons and for my daughter, having a healthy idea of what a man is and does is vitally important. And this is something, no matter how good a mother I might be, I cannot provide. Read the rest of this entry »

She wasn’t looking as she stepped out Emma’s front door, and the fall knocked the wind completely from her chest. It was a big first step, and she was so distracted by the people surveying the Smith family cemetery across the street, she completely missed it. She was still in her skirt from the Temple earlier, which flew up and let the rough concrete take a gnarly bite of exposed leg, as her head slammed into the iron railing on the edge of the landing.

For a few seconds she sat, stunned and detachedly noting the reality she had long suspected only a Looney Tunes gag- but nope- stars and bells, coupled with black swirly spots swam across her vision. Read the rest of this entry »

Sister Paul stuck her head in my room and asked if I had an extra manual. She teaches the next class up, the 14-year-olds that I had last year. When they say you love those you serve, I had no idea how true it was until I was called to teach a dozen teenagers Sunday School. It’s been two years now, and I’ve never loved a calling more than I love teaching these kids. Which of course means I’ll be released soon and thrown in Nursery or (shoot me now) Scouts.

“Here, you can have mine. I’m winging it today.” Read the rest of this entry »

Taking the first picture off the wall and gently placing it a box was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Days later I still sat looking at the bare spot on the wall, a lump in my throat and tears welling uncontrollably. Taking that picture down was acknowledging the inevitable, and I kept forgetting to breathe.

The next week, women began showing up on my doorstep with cardboard boxes and rolls of tape. The doorbell would ring, and I never knew how many kind faces would be standing there- but every day, they came as the sun. My shoulders were bowed under the weight of a life imploding, and those hands held up more than cardboard boxes that week.

Divorce ripples out and out, and changes people who thought they were far enough from the ragged epicenter to be safe. No one is safe. Divorce, while first a deeply private and painful rending surprised me in being also a communal sorrow. I did not – could not have- anticipated the families effected by, touched by, and changed by the private hell of the loss of my marriage. Read the rest of this entry »

My hand is shaking as I dial the numbers, balancing the little spiral-bound directory on my knee. Jane picked up on the second ring, “Hi Tracy…!” I jumped a little, always startled when caller ID betrays me. I was born at the wrong time. “…How are you!?” Jane is always cheerful, despite having seven kids and an array of stray pets brought home by her veterinarian husband.

“Hi Jane” I choke out, the tears clogging my throat and getting stuck somewhere in my mangled greeting.

“Are you okay? No, I know you’re not okay, I’ll be right there.”

Gratitude wells within. Grateful for someone cheery who talks a lot and doesn’t need me to fill in the yawning gaps. My life is full of yawning gaps. Everywhere I step, the ground is thin, fragile like a crust of ice on snow that’s frozen overnight. Looks are deceiving. Looks don’t mean anything. Read the rest of this entry »

One thing Mormons do better than just about anyone is to circle the wagons. As a people, we love to help. We prepare, we practice, we take classes, we bring casseroles, and heaven knows, we store our wheat. I’ve watched with fascination over the years, as my membership in the church has mellowed from newbie to fully-aged and sort-of mellowed active, adult, endowed member. I’ve participated, as my friends practice what they preach- or at the very least, make a mighty effort to do so. I read posts like this one, and especially this one and I find myself swelling with pride. These are My People, and I am counted among the flock. Read the rest of this entry »

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade is on the TV, as it is every Thanksgiving morning. My grandma was a firm believer in this Parade, and would even get up early to watch it live, sipping her Sanka and making me a grilled cheese sandwich and frozen red grapes. As an adult, I don’t particularly care for parades, let alone parades on tv that are spliced and diced- but it would not be Thanksgiving for me without Al Roker yelling at me and the Rockettes freezing their cute tushies off while they slip around in the New York cold. Read the rest of this entry »

Along with Steve Evans and J. Stapley, I was honored to present as part of the Pillars of My Faith at Sunstone Northwest this last Saturday. Most of this story will be familiar to anyone who’s followed my journey, but I agreed to post and share my thoughts. Thanks also to Molly Bennion and Mary Ellen Robertson for all the good work they devote to others.

The pillars of my faith are planted in soil that is still soft and freshly turned. The ground where they rest is still marred by the plow, loamy and verdant from only relatively recently having been broken and turned. This lose fresh soil makes my pillars more like stakes, sprouts… wisps of what they may someday be, but the seeds are planted nonetheless, and I have seen the seeds sprout that may someday have the breadth of pillars, the strength of cedars. Not yet, but the promise makes me gasp in awe, and make me willing to gamble on faith. Read the rest of this entry »