Who am I to judge another
When I walk imperfectly?
In the quiet heart is hidden
Sorrow that the eye can’t see.
Who am I to judge another?

Lord, I Would Follow Thee

Hymns, #220

I have a friend who has suffered for years with depression, and at certain points along the way of her hard journey, she has been bedridden. A few years ago, as she was starting to find her way out of a serious bout with this depression, she had an unusual impression.

“Go visit the women in your stake.”

She took this prompting seriously, and dedicated a year and a half of her life visiting around 500 women, most of them in their homes. Many of them didn’t know what to make of it at first. Is she trying to sell me something? What is this about?

It was simply about following God’s will for her — and was something that has blessed many women’s lives, including my own.

One of the things that strikes me most about her experience (besides her incredible courage in facing her fears and her trust in God to act with such faith) is this:

“Michelle,” she says, “if there is anything I learned from that experience, it’s that every person, without exception, is dealing with something.” Because she took the time to visit women in their homes, in their own safe space, and because she had no other motive than to reach out and listen, women responded. They opened up. They got real about how hard life can be.

I’m reminded of something President Henry B. Eyring said in a talk years ago:

When I was a young man, I served as counselor to a wise district president in the Church. He tried to teach me. One of the things I remember wondering about was this advice he gave: “When you meet someone, treat them as if they were in serious trouble, and you will be right more than half the time.”

I thought then that he was pessimistic. Now, more than 40 years later, I can see how well he understood the world and life.

All I would add to that wise idea, based on my friend’s decent sample size in Mormonville, Utah, is that you will probably be right almost all of the time.

In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can’t see.

The next time you ask someone how they are doing, take a few seconds to look her in the eye and wait and listen. Maybe she won’t feel like opening up. But maybe she will. Or maybe the Spirit will at some time prompt you to do something that she might need, even if they don’t ask.

And watch for how God might be wanting to reach out to you in your own private struggles. He is real. He loves you. Tender mercies don’t always come in the way we want or expect, but they do come. They are real.

One last link I wanted to share is this beautiful talk by President Thomas S. Monson. The story of Tiffany moves me to tears when I read it.

And this quote from the talk is one of my all-time favorites:

“My dear sisters, your Heavenly Father loves you—each of you. That love never changes. It is not influenced by your appearance, by your possessions, or by the amount of money you have in your bank account. It is not changed by your talents and abilities. It is simply there. It is there for you when you are sad or happy, discouraged or hopeful. God’s love is there for you whether or not you feel you deserve love. It is simply always there.”

I pray that you can feel God’s love today. And know that He knows what is in your heart and life, and that He will even consecrate your trials — as He did with my friend’s — for your good and the blessing of others’ lives…in His way and timing.

The post In the Quiet Heart appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

~by Michelle

By the time I had arrived yesterday at the piano teacher’s house to pick up my son, I was exhausted. Mondays are crazy — running here and there doing school carpool and then piano and then dinner and then Family Home Evening. It’s not a bad crazy — I love being there with and for my family — but sometimes that kind of craziness can be hard for this chronic fatiguey body of mine.

So when I walked into my friend’s house, I was feeling like I wanted to just collapse on her carpet and cry. Or sleep. Or something.

But I didn’t. Instead, I plopped myself down on the chair behind the piano while she finished talking to my son…telling him how he could do hard things.

It wasn’t even the  words (although now in retrospect, I needed those words perhaps more than he did). It was the feeling that came over me. I’ve felt it before with this friend — an overwhelming warmth that I feel is God reminding me that He put this friend into my life. That He is aware of me and my life.

I’m so grateful. Grateful for tender mercies. Grateful for angel friends. Grateful for whispers from heaven.

Yes, I can do hard things.

The post Angels and Tender Mercies: I can do hard things appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

“How do you know so many people already?”

I have been asked this question many times since moving a few weeks ago. My neighbors are astounded at the amount of friendly traffic that comes through our door. We had visitors bringing in meals every other night because of the move and because we’d just had a baby. I had already established a carpool buddy for school and host regular play dates for my kids. We quickly found local reliable babysitters and have settled into a congregation to attend every Sunday. My new neighbors, who are extraordinarily friendly themselves, have been astounded at how fast we have acclimated to our new environment.

What’s the secret to my moving success? I’m Mormon.

Prior to moving from our old home we contacted our new congregation to let them know we were coming. In The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are organized into assigned congregations based on geographical locations, called wards. We found out the name and phone number of our new local leaders and let them know when our first week at our new ward would be. We were quickly welcomed by friendly emails and offers to help us move into our new home.

Once we attended our new congregation, my children were integrated into their respective primary classes and my husband and I met adults from the ward in our Sunday School and other classes — I was introduced to members of the Relief Society [the Mormon Church’s organization for women] and my husband met other men in Elder’s Quorum (his priesthood quorum class).

I was invited to book clubs, swim parties, and park day for my kids. I made a point to attend all of the ward events and optional mother events so that my kids could make friends quickly before school started. My new ward members also introduced me to their friends in the community at school and at our swim club that are not of our faith. It was nice going to back-to-school night and seeing some familiar faces.

The second week we attended church, our bishopric [ward leaders] came over to visit us at our home. Our bishop asked us to speak in church next month as a family. I have also been given a Visiting Teaching route and I will be visiting a woman who was baptized just weeks ago into our Church. I was also asked to be be a substitute teacher in our Sunday Relief Society class.  There are both opportunities to serve and be served in any ward family.

Recently, I received a voice mail from another Mormon woman. “Hi Brenda, this is Sister ______. I just finished baking some bread and was wondering if I could swing by some warm rolls to your family for dinner.” I called her back and within minutes this lovely bit of homemade hospitality was at my door.

Warm bread, homemade jam, fresh tomatoes from her garden and a hand sewn blanket for my newborn. Unbelievable! I had never met this woman before, but her generosity gave me pause and made me consider better how I can reach out to welcome new members of my community, regardless of religious affiliation.

I am thankful for my church for giving me an automatic support system. While not every experience will perfectly match this one, and sometimes Mormons are less than perfect, I do take great comfort in knowing that wherever I go in the world there will always be a congregation waiting for me, ready to help and be helped.

The post Mormons Believe in Community appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

But I’m so glad I went. When I walked in the door, my husband said, “You’re glowing.”

I didn’t realize how much I really needed the break. I haven’t laughed like that for a while. I love talking and connecting with the sisters in my ward (I always tend to linger just to chat — I love the social outlet such lingering provides).

These meetings end up with a variety of themes and purposes. Last night, we held a service auction. Each woman came with an idea of some service she could offer to a sister in the ward. The list included cleaning, babysitting, present wrapping for the holidays, baking, homemade items like cards and home decorating items, and myriad other things. We each had “points” to “spend” which we had after going through a list of things we had been able to do in the last week or so. How many days did you read your scriptures? Hold family prayer? Exercise? Have you played a game with a child this week? Served a neighbor? There was enough variety and a long enough list that no one was without a good supply of points to use. This gave us a chance to reflect on how we are doing in our lives and priorities and spiritual and physical well-being. (The gray-haired sister next to me even folded her list up to take home and do some goal-setting.)

But mostly, we just had a lot of fun. The interactions were delightful. The invitation and opportunity to serve each other left us all feeling loved and cared for and more connected. I appreciated, too, how it was a way for us to directly share some of our talents and interests in service to each other.

A couple of favorite moments included the following:

– I saw my good friend raise her hand when a darling baby quilt was held up. My thought was, “Hey, I could get her a baby gift now!” (This was actually a selfish thought in many ways, seeing as I just barely got her the gift I’d meant to give for her other child who is now three!) I “bid” and got the quilt that had been made with love by a sister in our ward. I set it on my friend’s very pregnant tummy and we all had a good laugh. Closer to the end of the auctioning, I bid my remaining points on an offer to help wrap holiday gifts. I heard that I was outbid, so my attention went elsewhere, only to turn around and see the “auctioneer” (husband of one of the women in the room) hand me the wrapping paper and the IOU note. I was puzzled until I discovered the grin on my pregnant friend’s face who had bid on the service and then passed it to me! The room erupted in laughter and warmth.

– One of the sisters saved all of her points to be able to get help creating a blog. When it went up for auction, she yelled out, “61 points!” I think she also included a caveat “And no one had better outbid me!” Again, we all had a good laugh. Since this was the service I had offered, I was thrilled that it went to someone who really wanted and can benefit from the help.

I love the sisterhood that Mormonism brings into my life. I came home from this meeting rejuvenated, well-fed (homemade apple crisp and ice cream), and ready to tackle again the many things going on in our lives right now. (That’s life, after all, right?)

If you were participating in a service auction, what service would *you* offer?

Is there someone around you who might benefit from that service?

The post Relief Society R&R appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

Several weeks ago, Sally was teaching Primary as she has for decades. After church she spoke to several people in the hall about her excitement that her oldest grandchild had received his mission call. Minutes after arriving home from church she suffered a massive heart attack and passed away.

I was devastated. Shocked. Upset. Sad.

“What do you mean Sally has died? I just saw her a few hours ago!” was all ward members could say.

Hundreds of people attended her funeral. Seating for the grieving poured out of the chapel and into the overflow areas. A child sitting in front of me carried a rose and a hand made drawing of Sally teaching her primary class to give to Sally’s husband. The Primary sang “I am a Child of God,” and anyone who had been taught by Sally was invited to sing along with the primary children on the stand. Adults carrying children of their own stood alongside their babies with tears streaming down their cheeks sang the words to one of our church’s most beloved songs.

In the chorus of the song “I am a Child of God” we sing “Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, help me find the way.” Those words resonated with me particularly as I reflected on my experiences with Sally. The day Sally died I was thinking about her a lot. Sally had a condition where she couldn’t sweat and that made clothing very uncomfortable. She wore the same sack-like dress to church each week because it was the most comfortable item of clothing she owned.  Sally also had developed a fear of being in large crowds and had bursitis in her shoulder. Just coming to church was a struggle she overcame every Sunday. On the Sunday Sally died, I was struggling to go to church too. My Rheumatoid Arthritis was making my feet swell so much that I couldn’t bear the thought of wearing my church shoes. The only clothing that fit me post delivery of my fourth child was a denim maternity skirt. I was not feeling cute, and I DID NOT want to go to church.

My mother taught me to be very prim and proper about church apparel. She taught me to dress my very best out of respect for God. Denim and sandals would have never flown at my house as appropriate church clothes. But as I stared down at my shoes that Sunday morning considering the pain even a pair of flats would cause me another mother’s voice came into my mind and told me it was OK to wear sandals to church. It was Sally’s example of wearing comfort apparel every Sunday that made me feel OK about being me. Just attending, partaking of the Holy Sacrament, and making other people feel loved, right down to the very youngest member, was infinitely more important than wearing heels. Thinking about Sally made me want hug people even when it hurts, to smile through my anxieties and overcome physical limitations to show Christlike love to those around me.

Sally’s example had a profound influence on me. She helped me find my way on a hard day. Even though she can no longer physically walk beside me here on earth, her loving influence will live on in how I choose to live with pain. My physical limitations do not have to hinder how I worship my God. When I decide to live the two great commandments, to love God and to love my neighbor as myself I will be honoring Sally’s memory and will be on the right path to finding my way back home to Him.

The post “Lead Me, Guide Me, Walk Beside Me” appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

Where to begin?

First I could tell you that she’s a wife of a scientist, a mother of two girls, a college graduate (statistics was her field — yes, they are smart ones in their house). She serves as the secretary of the Relief Society in her ward congregation. But I don’t have photos for all of that. So I’ll tell you that…

…She’s a whiz in the kitchen. I’m the lucky taste tester for many of her creations. Here, she is making freezer jam. YUM.

Oh, I almost forgot. When I took these jam-making pictures, she sent me this disclaimer to include:

I do not make jam because it is on the “Righteous Mommy Checklist.” I make it because store-bought jams taste “burnt.” Freezer jam to me is fresh strawberries in late January. When Michelle posts my pictures also take note of the REALITY in the background – there is a mess at my house.  I was making jam – not being June Cleaver – there were no pumps or pearls!

(I guess I don’t need to say that she has a sense of humor — and is not afraid to be human! Nor does she do things for pretense. She does things that for her make sense.)

…She’s smart (ah, yes, I already said that), organized, and resourceful. She not only has a great food storage (the story of how she got going on food storage will have to wait for another day, but it’s a faith-promoting one), but…

…She also uses it. (Again, she will often use it to bless others, like me. Here is the bread she made for us a while back for General Conference weekend, sharing their family tradition of “General Conference Bread” with us. (Her hummus is also to die for. And I’ll need to ask her if I can share her granola recipe. More YUM.)

I love how she has a vision for things and makes things happen. I wish I had a photo of her with her tool belt on…she’s very handy and can fix anything. She frequents hardware stores and other places where she can get different materials to improve her home, whether that means adding light to a room or sawing wood to create storage shelves or taking metal strips and hooks and turning them into a wall decoration.

…She paints. Also tucked away for another day are photos of more of her paintings. She likes watercolor in particular.

She quilts. She pieced this together from a pattern in her head.

This next painting represents something else she is working on right now — her family history. This painting is from a photo of her grandfather on his farm. She’s working on a book that includes information, photos, and patriarchal blessings of her ancestors. She’s doing this as a gift to her children and her extended family. I’ve really enjoyed hearing about the progress that she is making on this project.

…And she serves others. I’ve been the recipient of her kindness more times than I can count. (But I don’t have to, because she doesn’t keep score. Yet another reason I appreciate her.)

Not too long ago, while a friend of ours was dying of cancer, she helped put together a quilt, and — again creating something with mostly just a pattern in her head — made this awesome card holder so our friend could read notes from people who cared about her.

(This is Pauline with our friend who recently passed away.)

Pauline is the kind of person who does things quietly, not wanting praise or pats on the back. So I know this post is going to make her squirm a little. She only let me take these photos and post them here because she knows how important sharing about the lives of Mormon women is to me.

I hope she also knows how important she is to me. Thanks, friend, for what you do and are.

– – – – – – –

In the comments, tell us about a friend who has made a difference in your life.

And, if you know a Mormon woman you’d like to let us get to know, please let us know! We’re at gmail, username ‘mormonwoman’

The post Portraits of Mormon Women: Pauline appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

The power and purpose of the Relief Society can be found in the lives of individual women who strive to live lives of faith, strengthen homes and families, and serve others. Today, we celebrate the life of one such woman.

– – – – – – –

~by Michelle

She died several years ago, but her influence remains strong and real in my life.

I remember when Juanita first crossed my path. She was in my stake [a geographical area consisting of about 8-10 ward congregations]. She came to our weekly Saturday stake volleyball activity, bald head wrapped, smart and cute, in a scarf.

She was a mother of nine, eight of whom were living. She was an exemplary wife and mom, focusing her energies and time on building a haven within her home and raising her children in faith. The partnership between her and her husband was powerful to observe. If you didn’t know how humble and wonderful she was, you would be intimated by her. But you couldn’t be intimidated. You just couldn’t because of who she was. How she was.

I found myself with the wonderful fortune of having her move into my ward when ward boundaries changed. Her cancer had been in remission. She was quickly called as our ward congregation’s Relief Society President.

We all quickly fell in love with her. She was unassuming, genuine, loving, faithful, and approachable. She invited every sister to her home for a gathering, just so she could get to know us all better. For the mothers of young children (which was me at the time), it was a breakfast. She wanted to know about our lives, our thoughts, our suggestions. She even implemented one of my ideas in a Relief Society class.

She had been our Relief Society President for only a few short months when the devastating news arrived: her cancer had returned. This time, it attacked not her breast but her liver and lungs. We were stunned. As a ward family, we mourned. We prayed. We fasted. We reached out in love as much as we could. Her family reached back, and shared intimate details of their struggle with us. We received regular emails updating us on their journey. They decided that they would open up their usually-private life so we could exercise our faith better, and so we could travel with them. It was one of the most unifying things I have ever experienced in a ward. Even in her pain, and even after she was released from her calling as Relief Society President, she taught and ministered through her faith and example.

Juanita Serving with Family in South America

Part of the reason I connected so much is because so many of the struggles she had were struggles I was having, just in a different context, and obviously to different degrees. I was dealing with undiagnosed chronic illness. I understood struggles with fear, concerns about the future and life and family and all of those things that surface when your health is in question. I was pretty sure that I didn’t have cancer, but there were still so many unknowns, so many concerns that were the same. I just empathized with her–and she did with me.

I will never forget the time when I left a Relief Society weeknight class and hid myself in an alcove. I sat on the stairs and just sobbed. I couldn’t handle the normalcy with which the presenter was talking about getting up just a little bit earlier to exercise. I used to be that person, an avid and active runner, willing to sacrifice a little sleep for precious exercise. But that was no longer my life. I was mourning the loss of that life. I felt different, and I felt alone. Like no one understood.

But someone did.

Juanita found me in that alcove. Here she was, facing the possibility that her cancer would not go away this time around. But she listened and let me unload my concerns and doubts and fears.

As I apologized for complaining about my life, especially given all that was going on in hers, I realized that the severity of her trials didn’t change what my trials were to me. That moment of clarity came: We can’t compare suffering. She obviously knew that. She never made me feel that she “won” because her health problems were worse. She just cared.

As things continued to get worse in her life, we as a ward family continued to exercise our faith together. Between pregnancy, nursing and health issues, I had only fasted a handful of times in several years, and one of those times was for her. We had very specific purposes to our fasting and prayers, and I felt strongly that we were exercising faith in a way that was pleasing to heaven. I had the sense that if she passed away, it would be God’s will, because I felt we were truly doing all we could do.

During this time, she would openly share her doubts and concerns and questions in Relief Society. These were the times I felt that much closer to her. Often, women weren’t sure even what to say, but oh, how I could understand the questions she asked, for I had asked many myself. What do you do with priesthood blessings that don’t seem fulfilled? How do you truly exercise faith? What do you do when your life doesn’t turn out as you expect or want it to? I think in the end she really understood the answers. Faith is not about getting what we want. It’s about submitting and trusting in whatever God’s will is. Ultimately, we have faith in Him, and in His eternal plan, and in His Son, and nothing else.

God’s will was made clear. She deteriorated rapidly in the end. She slipped peacefully into eternity on the day that I had anticipated finally going to her home to say my last and personal goodbye.

Later, I found out more about those final moments. She was ready to go. But she actually chose to wait a couple of hours before moving on, until her oldest daughter’s flight arrived and she could be in that room, too. Even with the morphine flowing in her system and even as the door of death was wide open, a miracle happened: Juanita was able to interact in priceless ways with her family, cracking jokes, sharing some last thoughts about the family’s future. She’d already spent time before creating keepsakes, recordings, and letters, so these final words were simple but full of love and unselfishness. Amazing.

Once the daughter arrived, the family then sang together, then prayed, then let her go.

I have no doubt that Juanita passed her test. And in doing so, she gave those around her more strength and desire to do the same. This journey, though poignant and difficult, was one also filled with light, peace, understanding, and hope. As she and her family shared the journey with us, they strengthened our testimonies about the truthfulness of the gospel, the plan of salvation, the reality of the spirit world, of the resurrection, of eternal families. It all reached me so deeply that I will never be the same.

I miss her. I love her. And I will be forever grateful for the influence she had on my life.

And, so, sometimes I still cry.

Juanita Serving Children in South America

The post “Sometimes I Still Cry” (A tribute to celebrate the Relief Society) appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

Something happened yesterday that reminded me that God watches out for me. I was reading books with my son at the library (I don’t go to the library very often). After about 45 minutes we walked up to the desk to check out the books we had chosen. There was a woman standing at the desk asking about library cards, and she looked really familiar to me. I was pretty sure I knew her from my previous hometown, in another state. After I was finished checking out my books, we walked out of the library at the same time, and I asked her, “Who are you?” (Yes, kind of uncouth, but I needed to know who she was.) She said, “Emily.” I said, “I KNOW you! What are you doing here in this state?” She said, “My husband got an internship nearby and we will be here for the summer.”

Now let me back up a bit. We only lived in the previous location for a year, but it was a wonderful year. Everyone at church was so welcoming and kind. We loved the town. We grew up a little bit there because we had no family to rely on, but our ward became our family. We miss our friends. We miss our ward. We miss a lot about that town. When we moved to our current home, I had a really hard time at first because I missed so much about our wonderful year, our wonderful town.

Emily and her husband Pete were in our previous ward. Her husband was my son’s nursery teacher (and he was awesome). Emily was in the Primary presidency, and I was in the Young Women’s presidency, so we didn’t get many opportunities to get to know each other. When she found out she was moving for the summer, some people in the ward told her to call me, but she said, “Erin and I didn’t get to talk much. She wouldn’t even know who I was if I called her.”

Since they are only going to be here for three months, they found a place that has cheap rent on a month to month contract, and is furnished. But it is in kind of a questionable area. They only got here on Wednesday night, and they are already having concerns with where they live. Emily was just hoping she could find a stay-at-home mom that she could hang out with over the summer, because her husband will be gone a lot (and they have a five-month-old baby boy).

I love how God put us both at the library at the exact same time, less than 48 hours after Pete & Emily moved here. I love how God knew that Emily would need me this summer, because she has no family here and she would likely be lonely. I love how God knew that bringing Emily into my life right now would be like bringing a little piece of our little town back to me for a moment. And now I have the chance to build a new friendship with someone, which I always love. So thank you, God, for reminding me that you care about me and that you watch out for all of us.

The post First Person: The Right Place at the Right Time appeared first on Women in The Church of Jesus Christ.

In August of 2004 I first became acquainted with food storage. I had heard much about food storage in my life, but really had no idea what it was really about. To be honest, I still am a little vague on some of the details. However, a year in the city where I lived can really teach a person a lot. The town is right smack in the middle of good farmland. As a result, produce is cheap and plentiful, so people find ways to store it.

My parent’s must have canned when I was growing up because I have many memories of eating home-canned goods, but surprisingly ZERO memories of the canning process. I must have been very good at making myself scarce when work was threatened. In my new ward everyone was talking about getting ready to can. The peach and tomato crops were upon us and we had access to free fruit. So I had some figuring out to do.

At the time I was serving in the Relief Society Presidency (an organization for women in our church) I was also 7 months pregnant with my second son, which is a fairly irrelevant detail. The president at the time was Janell. Janell was the second of three Presidents that I was to work with in three short years. She had also recently moved to our city and was like a breath of fresh air. Janell was a mother of 7 grown children, made her own bread, had a testimony of wheat, and –most importantly–she was a Master Canner. I didn’t even know that there was such a thing as a Master Canner, but apparently through the local university system, you could take classes and become a Master at many things-gardening, canning, etc.

So we enlisted Janell to come over and teach a few of us rookies a thing or two. Many, many hours later she had imparted enough wisdom that we were all able to go home and finish canning our fruits and vegetables. I will never forget at the end of that late night, standing in my dining room, Janell telling us that she had a doctor’s appointment the following day since she was having trouble with her vision and remembering things. Two days later we found out that Janell had a brain tumor.

Of course this experience taught me many things. One of them was that I truly was not cut out to be a RS president in my age and pregnant state of mind. I learned that I was blessed to be surrounded by amazing women. The other members of our Presidency and I worked as a team as Janell continued to serve as President while ill. Janell was a source of inspiration and peace during this time. We visited and loved each other. We laughed and cried and got some work done. Janell eventually went into remission, a miracle to be sure. She enjoyed her family, friends and life in general until the cancer resurfaced last year. During the whole experience, Janell was a testifier. She testified of Christ, of the love of our heavenly father, of tender mercies, of miracles, of eternal families and of Wheat!

Janell passed away yesterday, confident in her knowledge of the plan of salvation, ready to be reunited with her family.

I am grateful for Janell. I often think of her and all that she taught me. Especially every summer when I pull out my mason jars and look over the canning notes about tomatoes from Janell, Master Teacher.

*Phoebe wrote this beautiful tribute on January 10th, 2009 after learning of her friend’s passing.

For more First Person essays, please click here.

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