Guest Post- Why Mormon Feminism Matters to Me: Melodramatic Edition

October 29, 2010 by 3 Comments

by Kiskilili*

What Mormonism purports to offer is a unique relationship to deity (of a quality said to surpass what’s available in other denominations), the authorization to act on God’s behalf, and a personal self-understanding as inchoately and potentially divine.

I would argue these are some of the most breathtaking aspects of the faith. God values, validates, trusts, and acknowledges us, even in our weakness and inability, and he provides us the means for constructing a self-concept as a subject in relation to deity, both personally and existentially. This is what, for a Mormon, it means to be human.

Or, stated more precisely, this is what it means to be male and human.

For some of us the Church offers the stupefying prospect of becoming an eternal nothing, insignificant or nonexistent, cut off from the possiblity of relationships and from the raison d’être of the eternities: nurturing human progeny. Some of us are asked, as a religious act, not to accept the authority to act in God’s name but to defer it, to construe ourselves as objects rather than subjects and our value as contingent rather than inherent. We’re given scant institutional means for constructing a religious self-concept as beings in communion with the divine. Instead, our personal relation to deity is compromised by the presence of male intermediaries, and our existential relation to deity is nullified by Heavenly Mother’s profound absence.

Female Mormonism is a sort of negative space, an irreligion, not an opportunity for acknowledgment from God but a denial of it. If religion matters, and if women matter, this is a travesty.

[Some] raise the possibility that patriarchy (and correspondingly, I assume, androcentrism) may represent God’s will.

This could well be the case. It’s also why I left the Church. Not because of doubt, but because of faith: in God, temple, scripture, and priesthood. This is the searing irony: that my faith led me to give up on God. In the Church’s holiest spaces and most sacred texts I failed to find compelling evidence women are people in any meaningful sense. It’s the Church itself—not just disgruntled feminists—that insists gender matters. If the Church is right about what it fundamentally means to be female, I have no reason to stay; what I do hardly matters. If the Church is wrong, I have no reason not to leave.

Of course, the clear gendered implications of liturgy, scripture, and policy—that God endorses the blatant marginalization of females at every level and in every age—is simply unsayable in today’s political climate, and the Church has obligingly thrown us a barrage of palliative sops about women’s superlative value (often in reference to men), statements with painfully little reference to practice, rituals, or sacred texts and even less awareness of women’s experience.

I concede that many—maybe most—women are happy with the situation. I would argue it’s in spite of, not because of, these theological implications. Women are happy because they’ve trained themselves not to notice or they’ve found a way they’re comfortable rejecting it.

For those of us who can’t not notice and who can’t find an easy way out from under it, it matters because religion is about who and what we are and can be. And what some of us are is apparently appendages, afterthoughts, and auxiliaries.

And, quite likely, this will never really change in any way deeper than the cosmetic. Because the people with the power to change it—maybe human men, maybe a male Godhead—are, exactly because of that power, the very people who will never understand why it matters.

*This post is reproduced with the author’s permission. It originally appeared here.

Filed Under: HOPE

My Mormon Feminist Journey

October 25, 2010 by 12 Comments
When Jesus met the Samaritan woman at the well, there was no reason for him to speak to her. In fact, there were a million reasons for him not to. Despite these things, he offered her so much more than the water with which she filled her pitcher.  At the well, Jesus demonstrated that not only is he the living water, but that he values women and treats them far better than required by his culture.

It’s the example of how Jesus treats women in the New Testament that gives me strength to  be a Mormon feminist.

Jesus was the first feminist. He treated women as individuals worthy of dignity, respect, and love. Part of understanding feminism is acknowledging the systematic ways that women are not treated equally in our culture.

I haven’t always been a feminist. I even remember thinking that it was a harsh  word when I was growing up. Feminism was a title claimed by power-hungry, testosterone-filled, bra-burning, can-hardly-be-called women. Ha! How wrong I was. (The feminists I know are kind, generous, brilliant, open-minded, thoughtful, and brave. Remarkably, most of them garden and knit, too.)

Of course I believed in equality, but I never saw a systemic problem with the way women were treated anywhere, in society or in the LDS church.

My feminist awakening came about four years ago during a discussion with my husband. During the conversation I remember asking my husband, “What women do you see as your spiritual leaders?” In the moment he took to think of an answer, I already knew.  No one. He didn’t even see his mother that way, and he really admires her.  In that split second, my worldview cracked and I found myself on the other side of the looking glass, staring in at a church that felt oddly lopsided and male-heavy.  I sensed the feminine wound (though it took me years to name it) and the absence of a divine feminine influence in my life and the life of men like my husband.

In the ensuing months and years, I’ve found myself learning more about what it means to be a woman and how I am entitled to name my own experience and give it value. Blogging has been a godsend for me as a way to share my story and also read about the stories of other women. I’ve also been moved by Dance of the Dissident Daughter, Mormon Enigma, Strangers in Paradox, and Mother Wove the Morning. Writing at the Exponent blog and working on the publication have been rewarding for me and I believe they make a difference in helping women feel that they are not alone on their spiritual journeys.

After online connections, I began to develop real-life friendships with women I knew from the blogs. Soon, we’d formed a playgroup, a book group, and combined with a more established Mormon feminist lunch group. Our social network in Arizona is quite developed, so if you know someone who could use our support, please let me know!

It was after years of listening and being heard through blogs and in social groups, that I decided to organize a group to move into the realm of advocacy.  As an insular group of self-identifying Mormon women, we can talk, listen, validate, and talk some more, but until we recognize and take steps to make our voices heard by more church members, including those who can affect change, then nothing will change.

My hope is that LDS WAVE is the very beginning of something bigger. I hope it’s the beginning of women recognizing that their voices are as important as men’s, that sometimes they haven’t been heard and that they should be. I hope that women and men who identify with what they read at WAVE will be motivated to participate in our Calls to Action, write their experiences for the HOPE blog, or contribute to the Women’s Service Mission.

I understand that not everyone who reads this will agree with me, and that’s just fine. I only want to be heard, to have someone say, “I acknowledge that you’ve had these experiences and I respect your right to act on your feelings and values.”  It’s the way I try to treat people I disagree with. And considering the way Jesus treated women in his life, it’s the very least we should expect from each other.

I’d love to hear from readers, what would you like to see from WAVE. How can we best help you to advocate for women’s voice and equality in the LDS church?

Filed Under: HOPE

A Window When The Doors Are All Closed

October 20, 2010 by 11 Comments
by Kylee Shields

I have wanderlust and ADHD and so I struggle with staying in one place and doing one thing. As a result I struggled many times in my life to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up. Even when I graduated from BYU with a degree in English and Linguistics I was still trying to figure out what I wanted to be and do. I was raised in a family (thankfully!) where we grew up as kids who were “jack of all trades–king of none.” In other words I loved doing everything and was never really good at anything one thing.

While serving my mission something amazing happened to me. I realized I was really good at something. I was good at memorizing scriptures, finding principles, outlining lessons, and making connections. I discovered my passion for teaching the gospel! As a result when I went back to BYU in my last year (b/c I fought the idea) I took the two semesters of Seminary Teaching Classes.

It was here that I felt the heavy burden of inequality but not just me as a female. We were told that most likely none of us would become seminary teachers. We were told that males who were married by the time they were up for hire, would not be hired. I was told that if I was actually (by some miracle) hired that as soon as I had a child I would have to quit my job. Even with all this negativity I felt the spirit very strong and confirming that this is what I was meant to do.

So I began my student teaching and I LOVED it! I loved my students and they loved me. I made a point to raise the bar in my classes and expected the kids to reach it. They did and then some and I saw miracles in my classes and in my students lives. The thing I didn’t see was the male leaders who were suppose to be coming in to see my teaching and evaluate me.

I watched as they came on a regular basis to the male teacher in my same seminary building who was up for hire and engaged. And half way through my year I was told that I would most likely not get hired so if I wanted to quit that would be okay. I chose to finish out the year for my students. I wasn’t visited again. I was actually teaching full time at this point b/c two of the teachers had health issues so I taken on their classes. The Seminary Principal believed in me, my students loved me, and I felt the support of the Lord and the spirit. Yet, I wasn’t hired. I know that there are a gazillion teachers up for hire each year and the likely hood that I would get hired was a shot in the dark but I
wanted my shot. I wanted an equal chance to show my love and passion for teaching. I was devastated by my unequal treatment and failure.

I was confused by the spirit’s assurance and the contradictory knowledge that certain men had power over my ability to do what I love and was good at!

I actually tried again in Boston while teaching early morning seminary to 11 dedicated LDS kids from 7 different high schools. I was made promises by males in power that they would come out and evaluate my teaching. Again they never came. I realized I didn’t have the stamina to fight this losing battle and I stashed my teaching files far away in the back of the storage unit my family owns.

Then I battled. I wrestled with the Lord, I talked to everyone I knew, I made lists, etc.  I did anything I could think and even some things others thought of to figure out what to do with my life. I was so angry!

Slowly over time the Lord opened a window where He had closed all the doors and I discovered that while I may not be able to teach the gospel to kids I could find ways to work with them. Besides, I had always had an affinity for the punk kids anyway. Through much prayer, fasting, schooling, frustration, heartache, and joy I became a child and adolescent therapist! I love what I do, I love listening to broken kids, I love being a part of the process of change in their lives, and in a small way, I love helping them know they are loved!

Men in power may have kept me from being a seminary teacher but they couldn’t keep me from teaching the gospel (I’m currently a sunday school teacher) or working with adolescent kids. The Lord and I found a new path, a new plan, and a new found faith!
Filed Under: HOPE Tagged With: ,

Primary Singing Time: Deborah Was a Prophet

October 16, 2010 by 10 Comments

I’ve been in the Primary presidency for about four years now.  During that time, I have tried to figure out a place for my feminist ideals.  I think I’ve come to a pretty good place.  While I don’t think I should do a lesson on the three waves of feminism, I do try to bring in examples of underrepresented groups of people whenever I can.  Every sharing time I present has a story with a strong woman or girl in it.  With a little research, it hasn’t been too tricky.

But, I sometimes struggle with the songs.  The tune to “Follow the Prophet” is so catchy and educational, but it makes me sad that every person we’re singing about is a man.  So, I loved Mary Ann’s guest post on FMH for new verses to “Follow the Prophet” posted in 2007. 

It took me about a year and a Primary Singing Time emergency to get up the courage to teach Mary Ann’s verse about Deborah:
Deborah was a prophet—
she judged Israel.
Led them into battle,
triumphed with Jael.
God will guide our leaders,
women can lead too.
They will show the way to
God for me and you.

Our Singing Time leader called in sick about 2 hours before Church, and I was in charge of music time that day.  I’m not particularly clever when it comes to teaching kids songs, so  I had no idea what to do.  After a prayer for inspiration, I felt like I should go over “Follow the Prophet” with the kids and teach them Deborah’s verse.  I was nervous.  I asked my husband how I should do it.

His response: “Don’t act like it’s a big deal.  Just teach the verse like you would teach all the other verses of the song.”

So, I did…I brought costumes for Noah, Daniel, and Deborah and picked kids to dress up for each one.  Then, I walked into Primary.  It was the middle of the summer, and I knew there wouldn’t be a lot of people.  Of course, when I got there, I see a few outside substitutes and a member of the bishopric.  That unnerved me a bit, but I felt like I had done the necessary preparations to make this a successful singing time.

I took my husband’s advice to heart and talked about each verse, telling the story of the prophet and why he/she was important to sing about.

The kids loved it.  I’d like to think I saw a glimmer in a few girls’ eyes when I told the story of Deborah and had one put on the costume.  I didn’t sense (or hear) of any concerns that I taught this Deborah verse.  In fact, people wanted to know where I found such a gem.

This experience made me wonder how often I hold back just because I fear how I’ll be perceived.  In my ward, I’m not secretive about my feminist ideals, but I do try not to force them on others, just as I hope they will be respectful of my interpretations of the Gospel.  Still, sometimes, I think it is necessary for me to get out of my comfort zone.  This experience taught me that with the aid of prayer and a pure intent, we can often be guided to the best ways to make Primary (and other classes) more inclusive.

Filed Under: HOPE

Why I Am a Mormon Feminist

October 12, 2010 by 7 Comments

“He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” –Micah 6:8.

I’m a Mormon feminist because I take seriously this verse in Micah.

In my mind, to do justice means to recognize the dignity of every human being, and to work towards a world in which all people, regardless of sex, race, or class, are treated with fairness, respect and afforded opportunities to progress and contribute. As a Mormon feminist, I hope for the day when women’s voices are equally included and valued in Church settings. I hope for the day when Mormon women have a greater sphere to act and contribute within the Church. I hope for the day when any vestiges of hierarchy between men and women, vestiges which linger in our Mormon practice, culture, and ideas, disappear. I hope for the day when Mormon women embrace their limitless selves without regard to any artificial or constraining ideas of what it means to be a woman.

For me, to act towards these ends is to do justice to my fellow human beings and to do justice to the vision which God has for God’s children. To do so, also, in my mind, is a living expression of kindness, as exemplified by Jesus Christ, who reached beyond the boundaries of his culture to love and include and feel the pain of those forgotten or despised by the rest of society.

As I journey forward as a Mormon feminist, I also hold closely to my heart that third requirement mentioned in Micah: to walk humbly with God. I interpret this to mean being open to God and the Spirit in my life. I am drawn to the concept of God working within me, working within each of us, prompting us to choose the better part, prompting us to love fearlessly, prompting us to look out for the concerns of the downtrodden, prompting us to recognize the divinity within ourselves and others. I love the idea of God helping us to transcend our petty selves, our narrow constraints, to reach out in radical fellowship to all.

Because I am drawn to these concepts mentioned in Micah, I am a Mormon feminist. It’s what I believe God wants me to be.

Filed Under: HOPE

How I’m a Mormon Feminist

October 4, 2010 by 5 Comments

Just before the time when I needed to choose my educational path as a freshman in college, I was baptized and became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  As I embraced my newfound values, I found inspiration in the church’s teachings on families and how the answers to the problems facing society seemingly could be found in the gospel. Encouraged by the scriptures and the value the church puts on education “by study and also by faith,” I sought the answers from science and scholarly study and found that much of what social scientists have found contribute to happy and healthy families are also foundational teachings in the gospel.

BYU and The School of Family Life was the perfect place for me to understand this connection. There I was trained to become an activist for family friendly public policy and was encouraged to continue my scholarship and work.

When I had joined the church, my mother worried if her strong-willed and passionate daughter was up to the challenge of living the traditional role of a Mormon woman. I was pleasantly surprised to see that this stereotype did not always bear out in my observations of women in the church. At BYU, I found many examples of LDS women who were balancing the dual callings of mother and professional. I had hope and faith that the Spirit would guide me to the roles that I would play in my family and community though I did not understand how it would work.

As I came close to completion of a graduate degree, it was revealed to me in a blessing that the path I thought my life would take was different that what my heavenly parents intended. Just as I was expecting to hear counsel to be solely devoted to my family and raising my children, I was encouraged to continue my studies and activism. That was the last thing I expected to hear!

That blessing made me realize that I was going to be atypical in the church.  After a shocking birth experience where my right to informed consent was threatened and ultimately withheld, losing my job while on maternity leave and being thrown headlong into the Mommy Wars, I learned first-hand some of the discrimination and hurdles that complicate motherhood. I started to view family policy from the perspective of a mother and became aware that women’s efforts to provide for themselves and their families are still very much devalued in our society.

I was inspired to continue my work as an activist and found ways to work from home as a stay at home mother. In addition to completing a master’s degree with a child on my hip and another in utero, I collaborated with the non-profit, Solace for Mothers, to create an online discussion board for women who were struggling with emotional trauma caused by their childbirth experiences, and volunteered with the organization The Coalition for Improving Maternity Services to promote The Birth Survey, a consumer feedback website reviewing maternity care providers.

Currently enrolled in midwifery school and with plans to pursue a doctorate degree in the future, I find strength in the teachings of the gospel, the stories of women of the restoration and reliance on personal revelation.

Filed Under: HOPE Tagged With:

What Being an LDS Feminist Means to Me

September 24, 2010 by 9 Comments

by Chelsea, WAVE board member

Photo: Chelsea at 8 yrs old


I came home from school and plopped my backpack near the entry-way closet. I ran into the kitchen moving my head back-and-forth to feel the ribbons in my pigtails brush my face. My Dad was sitting on the stairs of our Tooele, Utah house and he opened his arms inviting me to come join him. It was such a sweet moment. I remember feeling very special that I got his undivided attention.

He asked me, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
I’d never been asked this question before. I knew I had to use this precious time wisely before one of the rug rats crawled in and stole my opportunity to shine. With little hesitation and the desire every kid has to make their father proud I confidently proclaimed, “The President of the United States!”

It was the first grand profession I could think of on such short notice and I still remember puffing up my chest up high and beaming a bucktoothed smile when my dad nonchalantly said, “You can’t be the President. What will your husband do?”

I didn’t know. I’d never really thought about it. As my chest slowly deflated, I guessed, “I don’t know. He could be with me?”

“But who will watch the kids?” my Dad explained.

Again, I’d never really thought about it and didn’t know what to say, so I just mumbled, “Yeah” and sat their seriously wondering “Who can watch the kids? C’mon think. Think. THINK.” But soon his attention was diverted and he was gone.

I never did come up with an answer for him and he never again asked me what I wanted to be. Up until this point in my life, I pretty much thought my father was God—omniscient, loving, always right, fun, etc. But something deep down inside my little 8 year-old body knew that he was wrong about this. I could be the President of the United States if I really wanted to be. Why did being a girl change anything? I didn’t feel any different from the boys I knew. Why would it be good for them and not me? I mean it wasn’t like I was really going to be President of the United States, I knew that, but it just killed me that there was already this opportunity that I couldn’t have just because I was a girl. Rather, an opportunity that the only man I loved, my dad, didn’t think I should have. At 8 years-old I came face-to-face with a shattered vision of the American dream, I realized that things are different for girls than they are for boys. It made me sad and then quickly, the way kids do, I changed my mind. I thought, “Who says he’s right anyway?” I gave credence to my own deep intuition and decided early that maybe boys aren’t always right about girl matters.

This poignant memory stayed with me throughout my life. Not the specifics necessarily, but the idea that I would have strong promptings throughout my life that were seemingly contradictory to my priesthood leaders.

It wasn’t that I was being disobedient. That is not in my nature. I love the church. I follow my leaders. I’ve always taken their counsel and advice very seriously.

The problem was that the very same mechanisms I had been taught to recognize as spiritual promptings—that I had always trusted to guide and direct my life–did not always align with those of my priesthood leaders. One example of this is after much prayer and pain I decided not to marry a former longtime beau. During this time I received much counsel from my college bishop, my home ward bishop, my institute professor, and my beau that encouraged me to get married. Each time one of my leaders questioned my personal revelation I would go back to the drawing board and start over. I would “search diligently, pray always, and be believing” (D & C 90:24). After much struggle and genuine desire for guidance, I arrived at the same conclusion each time. It was very confusing to me to feel like I was following the correct spiritual process of being directed by the Lord, but that my answers were different than what my priesthood leaders thought they should be. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that we were both right. My leaders general counsel was inspired, i.e. marriage is good, however, so was my personal revelation, i.e. who I should marry.

Similarly, I realized that this was how my Dad was trying to communicate all those years before. It wasn’t that he didn’t want me to become the President or didn’t think I was able, it was that he wanted me to realize that family was the most important thing. HowevWith that counsel in mind, it was also right for me to listen to the spirit and with my husband decide what that meant for our family life.

This realization has helped me through many big decisions in my life- none more poignantly than my struggle with being a feminist (simply meaning, one who believes in the equality of men and women) in the church. While the foundation of this belief is founded in basic gospel principles and reconfirmed via heartfelt study and prayer, gender inequality is something I regularly see perpetuated by church members. Most of these incidences are seemingly banal and, like the examples above, it sometimes takes me a long time to figure out the essential message in seemingly prejudice general counsel. I know that many members and leaders are even benevolent in their prejudice, in fact many women in the church are content, but it nevertheless makes me feel like a second-class child of God and an enabler of these ideas by doing nothing.

This has been a major challenge these last couple of years in my life. I have often felt discouraged and alone. The cognitive dissonance between equality and the church made me feel hurt, less valued, and, ultimately, upset. I would leave church meetings feeling frustrated rather than uplifted. At one point I felt that the two were mutually exclusive, I was at a crossroads and had to make a choice. They were both equally strong impressions. I felt torn between two things I loved and believed in deeply. At first I decided the church was more important. I tried to relegate my feelings into the “We just don’t know everything on earth” category and ignore the inequalities I saw. I did this for awhile but it felt like every time I would hear or see injustice or the consequences of gender discrimination in the lives of the women I knew a little piece of my spirit crumbled and died. I wasn’t being honest with myself and it was eating away at my soul. Eventually, I weighed my options again. There was nothing about the equality of women— in their divine nature or earthy treatment— that I felt was incorrect. Equality was intuitive, Christlike, a fundamental right. How could I go against this?

I did, however, harbor doubts about the church’s relationship with underrepresented minorities. There have been many wrongs that have been righted over time. That is why we have continued revelation. But why hasn’t this been the case with women? I also struggled with whether or not I wanted to raise my daughter in a society where she could not play a full and equal role and where she was taught that this was justified. I began to wonder if I might have to leave the church.

I mourned this decision. I wept. I felt like there was nowhere for me to discuss such things. At church I didn’t want to disrupt the spirit or diminish what little respect people had for me. Whenever I brought up my concerns with church members my faithfulness and obedience was questioned, when I brought it up with non-members it was my sanity they doubted.

Fortunately, God knew more than all of the above. If you remember, earlier he had helped me trust my spiritual promptings and marry the right person for me. I was very open with my husband about my challenges and frustrations. While it was hard for him to see me suffer and to watch me change, he supported and loved me throughout.

One day, I told him my decision about feeling like I would have to leave the church because, “I would never join a group that institutionally promulgated and culturally constituted inequality. So how can I stay in one that does?”

His response was beautiful and inspired, “But you are American.”

“What?” I thought I heard him wrong.

“Well, the US has often structurally and culturally mistreated minorities and women, which you are morally opposed to, so why do you stay?”

His question gave me cause to think deeply and humbly.

“You are right” I said.

I thought about it awhile and explained, “I stay in America because there are so many things about it that I love and believe in. There are also many things that I disagree with, but I feel like I have the power to help change those things.”

“So why can’t you do that with the church?” was his response.

“Maybe I can.” I thought.

And thus began another year of struggling to figure out my place in a male-biased hierarchy. I know that I have no right to receive revelation for the church. I trust that my leaders are inspired, but I do not presume they are omniscient. Maybe I was right in 2nd grade, “that boys aren’t always right about girl matters”. Maybe the only way to cause change is if enough women made their leaders aware of their struggles—that they agonize over their love for the gospel and their feelings of discrimination, that their exclusion from many hierarchies and rituals in the church make them feel inferior, that they desire to fulfill the measure of their own creation, that they cling to the belief that they have a Heavenly Mother and hope to know more about her, that being single or childless or secondary to their spouse makes them feel like they are not good enough on their own, that gender is only one aspect of who they are, that there is so much more that they can contribute to the church if allowed, that they hope continued revelation will be used on their behalf, and that if we are all sacred in the eyes of God, why does it feel like we are treated so differently here on earth?

This year has been a little easier. I have found more harmony and joy in being an LDS feminist. I have a bishop that respects my intuition and a Relief Society president that views it as an asset. I am doing my best to honor God by following both the spiritual promptings he sends me as well as those he gives to church leaders. This isn’t always easy and I don’t know why I am particularly prompted in this area. Connecting with other women who are aware of and seeking answers to these questions has been a huge blessing to me and my family. Participating in LDS WAVE helps me to feel like I am not alone and that together we can make a difference.

I plan on teaching my sons and daughters that family is the most important thing in the world and, hopefully, when they tell me what they want to be when they grow up gender won’t matter.

Filed Under: HOPE

HOPE Blog

September 6, 2010 by 1 Comment

The Hope Blog is a place of sharing and a place of action.

We encourage LDS women to share their personal experiences—successes and challenges—with church, faith, priesthood, patriarchy, womanhood, and feminism in a spirit of trust, openness, and faith.

We also encourage LDS women to promote action toward change by sharing stories of hope.  These can be best practices in creating local change or hopeful possibilities for changes in the future.

We intend this to be a place of non-judgment and inspiration.  We intend to focus on what is and what could be the best in LDS church.  We hope this will be a place where participants are striving for solutions that allow all to maintain faith and hope.

We realize these are tender topics and we encourage women to write about their discouraging and painful moments around these topics as well encouraging and hopeful moments.  We want to hear stories of things that feel broken and stories of things that feel whole.  Readers are encouraged to share ideas about how to make changes in our lives, our homes, and in our local congregations.

Please submit experiences and ideas to HOPEideas@ldswave.org and be respectful of others’ experiences in your correspondence.

Filed Under: HOPE
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