I had a hard conversation with my adult son the other day. He has chosen to stop participating in church, as he feels betrayed and manipulated by our church leaders. He no longer trusts the spiritual experiences he has had because he no longer trusts the context in which they occurred. He doesn’t believe the church is true. He doesn’t trust our leaders. He doesn’t want his young children to go to church, but wants them to be able to “decide for themselves” later in life without “brainwashing” at a young age.
It breaks my heart. Continue reading
I don’t usually go all preachy at Segullah, but I feel the need to talk about my testimony of Joseph Smith, and if I’m more scripture-laden than usual, please forgive me. I’ve been evaluating and thinking about my testimony of him, and I feel that witnessing right now is important enough that I commit the blogging sin of preachiness for a minute.
A while ago I posted on the idea of remembering mercy. I am still stuck on that idea, as it seems to be jumping out at me every time I read the Book of Mormon. It’s in 1 Nephi 1:20, as Nephi wants us to understand that he’s telling us this story, which Mormon placed at the beginning of the Book of Mormon, that we may see God’s mercy in his life (and, if we liken the scriptures to ourselves, in our own lives): Continue reading
Emily is a wife, mother, reader, and knitter. She loves national parks, dark chocolate, and the Oxford comma. She blogs sporadically at ejfalke.wordpress.com.
Shortly after my second child was born, I confessed to my husband that ever since I had started my gig as a stay-at-home mom almost three years before, I had felt a little like a free-loader because I wasn’t contributing financially. Giving up my teaching career when my first child was born looked like a really foolish decision on paper: I had job security, a stable income, health insurance…all things my self-employed husband didn’t have. Things we were potentially giving up for our child. However, like a lot of decisions made with the Holy Ghost, we plunged into the unknown trusting that we would be caught by grace. And we definitely have been, although we acquired a few bumps and bruises on the way down. We’ve known uncertainty but not want. Our needs have always been met. Continue reading
While I was growing up I didn’t really have a clear picture of what kind of career I wanted as an adult. For a number of years I wanted to be a marine biologist because I loved the ocean and was fascinated by whales. Then I got into harder science and math classes in high school and felt like I just couldn’t keep up. My senior year in high school I had to write an essay about my future career plans; I wrote about becoming a full-time stay-at-home mom, but it was mostly just to annoy my English teacher because at the time I assumed that my extreme nerdiness would always keep me from getting married. I applied for college at BYU, was accepted, and spent my first three years trying to figure out what I wanted to major in before settling on English because I really liked books. I still had a hazy idea of my future and assumed that after graduating I might find some kind of office job because that was the kind of job I worked while I was an undergraduate.
After my junior year at BYU I left for a mission in Spain, and then returned to BYU and got married less than a year after coming home. At the time of my wedding, my husband and I both had about two years of school left. We took classes together, each worked part-time, and then had our first child three months after we both graduated with our bachelor’s degrees. We spent a lot of time talking about our future; we weren’t sure what we wanted, but we knew that we both wanted to be equally involved as parents and that neither of us should have a career that took precedence over the other. My husband went back to BYU for graduate school a month after our daughter was born; I studied for the GRE and worked on my application, and the next year started a master’s degree in Spanish at BYU. We only had one small child and my husband was in graduate school, so getting a master’s degree at that time was actually a fairly easy decision for me to make. Continue reading
Kristie is a proud graduate of Utah State University (GO AGGIES!) who also holds a master’s degree in social work from the University of Utah. Her passion for finding the perfect recipe for chile verde is matched only by her intense dislike of folding laundry; nevertheless, she remains determined to perfect the art of properly folding a fitted sheet. She is happily married to her high school sweetheart (who, through all of this, cheers for the BYU Cougars) and blogs about the adventures of parenting her spunky three-and-a-half-year-old redheaded daughter and one-year-old son with the most delicious chubby cheeks at www.paddyandkris.blogspot.com.
“Unsettled!” I announced, and I felt that sense of relief wash over me that comes when I finally catch that elusive word that has been dancing on the tip of my tongue, just out of reach. “I am feeling unsettled.” My ever patient and long-suffering husband nodded appropriately, good-naturedly enduring yet another soliloquy from me as I struggled to articulate how frustrated and helpless I felt.
He had heard this tearful rant in one form or another countless times in the 5 months since our first baby had reached that inevitable 12-week-old milestone that sent me reluctantly back to working full time. I was sour, irritable, and generally unpleasant about the whole situation; even though I had known throughout my pregnancy that my returning to work was just part of our family’s economic reality, I continued to harbor some sort of vague resentment that the stars of the universe had failed to magically realign themselves in a way that left me, well, independently wealthy, I guess. Continue reading