Talking “Why” & Sitting in Paradoxes: An Interview with Speaker & Author, Ganel-Lyn Condie

By Sherilyn Stevenson

At Segullah, we pride ourselves on highlighting women relevant to Mormon letters. This quarter’s featured woman, Ganel-Lyn Condie, writes in a genre rarely featured in literary magazines, and yet, her work adds to the discourse in the Church today. As a best-selling, self-help writer and public speaker of “real” topics, Ganel-Lyn impacts discussion surrounding contemporary …

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How can I help you? Using Home Centered Church to Boost Emotional Health

By Michelle Lehnardt

, I’d already drafted this post before I noticed the top story pushed to the newsfeed on my phone this morning: One Teenager Killed Himself. Six More Followed. It’s a haunting story from the Wall Street Journal about the epidemic of teen suicides in Utah. I’ll let you read the story and come to your own …

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Suicide: Let’s Talk About It

The author of today’s post has asked to remain anonymous. Family and suicide Why did they do it? Was it mental illness? The pain still echoes through the family. I want to sleuth it out, uncover old journals, crawl around the family tree. Now, in the past year, one of our children has had suicide …

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Hominem Ex Machina

By Stephanie Wright

That feeling of helplessness. You know when you watch your baby sister, seemingly frozen in midair and about to skin her knee on the driveway? You’re too far away in your seat by the living room window, so you wish for God to cushion her fall with his mighty hand. That is the easiest kind …

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Yellow Clown

By Elizabeth Sexton

“Non sum quals eram” (I am not who I once was.) –Horace I Daddy is a lifelong member of the Book-of-the-Month Club, and books gather month-by-month, year after year, in tall columns around his bed. They stare down at me each night as he hides behind them to battle. For as long as I can …

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How Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth

By Mette Ivie Harrison

I found out while sitting in our general practitioner’s office at the side of my youngest daughter, Emily. It was an ordinary room: two padded, metal chairs together across from the doctor and the computer desk. We’d been there many times for immunizations, for strep throat, for a lingering cough that turned into asthma. I …

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Patterns of Dark and Light

By Jennifer DeLapp Pocock

Much of our knowledge of the Life/Death/Life nature is contaminated by our fear of death. Therefore our abilities to move with the cycles of this nature are quite frail. –Clarissa P. Estes At dusk I slip out alone, through the dunes to the shoreline. It’s spring, just a few weeks after an early Easter, so …

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By Mendy Waits

I am brought back to reality on the fourth day home from my mission. My older brother, Wes, calls me to my mom’s bedroom. I find him and my mom sitting on the edge of the bed. My stomach twists. This conversation is not going to be comfortable. Mom hesitates; she’s trying to smooth out …

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Paths of Agency

Today’s guest post comes from Natalie H. There’s one word that best describes me: novice. A novice at being a wife and mother. A novice at writing. A novice at the world of blogging. And, most of all, a novice at life (still). Luckily, I love learning and maybe… just maybe… someday I’ll elevate my status to “expert” in one of those areas. By day, I work as a technical writer and editor, piously correcting grammar, sentence structure, and formatting. By night, I’m ready to ditch the play-by-the-rules editor side of me and instead give voice to that pent-up wannabe creative writer. I love writing (specifically blogging), reading, photography, my knight in shining armor, and our one crazy, adorable offspring of a daughter.

It was a night in early March. My husband of just seven months and I were at an institute dance, acting like silly newlyweds and having a carefree time. Amidst the loud music, dim lights, and cheap decorations, my husband held out my cell phone to me. “It looks like your mom is calling you.”

On a Friday night? At 10:30?

Instantly my stomach clenched. My parents never call after 9:30.

In the quiet of the Institute hallway, my mom’s worried voice came through the phone. “We can’t find your brother. He sluffed school this afternoon, came home and got his snowboard, and we haven’t seen him since. We’re worried about him and I thought you should know.”

The rest of the night was a back-and-forth battle in my mind. He was probably just being a typical inconsiderate 17-year old and didn’t call. He somehow got stuck somewhere while he was snowboarding and didn’t have a phone. All reasonable excuses, but somehow in my heart of hearts I knew something was wrong.

The safe, naive world I had known until then came crashing down early the next morning with another phone call from my mother, this time in inconsolable tears. “We’re at the hospital. They found Jake* last night… he tried to overdose on pills. He’s really sick, but he survived.”

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