Down In The River To Pray

Earlier this week, while driving to Boise, ID, the hymn "Down in the River to Pray" came on the radio. (Ironically, on the Mormon Tabernacle Choir Pandora station) It was a version sung by Allison Krauss on her album "A Hundred Miles or More". The song is sung completely A Capella, and the lyrics are virtually the same throughout, but at the beginning of each verse and chorus, the song addresses a new group of people. Sisters. Brothers. Fathers. Mothers. Then... at the very end... Sinners.

On the eve of General Conference, and another General Priesthood Session, this rings throughout my heart, like a bell being sounded in a bell tower.

The Church loves gender roles. There is always at least one talk that solely focuses on them, and countless others that mention and refer to them in one way or another. These talks are meant to emphasize (and usually over emphasize) that we are different, separate, and not meant to blend. (BUT STILL EQUAL!)

The simple fact is that we are different. We are remarkable, unparalleled, and extraordinary. We have different opinions, and different interests. We have different experiences, and have different talents. We are of different heights, weights, colors, ethnicity, and language. We are unique! (Just like everyone else...)

We are Sisters and Mothers. Brothers and Fathers. We are friends, and sometimes foes. But most importantly, we are sinners. We all sin differently. Many of us swear, and work on the Sabbath. Others may take something that is not theirs, and then lie to cover their tracks. A few of us may have even done something more serious, like committing adultery. But no matter what we have done, and no matter who we are, or what positions we hold, we are all sinners.

So we really are all the same. We have our petty differences, and the things that make us who we are. But we are the same. We have the same desires to be close to our Heavenly Parents. We have the same desires to be Christ-like, and to serve others. We have the desire to wake up the next morning as a better person than we were the day before.

But most importantly, in the prophetic words of the Book of Mormon prophet, Nephi, Our Heavenly Parents inviteth all that come unto Them, and denieth none. Black and white; bond and free; FEMALE and MALE, we are all alike unto God.

 

Heavenly Mother, Are You Really There?

Last night I was in bed getting ready to say my prayers. My prayers are really more like conversations... talking to God about the concerns I have in my life. He knows me personally, and He made me unique from everyone else in the world. So I feel like I have the liberty to talk to Him personally.

So I laid down, and opened with "Heavenly Parents". I talked and put out my concerns, and asked for blessings... you know... all the normal stuff. Then quite abruptly, I realized that I was only addressing Heavenly Father. The only time that I had acknowledged Heavenly Mother was in the beginning.

This, unfortunately, isn't surprising to me. I'm sure that part of it comes from being raised in Catholicism's version of patriarchy, and being thrust into Mormonism's extreme patriarchal culture certainly didn't help. But the trigger is looking at the parallells in my relationships between my Heavenly Parents, and my mom and dad.

My relationship with my parents is non existant, and has been for several years now. But when I was still living at home, while still unstable and forced, was at least in existance. My dad was the "good cop"... he would talk to me in mild tones, and would (usually) listen to my side of the story, or my feelings on matters. When I needed to ask permission from someone, it was from Dad. I felt comfortable coming to him with tears in my eyes, and asking for a hug... and the answer was always yes, often with no questions asked.

Mom? Never. We never talked civilly. Her tones were sharp and condescending. I was uncomfortable and intimidated. She yelled at me, and I yelled back. I never felt safe to confide in her, and I rarely felt her love... and often, not even her tolerance.

(I do want to make clear that I was the worst teenager who had ever walked the face of the Earth, and I deserved to be treated this way. But still... this has stunted me.)

Heavenly Father loves me. I know He does. He listens to me when I'm worried, and even when I'm wrong. He corrects me, usually by gently pushing me in the right direction, but sometimes sharply when it's needed. But I always know that He loves me.

Heavenly Mother is very different... I do not feel her love. And instead of seeing Her, I see my mother.

This is devestating to me. I have one Divine Being to look to, to see what my eternal destiny is supposed to be... and I have no relationship with Her, and I have virtually no scriptural or scholarly examples to look to, and to study.The boys have Heavenly Father, and Christ, and we have thousands... millions of resources to look to, to see what they should aspire to be, and to work towards.

I don't know what my divine potential means as a female, and it makes me feel less important. The problem is... I don't know how to fix it...