From Fasting to Feasting

 We live in a society that is focused on perfection - either a person is a perfectionist or they shun perfectionism. Our definition of perfection is toxic and painful and harmful. In Hebrew, where we read that Abraham was commanded to be perfect, or that Noah was a “perfect man in his generation” the word “perfect” means something different than our modern definition of that word. When reading in Hebrew, you have to take each word one letter at a time because each letter is so full of meaning. After studying that word for a very long time, I began to see it form into something different than I expected. I had often heard people refer to the number “7” in Hebrew as the definition of perfect - meaning whole and complete. But even this misses the mark. It is only a portion of the definition and it gives the wrong impression of the word. The word “perfect” is hard to articulate, because I don’t know if you understand each word I use in the way I use it or if you are defining it differe...

  “Whom shall he teach a knowledge ? and whom shall he make to understand doctrine? them that are b weaned from the c milk , and drawn from the breasts. For precept must be upon precept, a precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little…” Isaiah 28:9-10 God, from the beginning of the fall of Adam and Eve, instituted the eternal laws of progression; a pattern for learning. There is an order to progression. It comes the same way for every one of us, from the least to the greatest. We are taught that even Jesus Christ, our Savior and Mediator, learned in this fashion. He did not have a fullness at first, but learned line upon line. (Luke 2:40, Doctrine and Covenants 93:12-14) Thus the pattern was established that we should grow into our gifts, our purposes for being on this earth, and our eternal progressions. Understanding that this is the way our Father in Heaven works, I have always struggled with the idea that Joseph Smith was a pro...

For years and years the phrase "I AM..." has been what I call the "phrase of creation." To me it is the phrase that is the "abracadabra" of life. Abracadabra is a Hebrew word. It means - in a very loose translation - I create what I speak. "I am" followed by whatever we say is an internal command to our body, our thing that we have god-like command over, our second estate. This body obeys what I tell it to do. It obeys my emotions, those things to which I most deeply attune. It obeys my words when I truly believe the things I say. "I am tired...I am fat...I am lonely...I am...." My body and my life obey that which I speak into existence. These thoughts have all come as a result of studying the idea that God, when announcing Himself to the children of Israel through Moses, told Moses to tell them "I AM hath sent me." For the next six months, I've decided I'm going to dedicate 35 days of study to each of the first ...

This week, within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, we are discussing the eleventh chapter of John. There is an interpretation within these verses that has always been a source of struggle for me. Not because I couldn't understand but because what I understood was so contrary to everyone I've ever heard speak of those words. When I read the words "Jesus wept" I do not believe he was weeping for the loss of Lazarus. It is contrary to everything else within that chapter and within the character of who He was in His mortal life. The first time I heard my mother expounding on the Lord's compassion for the loss of Lazarus, something inside of me said, "NO! That is false." But I didn't know why and I couldn't articulate what it was. It just felt wrong. As years passed and I grew in understanding of the scriptures, I became able to articulate why I felt that interpretation was false. But NO ONE else was saying anything other than the ...

I was struggling. A lot. There were moments of peace. Moments where I wasn’t feeling completely heavy. Mostly though, I put on a brave face. I walked around and smiled and returned to life as normal…because, well, what else was I supposed to do?  But there was nothing normal about my life and how I was feeling. I had a million questions. What about our sealing? Do I still want that? Was it all really just mental illness? Or was there a lot of just foul temper in there too? Who can know for sure…they both look so much the same.  There were days and days of debate within my heart. Hours and hours of wondering if I wanted to be sealed to this man for all of eternity or if I wanted to seek another relationship with someone who would be an actual partner in life. I had dreams about Cory. I had dreams about finding someone who was kind and gentle. Those two dreams were never the same night. It was never Cory who was the someone who was kind and gentle. It was always some ot...

I was going to go to the temple one Saturday. See, about a month before Cory passed, the Oakland temple closed for at least a year. So getting to the temple isn't as easy as it used to be. I planned to go to the Fresno temple while visiting friends a couple of weeks ago. But it was closed for it's two-week cleaning. Then I tried to go with a friend to the Sacramento temple but traffic made it so that we didn't make the session. I needed to go to the temple. But this would be my first time back to the temple since he died and I had all kinds of feelings about it. When it came down to it, I couldn't make myself get out of bed. I also needed to prepare a Sunday School lesson for my class, practice my song that I would be singing in Sacrament meeting, fold and put away my laundry, clean and vacuum my home, and I needed to eat something...because it was nearly 1:00 in the afternoon. But I just kept thinking, if I get out of bed, what I really should do is go to the temple ...

I was putting away some papers this morning and I had forgotten about a pile of papers that were on top of the bin. As I pulled it down off the shelf, the papers on top fell to the ground. And a wave crashed over me as I sank to the floor and cried. I had pulled the papers out to mail to Cory. They were his mission call, his mission release, and his priesthood line of authority papers. Things I knew he'd want that I didn't throw away. Things I meant to mail to him back in October when we talked about it over the phone. Things I meant to mail again in December when I pulled them out of the bin and set them on top of it. But then they were forgotten up there. I reached out to my friend. She was with me when I had pulled the papers out and ached. She was at work, but she texted and offered comfort and solutions. Maybe connect them with his Family Search information? Family Search. I stop breathing. One more place to write down that he is dead...a place that feels more ...