A Peculiar Peace

This time last year I was working full time, and made the majority of our (my husband’s and my) income. I was a full time student, graduating with a BS in Astronomy. I had a calling, and friends, and great neighbors. I was also seven months pregnant. I felt important, smart, and absoloutely fantastic.

Three months later, after graduating, quitting my job, moving to a new city for my husband’s new job, and giving birth, I felt horrible. I had a one month old baby, that I didn’t really like (you see he was an ungrateful little thing that was impossible to please and never smiled. I thought babies were supposed to smile). I didn’t know my neighbors, and didn’t really want to (they were riotous college kids). We were one of about 15 couples that moved into our new ward at the same time. I was only itentifiable at church by the baby that I didn’t like much. My husband made more money in his first two months of work than I would have made in a whole year. My life felt pointless, and I was miserable.


Throughout my life, I had always been an unbearable know it all. I was smart, and I knew it too. (The tricky thing was I had the grades, test scores, and answers to back up my belief.) I was very quick to shoot down *anything* that indicated that being a female made me less able, less smart, less capable, or weaker in any way. Because of this many things about the church, the temple, and the world in general had bothered me. For the most part I had been able to brush it all off, with my firm belief that I was important, and Heavenly Father loved me. However, in the throes of the downward spiral I described above these little nagging things became of paramount importance.

I had deep fears that Heavenly Father really didn’t love me, and that women would eternally be second class. I grappled with the possibility that the Celestial Kingdom was just plain not a place that I could ever be happy. I imagined an eternity of babies that didn’t smile at me, and doing laundry and making meals; all while my husband, doubtlessly would be off with the guys creating worlds (an idea that made the study of astronomy appealing to me). The most troubling thing was that I was afraid to pray about it, for fear that I might be right. I refused to speak with the Bishop or the Temple president for fear that these fallible men might tell me something true (that I might not believe) or tell me something false (that I might believe).

Finally it all came to a head, and I had had enough. I gave up. I put my baby down for a nap, and went into the laundry room to pray (it was the only small room with a door, a light, and an AC vent). I was prepared to be there for hours if needed. I prayed to know what my eternal role was. I knew and understood my earthly, temporal role, but I needed to know what I was meant to be for eternity. I even said that I would accept a secondary role as long I could know the truth. I would take it if that was what He wanted to give me.

When I was done, I felt… nothing. I didn’t feel the overwhelming torrent of knowledge that I had hoped for. I didn’t feel the warm glowing peace that could make me smile. At the same time, I didn’t feel the paralyzing fear that had dominated my mind for the past few weeks. I didn’t have the torrent of troubling thought flowing through my mind. I quite literally felt nothing, and it was a good feeling.

About a week or so later my answer came, and it started with something that I did have a testimony of, combined with a simple phrase. I know that I am just as capable as any man. I knew that, and no-one could ever convince me otherwise. The phrase was this “That they may fill the measure of their creation and have joy therein.”

Because I knew that men had no mental or spiritual skills that I did not have, I was able to know that the measure of my creation, is the same as the measure of a man’s creation. Furthermore, by filling the measure of my creation, I will undoubtedly find joy. It would be a cruel god indeed that would give me the desire, and ability to do more than what he would allow me to do. In other words, God would not make me so that I would be unhappy doing what I was created to do.

So how does this apply to all the things that had bothered me? I was able to write them off as tokens of a fallen world. So much of it really is unfair, but God knows it’s unfair and just might have a really good reason for allowing it to be that way. So that is how I’m able to have steady faith in a gospel and organization that does so many things that I think are unjust. That is also why I just don’t get as riled up as I used to about some of those things. Because I know that the eternities will be pleasant for me and all women, I’m much less concerned with forcing* the kingdom on earth to live up to a Celestial standard of fairness. (* “forcing” in this sense could be either trying to change the organization to be fair, or changing my view of it so I can see how it is already fair.)

When I shared these thoughts with my husband he said “that’s a pretty bleak view.” Maybe it is bleak, but it gives me peace.

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