There was a time (way back when I was attending BYU) when I was engaged to married.  It didn’t work out.  The end came suddenly and I was stunned and heartbroken. When I asked my boyfriend why he was leaving, the response was simply:  ”I prayed about it and felt it was not right.”  I was too young, too inexperienced, and too sad to explore further.  God said no and that was that.

As I look back on the experience I think that perhaps Mike did feel uncomfortable the situation, but I’m not sure his discomfort came from heaven. We had a short and speedy courtship and while that was not uncommon with our peers, it was still short and speedy – and that alone is cause for anxiety. We had some tangled friendships. And, among other things, were far from sorting out a financial situation that would work well for our future.  Whether his feels of unease came from heaven or in response to these uncomfortable circumstances, I still think he made the right choice, so does it really matter?

Since that time I’ve heard similar stories about how God led individuals in to or away from marriage. And I wonder.  Inspiration? Just a positive set of circumstances and a little bit of courage? Both? Neither?

My brother-in-law, Tim, claims that he did not pray about his choice to marry my sister.  He says: “God gave me a brain and I used it.” He says that he dated Lisa (my sister) and was impressed with her, they fell in love, he felt good about the whole process, thought it through and could see no reason not to propose – so he did.  He’s still in the family 15 years (and 5 children) later to tell the tale.

We are taught in church to pray about this big decision and be sure of our spiritual confirmations, but Tim’s approach seems very reasonable and plausible.  So how does it work? Is it inspiration? Is it a good choice? Both? Can inspiration, so hard to understand, be wrong? Can our brain, full of hormons and infatuation, be wrong?

 

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By Regina.

(She is a lifelong member, reader, wife, and world traveler.)

As a preface, I don’t know the feminist response to what I am about to share, nor the “Mormon feminist” response. What I offer instead is my own response, the response of a woman who cares about women (and men)—the response of one single child of humanity.

Just over two weeks ago I stood in the kitchen of a woman I deeply love and admire, as she told me a small handful of rather simple sentences, which written would mean very little, but spoken strongly implied that her spouse was cheating on her. My initial reaction was shock, and then my second and third reactions (followed quickly thereafter) were fury and disappointment. The cheating partner is intimately connected to my own life and family, making the wife’s hurt, sad sentences my hurt (if only the most infinitesimal part of what she feels). I listened to her close, “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

I thought of her and her spouse so often during the subsequent weeks, but did not say another word to either of them. Part of this was because I moved across the country exactly one day after I saw them, and another part is that I didn’t know what to say. I was so angry at the one who hurt her and so sad for the one who was hurt.

Just a few days ago, I found out what did happen to the woman in the kitchen: her husband left her and their two very young children in what looks like a permanent leaving. The man did not hug his children goodbye. (He has one reason for that, but it is difficult for me to accept it as enough.) What he did do is grab some clothes and two of his guitars. He is at a hotel, but moving in with his new “friend” within days.

I recognize that in all such cases, involving two (or more) people, there are two (or more) stories to be told. It can be difficult, if not impossible, to get to the whole truth. Sometimes it may not even be worth the grief of trying. Notwithstanding, in this particular case, it does seem clear that one party (due to substance abuse and measures of infidelity) shares more culpability than the other.

Notwithstanding that, my heart aches for everyone—the man who just closed the door on many (if not all) of the most beautiful things in his life, more for his children who will not have a present father, and the most for the woman who has been betrayed and made single through no choice of her own.

This time I have reached out to both of the adults with the best love and support that I possess. I know that in both cases it is probably not enough, either to help the leaving party not want to leave and/or get help for his substance abuse, or to help the left party feel less heartbroken and devastated. Still it is what I can offer.

A few days later I found myself in an Eastern city with an old friend. As part of that meeting I discovered that she and her husband (who I had seen with her and their child the day before) were separated. I did not feel the fury I felt in the first case, but did feel the shock, and some small, small portion of the disappointment.

When we were walking privately I asked her the reasons. She started to explain and I started to understand: There were a series of difficult moments (some very cruel) that led her to feel alone and un-supported during times when she desperately needed support. One was an unplanned pregnancy. Another was the early loss of the same. She told me that she feels happier since her separation, and I am 1. inclined to trust her and 2. strongly desirous of her happiness.

Learning of these two breaks in the same week has caused my mind to be filled with marriage thoughts and un-marriage thoughts. It has also caused me to ask many questions. The first, and possibly most important is, “What is marriage for?” The second, still important question concerns when something is sufficient to get a divorce. The third is about happiness and responsibility. I do not have complete answers to any of these questions; only partial ones.

Marriage may be for love, intimacy (both sexual and otherwise), friendship, covenant, companionship, growth, progression, exaltation, parenting, grand-parenting, financial security, safety, commitment, selflessness, support, or so forth. It may be for a combination of those things, and it certainly may be for many more (or even many less) than I mentioned.

What if one thing is missing? In the first (true) story, the husband’s complaint was a lack of physical intimacy, for a specific length of time. It made me wonder if sex is really the only thing that marriage is for. I believe it is a highly vital part, but have a difficult time conceding that it is the only part. It also seems like things may be done to improve it. An unwillingness to make a bad (or absent) situation better feels like more of a problem to me than the absence itself. But, what if two things are missing? Or three? Or four? Is it enough, then, to renege on lifetime or eternal commitments?

What of personal happiness? It is important, but it is also important to remember that not only one person’s happiness is at stake. Simply getting married seems to be an acknowledgement that someone else’s happiness matters. If there are kids it makes the mix even bigger. Each of us is an individual, yes, but each of us is an individual in a community. We were born in a community, even if it was a community of mother/daughter or mother/son. We inherited language from our community and many other things indeed. In a marriage there is a strong (and hopefully close) community that requires strong responsibility.

I feel passionately that divorce is terrible, if only (or especially) because it hurts everyone involved, but I am also glad that women and men (when each uses it appropriately) have the right to divorce. Is this a contradiction? Maybe, but I am human, and humans contain multitudes (even contradicting multitudes).

I am glad that people have the right to divorce primarily when they are in unsafe situations, whether that safety is physical, emotional, or mental. I am glad that people have the right to divorce when there are great breaches of trust (such as in cases involving infidelity), though I also admire those who go through such breaches and find forgiveness and redemption within their original marriage vows. I am glad that people have the right to divorce when the pain done to them or their children is less than the pain of staying in the relationship.

All of these things are where it gets tricky, because again, there are always multiple human sides to every human story, and what may be enough for one person may not be enough for someone else. This is also where I beg you, dear readers, to chime in. Any help is much appreciated as I mourn for those both in and out of my life effected by divorce.

• What do you think marriage is for?
• When (if ever) is it is sufficient to sever a marriage union?
• How can outside parties be supportive during the times preceding, during, and after divorce? (To the wronged party as well as to the one who wronged.)

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Over the last couple weeks, we have seen the viral post-sharing of Josh Weed’s Club Unicorn: In which I come out of the closet on our ten year anniversary.

In the post, Josh shares how he deals with being gay, Mormon, married to his best friend Lolly, having children, and squaring everything with the gospel, which he believes is true.  Josh and Lolly have found a working marriage in spite of the odds stacked against them.  Mixed orientation marriages are notoriously difficult to make work long term, for the obvious reasons.  But Josh explains his sex life this way:

[we have built] a sexual relationship that is based on everything partners should want in their sex-life: intimacy, communication, genuine love and affection. This has resulted in us having a better sex life than most people I personally know. Most of whom are straight. Go fig.

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 by Annie Berry 

Annie Berry is wife and mother to two girls (8yrs and 18 months), raised LDS, and currently serving as nursery leader.

I’ve long been trying to reason through some of the principles and directives that the LDS Church currently teaches, and trying to decide whether I agree with some of those principles or not, and why.  Some of those being: the promotion of marriage and pro-creation as our highest eternal purpose and essential to our celestial glory, male-only priesthood, a lack of a female representation in the Godhead, and traditional gender roles as stated in the Proclamation on the family.  In an attempt to better understand my eternal nature, I have studied the Godhead and have discovered what appears to be contradictions in what LDS Church leaders currently teach about these issues.

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Course Correction is a retired English teacher who reads, writes, and helps immigrant women learn English. Her favorite losing cause is fighting for clean air along Utah’s Wasatch Front.

Nadine Gordimer’s 2001 novel, The Pickup, features a mismatched couple: Julie, a white South African woman in rebellion against her affluent family and their shallow lifestyle, and Abdu, an Arab illegal immigrant. When Abdu is deported from South Africa, Julie insists on going with him and they marry. No way can Abdu take a foreign woman who is not his wife home to meet his devout Muslim family.

Abdu loves his family, but hates the dirt, poverty, and corruption of his native country. His university degree fails to help a man without connections get a good job. He fixes cars in his uncle’s shop and spends free time applying for entry to a developed country. Julie befriends the women in his family, teaches them and the neighbors English, begins learning Arabic, and studies the Koran. Abdu finally obtains a visa to enter the U.S. where he hopes to study computers and use her mother’s American connections to obtain a promising career. Julie refuses to go. She stays with his family rather than return to the lifestyle she hated.

Gordimer’s story reminded me of the difficulty George and I have had in resolving conflicts in our marriage. Major issues like conflicting lifestyle choices are not easily compromised. Julie and Abdu, like many young couples, marry before realizing the extent of their differences. In real life—certainly in my life—those differences may develop after years of marriage. People grow and change with their life experiences. Expecting one’s spouse not to change is pretty unrealistic.

Like many or even most women, I married with the expectation that George would change—that he would become an active Mormon. I’d read Pride and Prejudice. I knew men change for the love of a good woman. Unfortunately, George had not read P&P, and I overlooked the fact that in P&P, Mr. Darcy changes before he says, “I do.”

Still, after several years of my inspired nagging, George grasped the Iron Rod, and our family was sealed in the temple. George had spiritual experiences as a member of a ward bishopric and as a temple worker, although he found sanctimonious ward members annoying. Years later when my faith shrunk, George had no problem skipping meetings with me.

The rift occurred when I gave up garments. George had given up his bad habits and become an active Mormon at my urging. Now, I changed my mind. How fair is that? No romance novel heroine ever told her reformed bad boy, “Change back. I liked you better the way you were.” For George, my loss of faith meant our family will be apart in the next life. His sacrifices were for naught.

A younger couple might have divorced. George and I did not. Unlike Julie who stayed with Abdu’s family, and Abdu who went to Julie’s mother, it was too late for either George or me to return to Momma. Our parents were gone, and our kids sure as heck didn’t want either of us intruding on their lives. Dividing our meager estate would hardly finance the major renovation necessary for either of us to attract a new mate. We had to work it out.

Currently, neither of us attends Mormon services. I attend Buddhist meditation groups and the Unitarian Church occasionally. I admit the possibility that Mormon and Christian doctrine may be literally true—I just don’t find it highly probable. George discovered Joseph Campbell and now considers a metaphorical interpretation of scriptures. We no longer have our faith in common, but we have each other. It could be worse. One of us could insist on living in a third world country.

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It was a small gesture I had seen hundreds of times before, my father pausing for a brief moment to appreciate a thing of beauty. This time it was an arrangement of lilies that he had stopped to smell as he walked towards the pulpit to bear his testimony. I smiled to myself, it was so uniquely my father. But from behind I heard an unmistakable snigger as a girl from my Laurel class leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Your dad is so gay.”

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