We thank thee, oh God.

Welp.

For those who might not be aware of Mormon happenings, you should know two things:
1. Twice yearly the leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints holds a conference that is broadcasted worldwide. Men and women, whom we believe are called of God to speak in His name, give "talks," or sermons, that give instruction on how we can best serve God and others. This past weekend we had this conference, often referred to as General Conference or snuggleonthecouchinyourpajamastime. This is where I learned that,
2. We shouldn't call ourselves Mormons anymore.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm open to any new suggestions for nicknames.


Anyways.

One of the main vibes I was picking up from the conference (and this is just my personal opinion, I'm sure others were feeling other lovely feelings) is this idea that people are being persecuted for their beliefs, and it's important to stand strong and hold fast to your principles. Amiright? And I thought, "Oh! That's me! I feel that way a lot!"

But then there were lots of stories and thoughts shared about those with strong religious convictions who have stood firm in the faith through their trials of challenging "immorality" and other sins, which according to Church leaders are quickly becoming the status quo. Encouragement to not lose hope was given, as well as instruction to lovingly correct others in their paths.

My immediate thoughts were as follows:

....
.....
......

Do my very religious friends and family really feel attacked or persecuted for their beliefs? In what ways? How often?

As a religious minority in my hometown, there were of course instances in which I felt that I need to defend my faith, but for the most part everyone was warm and loving and very tolerant of my "Mormonism." It wasn't until I lived among those who share my faith that I felt any sort of persecution or intolerance (read story here), but that was usually for my political beliefs. Having lived in this environment for the past several years, it was hard for me to imagine while listening to this conference that those who had often said harsh words to me about my beliefs were also feeling like they were constantly defending their faith as well.

And then it hit me.


WE ARE ALL SO STUPID, GUYZ.

Seriously though, do you not see this? Everyone is feeling under attack. Everyone is acknowledging intolerance and a lack of love, no matter what side it's coming from. Everyone is trying to find truth and to live it and to do so without feeling like they constantly have to defend the way they live or why they think the thoughts they think. Everyone is feeling wounded by others' arrows of bitterness, and we're all too concerned about hiding behind the giant fortresses of pride we've built instead of communicating with each other honestly and openly.

Can't we all just go back to being friends? Is it possible to create a safe space where everyone can express themselves and contribute to a loving conversation in which we discuss our differences? Does judgement need to be our constant companion? And can we all have the patience and humility to admit when we're wrong and when we need to adjust our ideas?

Because Jesus.



1 John 4:8
He [or she] that loveth not knowth not God; for God is love. 

ps. Please take note at the "Kittens" poster in the corner. That is not a coincidence.

On being a doubting Christian.

"I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." - Gandhi





Anyone who knows me is fully aware of my brash personality. I almost always feel comfortable stating exactly what I'm thinking, I am not easily intimidated, and I have carefully developed very, very strong opinions. Though somewhat unconventional, I have come to really appreciate this about my personality.

I didn't always like this about myself. I was often meant to feel ashamed of having such a "strong" personality, and I was often told if I didn't keep myself in check that I wasn't going to make friends or even find someone to marry. On my LDS mission in Germany, I felt so inadequate when comparing myself to the other sister missionaries - they were all so charming and friendly and smiley. I was sulky and blunt and sometimes rude at best, which made it hard to give the first impressions members were seeking from their beloved sisters.

I eventually came to terms with this. I grew to tolerate it when I felt like I couldn't change myself (and I was very unhappy doing so). Eventually I came to realize that not only does God love me just the way I am, He just might have given me the personality traits that are necessary to broadening His work and addressing people's needs that maybe others wouldn't have been able to do.



During my long journey in finding truth and establishing my beliefs, I have questioned the faith I have grew up in many, many times. Even when I think I "know" enough, I learn something new or think of something in a differently light that makes me feel like I need to start all over again. This is nothing new or unique, and I've addressed these concerns and issues several times in this blog.

These doubts, combined with my rather loud personality, sometimes leads to clashes with other people. Though I have often felt ostracized and hurt by people who define much of their lives by membership in the LDS Church, I would like to state that I have felt more love and concern on my behalf than hate from the people in my life, in and outside of the Church. I do, however, completely understand when people I dearly love choose to remove themselves from religion because of the opinions of a few members. It's hard to be in an environment where you feel more judged than accepted, or more despised than welcome.

Yesterday I had dinner with a friend and her brother, the latter of which is struggling with his beliefs.  We were all raised in the LDS Church and we have all served missions, and because of the balance I've found between commitment to my faith and servicing my doubts, my friend thought that her brother might be interested in speaking with someone who shares a lot of the same thoughts.  We talked for several hours, addressing all of our concerns from women in the church to blacks and the priesthood, from our love of God to our acceptance of LGBT members of our community. It's at moments like this that I feel validated in my personality, and I feel grateful that I am able to be a person that some people feel like they can talk to and sympathize with.

A middle-aged woman sitting nearby, who had apparently been eavesdropping on our conversation with her teenage daughter, suddenly stood up and made her way over to our booth. Addressing me, she asked, "So, you served a mission for the church?" Surprised, I responded in the affirmative. "Well," she smirked, "you wouldn't know by the way you talk." She grabbed her glass of water, dumped it all over me, and walked away.


I would like to address a personal note, not only to this woman, but to people in the Church who have tendencies like her.

Madame,

I'm sorry you walked away so quickly after drenching me with your water, much to the surprise of the people around you. I wanted to talk to you and tell you that I'm sorry you were so offended by my personal opinions. I'm sorry that you are so angry about a private conversation between personal friends in which I openly talked about things that are hard for me to understand, and which seem to be in direct conflict with my affiliation with the LDS Church. I'm sorry that you felt no other way to express your feelings than by assaulting a stranger.

If you had listened more carefully, you would have heard me share my testimony of God and His love for us. You would have heard me expressing the decision I've made to stay in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, despite questions that I consistently ask myself and Church leaders. You might have heard about the pain and hurt I and my friends have felt because of the actions of members. You might have been invited to be a productive part of the conversation, offering your opinions and sharing your faith as well. But most importantly, you would have realized that someone at that table is seriously questioning their activity in the Church, and your actions have done more harm than good in that respect.

I'm not quite sure what you meant to accomplish by making me feel unloved, unwanted, and misunderstood. Do you want me to stay away from church activities? Because if that's the case, I can assure you, you have fueled a fire in me that makes me want to bust open the doors of every church building in America and hug all the misfits, the marginalized, and the questioning. I will continue to attend church in order for people like you to know that not only do I belong, but so does every. single. person. on this planet, if that's what they want.

I'd like to recommend the New Testament as some light reading. It's quite enjoyable, and if you apply some of the principles the main character taught I think you might come to value diversity and learn how to love. But what do I know, I'm just a returned missionary that doesn't talk like one.

Sincerely,

Me.

Ps. These are some members of the Church in one of the German cities I served in. They weren't active when I first met them, and they were too embarrassed to come to church for fear they wouldn't fit in. After meeting with them regularly, answering their hard questions (questions that I have had to ask many times) and sharing my limited faith, they decided to come back and work towards the blessings of the temple. I just wanted you to see the faces of some of the people I loved on my mission, people who told me they were "endlessly grateful" for helping them with their concerns and showing them that God loves them regardless of their past, present, or future.

Pretty.

"You're really pretty."

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. "Thanks," my obligatory response.

"No, you're like...really pretty."



The bathroom at the residence I'm staying at here in Paris has two incredibly large mirrors that almost take up the entire wall on opposite sides. The shower, which is in fact not a shower but a bathtub with an extension shower head, has no curtains. Every time I bathe, I am forced to stare at myself. All of myself.

It's a horrible experience, I can assure you.

And it's horrible because for as long as I can remember, I have struggled to appreciate one of the most precious gifts God has given me - my body. Feelings of anger, frustration, self-consciousness, and sometimes even hate have crippled my ability to see anything good of the 120 pounds of mass that I posses.

It's hard to say where these feelings come from. Society? Culture? Other's comments? Media? Mental illness? Satan? Maybe it stems from all of those factors, I'm not sure. I used to want to figure it out, but I've passed that point. Now, I just want it to stop. I want to stop being angry and frustrated and self-conscious and hateful. I want to stop being that feminist that advocates self-confidence and respect for ourselves but can't walk past the magazine stand without secretly wishing to even slightly resemble those photoshopped faces. I want to know what all those people know who believe their bodies are precious and special and love themselves just the way they are.

I want people to stop telling me I'm beautiful only on days when I'm wearing makeup or during those long stretches of time when I won't allow myself to eat over 1200 calories a day. Actually, I just want to stop feeling like I need to hear those messages all together.

I've heard the "You're really pretty" thing a hundred times, from strangers and close friends. I'm probably going to hear it a hundred more times. And the thing is, whether or not it comes from a place of love or pity or honesty, I'll probably never really listen. Not because people don't mean it, but because I don't believe it myself.

But every time I hear a,
"You're really smart."
"Wow, you're super talented!"
"Thank you for being so kind."
"You're a good friend, do you know that?"
my heart leaps a little. Sincere affirmations make me want to be a better person and to do good things. They help me to forget, if even for just a moment, that it's my soul I want to love and to be loved, not only the imperfect body that houses it.

I want less pressure to look beautiful and more encouragement to be beautiful.

I want to be more concerned with remembering to tell someone I love them than with trying to remember how many calories I consumed. I want find happiness in long walks, prayers, and music, not in the latest style trends, lipstick colors, and imitation of fake images. I don't even know if I want to learn how to love my body as much as I want to learn how to govern my life by the things that matter most.

My body is important, and I'm very grateful for it. I am grateful that God has allowed me to be strong and healthy. I will probably always struggle to hold it to God's standards instead of the world's or my own, but that is just something to learn I guess.







[I've shared this before, but I'm going to do it again because it's the best. So watch it. Now.]


The end.

 

The "F" word.

Let me tell you a story.

On the last day of my mission, I traveled to Berlin to meet up with the other missionaries who were going to be flying home with me, all of which were Elders (missionaries of the male gender). Sitting in a room of the mission office surrounded by these Elders, I was more than a little uncomfortable, especially since I had been taught for 18 months to NEVER find myself in this situation. But alas, it could not be helped, and I sat there impatiently waiting my turn to have an interview with our mission president.

I'm not exactly sure how this next part came to pass, but I remember one Elder in particular, who must not be named and who I had not met previously, decided to brave the forbidden waters and engage me in seemingly light-hearted conversation. A little out of touch with talking to people of the opposite sex I suppose, he found it a perfect opportunity to tell me everything he had heard about me on the mission - every. single. rumor.

Not a minute had passed and several other Elders decided to pipe in similar feedback. Now, I'm not exactly surprised at what I heard. I knew I had a reputation for being outspoken, blunt, and lacking in basic social manners. Most Elders (and Sisters) had heard I was a "feminist," and subsequently, not fully understanding the meaning of this term, were terrified to meet me. But that never bothered me, mostly because people who had actually experienced a personal interaction with me tended to like me, or at least learned to not be offended by my presence.

But the way these Elders, people I had never met or spoken to, were talking to me about me made me feel so uneasy and, quite frankly, hurt. Every negative term that came out of their mouth was also associated with me being a "feminist," as if all feminists are terrifying, man-hating, rude liberal loud-mouths (the usual stereotypes that I apparently posses). And it hurt because I knew that this twisted image they had of me would forever have been ingrained into their souls as being associated with feminism, had they not had the opportunity to finally meet me and understand who I am and what I stand for. It hurt because they didn't understand this wonderful movement that had changed my life for the better, and they were mocking it in my presence.




Feminism has become a dirty word, my friends, and for this I am very sad.

I could go on and on about what the feminist movement really is and what's it's done for the world and blah blah blah. But you already know this. I talk about it everyday and I post about it everyday and whether you believe it or not, you are probably being exposed to feminist "propaganda" on a regular basis, even when you're not graced by my presence. And you know what? You probably agree with most of it. Let's be honest, who doesn't want a world where women are treated like human beings? The crazies, that's who. I don't need to defend the feminist movement as much as try to help you understand that if you have a brain that functions probably, you are probably a feminist too. 

The beauty of feminism is that it is really personal. Not every person who identifies with feminism agrees on every point! There's a place for everyone who desires gender equality.

I just want to tell you what feminism means to me.

Feminism has given me identity as a woman and has helped me to understand masculine identity. It has given me purpose and meaning in my life. It has given me the courage to stand up and say, "No, that is wrong." It has given me the courage to stand up and say, "Yes, this is me and yes, I believe this." My thoughts and feelings and opinions and hopes and dreams are all valid and real because I am a person and I deserve them. Feminism has taught me that I am equal to everyone, which has shaped the way I treat the people around me. It has helped me grow in my faith and helped me to understand how God sees me and who He wants me to become, and it has helped me to see what God sees in others.


I know I talk about this a lot, but I just wanted to put that out there. That is all.

“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.”

Alright.

I'm very aware that my blog is getting more boring by the minute. I never have time to write and when I find time, I never have anything to say. Ok that's obviously not true, I always have something to say. But who wants to hear my feminist rants all the time? Oh yes, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.

I've been back from my mission for 3 months now. That's supposed to be a short amount of time but it feels like an eternity. I've been exerting every ounce of my strength trying to be "normal" again (whatever that means) and it's taking me FOREVER.

I'm going to share with you the life lessons I've learned since being home. And you are going to like it.

I know you all like lists:

1.) Catching up on the last year and a half is impossible. The second I got home I felt like everyone was saying, "Listen! These are all the things you missed! Hurry and catch up so we can be on the same page!" And then I was bombarded with information, music, images, and all the TV shows that ever existed.

I'm just going to be completely honest with you - I have no desire to see or hear or read about 90% of these things. If I happen upon them someday, sure. But I just don't have the time. Ok? Ok.

2.) I love Europe. I miss Europe. America just kind of grosses me out. It's probably just because I'm bias, but I just can't get over it. It's too hot and the bread is disgusting and everyone drives GINORMOUS cars everywhere and people are always smiling.

Good thing I'm fleeing to France.

3.) I'm terrified by how quickly I'm becoming desensitized to spiritual things. You'd think that after begging people for a year and a half to just read one tiny verse from the Book of Mormon or the Bible everyday that it would be easier for you to keep your own commitments. FALSE. When did real life start complicating lives? Why do I let real life interfere with things I understand to be of precedence? Something needs to change.

4.) You can never be too grateful for your awesome family and your amazing friends. I don't know what I'd do without them. I think the best part of coming home was realizing that nothing has really changed - sure, everyone is in different phases of their life now, but these people still know me and love me and we picked up right where we left off. I love that. You are all the best. The end.

5.) I don't know who I am anymore.

The mission really shook me. It took me a while to find my groove and even then I was always questioning myself and beating myself up over the smallest things. I came home to find that I can adapt those practices to everything in my new life. I have never felt so sure of my identity and at the same time never so lost. The only thing keeping me sane are the above-mentioned blessed people and prayer. It's ridiculous. I wish I could move on from this.




Enough with the cheese.


It's late = the only reason I'm barfing up my soul through my fingertips onto this keyboard.

I won't keep this blog up if nobody tells me what to write about. So tell me. Now.

Goodnight.

Lesson #66

Today's Lesson Objective includes:

1.) Regrets.

WARNING: I am about to get super sentimental. If you hate feelings, leave now.

Before I get into the thick of it, you must listen to this song whilst reading:

Ok, folks. I can't help but review all my life when I listen to this song. I love it so much. BUT I guess I really start thinking about all the things I wish I did differently. I used to tell myself that I never regret anything because it got me to where I am today. To a point, that's very true. But really it's important to regret things. How else could we make right all our wrongs?

Aaaaaanyway, I've narrowed it to my top 3 regrets that for some stupid reason I'm going to share with all the blogging world. Stupid.

#1. I regret not pursuing music.

I miss performing more than anything on this planet. That sounds ridiculous to all the people who know that I get sooooo nervous even to sing to someone in my living room. But once you push me on that stage and get me started, I never want to stop. Music is my heart and soul. And I don't think that I will ever stop dreaming of singing on a real Broadway stage. Or in a jazz club. But that will NEVER happen. I'm too chicken.

#2. Getting good grades.

Ok, I'm not a complete failure in this area, but I have limited myself. Not that I would ever go to grad school, but if I did I probably couldn't make it into any of the universities I really like. I don't regret, however, all the AMAZING things I accomplished during my time in college. Woot woot for all the random road trips and late night snaking and ridiculousness that [sober] college consists of.

#3. Not being a better friend.

I don't try as hard as my friends deserve. The worst thing is that I know it. Gah I'm such a bad person. I wish I was a better listener. I wish I was more grateful. I wish I was nicer and more understanding and just better.

Ok now I'm just annoying myself. This is what happens when you're about to "leave" life for 18 months - you just act like you're about to die. Which is pretty much true.

You know what I'll never regret? Saving and spending all my money to go to France...

...and some other stuff.

Lesson #60

Today's Lesson Objective includes:

1.) Childhood.

Every time I visit my hometown I get really sentimental, though I often complain about growing up in Nebraska. Don't get me wrong, I love it and I'm so glad I grew up in a place with amazing people and opportunities, it's just a little too humid and a little too boring for me. Anyway, spending the last week here has led me to finding photo albums and subsequently spending some time reminiscing about my life here that I left behind.

I don't miss high school. Not one bit, though I do miss my friends. Middle school I've completely erased from my memory. It's elementary school days that I crave. I just wish I was a kid again. I miss not having any real responsibilities or homework or people to disappoint. I miss having the entire summer to play with friends and not understand that life goes on outside of my cul-de-sac. I miss not having to carry other people's burden on my shoulders. I miss being able to eat whatever I wanted and never have to gain a single unwanted pound. I miss having friends that didn't understand what drama was and were always there to play. I miss having the innocence that accompanies childhood that makes you believe every person you meet is good.

At least I've got my big brother on my side. Always has been, always will be.

I was trying to think of a really good story for you guys, but all I really remember are the daily things - going to the zoo, being forced to wear duck raincoats, dressing up for Halloween, hiding from my mom in the clothes rack at Walmart...you know, the good stuff.

What's your favorite childhood memory?

Lesson #52

Today's Lesson Objective includes:

1.) Letters.

So. I was recently reading my most favorite feminist blog and I came across another blog that they referenced. The particular post I was reading was about a new book that's just been published to raise money for Elton John's AIDS Foundation called Dear Me: A Letter to My Sixteen -Year-Old Self. A ton of celebrities wrote letters to their teenaged selves and you can check some of them out here.

Anyway, I got a really brilliant idea to write my next blog post as a letter to myself. Hopefully the 1.5 teenagers that read this will seriously take my advice, since I am so old and wise.

Dear 16 year-old Lesa,

Hey bum. This is 21 year-old Lesa, and I'm happy to report that you'll at least live to this age. You will survive high school, and you'll be the hottest thing that ever graced an American college campus. Jokes. You're kind of a loser. But you pretty much have the greatest friends in the world so I reeeaaallly wouldn't worry too much about it.

Guess what. Your heart is going to get broken into pieces very soon. You'll also lose some very dear friends and it's going to hurt. But it's going to be ok. Don't become bitter, and please don't get angry. It was for the best. You're amazing and totally worth it, no matter what anyone tells you.

I guess this means you're a junior in high school, which means that you'll be a senior soon. DON'T SLACK OFF, even after you get accepted to college. Seriously. That "I don't care anymore" attitude has REALLY affected your college grades. You'll never shake off that senioritis. Work hard. Kick butt. And apply to an Ivy League school, even though the application fee is $100. You'll totally regret it if you don't.

High school is a butt, but enjoy the friends you have while you have them. They'll never go away necessarily (thanks to facebook), but it will never be the same. College is awesome, and I promise you will love it. It's totally worth getting through high school.

The last thing I really wanted to address was your attitude. You are one mouthy girl and you'll never lose that (trust me), but try to use it less on your parents. They're seriously so spankin' awesome, even though it doesn't always feel like it. And besides, now that I'm 5 years older and supposedly a better person, Mom ALWAYS brings up how horrible I was as a teenager. Can you cut them some slack? I'm trying to be the perfect daughter and my past is haunting me. Just go and give Mom and Dad a hug for me tonight. Then do the dishes. They'll love you forever.

Lies, I have another last thing. I know this is super cheesy and dumb but you gotta learn to love yourself. I wish I had done that sooner.

Love,

Lesa

ps. You look freaking amazing with red hair. Don't be afraid to try it!