Grief
Recommended
One Body, Multiple Personalities: A Pauline Approach to Dissociative Identity Disorder
Jennifer CorneliusDissociative Identity Disorder.[1] The words stung more than I thought they would. Dissociative Identity Disorder. The diagnosis did not come as a surprise. I had specifically sought out psychological assessment to evaluate my theory as…
Mt. Rainier Sanctification
Heather J. LonghurstListen to the podcast version here. For nearly three hours, I’d been trying unsuccessfully to sleep. It was definitely not the most comfortable bed I’d ever had—only a thin yellow and silver accordion-style pad separated…
Thoughts on the Sacrament During a Pandemic
Lori DavisPodcast version of this Personal Essay. The sacrament feels like a medical procedure these days. It’s passed by men, not boys. I wondered about that requirement until I looked around the chapel at our scanty,…
Finding Rebecca: A Eulogy
Marie Blanchard“How did your mama die?” I ask Grandma Essie, my dad’s mother. She looks down at the floor.
“She died of quinsy.”
Something doesn’t feel quite right to eight-year-old me.
Excommunication and Finding Wholeness
John Gustav-WrathallDialogue 54.1 (Spring 2021): 69–79
Five years after my excommunication, I met and entered into a relationship with the man who is my husband to this day. We became a couple in 1991; we held a public commitment ceremony in 1995, a time when same-sex marriage was legal nowhere in the United States; we purchased a home together in 1996; and we legally married in California in 2008. Regardless of how or why I was excommunicated in 1986, current Church policy is such that if I were a member, my bishop would have grounds for excommunicating me now, and I cannot currently be reinstated into membership.
To the Bishop Who Conducted My Father’s Funeral Service Yesterday
Kif AugustineAs part of your opening welcome over the pulpit, you announced to us that filming and photography were not allowed in the chapel. We had just gathered there in front of my father’s closed casket…
Reflections on Life, Art, Loss, and Love
Rebecca WagstaffI was born an artist—I see this more clearly now. Yes, I am a painter, but that is only one of the mediums I use to make art.
Living with Alzheimer’s Disease: A Wife’s Perspective
Bethany Chaffin“Frank, please sit up here,” I pleaded, patting the doctor’s examination table and urging my husband forward. I was trying to be patient. By nature I move fast, and holding myself back to accommodate his slowness…
The Mourning After
C. Everett CroweAt least the kids were gone, settled among family for the next ten or twelve hours. That gave him some time to pull himself together, to sort things out before tomorrow, before the rest of…
Frau Rüster and the Cure for Cognitive Dissonance
Roger TerryWhen Elder Callister and I leaned our bikes against the fence at Hermann-Löns-Straße 9 and walked to the door, I had no idea that what was about to transpire would shape and anchor my soul…
One Body, Multiple Personalities: A Pauline Approach to Dissociative Identity Disorder
Jennifer CorneliusDissociative Identity Disorder.[1] The words stung more than I thought they would. Dissociative Identity Disorder. The diagnosis did not come as a surprise. I had specifically sought out psychological assessment to evaluate my theory as…
Mt. Rainier Sanctification
Heather J. LonghurstListen to the podcast version here. For nearly three hours, I’d been trying unsuccessfully to sleep. It was definitely not the most comfortable bed I’d ever had—only a thin yellow and silver accordion-style pad separated…
Thoughts on the Sacrament During a Pandemic
Lori DavisPodcast version of this Personal Essay. The sacrament feels like a medical procedure these days. It’s passed by men, not boys. I wondered about that requirement until I looked around the chapel at our scanty,…
Finding Rebecca: A Eulogy
Marie Blanchard“How did your mama die?” I ask Grandma Essie, my dad’s mother. She looks down at the floor.
“She died of quinsy.”
Something doesn’t feel quite right to eight-year-old me.
Excommunication and Finding Wholeness
John Gustav-WrathallDialogue 54.1 (Spring 2021): 69–79
Five years after my excommunication, I met and entered into a relationship with the man who is my husband to this day. We became a couple in 1991; we held a public commitment ceremony in 1995, a time when same-sex marriage was legal nowhere in the United States; we purchased a home together in 1996; and we legally married in California in 2008. Regardless of how or why I was excommunicated in 1986, current Church policy is such that if I were a member, my bishop would have grounds for excommunicating me now, and I cannot currently be reinstated into membership.
To the Bishop Who Conducted My Father’s Funeral Service Yesterday
Kif AugustineAs part of your opening welcome over the pulpit, you announced to us that filming and photography were not allowed in the chapel. We had just gathered there in front of my father’s closed casket…
Reflections on Life, Art, Loss, and Love
Rebecca WagstaffI was born an artist—I see this more clearly now. Yes, I am a painter, but that is only one of the mediums I use to make art.
Living with Alzheimer’s Disease: A Wife’s Perspective
Bethany Chaffin“Frank, please sit up here,” I pleaded, patting the doctor’s examination table and urging my husband forward. I was trying to be patient. By nature I move fast, and holding myself back to accommodate his slowness…
The Mourning After
C. Everett CroweAt least the kids were gone, settled among family for the next ten or twelve hours. That gave him some time to pull himself together, to sort things out before tomorrow, before the rest of…
Frau Rüster and the Cure for Cognitive Dissonance
Roger TerryWhen Elder Callister and I leaned our bikes against the fence at Hermann-Löns-Straße 9 and walked to the door, I had no idea that what was about to transpire would shape and anchor my soul…
Depression and the Brethren of the Priesthood
Mack PattenDuring the last few years, I have come to feel that, if I were in charge of Church jargon, we would get rid of the words blessings, rewards, punishments, and tests. In place of those words, we would begin using “lessons to be learned.” I have also come to believe that some venue, or arena, or, at least, some safe place should be available where members could voice their concerns—without guilt—about their distresses, their disappointments, and their frustrations at what is going on in their lives.
Body and Blood
Michael PalmerIt’s six o’clock, time for dinner and Little House on the Prairie reruns. I walk up the stairs as my mom is pulling some string beans out of the microwave. She asks me if I’ll…
Uncertainty and Healing
Anne LazenbyTwo things have been on my mind recently. They have provoked a lot of thought and research. Over the past months, I have spent hours on the internet perusing medical studies, Church websites, and countless blogs, looking for answers. At first glance, the two seem to be entirely unrelated topics, but as they’ve occupied so much of my thoughts, I’ve come to notice some similarities.
Deaths and (Re)births
Jacob T. BakerDialogue 45.4 (Winter 2012): 65–87
She had severe versions of typical pregnancy nausea and migraines. But she also experi-enced dreadful cramping on one side of her abdomen, crampingthat could only be assuaged by long walks. Dark three o’clock strolls around our sleeping neighborhood became commonplacefor us. Many days she could barely move because of the pain, anddoctors were at a loss to explain the origins or offer options for al-leviation. It was almost a relief when Amanda’s water broke atthirty-one weeks.
Bones Heal Faster: Spousal Abuse in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Terence L. DayWhile I was serving as a stake high councillor, a Latter-day Saint woman confided in me, “Bones heal faster.” She spoke with the authority of a victim of both physical and emotional abuse. When I confidentially shared her comment with the director of a mental health clinic, he affirmed that many abused women would validate the woman’s statement.Popular opinion notwithstanding, verbal abuse is harder to live with than physical abuse, can be more op pressive than being beaten, and leaves deeper scars.
Parable of Bones
Sarah E. PageI want to eat God, limb and line.
Each yellowing ivory Bible verse
Every sacrament of soft white
Bread and cool waters,
All of Him in a single bite.
Like Eve, I won’t even leave the core.
The Iron Rod on the Eightfold Path
Tracie A. LambMy brother died recently from complications after back surgery and a life of addiction. He was forty-nine. His death was hard enough, but the ensuing drama with my mother and sister—the last of my immediate family—widened the rift between us so much that I felt as if I’d lost them all.
One Body, Multiple Personalities: A Pauline Approach to Dissociative Identity Disorder
Jennifer CorneliusDissociative Identity Disorder.[1] The words stung more than I thought they would. Dissociative Identity Disorder. The diagnosis did not come as a surprise. I had specifically sought out psychological assessment to evaluate my theory as…
Mt. Rainier Sanctification
Heather J. LonghurstListen to the podcast version here. For nearly three hours, I’d been trying unsuccessfully to sleep. It was definitely not the most comfortable bed I’d ever had—only a thin yellow and silver accordion-style pad separated…
Thoughts on the Sacrament During a Pandemic
Lori DavisPodcast version of this Personal Essay. The sacrament feels like a medical procedure these days. It’s passed by men, not boys. I wondered about that requirement until I looked around the chapel at our scanty,…
Finding Rebecca: A Eulogy
Marie Blanchard“How did your mama die?” I ask Grandma Essie, my dad’s mother. She looks down at the floor.
“She died of quinsy.”
Something doesn’t feel quite right to eight-year-old me.
Excommunication and Finding Wholeness
John Gustav-WrathallDialogue 54.1 (Spring 2021): 69–79
Five years after my excommunication, I met and entered into a relationship with the man who is my husband to this day. We became a couple in 1991; we held a public commitment ceremony in 1995, a time when same-sex marriage was legal nowhere in the United States; we purchased a home together in 1996; and we legally married in California in 2008. Regardless of how or why I was excommunicated in 1986, current Church policy is such that if I were a member, my bishop would have grounds for excommunicating me now, and I cannot currently be reinstated into membership.
To the Bishop Who Conducted My Father’s Funeral Service Yesterday
Kif AugustineAs part of your opening welcome over the pulpit, you announced to us that filming and photography were not allowed in the chapel. We had just gathered there in front of my father’s closed casket…
Reflections on Life, Art, Loss, and Love
Rebecca WagstaffI was born an artist—I see this more clearly now. Yes, I am a painter, but that is only one of the mediums I use to make art.
Living with Alzheimer’s Disease: A Wife’s Perspective
Bethany Chaffin“Frank, please sit up here,” I pleaded, patting the doctor’s examination table and urging my husband forward. I was trying to be patient. By nature I move fast, and holding myself back to accommodate his slowness…
The Mourning After
C. Everett CroweAt least the kids were gone, settled among family for the next ten or twelve hours. That gave him some time to pull himself together, to sort things out before tomorrow, before the rest of…
Frau Rüster and the Cure for Cognitive Dissonance
Roger TerryWhen Elder Callister and I leaned our bikes against the fence at Hermann-Löns-Straße 9 and walked to the door, I had no idea that what was about to transpire would shape and anchor my soul…
Depression and the Brethren of the Priesthood
Mack PattenDuring the last few years, I have come to feel that, if I were in charge of Church jargon, we would get rid of the words blessings, rewards, punishments, and tests. In place of those words, we would begin using “lessons to be learned.” I have also come to believe that some venue, or arena, or, at least, some safe place should be available where members could voice their concerns—without guilt—about their distresses, their disappointments, and their frustrations at what is going on in their lives.
Body and Blood
Michael PalmerIt’s six o’clock, time for dinner and Little House on the Prairie reruns. I walk up the stairs as my mom is pulling some string beans out of the microwave. She asks me if I’ll…
Uncertainty and Healing
Anne LazenbyTwo things have been on my mind recently. They have provoked a lot of thought and research. Over the past months, I have spent hours on the internet perusing medical studies, Church websites, and countless blogs, looking for answers. At first glance, the two seem to be entirely unrelated topics, but as they’ve occupied so much of my thoughts, I’ve come to notice some similarities.
Deaths and (Re)births
Jacob T. BakerDialogue 45.4 (Winter 2012): 65–87
She had severe versions of typical pregnancy nausea and migraines. But she also experi-enced dreadful cramping on one side of her abdomen, crampingthat could only be assuaged by long walks. Dark three o’clock strolls around our sleeping neighborhood became commonplacefor us. Many days she could barely move because of the pain, anddoctors were at a loss to explain the origins or offer options for al-leviation. It was almost a relief when Amanda’s water broke atthirty-one weeks.
Bones Heal Faster: Spousal Abuse in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Terence L. DayWhile I was serving as a stake high councillor, a Latter-day Saint woman confided in me, “Bones heal faster.” She spoke with the authority of a victim of both physical and emotional abuse. When I confidentially shared her comment with the director of a mental health clinic, he affirmed that many abused women would validate the woman’s statement.Popular opinion notwithstanding, verbal abuse is harder to live with than physical abuse, can be more op pressive than being beaten, and leaves deeper scars.
Parable of Bones
Sarah E. PageI want to eat God, limb and line.
Each yellowing ivory Bible verse
Every sacrament of soft white
Bread and cool waters,
All of Him in a single bite.
Like Eve, I won’t even leave the core.
The Iron Rod on the Eightfold Path
Tracie A. LambMy brother died recently from complications after back surgery and a life of addiction. He was forty-nine. His death was hard enough, but the ensuing drama with my mother and sister—the last of my immediate family—widened the rift between us so much that I felt as if I’d lost them all.