A Thank You Note.

"If you experience the pain of exclusion at church from someone who is frightened at your difference, please don't leave or become inactive. You may think you are voting with your feet, that you are making a statement by leaving. Some may see your diversity as a problem to be fixed, as a flaw to be corrected or erased. If you are gone, they don't have to deal with you anymore. I want you to know that your diversity is a more valuable statement."

--Chieko N. Okazaki, 

General Relief Society Presidency

This quote popped up on my Facebook feed today, and it reminded me of just how much I loved Sister Okazaki. I attended a Midwest Pilgrims retreat in IL many years ago at which she was the keynote speaker. A friend and I somehow lucked into having an intimate dinner with her at a restaurant, and going for a run with her too. 

We actually laced up our tennies and took a green, hilly jaunt on a late spring afternoon with Chieko Okazaki! I don't know how old she was at the time, but much older than I will be when I stop running. We chatted about the kinds of things women chat about when they run. She seemed so regular. 

And then I heard her speak and wanted to record every word so I could replay it forever. Because her particular brand of faith was mesmerizing to me. I found her to be so completely gracious, so accepting, so intelligent, so strong. Utterly original, confident and comfortable in her individual skin. Intimidating in the depth of her scriptural knowledge, yet so good at weaving them into the everyday workings of a modern woman's life. She seemed to easily gift others with glimpses, tiny tidbits of her wisdom and understanding. Just knowing that she was in the Church somehow enlarged it enough that I suddenly could breathe a bit more freely in it too. 

She saved seats for people like me.

I can't help but contrast the way I feel reflecting on her with the feelings I had a few days ago when something from Mormon Women Stand popped up in my news feed. Because when I clicked over to get a peek at the discussion going on there, I found that all the seats were taken. And they didn't seem to remember to set any up in the overflow. 

I just mean that it didn't feel good. The comments seemed harsh and divisive, strident and judgmental and it gave me a sick feeling. It was more than plain that I wouldn't be welcome there. I sensed a line in the sand. I had to click away.

If you're a fan of Mormon Women Stand, I apologize. I don't mean anything personal by it. A thing that uplifts and binds together is inherently good, right? So I may have dropped in at just the wrong moment. I could see they're trying to do something worthwhile there. But I could also see they really don't like my type. 

They wouldn't want me asking my endless questions, or expressing the things that are hurting me, or dissecting the conference talks that chafe, or agitating for increased diversity, or any of the things that have been an integral part of my lifelong journey as a woman in the Mormon church. I make them nervous.

And that just doesn't make sense at all. Because really, we're working for the same things in our lives, I think. We're committed to the same organization. Our children sing the same Primary songs, and it brings the same joy to us when we hear their voices. We're serving in callings together. We're passing the sacrament trays back and forth between us every Sunday.

Those unwieldy parts of my spiritual side came with me when I popped up on this planet. I was born smack in the middle of a Mormon family tree. I didn't wander into a meetinghouse one Sunday by mistake and then start complaining about the program. I've been here all along.

I guess it's okay, because I don't have to hang around there. Facebook groups are similar to Jr. High. They're all about "liking." 

But the gospel isn't about liking at all. The gospel is about loving. And since the Church is our vehicle for the gospel, I'd really like everyone to feel loved. No matter which clique they bump into in the halls.

I know, I'm an idealist in that. It's not realistic. But then I think Sister Okazaki must have been a bit of an idealist too. Thank goodness someone once heeded the inspiration to put her in a high place. And thank goodness she's still shining her light there. She's illuminating a vast room of open seats. And I hope she never stops.

- S.