All that have been through an ugly divorce know that the pain can come in waves. Some you can stand against as the water rushes over you. Others are like a tsunami that sucks you in and spits you out in hostile and unfamiliar terrain. It was a tsunami day when I called my bishop and asked if he could come to my house and give me a blessing. I had caught him at a bad time; he was walking out the door to go somewhere with his wife. I apologized over and over and told him not to worry about it, but he came over anyway(it might have been the my unsuccessful attempts to hide the tears in my voice). I felt so embarrassed, but he gave me a lovely blessing that truly got me through a particularly dark period.

For several years after I divorced, I had no desire to date. the legal proceedings drug out(thanks to him)and I was determined not to get involved with anyone until the divorce was final. I had kind of settled into being single and I actually liked it. I worked hard, had fun with my friends, traveled, and pretty much did whatever I wanted to do. I was pretty active in a family ward that didnt treat me as some freak of nature because I wasn’t married. Life was good.Then I read an article in the Ensign about how people in the church are choosing not to marry and that it was considered a troublesome trend in our culture. It pointed out the commandments regarding marriage and encouraged single church members  not  disregard marriage as a worthy goal in  life. For the first time in 7 years I thought those words were written for me-a revelation of sorts. Most of the men I met didn’t seem to take their priesthood too seriously. Some had arrogantly lived beneath their privilege, unashamed of the covenants they broke, not sure if they even wanted to be in good standing with the church again. There were parts of me that held the priesthood in some disregard, sometimes even mild contempt. Heavenly Father had not blessed me with a faithful husband who honored his priesthood, so maybe this was just one of the many blessings that would not be mine in this life.

In more recent years, my heart has  softened on this subject. Going to the temple for the first time to receive my own endowment made me more aware of the eternal necessity of the priesthood. If you are a TBM(as I am)then you know in order to be exalted you must enter into the new and everlasting covenant of marriage. Sealed in the temple for time and all eternity. More priesthood.The first time I felt truly moved was about 3 years ago when I witnessed a baby blessing. It was a young father, a recent convert to the church, blessing his baby. He had invited quite a few men to stand in the circle and bless this tiny spirit so new to this world. They gathered and  formed the circle, placing one hand under the baby and the other on the shoulder of the elder next to him. It moved me that these men were joined in such a tender act and when the blessing ended and after the baby was shown to the congregation, there were warm embraces and slaps on the shoulder. For the first time I yearned to have an eternal companion I loved to be standing in one of those circles.

Late last year all the priesthood holders in my ward sang as a choir. I dont remember the song, but to see all of those men standing behind the pulpit singing, literally moved me to tears. Then today, the youth speaker canceled and the bishop(last minute) asked the three priests in our ward to share their favorite scripture and explain what it meant to them. These young men did fantastic. You could tell they were a little nervous, but they had scriptures ready and spoke in such a way that i was impressed with their conviction. I got a little misty seeing these young men, future missionaries, husbands, and fathers grow in their faith before my eyes. It’s somewhat affirming to know there are still men in the church who take the priesthood seriously.
Can we bridge the ever growing gap that exists between strong and effective women who don’t “need” a man, but require the priesthood in order to gain the exaltation we strive for?

I consider all of these women my friends and so we started chatting. As we bemoaned the unfortunate decline of the “spare the rod, spoil the child” philosophy, we noticed the elders walking down the hall. One of the women commented on how cute they were, but followed up with how young they looked. We all kind of giggled, but it opened up a discussion on how your perspective changes on something that is essentially unchanging. For the most part, missionaries are 19-21 and that’s how its been for decades, but how those young men are viewed drastically changes over time.

When I was a young girl, having the missionaries over for dinner was a blast. They were the best playmates ever. They ate like they had two hollow legs and would just rough house(way before the more recent guidelines that prohibit such things)and act goofy until they had to go home and make curfew. Once you graduate from Primary into the Young Womens program these elders morph into demigod-like status. They are so cute and so funny and so cool and you just can’t wait until you can date and marry your own RM. Beehive, Mia Maid(you can date!), and then finally Laurel, when dating a returned missionary is often a reality. Now they are potential husbands so you are sizing them up as breeding stock and providers. This phase will last for a few months to a few years. Maybe you will go to BYU for your MRS degree, maybe you will meet your eternal companion at FHE in your singles ward. There are so many ways it can happen, but it usually ends with your standing in a receiving line and your closest friends and family eating those chalky pastel mints and drinking ice water out of a punch bowl. Then, if you have a real testimony, you give birth to your own little missionary nine months later. The perspective changes and your focus shifts to raising the next generation of missionaries.

My perspective now? Perspective is a funny thing. The girls from my Laurel class are now sending their sons on missions. One of those girls just welcomed her oldest son back from serving an honorable mission in Argentina. Technically, I am old enough to be the mother of a returned missionary, yet I shamelessly flirt with them via my blog. In my defense, Jake started it, but…

What seemingly unchanging things within the church changed for you, depending on your perspective?

Despite being single the majority of my adult life, I have never regularly attended a singles ward. I went a few times when invited by a friend or someone I was dating, but I saw singles wards as means to “catch” a husband and since I always seemed to have a boyfriend, I never embraced the whole singles culture within the church.
According to the traditional LDS time line, I was married before my twenty first birthday and any thoughts of singles wards were quickly replaced with all things newlywed. I was thirty when I divorced and was thrown into a whole new category of singles. Previously called “Special Interest Singles”(I had visions of riding to church in the romantic short bus)and now simply called Single Adults(not to be confused with the YOUNG Single Adults) Subliminal message: “you’re old and we have to keep you away from the kids”. There were some(my mom)who really encouraged me to go to the singles ward, but I was wary. Ready to be active again, I started sneaking into the sacrament meeting of my family ward and slipping out before the closing prayer was said. The rare occasions that I stayed for the whole block seriously tried my testimony. Mormons are the nosiest people ever and don’t hesitate to ask you the most personal questions within seconds of introducing themselves and shaking your hand. Explaining I was divorced after ten years of marriage, but had no children was such a foreign concept that I felt I had slipped into speaking Swahili considering the confused looks I got. So maybe the 30+ ward is where I needed to be. Maybe my mother was right.
Though rare, there are entire singles wards dedicated to the over thirty crowd. The membership is guarded closely by the bishop. He acts kind of like a bouncer, checking ID’s and making sure everyone fits into the designated age bracket. There was no way I was facing this experience on my own so I sweet talked another inactive, thirty-something friend of mine to go with me. He is hilariously sarcastic and even if the whole experience was a dud, I knew we would have fun mocking it for weeks to come.
I feel it necessary to give a disclaimer: I am a TBM, have what I would consider a strong testimony of the church, and know the singles program was developed by the church to address an ever growing population within our membership, but… it’s weird. I feel crippling pangs of guilt even typing those words, but if we need any additional examples of how we are a peculiar people, look no further than the 30+ singles ward. First of all, no one said a single word to us. Not hi, not get the hell out, nothing. Has that ever happened in the history of modern Mormonism? All our initial worries of being attacked as fresh meat dissolved when we were completely ignored. The meeting itself was dry as a bone. The talks were boring, but the oddest thing was the silence. I had never realized the white noise that exists at the typical sacrament meeting in a family ward. Cheerios hitting the floor, babies slurping on bottles, high priests gently snoring, and a variety of other noises like primary kids “whispering” and the rustle of diaper bags were completely absent. It was creepy. The cold reception was unusual, but the silence was the weirdest thing of all. Do we really need a singles ward dedicated to the 30+ members? Shouldn’t we be able to participate and function within a family ward and turn to the extensive singles activities for “wholesome” socialization?