Women as Witnesses--

For millennia members of the Church have been observing God's instituted law of witnesses:
"In the mouth of two or three witnesses shall every word be established." (2 Cor 13:1)

Because of the importance of ordinances in qualifying mankind to re-enter the presence of God, the ordinance needs to be witnessed in this way and recorded.

Yesterday President Nelson announced a policy change. No longer do witnesses to ordinances need to be men. This is the new clarification:
1. Any baptized member of the Church may serve as a witness of the baptism of a living person. This change pertains to all baptisms outside the temple.
2. A proxy baptism for a deceased person may be witnessed by anyone holding a current temple recommend, including a limited-use recommend.
3. Any endowed member with a current temple recommend may serve as a witness to sealing ordinances, living and proxy.

All covenant makers and keepers can bear witness that an ordinance has been performed and performed correctly. President Nelson explained that it will increase the members' opportunity to have "covenants...planted in (their) hearts..."

There has been some excitement about this change. I'm pretty sure that it is seen among some as liberation, equality and validation of women. I like President Nelson's framing better than the vocal, social-media view that this policy change is "one giant step for womankind". It took a day for me to figure out my own feelings and I found them, in part in an article by Sarah Jane Weaver (HERE)  This is the last sentence:  "...mostly I celebrate the women in my life whose living witness of the Savior and His Church reminds me that this policy change isn’t really a change at all."

Yes. Faithful women have already been standing there as witnesses.

When I write that, I feel emotion because it describes with perfection, my mom. She was a woman of graces and was unassuming. She stood straight and dignified, and was so beautiful to me. She had a great sense of humor and sometimes laughed until she cried, but she was never course or inelegant. She was a woman of self-control and discipline.

Her life was filled with the unpredictable, but she was a pragmatic, hard working. put-your-shoulder-to-the-wheel kind of girl. Her work was done in private and her personal ministry was done in secret.

In my mind, I can see her standing in the background and observing me with a supportive, approving look that I needed and cherished. I knew how much she loved me and that she was proud of me but because of moments out of the public view-- at the kitchen counter, as a passenger in her car, in the dark at midnight as she waited for me in the living room, from the back of a concert hall, from the rear of a chapel. None of which was at all overt or showy.

I knew that she took seriously her own covenant walk. She was always for the underdog and those who lived under the radar. She bore, held, fed and comforted the modest and unflashy. She loved the temple. She served in Primary, Scouting and the other auxiliaries with imagination and commitment. She loved this Church and was proud of the cultural programs and historical sites. She loved her ancestors and found faith in their faith.

It is funny all the lessons that I learned without any loud shouting voices or figurative tap dancing. I never saw her bear her testimony in a Sunday meeting. I never saw her lead an auxiliary. I never saw her with a prominent member of the Church. I feel like every amazing thing that she did was quiet and done with reserve. Still, I knew what she wanted for me.

I can picture her in the temple on the day that I married, sitting near me. Not in the formal witness chairs, but without doubt, she sat there as an attestor. First, because in a million ways she had brought me there that day by her lifetime of teaching and modeling devotion to God. And second, because she had been in the (sometimes uncomfortable) Valerie-development-trench with me my whole life long and she was my most knowing witness there that I came to the temple that day prepared with intention and devotion.

I guess I would just say that like Ms Weaver, "My own history is filled with women whose lives have been defined by their witness and discipleship." And while it is good that all covenant keepers can be witnesses to ordinances now, it wasn't necessary to my faith or, more importantly, to a woman's worth. Faithful women have always been standing there as witnesses.

A Masterpiece Takes Time

My Mom, who was a wonderful mother filled with strength, skill and intention, used to enjoy exactly 364 days a year more than she did Mother’s Day. I am pretty sure that it was because of the uncomfortable attention and maybe some perceived insufficiency. Even this wonderful woman who deserved medals, trophies, gold stars and blue ribbons struggled with this day of celebration. And now that I am older, I know that she is not alone.

But today, on THIS Mother’s Day, I want to remember two lovely things:

First, we believe passionately in this divinely-commissioned profession! We really do. Let’s celebrate the role! It is the errand of angels and mothering is an integral part of God’s plan. A godly-mother assures that a child will always have a teacher, nurturer, cheerleader, example, guide, and friend. That is a sweet, important job.

And the second thing to remember is that the story of OUR maternal sacrifice, love, compassion, and consecration is not finished yet.

Greg and I were recently in Italy, staring with awe at halls and walls of architectural genius. Stepping into the history of these cathedrals and towers I was amazed at just how long it took to create these works of art. I mean, the Tower of Pisa took 200 years to complete! That represented three or four lifetimes of work! Generations!

Do you think that those architects and artists were content working a lifetime on something that would only be finished in two more lifetimes?  It seems like that would be a job without reward.

But I suspect that they understood this truth--  a masterpiece takes time.

 

And a companion truth about our work of mothering is this-- people take time, too.

The crafting and shaping and sculpting work of mothering is a complementary, supportive miracle. It supplements a life-plan orchestrated by the child’s agency and the Master Himself.

God believes in slow. He knows His children’s development is cumulative, which is a code word for unhurried and deliberate. This is easy to believe because I know that He is still working full-time with me. I don’t think that He minds the process or the wait though because He is building a showpiece. And with children of God, we know the end of the story— Growth. Change. Salvation. Glory.  A mother is a partner in that production. She is a physical hand and heart, and like God’s, her work is not bound by earth and time. This knowledge should quell discouragement and give us hope, in a hope-in-Christ kind of way.

Some years ago, my family and I visited Nauvoo, Illinois. From almost the moment we drove into town, I felt so drawn to the beautiful, colored, stained-glass windows that completely surround the upper level of the Nauvoo Temple. When I walked into a shop and found a book about the maker of the windows and doors, Charles Allen, I purchased his book and read it over the next couple of days.

I was fascinated by the detail Mr. Allen shared about what it took to make these windows with 19th Century techniques. It was so inspiring to read his journal entries that described "sash" and "jamb", white pine with low humidity, 2.35 miles long of 3/8" putty applied by hand, and true Dutch paint and its unique properties. I also loved reading about the constant flow of ideas and revelation that Mr. Allen described as he worked at solving problems and securing every detail and supply.

While filled with gratitude for the importance of what he had been asked to do, Mr. Allen struggled with feelings of inadequacy. He felt heavily dependent on prayer to show him what to do in a work that he sensed was bigger than he was. He knew that the commission to build the windows was from God, but still struggled with the day to day challenges of the job. He received answers to complicating factors and things that were befuddling in the night, at dawn, while driving, and through other people. He worked long and hard, woke in the middle of the night, and needed frequent reassurance.

Lying on my hotel room bed with a view of the finished, magnificent Temple out the window, I wondered, “What was Mr. Allen was so worried about?” For heaven's sake, his product was heart-stoppingly beautiful! The windows were stunning and perfect. It was obvious to me that God had used Mr. Allen's unique gifts to work a miracle. I wished that he had been able to see the profound loveliness of his mission completed while he was struggling, then he wouldn't have had to fret so much during construction.

Midway through the book, I realized that Charles Allen and his window-making was starting to tell my story. On page 99, I wrote in the margins, "I am so moved by this obscure application to MY mission—my mothering. The night-wakes with insights, feeling the need for specific direction, the uneasiness, the need for reassurance, the feelings of inadequacy. I see in Charles Allen's miracle, mine."

And then this little whisper, "You're at ground level, Val, and it may be hard to see progress, but you, too, are helping to build temples and they will be glorious." 

Mothers are employed in the business of the children of God. It is sometimes hard to tell in the middle of construction that the finished product is on course. But cathedrals take time. Temple windows take time. And people take time. And we mother with resolve because we know that, in the end, it is really all that matters.

Here is a beautiful, poetic mothering promise from the writer of Psalms 126:

"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.

He that goeth forth and weepeth,

bearing precious seed,

shall doubtless come again rejoicing,

bringing his sheaves with him."

That means armloads and bunches and piles and stacks of fruit that will “doubtless” come someday because of a mother’s sowing of “precious seed” and heaven’s help.

Happy, Happy Mothering Day!  Really, you are spectacular and I love you.

--Valerie