One Miracle at a Time

Image courtesy of Pavel Tcholakov

The post I was going to publish today will have to wait. The news from General Conference was so unanticipated, especially to this out-of-the-loop lapsed Mormon woman who had entirely forgotten that Conference would be this weekend, that I woke up this morning with a peculiar gnaw in my belly, a feeling I thought I’d abandoned several years ago when I decided, for my emotional health, that I would pull my spiritual expression inward and stay away from the pew for a few years. By shutting out much of the noise of sacrament talks and the expectations of visible orthopraxy, I thought, I could get to the root of the searing tingle I felt in my tissues when the best that another well-meaning bishop could do in response to my doubt and grief was to let me cry in his office.

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