This blog originally appeared on Exponent II. Click here to view the original post.

“Those in favour, please show by a raise of hands.”
Counting, recounting, recording.
“Those opposed, please show by a raise of hands.”
Counting, recounting, recording.
“The yeses take it.”

I breathed a sigh of relief–not because my preference was passed but because despite the strong words shared on both sides of the issue being voted on, everyone seemed to be okay. No one stormed out. No one was called unfaithful. The vote was noted, we closed the meeting, put the chairs away and gave one another hugs over doughnuts and over-cooled coffee.

After years of raising my hand to sustain new callings, church officers and to show a vote of thanks, I’ll admit that my first experience voting in a church business meeting was exciting and unnerving. To this point in my religious life, voting in church had largely been a point of formality. The bishop, stake president or general authority read a name and we sustained them. I never saw a contrary vote in my 30 years of attending LDS meetings. I know they exist but they’re certainly rare.

But right here, right now, voting carried some weight. I was putting my own opinions and judgement out in the open. As a member of less than a year, my vote mattered as much as everyone else’s—old, young, convert and lifetime member. And I’ll admit that the thought of conflict seemed suddenly scary. I didn’t want anyone to be hurt and I didn’t want to be wrong.

It was watching this process one year ago that fueled my excitement about being part of a church again. I realized that I didn’t just want to attend, I wanted to have a bit of skin in the game. As I watched my fellow congregants raise their hands for or against motions regarding everything from the election of a pastor to the adoption of a budget, it was exciting and a bit overwhelming to realize that no one person had all the answers. No pastor, no bishop, not even a prophet, could do this alone. Revelation and the inspiration that prompted it was a communal act. Every member was entitled and empowered to a part in it. And I wanted to part of that.
​
I try to be careful to not draw too many comparisons between my experiences growing up in the LDS faith and my experiences now in Community of Christ. Both continue to teach me to draw deep from the well of faith, to aim for goodness and to practice mercy. But as I raised my hand and voice on a touchy and controversial matter, I wish I could have told my budding Mormon feminist self that there would come a day in my life when conflict and difference of opinion at church would be a sign of involvement rather than disobedience or hardheartedness.  God has granted all of us a measure of the Spirit with hands and heart for building Zion. We are best served when we recognize the unique contributions, experiences and opinions of one another and not only dare to do right, but also dare to be vulnerable, mistaken, passionate and even gloriously wrong. We’ll be okay. And then we’ll end with hugs, doughnuts and over-cooled coffee.

Admittedly, as I drove out into the foothills to view the solar eclipse today it became evident that I had not done my homework. While en route, I asked, “Eclipses don’t last that long, right? Like what…half an hour, maybe?” Jahnelle laughed and said, “Two and a half hours from start to finish…beginning at 10:20 a.m.” “Oh,” I said. “That’s substantial.” Rewind to last night when I asked what time at night the eclipse started. Obviously, science and space are not my forte, but more importantly, today's eclipse was a reminder that I am not always able to see things in their entirety through my own eyes. 

9:45 a.m.
We positioned our lawn chairs facing opposite the sun on the bank of the Elbow River in Kananaskis Provincial Park, complete with a 20-pack of assorted Tim Bits, coffee, and water…and we waited. We were early, but prepared. Jahnelle put together two pinhole cameras for us the night before, and we were eager to test them out. Likely operator error, they didn’t end up helping much at all. While we waited for whatever was about to happen, we talked about just how big it was going to be. We both expected that the local news, by stating 80% coverage, meant 80% darkness, and, while absolutely oblivious to any science or space-related information, we most certainly knew not to look directly at the sun, because that would clearly result in a SciFi-inspired zombie experience resulting in 100% blindness and lots of blood. We figured we knew enough.

10:45 a.m.
As we waited, we skipped rocks, sang some hymns and campfire songs, and commented on how clear the water in the river was. We used Snapchat to try to look at the sun over our shoulders, but ultimately grumbling each time because the sun still looked like a perfect circle. Couples and young families, complete with their dogs, began showing up and setting up viewing areas near the same bend in the river. Facing away from the sun with faulty pinhole cameras…we really had no clue what was happening behind us, but we were certainly not going to look. Time ticked by, and the colour of the light surrounding us was noticeably different. It wasn’t quite sepia tone, but I’d equate it to maybe buying a cheap pair of blue sunglasses at WalMart. We noticed that much.

We continued to skip rocks and began commenting on just how chilly it was getting. Jahnelle put on another jacket, and I started jumping up and down to warm up. “Weird,” we said. “Didn’t think about how the sun being blocked out might impact the air temperature.” Aside from the blue sunglasses filter and the cooler temperatures, I really wasn’t impressed.

11:30 a.m. (remember…the eclipse has now reached 80%)
A man’s dog approached us – Abby was her name…a standard poodle – and while we pet her, I safely stored the Tim Bits out of reach. Busily tending to Abby, the owner handed Jahnelle a pair of eclipse glasses and said that he’d noticed we were without. We thanked him and asked, “Can you see anything yet?” (idiotic, I know) “Oh, yes!” he replied, as if to insinuate that he knew something we didn’t. And he did. We put the glasses on and saw a sliver of the sun…blotted out (apparently 80%) by the moon. It was happening, and we weren’t even aware! But seeing it through the filter gave us a new lens to see the event, and it changed everything. The moon…the sun…they were nearly in sync with one another millions of miles away…and I could feel it. The goosebumps I’d been complaining about were my body telling me that the sun was no longer sending all of its powerful rays hurdling towards the Earth. The blue sunglasses filter was my eyes telling me that the majority of the sun’s light was being blocked by a large mass orbiting Earth.

HOW IN THE WORLD COULD I HAVE BEEN DISAPPOINTED?!

We stared in awe (with the filter obviously) and carefully took photos of what we could see, and then packed the car up and headed back into the city. As I reflect on what happened this morning, I am reminded of the Chris Rice song, “Hallelujah.” My aunt used to sing this song sometimes on Sunday at church, and it always gave me goosebumps. Its words are filled with detailed imagery that I can’t quite get out of my head…just like the connection I finally made when I saw the eclipse through the viewing glasses.
​
I hope I can hold the image of the sun and moon in my mind for years to come as I continue to seek perspective and understanding in our world.

After watching a video (below) about the similarities in gardening and one’s life, the scripture above resonated with us all. In order to have a holistic life you need to tend to the many needs in one’s life. The same as when you plant a garden. Our soil needs to be open to awakening the life within the seed. We are the soil that needs to be open and receptive to new life in our midst.

After having attended the March 4-5 World Religions weekend I came away from the two days with a profoundly new perspective and understanding of four of the world’s major religions.

Growing up Christian, I had preconceived notions as to what other non-Christian faiths’ beliefs, practices were, or more importantly, were not. After taking in two days of religious exploration, topped off with a visit to each religion’s house of worship, I came away with a new, enlightened understanding of each religion, the fundamental principles/philosophies each hold at the center of their beliefs.

Additionally, I was surprised at learning some rather revolutionary beliefs the various religions hold. For example:
​

• Islam is waiting for the Christian Jesus to return to Earth, and Muslim women are not forced by Islamic teachings to wear hijabs, burkas, etc. Also, I found it informative to learn that one of Mohammed’s wives divorced him. 
  
• In the Sikh religion, gay and trans-gendered people are not judged unworthy, but are accepted into their great religion openly and freely. Also, I was amazed to learn that Sikh women can chose between a head covering or an actual turban, which I had always assumed was reserved for Sikh men.
  
• The Hindu religion is one of the world’s oldest religions, and that they have multiple gods (the choice of which one to worship is left up to the person). Or, like the Buddhists, a person doesn’t necessarily have an immortal soul, but more like an cyclical existence- repeating lives with the goal of achieving final peace by returning to a perfect existence.

The result of having taken in the two days has been rewarding and enriching, which I much enjoyed.

Prior to the weekend, I had always wondered what a Sikh man in a turban believed in...now I know.

Prior to the weekend, I had never set foot inside a Mosque, much less heard Islam’s message as gentle and compassionate towards all people, including non-Muslims and women...now I know.

Prior to the weekend, I had always wondered why the Hindu faith used such colours and gave offerings...now I know.

Finally, prior to the weekend, I had always heard of the Buddhist faith, but never knew where the religion started or that there are 10 Buddhas, not just the one as I had always thought...now I know. 

Dear Amy (or Amy Lynne as some family will continue to call you for quite some time),

You made a big decision on the day that you chose to be baptized. You were excited and a little nervous. Your grandfather came and spoke of how his father journeyed from Denmark with your great-grandmother to join the saints out west. Your father performed the ordinance and the patriarchs of your family joined together to confirm you as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, all the while sharing stories of faith and sacrifice. On that day you joined your story with theirs.

I remember how you wanted to be so sure that you were wearing all white that you were anxious the gold metal on your hair ties was not acceptable before God. This seemingly insignificant yet scrupulous concern would become a theme throughout your youth and young adult life. You would often feel that there was some inescapable reason that you were not worthy, never good enough. At some points, that little nagging feeling, though you never could place it, would become overwhelming.

You will have the best of friends from church as you grow up. Together you’ll go to dances, make music together and look up at the stars and talk about the wonders of creation. Your baptism day paved the way for you to have this near-idyllic childhood filled with mentors and friends. It won’t always be sunshine and rainbows but you’ll never lack for trustworthy people to lean on in times of need.

You will graduate university, marry in the temple and have children. (This isn’t the point of my letter but they’re beautiful. They will be your whole world and you theirs). You will make mistakes but your relationship with God will drive your life choices. When you feel scared or overwhelmed, you’ll lean on that faith to get through.

This is the harder part of the story—there will come a day when you question if you made the right choice on that baptism day. Your faith will change. A lot. The world will be bigger and brighter and full of more wonder and exciting mysteries, but it will also be less sure, less secure and the answers you once saw laid out before you will now come only one step at a time. It will be painful. It will also be beautiful. You will spend a lot of nights crying into the dark wondering if that God you were so sure was there can actually hear you. Your prayers will change. You will change.

Which is how we get to today. You see, today I took a bigger-than-normal step. I was confirmed into a different church. I know that probably hurts and at your young age, it seems inconceivable that you would ever leave this fold of westward pioneers and I Love to See the Temple. Your faith is so strong and your spirit unbreakable. These are your people and you simply wouldn’t leave them.

​Growing up and trying to find out who you are is a serious living nightmare. As a moody teenager, my only refuge from society’s pressures, minimum wage part-time jobs, and boring homework was Camp Spectacular. Every single year it was all I talked about. My countdown began about ten months in advance and my non-camp friends would get tired of me describing how amazing it was over and over (and over and over) again. If only there were an escape I didn’t have to wait as long for, I wouldn’t have been so annoyingly sad about the far away Spec dates. Low and behold Winter Retreat!  

​I never participated as a camper because I didn't think it would give me the same feeling as other camps did, but as a counselor this year I can say that I was very, very wrong to think that. Three nights doesn't seem like very long, but spending it with camp family makes every moment feel like forever and that it's going by too fast all at the same time. It's funny how when we get back together, it feels that no time has passed at all. It's almost like the "real" world we experience back home isn't real at all; that it's just a place to pass moments until we are reunited with camp again – the actual real world where our hearts and spirits are fully alive.  

This year brought all 24 kids and 7 staff together with the theme Love Your #Selfie – a modern take on the importance of loving yourself, breaking societal molds, and every wonderful thing your unique self brings to the universe. Through exploring ideas from multiple religions and cultures, dance parties, deep small group conversations, and even calling the staff out on our own vain selfies, campers got to lift themselves up with positivity and love.  

Inspired by Edmonton YouTube star Stephen Robinson of 52Skillz, we even got to combine all our awesome and unique abilities into building a Rube Goldberg Machine –described on Google as: "… a contraption, invention, device, or apparatus that is deliberately over-engineered to perform a simple task in a complicated fashion, generally including a chain reaction." After many hours of hard work, multiple tries to connect all the parts, and tons of cardboard and tape later; we finally got our Rube Goldberg machine to make toast. TOAST! How cool is that!? The success of our machine proved the 52Skillz motivation that anyone really can learn anything, and we are all capable of greatness. As our camp theme song (Live Like You're Loved by Hawk Nelson) put it:  
 
His love has made you more than enough  
So go ahead and be who He made you to be  
And live like you're loved!

​As a Community of Christ member, I believe that we are all called, compelled even, to approach our lives in a critical way. We are urged to look at the world around us and see opportunities for growth, change, betterment and empowerment. We are then driven to think outside the four walls of our church, and be innovators to help our communities.

As a nurse in one of the busiest Newborn Intensive Care Units (NICU) in Canada, I see families from all walks of life facing their worst nightmare: a sick newborn baby. One day I was working with a particularly small baby who had never gotten any breastmilk, even though her mother said she was pumping regularly. I asked this mother about the pump she was using. It turned out she couldn’t afford a hospital grade pump rental, which is essential to the milk supply of a NICU mom.

I called every resource in the city looking for an affordable option for this mother. I was startled to learn that most mothers without employer benefits do not qualify for any sort of cost relief. The most vulnerable mothers in our province are denied the opportunity to give their babies breast milk because of finances.

This situation plagued me for months, until I realised that I was being called to invent a solution. My congregation could initiate the kind of service these women needed. After several weeks of work with my pastor and other supporters, The Mother’s Own Milk (MOM) Project was born. The Calgary congregation purchased six hospital grade breast pumps to be rented to mothers at a low monthly cost. We can abolish poverty and end suffering by simply allowing mothers to feed their children the way nature intended.

This was my calling.

I believe the Holy Spirit speaks to us in very powerful and personal ways. It's at those unexpected moments in time that we have the opportunity to grow closer to God as He pulls us into His fold and allows us to write our stories.

In 2014, the Spirit enveloped my heart when I heard a story on the radio about a woman who became a living kidney donor to a total stranger. I immediately began to realize the effect of their testimony as I made a personal run down of all the reasons why I should be a donor too. The right timing makes a huge difference, and the time was now.
​

• Kids nearly grown?...CHECK!
• Sick leave accumulated?...CHECK!
• Great health?...CHECK!
• A strong desire to help someone in need without any compensation to myself?...CHECK!
• Spousal support? - or, at least I think so. I would work on that one.
• How about, strong marriage? Yep, for sure.
• It meets every single Enduring Principle? Absolutely!

I couldn't find a reason why not except for one thing, an incredibly painful surgery, lengthy recovery, and of course, living the rest of your life with only one kidney, and all for the compassion of a complete stranger.  Hum..........
           
I felt the presence of God with me as I pondered the possibilities of His plan for my life, and more importantly, those lives yet to be touched. I couldn't let this go because, it wouldn't let go of me. There was something to this plan, much more than an impulsive thought from a radio story. It was burning in my soul, and it felt like love...like, faith in action. Was it possible that God really wanted to use me as a vehicle to change other lives besides my other professions as an Elder and a nurse? I believed so.
           
My husband thought I was out of my mind when I told him what I was thinking. We researched the good and the bad of all the possibilities. We talked to doctors and looked online. I read everything I could find, and I simply decided to leave it up to God. Prayer and scriptures are my go-to tools in making tough decisions. By January of 2015 I made the decision to start the process of testing as an altruistic donor through Integris Baptist Medical Center's Nazih Zudih transplant program.
I also made two friends online during my research through the website I originally heard about on the radio. One was the older sister of a boy in need of a kidney. They lived in Houston and were of the Muslim faith. My other friend lived in Bronx, New York and was a transplant candidate. She had a very thick New York accent. Now if that isn't Unity in Diversity, then I don't know what is. I wanted to be a donor for these individuals but for lots of reasons, it just didn't work out. Instead, they became my extended support system, and I became theirs, and we have remained as such still today. I did figure out one thing. I wanted to start a chain of donations. I felt very strongly that this was God's plan. I just didn't know when, where, or who, yet.
           
By late April I had completed all the testing needed to prove that I was a suitable donor. I hated the idea of surgery, but I really looked forward to watching God's plan unfold. It was sort of like a mystery with a new clue around every corner. Who would it be? While I was still questioning my sanity God's Holy Spirit answered me one night when when my dad and the band we sing and play in were asked to sing in a nearby church that hosted a benefit for a local charity. Unbeknownst to us it was LifeShare, an organ donation program, and the speaker was the parent of a kidney recipient! I felt God's presence stronger than ever! The next step was to place my information into the organ donor data base where my DNA would electronically be matched to potential recipients. Then more blood work and direct matching could determine if we were truly compatible. This was a big deal, and one that my family was secretly hoping I would give up on and forget.
           
Then one day in late spring of 2015 our family was hit with tragic news. My dad became increasingly weak and was diagnosed with advanced cancer that had metastasized to his liver. At the same time, my husband's dad was diagnosed with end stage Parkinson's and severe debility which forced him to be placed in a nursing home. I couldn't understand why God asked so much of me and led me so far into the donation process only to sideline our families with such devastation. Not only could I not donate to my precious friends, but now I may never get the chance to donate at all.
           
What I thought was a sideline turned out to be an amazing twist in a plot only God could create. When saints are downtrodden we do what we are called upon to do, turn to the sacraments. The gift of Administration is powerful. In our darkest hour, right before the biopsy, my dad was administered to, and God responded with the craziest diagnosis ever. Yes, my dad, the first man in my life, did indeed have metastatic cancer, a very slow growing, rare, and controllable type that invaded his liver and damaged his heart, and came with a mini set of miracles that involved monthly injections, a huge open heart surgery and a prognosis of many more quality years. Not only did God deliver on his promise of faithfulness to us, but His power went even further than the doctors believed treatment would take my dad. Despite the specialist's prediction of best outcomes, my dad's tumors shrunk by almost half, his blood pressure returned to normal, and his prostate cancer PSA levels (which had nothing to do with his new cancer) dropped by half. He started planning his future once again. One that didn't involve funeral arrangements. Unfortunately, my father-in-law did pass on by early fall. It brought my husband and me closer together as we planned and I helped preside over his services.
           
I began to realize a revolving theme of someone's parent in need of God's care....and someone's parent in need of a kidney. By the fall I knew it was time. In November while my dad was preparing for surgery, I was matched with a compatible recipient, 1400 miles away!! Her daughter, like myself wanted to save her mom who was so ill, but was not compatible. I was. She was a woman in her 60's, like my parents, and facing a life sentence on dialysis that would likely end in death in a few short years. Her amazing daughter also granted my request to further the chain by donating to a young woman in her early 20's on dialysis. GOD was and is beyond GOOD!
           
​On Sunday while at church, the day before my surgery, I asked for administration, not just for me, but for everyone on my chain. The next morning, I checked in for surgery accompanied by my husband and a waiting room quickly filling with people awaiting their surgical destiny. I prayed a silent prayer for all of us. The night of my surgery on December 7th, I laid in my hospital bed with all kinds of tubes attached, literally feeling like I'd been slammed by a semi-truck, and beside me were both my parents (dad still recovering) and my husband. We were told that my left kidney, which had a plane ticket to Baltimore, had arrived safely and was working well (making urine) in its new body. The next day, on December 8th, my recipient's daughter gave up a kidney for her new recipient. And so, my little chain of two had begun. Two weeks before our scheduled surgeries, my husband finally came around to the acceptance of what I felt led to do (another small miracle). My dad, after his medical ordeal accepted what I wanted to do, and even more so when he learned it was another parent and another daughter who were willing to walk the same tight rope as we were. We needed this experience. We all needed God. We needed to feel Jesus Christ in action. And we all were able to give and receive of God's blessings because of it. The Enduring Principle of Grace and Generosity abounded as well as The Worth of All persons, All are Called, Unity in Diversity, and Sacredness of Creation (for the good things and the difficult). The Blessings of Community between Stillwater, OK and Baltimore, MD (Integris Baptist and John's Hopkins) were both unpredictable and wonderful surprises. Responsible choices were carefully considered during the donor process, and the Continuing Revelation of God's unyielding love for us (His creation) have brought forth unbound joy for several families all because someone believed. 

​November 11: In the USA this day is Veterans Day. In Canada we call it Remembrance Day. In both countries we take this time to reflect on the sacrifices made by the men and women who serve in our respective countries' armed forces. Most people think about those who paid the "ultimate price" for freedom, meaning they gave their lives while doing their jobs. It is fitting that we should honour them, but there are many, many more who gave their lives but did not die. Let me explain.

For 48 years, I have been married to a veteran of the Vietnam Conflict. He spent 30 months fighting a war...not to protect OUR freedom but the freedom of people he did not know in a country he had probably never thought much about until this conflict planted him there. He did this not because he enjoyed what he was doing but because he was following orders and because he believed it was his duty. He received relatively minor physical wounds but MASSIVE emotional and psychological wounds that more than 45 years later have still not healed. Those wounds have impacted his life, my life and the lives of our children, in ways that I would not have imagined possible. After years of therapy with skilled and compassionate counsellors, emotional scar tissue has formed and the wounds are not so raw. But there is not a single day that the impact of those 30 months does not affect our lives, and usually not in a positive way.
​
So here is the point of my post...on this Remembrance Day/Veterans Day, please remember to say thank you to those veterans (and their families) who are still with us. The ones who gave their lives but continue to suffer.

​See, our family of 5 had what we call, an “adventurous” summer. The day after school ended in May, my husband was offered a new job in a new location-Washington, D.C. So as our typically busy summer was beginning, we compounded it with packing and figuring out where best to move. Not only was I finalizing plans for Jr/Sr High Camp at the Ozark Campgrounds, but also taking my son to Jr. Camp, sorting through toys, clothes, kitchen items, craft items, etc. Then I directed the Jr/Sr. High Camp. We also had Reunion (a family church camp) and a visit to check out our new home location. With a few weeks left to pack and fix up our house to sell, we tried to find some peace and joy. We went to the park, to the zoo, visited friends, saw family, went to church, prayed.

As the big move from Oklahoma to the Northern Virginia suburbs of D.C. loomed, my anxiety rose. I am a Midwest girl currently living in the big city trying to keep sanity in my family. We are over 18 hours driving distance from family and friends, with few opportunities to visit. Talk about feeling lonely, and out of place!
​
But, we’ve been here 6 weeks now, and we have found a wonderful new community. We drive into D.C. on Sundays for fellowship and service at the Community of Christ congregation there. It is like walking in at home. There is that sense of peace, love, acceptance, and community I have found at every Community of Christ congregation I have visited. A place where we can find a seat at the table. We may have a new home, and be far from family, but at least we have found a new “surrogate” family. A place where our 3 kids can run and play and not feel awkward. A place to feel comfortable and appreciated.

We greatly miss our previous communities of church families, our previous “tables,” but God moves us to new experiences, to new community at a new table.

Now, I am off to show new wonders, new reasons to smile, to my kids and see where this path of terrestrial life goes that God is leading us on.

May God let the Spirit breathe with you, and lead you towards loving community; an accepting, joyous table; and on the path laid down just for you.

Amen.