I
was assigned to visit teach an intelligent, accomplished woman who was
(and probably still is) struggling with how our church handles some of
the hot-topic issues (namely gay rights and women and the Priesthood). I
had spoken to her a few times at church and we didn't really click.
It's not that we had hard or unkind feelings for each other, just that
we were like, "meh", about each other. There wasn't an instant
connection.
For my first "visit" I invited her to a screening of Singing in the Rain and
we went out for street tacos afterward. (She loved both of those.) For
the second visit I went to her house and we talked. She told me that she
didn't like "official visits" and that she definitely did not want to
hear the monthly message out of the Ensign. She shared a lot of her
concerns, most of them about church policy and leadership. I thought we
had an open conversation, and I thought I had been understanding. I also
thought that she felt comfortable speaking with me and being open about
her questions, doubts, and beliefs -- but we still didn't feel like
pals.
I
found myself thinking about her frequently and wondering how I could be
helpful to her. I looked for and acted on any ideas I had to help her.
I
never had an overwhelming, definitely-do-this kind of impression, and
she never really warmed up to me. I wouldn't say that we are friends.
(Though we would have a cordial conversation if we sat next to each
other at church.) And the only inspiration I got wasn't pointed, or all
that clear.
When I thought about how to help her, the only thing I could think of was that regardless of how she felt
about me, my job was to love her. My real job was not to visit her
every month, but to help her feel listened to, supported, and accepted
as she is. It was not my job to resolve her concerns. It was my job to
encourage conversation and discussion, but not to help her find
satisfying answers. My job was to show her that we wanted her in the
ward and that there was - and is - a place for her.
I
moved out of the ward before I was really able to act on that
impression, so I'm confident that I'm not a significant figure in her
life. I'm pretty sure she saw me as a nice visiting teacher but not
particularly useful or interesting. I don't really think I did anything
important in her life, but I hope that she felt like I cared (even if
only a little bit).
I
hope that our one real conversation helped her know that it's ok to
have different opinions in our church. I hope she felt like she could
share her ideas and that they weren't scary, or off-putting, or too much
of a burden to hear.
I
know that I learned to be more open. I also feel like I'm better now at
finding ways to support women that I don't feel a connection with. I
also learned that it's more important to have real conversations than it
is to convey a particular message.
Above all, I know that
God wants us to support each other. Our church isn't a place only for
people who have burning testimonies, live perfectly clean lives, and
love everything in the Handbook. It's also a place for everyone who is
lonely, dubious, angry, and living in the gray between black and white.
No comments:
Post a Comment