A Shout Out to Single Sistas in the Church......

Especially those raising kids in the Gospel without the support of an active member husband.

I was almost one of these women.

DH and I met at work. I was saving money fast and furiously for grad school and he had moved to Portland after college for his first sportswriting job. Our desks were ten feet apart but we did not say a single word to one another for over a year. I was weary and distrustful of sportswriters, who have a reputation as being womanizing alcoholics, and DH had a general fear of women. And a long-term girlfriend in the Bay area.

Fate, by way of a shared work project, intervened. We spoke. We fell in love. He was everything I had ever wanted....except for the religion part. By Fall 2000, we had already been dating for a few months. He was covering a college football game in Salt Lake and I decided to come along for the weekend. We had discussed religion now and then. He had a positive view of the church and its members, but did not show any interest in going to Sunday meetings with me. I pinned all of my hopes and dreams of his conversion on this trip. Surely, the peace and serenity of Temple Square, the majesty of the Salt Lake Temple, the wonderful spirit in the Visitor's Center, would capture his heart and mind....and he would immediately ask for the discussions, be baptised, and we would be sealed in the temple and live forever after in eternal bliss....

That weekend, he seemed genuinely impressed with the church sites and I saw tears in his eyes when we watched "The Testament," the movie de jour in Temple Square. On Sunday, after listening to the Choir rehearse in the Tabernacle, we walked around the Temple grounds and I bore my well-rehearsed testimony to him. I ended by telling him how important it was for me to be sealed in the temple and for my children to grow up with a father who righteously upheld the priesthood. Then I asked him if he had any interest in investigating the church...

His reply, "No... I'm sorry Jen...not really."

I came home from that trip feeling discouraged. I prayerfully made some hard choices. Choices that many viewed as compromises to my faith and eternal goals. I decided that I wanted to continue to date him, and eventually marry him. Even if it meant a civil, rather than an eternal marriage. Even if it meant taking our children to church by myself every Sunday. Sometimes images would pop into my head: Of me sitting in church alone, surrounded by happily sealed couples. Or struggling with young children during Sacrament Meeting by myself. But mostly, I felt divinely inspired that, with some time and careful study, he would be baptised and stay faithful. I just had no idea of the timetable that these events would occur.

God is merciful. DH was baptised a few weeks before our wedding, almost one year after our trip to Salt Lake. We were sealed in the Boston Temple a year-and-a-half later, with our six-week-old son. He was called to the bishopric a year following our sealing.

I don't know why I was spared this trial of faith. I know that many people wait their entire lives for their spouse to join the church. I feel incredibly blessed, yet my lack of faith and wavering testimony over the last couple of years tells me that I also take this blessing extremely for granted.

Flash forward to January 2006: In anticipation of our move out of New York, I lived as a single mom for a couple of months while my husband worked in Washington, DC. Two words sum up these two months: Survival and Exhaustion.

I'm not very comfortable in survival mode and I try to stay on top of my life so that I don't feel that I am "just trying to make it to the end of the day." Ladies, I had one goal for those two months....Survive until March. My responsibilities during this time were limited to taking care of my two toddler-aged monkeys and keeping the house in order. Big responsibilities, I understand, but I did not have to worry about a job outside the home, child care, and the hundreds of other concerns that single moms deal with every day.

Sundays were hard. I have to admit that I missed a few church meetings over those two months. Things that could usually be overcome with some help from my DH (ie) child tantrums and transportation issues ... seemed unmanagable to me alone, so we stayed home. When I did make it to church with the monkeys, I spent the majority of the meeting block in the hallway chasing after one or both of them. I know that everyone with small kids has this experience, but doing it by myself was lonely and isolating.

My heart ached for all women raising children alone in the Gospel FOR REAL as I struggled with my own temporary situation. So many are doing such truly amazing jobs, raising great kids who will grow up to be strong members of the church, and overall wonderful people.

We have since moved out of New York. I was looking through our new ward directory the other day and I couldn't help to notice two things: (1) How BIG our new ward was compared to our quaint little Astoria group. (2) How many single member moms lived within our ward boundaries. They are just names to me right now, but I promised myself that I would make an effort to get to know some of them and find ways to lighten their burden.