A Post-Mormon Baby Blessing
Regaining my voice as a mother after leaving the LDS church.
One of the many reasons I decided to leave the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-day Saints (LDS/Mormon), was because of the role of women. In the thick of my faith crisis, I discovered former LDS singer/songwriter, Mindy Gledhill. I could write an entire post on the impact her album Rabbit Hole had on me. This album is all about her experience leaving the church after learning about parts of church history she was never previously taught[1].
The song entitled Bluebird profoundly resonated with me as I wondered what place a woman had in the church. One part goes,
Always on display
You’ve never seen the view without those lines right in front of you
You just gotta find a way
To lift the latch and take your place out under the open skylineYou don’t have to wait for the man
Who says he holds the keys in his hand
Get along, get along and find your song
Little bluebird
While in the midst of my feminist awakening, my youngest child was born. Overhanging the delight of his debut was a dark cloud — we would be expected to give him a baby blessing in an LDS chapel.
I no longer believed in priesthood power and temple sealings. But all of our Mormon friends, family, and ward members were wondering when we would be gathering to give our new little one a blessing — the ceremony that would add his name to the records of the LDS church. We’d done it for the older two, why not the newborn?
Typically, blessings are done on a Fast Sunday at the beginning of the church meeting. The baby is surrounded by priesthood-holding men who have been invited by the family to participate. The father pronounces the infant’s given name and gives a prayer of hope that the child will follow God’s plan, invite others to join us on our righteous path, and create an eternal family by getting married in the temple.
Women are not included in the blessing ceremony. They used to be able to add their hands to priesthood blessings as added faith, but that is no longer permitted. The best a mother can hope for is to hold the microphone to elevate the voice of her husband. Even that is rare.
I definitely felt left out of the process for simply lacking a penis — the unyielding requirement for giving my own infant a blessing[2]. I got the idea to create one anyway, inspired in part by the church’s founder himself, Joseph Smith. Sometime shortly before Joseph was leaving for Carthage Jail[3], his wife Emma asked him for a blessing. Joseph said he didn’t have time, but for her to write the best blessing she could and he would sign it when he returned.
Like Emma, I decided to write my own blessing. And with Mindy’s inspiration, I decided I didn’t need to wait for some man (♫ who says he holds the keys in his hand ♫) to sign off on it.
It took some time to decide what I wanted the blessing to be about since I wasn’t comfortable following a typical Mormon script. My only ideas about life’s journey growing up were from an LDS perspective where you completed the checklist, endured to the end, and lived happily ever after in Heaven. Every other path was wrong.
I wanted to dig deeper into what it was I truly wanted to see for my children (and myself, frankly).
So here is my secular humanist prayer —
From a feminist mother—
To her cherished-beyond-words children.
A Mother’s Wish
As the woman who nourished you like a little seed inside of me and bore you into this world, I give you a love that no other person can. That love longs for you to have a life of joy and wisdom.
You were born into a family that values you beyond measure and without condition. You are the perfect piece for our family. We cherish your sweet spirit[4]. We revere your wondrous features and are grateful every day that you are ours.
May your little body grow into a powerful tool that will aid you in your journey. May you have the health and energy to fulfill a life of meaning and purpose. I wish you strong legs to stand up for the oppressed, that you may walk hand in hand with the helpless. I wish you a steady and courageous voice to speak for those who have been silenced.
I hope you have endless questions and curiosity. May you marvel at the wonders of the sky and stand in awe at the beauty of plants, animals, and all living things. May you be grateful for the large and small privileges in your life and allow that gratitude to guide you toward serving others.
May you have unspeakable joy as you smile often and laugh easily, so that others will be drawn to your bright and inviting spirit. I wish you a hearty list of things you do simply out of delight. Let these bolster your adventurous nature.
I wish you a love for reading. May you lose yourself in magical worlds and find insights into history. May you seek heroines and heroes that inspire and empower you. May you escape to new places and cultures through the written word where you can appreciate what it means to be part of a collective whole.
May you morph and change with your experiences, leading to personal growth and depth of character. I wish you profound wisdom. Wisdom to connect instead of divide. Wisdom to see the humanity in every person you encounter, to recognize that those who are mean, bitter, and hardened, are in fact exceptionally wounded. I wish you empathy and understanding instead of judgment for those different from you. May your softness never be mistaken for weakness as you balance tenderness and aid with boundaries[5].
I hope you will strengthen your ability to self-reflect, acknowledge your wrongs, and have the courage to correct course. May you make endless mistakes that teach and humble you. I wish for you to have the ability to practice self-compassion with ease, to forgive yourself quickly, and treat yourself as you would a loving friend.
May you have meaningful relationships with your friends and community. May you create a loving family with foundations of solace, trust, and forgiveness. May you build a home that is rich in affection, and that stands as a towering beacon of refuge for the marginalized and outcast.
I wish for you to have a far-reaching influence. May your example of radical compassion be amplified as you inspire others to follow suit. May you be vulnerable and brave in the face of adversity. May you meet your critics with resilience, patience, and courage.
As you inevitably experience heartbreak, injustice, and grief, may your empathy and mercy for others intensify. I hope that when you feel the weight of the world’s problems on your shoulders, you will find strength and rejuvenation through quiet meditation and reflection. May you gain sanctuary through inner peace and stillness that will drive you forward when you are ready to begin again.
As you near the end of this life, may you face death with tranquility. May a sense of pride and accomplishment in your legacy fill your heart with warmth and light. May your footsteps in this life live on for the next generations to see, honor, and emulate.
You have a place in this world that is needed.
That is cherished.
That is enough.
I’m sure my hopes for my children will change over time, but I like to think my love and support will be a constant anchor. May they forge their own unique path in life.
Footnotes
[1]One of the major turning points for Mindy Gledhill was reading about Fanny Alger. Fanny worked in the home of Joseph and Emma Smith. It is suggested that Emma spotted Joseph having sex with then 14-year-old Fanny in a barn, well before Joseph was given the “revelation” of plural marriage.
[2]It makes me laugh to think of how much I wanted to be involved, contrasted with how much my husband dreaded giving blessings. I heard explanations growing up that women didn’t need the priesthood, nor do they have reason to want it. Who would want the burden of being a leader, making decisions, and having healing powers from God Himself??? What a heavy load to bear indeed. 🙃
[3] Why was Joseph heading to Carthage Jail? “A group of dissenting Latter-day Saints began publishing a newspaper that was highly critical of the practice of polygamy and of Smith’s leadership; Smith had the press destroyed. The ensuing threat of violence prompted Smith to call out a militia in the town of Nauvoo, Illinois. He was charged with treason and conspiracy by Illinois authorities and imprisoned with his brother Hyrum in the Carthage city jail.”
[4] I’m at the point where even the word spirit feels a bit “churchy.” If I wrote this from scratch today I’d likely use a different term.
[5] I added this line after printing out the poster. I realized I also didn’t want to raise people-pleasing doormats.
