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Neither of us will ever again be able to look through a homeless person as if he or she were invisible; we will never see a person curled up in a doorway late at night or early in the morning and not have a flashback to the night that that was us.
by Carol Lynn Pearson At an early morning meeting prior to the ten o’clock session of the Oakland Stake Conference on September 19th, a remarkable event occurred. Marlin K. Jensen,…
by Terry Hiscox This article was pulled from internet archives and was originally published in 1998. Some edits and updates have been made to the original text. It’s possible information…
Reading the various reviews of the new LDS Church-authorized book, Massacre at Mountain Meadows, prompts me to stand as witness for another tragic killing of a group of people in our community for which — when we have the benefit of history — we will be deeply ashamed.
There’s something terribly tragic that not only Mormons, but most religions have such a hard time with the odd ducks. The bottom line is that most of us are odd to a greater or lesser extent. And embracing the odd duck to me is the measure of true religion.
As I related to him my entire story, my bishop was dumfounded. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe that the person who sat before him was homosexual. I fit none of his stereotypes or preconceptions.
A huge piece I had been missing finally fell into place inside my soul and I realized with every fiber of my being that Mormonism was spiritually starving my Gay Soul to death.