Too Holy For Words. Literally.

As you can tell from this rare photograph, Mother in Heaven is both super white and sporting a stylish early-2000s haircut.

You may not know this, but Heavenly Father isn’t the holiest being out there, not even for our particular little planet. And if you’re thinking, “Duh, I already knew that, it’s Jesus,” then BZZZZZ! Wrong again.

The holiest being out there is our Mother in Heaven. She’s so holy, in fact, that we’re not supposed to talk about her, and you can just forget about praying to her. She is too holy for your prayers.

You may be thinking to yourself, “Wait. How can someone be TOO HOLY to listen to my prayers? How is it possible that Heavenly Father isn’t too holy, but Heavenly Mother IS too holy?” And to that I say, why are you questioning our Church leaders? Are you saying that you know better than they do? Why would you ask a question that isn’t faith-promoting?

The reason I was given for this wholesale rejection of speaking to (or about) Heavenly Mother was based on chivalry: our Heavenly Father didn’t want people to say mean things about her, so he just made it so nobody would say anything at all.

People with weak faith and apostates might say things like, “Wait, isn’t she basically capable of standing up for herself? I mean, if she’s the all-knowing co-ruler of the universe, is she really gonna get her feel-bads hurt if someone calls her a mean name?”

Fortunately, we don’t listen to people with weak faith, or apostates.

I for one believe our Prophets’ justification for not speaking to or about a Heavenly Mother. And it is for this reason that I implemented the same policy when raising my own children.

My husband and I talked about it, and we decided that what was appropriate for our Heavenly Parents had to be appropriate for us. After much fasting and prayer, we felt that there was absolutely no way we could improve on their model.

Immediately after giving birth to our offspring, I moved into the Mother Shed on the other side of our backyard. We painted it pure white so there would be no doubt about its Holiness. We agreed that our children should never see me, and that, if I ever came up in conversation, everyone would instruct our children that I was not to be spoken of.

I was still, of course, a crucial part of every moment of their lives. By which I mean, I watched them on the nanny-cam. When little Ezekiel took his first steps, I laughed and applauded, but silently, just in case they could hear me inside the Mother Shed. When Erica made the gymnastics team, I was thrilled - just from a distance, and not in a way that would ever be communicated to them. I watched every gymnastics match through my husband’s phone camera, sometimes while simultaneously streaming Netflix and eating Cheez-Its.

As the oldest child, Annabelle had the strongest memory of me; I had dropped by the main house to deposit her younger siblings after their births, and, despite our best efforts, she caught a glimpse. She seemed to know I was living on the other side of the yard.

One day, when she was in third grade, she summoned all of her courage and came to knock on the door of the Mother Shed.

“Mom?” I heard her say from the other side of the door.

I remained silent. It was difficult, but it was also the only way I could remain holy. Also, I was watching SNL clips on YouTube, mostly because it helped me not pay attention to my daughter, which might endanger my holiness.

“Mom, I know you’re in there,” Annabelle said. “Why won’t you come out and talk to us? Don’t you want to get to know us?”

For a second I thought about telling her to go talk to her father, but then I realized that counted as communication, and I absolutely could not do that. So I walked to the other end of the Mother Shed, put on my headphones, and listened to The Osmonds singing hymns really loud so I couldn’t hear her banging on the door and crying.

I spend a lot of time on the internet (hey, I’m alone a lot!), so I know some people will judge me for not being “there” for my kids, or involved in their lives, or even confirming my actual existence. But to that I say, you are not better than God. And God says that holy mothers are not to be spoken of, or to, for that matter. So maybe it’s time for you to get right with your spiritual journey and stop judging me.