Your Daughters Need You

Dear Heavenly Father,

I travelled all night to meet you. After a red-eye flight to Phoenix, exhaustion put me to sleep in the front seat of a rental car in a hotel parking lot. I woke to my own thoughts, “God, your daughters need you,” pleaded my inner voice. In perfect synchrony with that thought, the sun burst out from behind a building that had shielded its view, as if to make known your presence.

Could there be no better place to commune with you than your holy temple? I approached with complete faith, with resolute conviction, tears streaming down my cheeks. I looked up at the stained-glass ceiling in the temple room, but it would not part. I left my written prayer on the temple grounds and walked away.

That night I had a dream. A group of women were behind a mist of grey cloud. I strained to hear their muffled voices. I could barely make out the words, “They already have the answers. Talk to them. It’s in your heart.”

It would be so much easier if you made your truth known like the sun that burst into view. Instead, as I contemplated this dream, the tiniest portion of your Spirit stated with quiet confidence, “This is your answer.”

Father, is it right for me to believe that the power of the feminine divine exists in the heart of my Heavenly Mother and was bestowed upon the first woman, Eve, and been passed down by birth through the hearts of every daughter? Does knowing what it means to be a woman in your eyes mean knowing my heart, the heart I share with Her? Do you see me the way you see Her?

And Father, if I speak from my heart, will the words I say be set apart?

I did as you instructed, “Seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” I understand that my heart is where I shall knock, and my voice is what I shall find.

It is January, and where I live in the Arctic, the sun does not burst into view this time of year but slowly inches up and hovers on the horizon for a few hours just to go down again. I suppose the answers to the questions I have will be more like the Arctic sun; they will come slowly and a few at a time.

Tomorrow morning, I will be awake to watch the sun rise and offer this prayer unto you. That your light of truth will clear the mist. That the hearts of your daughters will be known and their voices be heard.

I’m taking one step at a time.

Your Daughter Sincerely,

Emily

Amen.