While My Husband Served as Bishop

I began writing this when Nathan was called as Bishop of our ward in February 2018. Much of the first portion was written in late 2018 and then throughout 2019 and 2020. I've added details in retrospect in March 2023.

I pray and hope I never forget the power and healing that has come to me as I accept and act on this challenge. This year, my husband was called to be the bishop in our ward.

From the start, I was realistic with myself, knowing I would experience feelings of frustration, anger, resentment, and jealousy. I know I have tendencies toward these things. I even shared these worries with the Stake President just before he extended the call to my husband. Although I don't recall the exact words, he responded, "That's certainly something you'll have to work through." I also knew there would be blessings, and shortly after his call, we even experienced our own small miracle, which I saw as a gift from our loving Father. I now have a list of miracles I began compiling in the summer of 2022.

As much as our Heavenly Father knows what experiences and trials we need to experience to grow from our weaknesses and become like him, Satan is also keenly aware of our shortcomings. His detailed and specific attacks upon the most vulnerable aspects of my personality blindsided me. Attacks that were custom-tailored just for me - feelings of insignificance, exposure and vulnerability, judgment, and guilt about my feelings, to name a few. I never realized I was unprepared because I was doing what we should do to combat him and his influence.

It was difficult to adjust to having my husband be mentally absent. I felt the weight when he held something he couldn't share with me. I felt incredibly lonely. Knowing that other women were vulnerable with my husband was very difficult. I felt angry at ward members when I would hear them making judgments about things my husband was doing as bishop. One of our sons made some poor choices during the first couple of months my husband was serving. Through the ward grapevine, I heard how he was being spoken about. "Did you hear what the bishop's son did at school?" Didn't they understand that we didn't ask for this call and that we were all doing our best? I was confused why friends no longer spoke to me freely at church and why people who had never had anything to do with me now wanted to be extra friendly.

I felt that I had lost my identity when Nathan was called. In the matter of one day, I went from being a strong, independent woman named Wendy to "the bishop's wife." When people introduced me as the bishop's wife, it felt painful. We don't refer to anyone in other callings that way. When I was introduced that way, I would say, "Actually, my name is Wendy." Or when I was feeling especially defiant, I would refer to myself as "the bishop's mistress."

I felt exposed and discontent with myself (Elder Neal A Maxwell's definition of discontent). I felt that I'd feel better if I could just attend a different ward, vocally defend myself and my family, or retaliate against judgment and criticism. Ultimately, I felt I couldn't because I feared how it would reflect on Nathan.

It's weird to have your husband as your bishop. When I would share my feelings with Nathan, it felt that I could no longer talk to my husband. He had a hard time separating himself from the Bishop mentality. I would tell him, "I am talking to my husband, not the bishop. Stop telling me to love everyone and be kind."

I started believing these things wouldn't bother me if I were more righteous. Certainly, the prophet's wife didn't feel this way. (PS, why was I even comparing myself to the prophet's wife?) I would see this as a great blessing if I were righteous enough. If I were righteous enough, I wouldn't have any help consecrating all that I possess, my husband's time and energy, to building the kingdom of God.

For several months I would put on a brave face each morning until my children left for school and Nathan went to work. I would spend time crying in the shower or my closet almost daily. I wanted relief, strength to overcome, and God's love, but I felt nothing. A few times, I literally cried aloud, "God, please hear me."

Nearly every Sunday, I would sit in Sacrament meetings and cry, especially during the sacrament, because I wanted to rely on my Savior. Still, I couldn't feel anything, especially His strength or help.

Nathan and I fought more than usual that first year he served. At one point, he said, "If this is how it's going to be, I will ask to be released." I didn't want that for him, so I stopped sharing and tried to hide my feelings from him.

I continued to pour out my soul in prayer to my Heavenly Father. I tried faithfully serving as Relief Society First Counselor but ultimately asked to be released. I prayed for revelation for my ministering sisters, knowing that service is one of the best antidotes for depression. I received priesthood blessings from my husband. Despite doing these things, I found myself sinking into despair. I couldn't figure out how to rid myself of the darkness surrounding me.

Just days before the General Women's Conference, I reached a breaking point when, for the second time, I found myself in my closet, wishing I could just be dead. The thought startled and scared me. Never before had I thought about intentionally ending my life, and now I had considered it would be better twice in a matter of a few days.

I opened up to my husband about these thoughts. With his encouragement, I scheduled an appointment with a counselor for the following week.

I attended the women's session of General Conference a few days later with my mom and daughter. I did not want to go. Emotionally, I was a wreck. Sister Michelle Craig gave a talk that touched my heart called Divine Discontent. President Russell M Nelson also spoke to the women of the church and gave a challenge that I decided to accept wholeheartedly. These two talks quite literally saved my life at this time.

At the invitation of President Nelson, I took a break from social media and began reading the Book of Mormon at an accelerated rate. I took a copy with me everywhere I went. I canceled the counseling appointment because, for a time, I started to feel better. Eventually, I did make an appointment and spent time speaking with a counselor to clarify my role in supporting and sustaining my husband.

Just shy of two years into his time as bishop, Nathan had to go to Denver for a couple of weeks for work. I flew out to be with him for a few days. It was during this time that it became abundantly clear why my husband was MY bishop at this time. It is a very tender experience for me. I was able to have an open and frank conversation about a painful experience from my earlier life in an environment where I felt ready and safe.

I write this because when I first struggled, I could only find words online that focused on the blessings that came to families as a husband and father served as bishop. They would briefly say it was hard, and we struggled, but BLESSINGS! I'm glad these others could work past the struggles, but I needed someone to be real with me and let me know that I wasn't alone in my feelings. Not only do I feel like it would cheapen my experience and progress to gloss over the hard parts, but it may provide a false reality to those who follow.

We need not feel alone, broken, and misunderstood. In church culture, we can sometimes feel expected to fit in or appear perfect, even at a great cost to ourselves. I'm done with that. I want to be the best version of myself and draw closer to my Savior and Heavenly Father.

It's been a long ride. I have continued to struggle. Of course, not all of my struggles directly relate to Nathan's service. Most are the result of living in this world. I have gone to counseling on and off while my husband has served. I have had moments of strength and clarity, and seasons of waiting on the Lord for help. The Savior continues to meet me where I am. He met me in my anger, depression, and confusion. When I choose to allow it, he is there. He didn't change my feelings or force me to feel differently, but he allowed me to see a different perspective when I was ready. He has made me more confident. My experience has me feeling more empowered to take my place in the kingdom of God and His church.

My husband was released this past Sunday. I wasn't sure how I would feel. As it turns out, I felt sad, almost like mourning. And grateful. And I was emotionally overwhelmed with love from my Father in Heaven. As I've reflected for a couple of days, I realize that the past five years has held seasons of bitter, but I've also found profound sweetness. I'm grateful for the learning and growth from both.