All opinions are always 100% honest and my own. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. I also participate in: CJ Affiliate; eBay Partner Network; Rakuten Affiliate Network; ShareASale; Walmart Affiliate Program; independent affiliate networks.

Running in about fifth place, right after “Are you the only wife?” “So, how many kids do you have?” “Aren't you the ones who can't drink soda?” and “How come Mormons can't dance?” the most common question I have received about the church was, “How can you be in a church run by a bunch of old men?”

Somehow it never occurred to me to label Gordon B. Hinckley and the likes of Dallin Oaks merely as “old men.” But how, in passing, do you fairly portray the intelligence, love, wit, humor, devotion that these “old men” display year after year? The respect that we give to them has been earned by their service and we sincerely grow to love many of them, not only for who they are, but for how they have enriched our lives.

As a young woman (and now a not-even-quite-middle-aged woman) in the church, however, I haven't always felt that I related to the General Authorities particularly well. Of course their messages are universal (and wonderful and valuable), but my life…well…isn't universal. It's personal. So I have always appreciated the female perspective coming down from on high in the conference center. It has been important to me to hear LDS women teach me how to be a better LDS woman.

But our access to that perspective is limited to three talks at the General Relief Society Meeting each year in addition to the token females at General Conference. The scriptures, too, focus on men. So I admit that there have been times in my life I have felt just a bit forgotten.

I've never known how to express this thought without being labeled a heretic. When even a Bishop's Youth Council request that the Young Men might, perhaps, do some of the service in the bishop's “youth service project” were rebuffed, how do you move to larger issues of gender without sinking from the realm of irritant to full-fledged extremist?

LDS Blogger extraordinaire, Julie M. Smith, recently discussed a faithful way to dissent. It is a thoughtful post, well-worth reading. But one of the comments caught my eye. The reader replied:

Your faith in octagenarians' [sic] willingness to pray about certain subjects is much greater than mine.

While this may not have been the most respectful way to address this issue, it is an idea about which I have often wondered.

Someday, I'm going to go through the Doctrine & Covenants and count the number of revelations that were received after a direct question from someone with authority to receive an answer, as opposed to the number of times God popped down on someone and dictated some crucial information. I don't have any hard numbers, but the former seems to far exceed the latter. And, if the latter, then what is our position if the “octogenarians,” for whatever reason, have widely differing doctrinal questions than we do?

When President Hinckley soundly stated that women in the church don't have a problem with gender issues, I nearly fell off my chair, because I know so few who do not have gender issues of some sort or another. I sincerely wondered if it was just a generational thing because most of the women he associates with closely do not, in fact, have any issues? My own mother (who was 39 years my senior) was always (patiently and politely) baffled by own questions and concerns. She was bright and educated…and was still perfectly content with the status quo.

When I lived through three excruciating, summer pregnancies in a subtropical climateβ€”drenched to the skin in my many layers of cottonβ€”and then dealt with myriad…ahem…nursing and other feminine post-pregnancy issues, I was pretty darned sure that none of the 70-plus-year-old men in Salt Lake were praying about practical garment styles for “that time of the month.”

Yes, I'm aware of personal revelation, but it's often not incredibly useful when dealing with church policy issues.

So many times my husband has said, “Honey, why don't you write a letter?” But I can't for the life of me figure out to whom such a letter would be sent. And I can't figure out how to do it without being perceived on par with one of those women who stood outside the gates at temple square, wearing garments over their clothes, or the ones who stood up in General Conference at the sustaining of President Hinckley and yelled, “No!”

And even if I did write a letter and figure out where to send it, we all know the letter will be screened by someone else who will, in all likelihood, send it back through “appropriate channels” to by stake president. Then, I suppose, I can expect an one-on-one with my bishop about period problems.

Sometimes it seems the only appropriate thing to do is to wish and pray (silently) about those things that trouble me and hope beyond hope that someone in Salt Lake, someday, might also start to wonder about the same things. Our age and gender difference notwithstanding.

Alison Moore Smith is a 60-year-old entrepreneur, who graduated from BYU in 1987. She has been (very happily) married to Samuel M. Smith for 39 years. They are parents of six incredible children and grandparents to two astounding grandsons.