Artist: Leslie Morley 
Title: For We Shall See Her As She Is
Medium: Original Oil on Canvas
Size: 30 x 40 in.
Artist Statement:
For We Shall See Her as She Is
Beloved, now are the daughters of God, and it doth not yet appear what we
shall be: but we know that, when She shall appear, we shall be like her; for
we shall see Her as She is.
— 1 John 3:2 (adapted)
“Sisters, I testify that when you stand in front of your heavenly parents in
those royal courts on high and look into Her eyes and behold Her
countenance, any question you ever had about the role of women in the
kingdom will evaporate into the rich celestial air. In that moment, you will
see standing directly before you, your divine nature and destiny. I say this
in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
— Glenn L. Pace
Artist Statement
My grandpa used to tease me for being overly inquisitive, though I know he secretly
loved that about me. I was the kind of child who never stopped asking
questions—especially the hard ones. Whenever the two of us had a quiet moment
together, he would ask what I was thinking with an expression that I could only
describe as “poised for a plunge”.
He once told me about a conversation we had, but I was too young to remember it
myself. Apparently, I had asked him, “Why aren’t there any women in charge?”
Doing his best to stay steady, he answered, “Well, there are many women in
charge—the Relief Society president, the Primary president...” But before he could
finish, I interrupted: “No, Grandpa. I mean, why aren’t there any women in charge?”
Even then, I could sense something missing—a sacred absence I didn’t have words
for.
Now, as an adult, I can further describe my inquiry in terms like equality in authority
or leadership representation, but what is at the root of that? What I think I was truly
yearning for was Her—my Heavenly Mother.
My grandpa never said as much, but I think he understood this too. He would often
remind me that I was “destined to be a goddess.” He testified of it so often that it
became part of the way I saw myself—woven into my spirit. Maybe it was the way
he’d tilt his head down so his gentle blue eyes became more fierce under his tangled
eyebrows. Or maybe it was simply something my soul already knew: that divinity is
our inheritance.
After he passed away, I often found myself looking up and asking him questions
again: “So, is it all true?”
“What’s it like up there?”
“What is She like?”
For a long time, he didn’t answer.
Then one night, missing him deeply, I found myself watching recordings of his old
talks. I came across one titled “The Divine Nature and Destiny of Women.” As I
listened—his familiar cadence, his soft humor, his testimony—it felt as though he
were sitting beside me again.
Quietly, I asked the same question once more: “So, what is She like?”
This time, he answered:
“When you stand in front of your heavenly parents in those royal courts on
high and look into Her eyes and behold Her countenance, any question you
ever had about the role of women in the kingdom will evaporate into the
rich celestial air, because at that moment you will see standing directly
before you your divine nature and destiny.”
For We Shall See Her as She Is is a painting born from that moment — the moment
when my question was finally answered.