Artist Statement

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

THE STORY BEHIND THE PAINTING

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.