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I had the privilege to go to Nauvoo, Illinois from May 1-May 5 for a leadership retreat with Affirmation: LGBT Mormons, Families, and Friends. I was asked to write a piece on the experience I had with Nauvoo. (It was published here) I came to Nauvoo with an interesting perspective... I left with an entirely new one.

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"What am I doing here," I muttered to myself as I stepped off the plane in St. Louis. "This is too close, My past is too vivid here, it's too vulnerable. I don't belong here... this is the one place that I cannot go."

As I collected my bags, and met up the other Affirmation members I was carpooling with, I was filled with a conflicted sense of pain. I didn't feel like the confident 24 year old that I've grown to be; I had been replaced with my 18 year old self... the wanderer., traveling aimlessly into an unknown abyss.

We all piled into a Suburban, and started the drive north along the Mississippi River. I had a lot of time to think, and ponder on what the weekend would bring, and the emotions it would create. Nauvoo is of utmost importance to the Church, and it's members, but as a convert, it had no significant place for me. To me, the City of Joseph was a place filled with religious history, a history filled with holes, and tainted with doubt. I never felt an affinity with Nauvoo... not until I arrived in the city itself.

As we all ate dinner, and set up things at the Nauvoo House on Thursday night, I could feel the Spirit lingering, and the pain that had occurred there. I could feel it hovering... pooling around the buildings, the trees, and the roads. I could feel the aching pain in the Smith family cemetery, and inside the Nauvoo House, the house that Emma had last called home.

Nauvoo's birth was veiled with trauma – the Saints were forced to leave behind their beloved temple in Kirtland, and the Prophet Joseph was imprisoned at Liberty Jail, leaving Emma and the Saints to fend for themselves while being expelled from Missouri. The Saints continued to experience pain with the doctrine of plural marriage, and the eventual martyrdom of Hyrum and Joseph. Nauvoo, while indeed the beautiful place that had inspired it's name, was not a place of joy... it was a place of injury and inexplicable pain and suffering.

Friday morning and afternoon, I had the opportunity to explore the historical sites of Nauvoo. I walked down Main Street and stopped at the Times and Seasons, the home of Apostle (and 3rd President of the Church) John Taylor, and Scovil Bakery on my way to the LDS Visitors Center, where I took a wagon ride along the historical districts of the city. I was struck by the abandoned feeling of the flatlands of Old Nauvoo. Most of the buildings had been torn down within the first 40 years after the Saints crossed the plains. All that was left were empty fields and the handful of buildings that had been preserved and renovated.

As I made my way back to the river to Emma's Nauvoo House, people had started to arrive. Dinner as being made in the kitchen, and volunteers were beginning to set up the parlor with tables and chairs. These were my people – my family – and my heart began to fill with joy. These were the people who know me, and understood my journey as a gay Mormon.

We sat down to dinner, and the conversation flowed. I was catching up with old friends, and planting seeds with new friends. Everything was wonderful. After dinner was finished, we pushed the tables to the side, and started the ice breaker activities. We went around the room and shared 3 adjectives about our anticipation of the weekend. Many described feelings of joy, and excitement, as well as faith and devotion. Mine however revealed my cloud of apprehension – my adjectives were hope, fear, and trepidation.

The next activity had us move around the room in a game called "social mapping". We were first told to move to where we lived. For me, that as Salt Lake City... easy enough. The next however threw that cloud of uncertainty over me. Move to where you call home. I don't have a home. I was born and raised in Defiance, Ohio, but that is far from anything I would consider home. In Salt Lake, I have a house that I live in, with a roommate and a dog, but it isn't home. I was homeless, so I moved to a corner that could only be called limbo.

That night I was plagued with restless sleep. I tossed and turned, wrestling with the parallels drawn between myself and this place. Nauvoo was too close to home. It represented everything that I had run away from – everything that I had left behind, and never looked back to remember. It represented a place that required a recommend of worthiness I cannot obtain.

Saturday morning, I awoke and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I gathered my things and drove over to the Community of Christ (formerly the RLDS Church) Visitors Center where we held a scripture study session led by John Gustav-Wrathall, Judy Finch, Todd Richardson, and Tom Christofferson. As we discussed passages from the Doctrine and Covenants, an interesting point was made about how the LDS Church, and its members, handle pain... we smile through it. I realized that I've done this my entire life. Every step I have ever taken, I made sure to take it in a way that showed my friends, my family, and the members of my ward that everything was fine, even as my world was crumbling before my eyes. I tried to look at it from a point of view that turned it into good, but did it without taking the time to mourn, to sob, to anguish, and to panic. I tried to turn it into a blessing before I had given myself the opportunity to heal. It was during this session, that I learned to confront my own demons, and mourn my losses. I learned that everything is a blessing, but it can't be a blessing until I am ready to fight back against the abuse that I had left unchallenged.

Our second session was conducted on the banks of the Mississippi River, at the end of the Trail of Hope where the Saints had left Nauvoo to begin their trek west. This is where the Saints looked back on their homes, their businesses, their schools, and their beloved temple, and chose to abandon them, so as to leave and search for a better life. I reflected and meditated on the loss of the Saints felt as they left their homes. I was reminded of the Atonement of the Savior, and how the Saints had to have leaned on Him for their strength and good spirits in that desperate time of need. Aside from the temple, this is where I felt the Spirit most strongly. It kept pushing me toward the bank, saying, "Go. The pain of your personal exodus in life pales in comparison to the pain here. Go. Find your own joy."

After a morning of exploring that opened my eyes to understanding I had never before uncovered, we took a break for lunch and free time. The first couple of hours I spent with the women of the Conference. We had our lunch overlooking the river and getting to know one another on a deeper level than we had the previous night. After lunch, I went to find my scriptures, and my journal, and I was overcome with emotion. The closer I came to understanding the events that transpired here, the more I was brought back to my own past, and the experiences that made me who I am today. I fought the tears that came from a place buried deep inside of me. No matter where I turned for peace, the peace was overwhelmed by pain.

After dinner, we all gathered into cars and we drove up to the temple for our group picture. The sun was just beginning to set, and the view from the hill overlooking the land and the river was remarkable. It was here and here alone that I felt peace. I watched the boys skip down the hill, and looked over at the young couple taking their wedding photos. I felt a very distinct feeling that told me everything would be ok, and that all things would ultimately turnout for my good. With all of the conflicting emotions I had felt this weekend, that confirmation and blessings of peace from my Heavenly Mother and Father was exactly what I needed for my journey to inner peace.

The last event of the night was the meeting we held on the second floor of Joseph Smith's Red Brick Store. Berta Marquez shared her story of being a Guatemalan refugee in the oppressive conditions of her country's dictatorship. She was able to create a new life for herself, and she pulled herself out of a place of despair, into a place of hope. I grew up being taught, and eventually begun to believe that I was to shoulder my burdens, and accept the side effects and limitations that came with them. This was yet another confirmation to challenge the things taught to me, and to forge my own path.

Carol Lynn Pearson was the last to speak that night. Her presentation struck me, and transformed my experience. She spoke about Emma Hale Smith, Joseph's beloved wife. She spoke of the devotion and unconditional love she had for her husband, but also spoke of the suffering and anguish she endured through the revelation of her husband's plural marriages, and then the crippling trauma of his assassination. Carol Lynn performed a monologue that she had written about Emma in her play, Mother Wove the Morning. It was so touching, and so moving that I had tears flowing down my face the entire monologue. She summed up, in 10 minutes, the thoughts and feelings that I had harbored, and clutched so closely to my heart for all of these years.

Sunday morning, we had a testimony meeting in the Seventies Hall owned by the LDS Church. The Nauvoo Mission President was present, and he spoke to us briefly before the stand was opened to us to share our feelings and our testimonies. Every single one of us spoke straight from the heart, and spoke with a vulnerable authenticity that we can't always express in our wards and branches back home.

As I walked up to the stand to bear my testimony, I was sustained with a shot of confidence that I had been lacking for the last few days. I went up, and shared my favorite passage from the Book of Mormon. The first 8 verses of the Book of Enos begin with Enos wrestling before God, and his soul hungering for truth. He knelt down before his Maker and "cried unto Him in mighty prayer and supplication for mine own soul." It goes on to read, "all the day long did I cry unto him, yea, and when the night came I did still raise my voice high that it reached the heavens."

This is what I had done for so long... prayed, cried, and anguished for the Lord to fix something that was unfixable. I had pleaded with the Lord to help me with the trials of my childhood and adolescence, so that I could be made whole once more. My Heavenly Mother and Father had helped me accept myself as a gay woman, but now I needed Their help in calming the waters of my past, and allowing me to grow.

Like Enos, I prayed for the Lord to bless me with forgiven sins, and a calm heart. Like Enos, I don't know how it was to be accomplished, but I knew that it would be done. The Lord tells Enos, "Because of your faith in Christ, who thou hast never before heard nor seen. And many years lass away before he shall manifest himself in the flesh; wherefore go to, thy faith hath made thee whole."

The rest of the day was filled with hugs and goodbyes as people set off to drive back home and the the airport. By the end, there were only a handful of us left. We drove to Carthage, to see the site of the martyrdom, and once again the Spirit there was one of anguish. The room where the Prophet Joseph and his brother Hyrum were killed held a chill... it was an eerie sense of finality and certitude. It's a feeling that I will never forget.

When I got back from Carthage, and after all the chores were finished, I went outside, and looked out over the river for the final time. I walked over the the Smith family cemetery and placed my hand on Emma's marker. I laughed with her, and I cried with her. I shared in her joys and in her triumphs, and mourned with her over her losses, and her pain. I shared with her my love for her, and my admiration of her courage, and driven nature. I poured my heart out to her about my life – sharing the joy and pride of my success, and sharing the pain I've harbored for so long. I told her of my family, and explained how I yearn to be reunited with them someday. Emma and I developed a sisterhood that night. I created that bond that I so desperately needed to create with this place. And I was finally at peace.

As I boarded the place back to Salt Lake City, I allowed Nauvoo to stay with me. I didn't leave and never look back like I had so often done before. I allowed myself to see that Nauvoo was home. I am a Saint. I have been left behind, I have been left abandoned. I have been the one driven out; I have been the one with an extermination order written against me. I had once been the weary traveler; I had once been the aimless wanderer. Nauvoo welcomed me with open arms; The City of Joseph is home.







Heavenly Mother, Are You Really There?

Last night I was in bed getting ready to say my prayers. My prayers are really more like conversations... talking to God about the concerns I have in my life. He knows me personally, and He made me unique from everyone else in the world. So I feel like I have the liberty to talk to Him personally.

So I laid down, and opened with "Heavenly Parents". I talked and put out my concerns, and asked for blessings... you know... all the normal stuff. Then quite abruptly, I realized that I was only addressing Heavenly Father. The only time that I had acknowledged Heavenly Mother was in the beginning.

This, unfortunately, isn't surprising to me. I'm sure that part of it comes from being raised in Catholicism's version of patriarchy, and being thrust into Mormonism's extreme patriarchal culture certainly didn't help. But the trigger is looking at the parallells in my relationships between my Heavenly Parents, and my mom and dad.

My relationship with my parents is non existant, and has been for several years now. But when I was still living at home, while still unstable and forced, was at least in existance. My dad was the "good cop"... he would talk to me in mild tones, and would (usually) listen to my side of the story, or my feelings on matters. When I needed to ask permission from someone, it was from Dad. I felt comfortable coming to him with tears in my eyes, and asking for a hug... and the answer was always yes, often with no questions asked.

Mom? Never. We never talked civilly. Her tones were sharp and condescending. I was uncomfortable and intimidated. She yelled at me, and I yelled back. I never felt safe to confide in her, and I rarely felt her love... and often, not even her tolerance.

(I do want to make clear that I was the worst teenager who had ever walked the face of the Earth, and I deserved to be treated this way. But still... this has stunted me.)

Heavenly Father loves me. I know He does. He listens to me when I'm worried, and even when I'm wrong. He corrects me, usually by gently pushing me in the right direction, but sometimes sharply when it's needed. But I always know that He loves me.

Heavenly Mother is very different... I do not feel her love. And instead of seeing Her, I see my mother.

This is devestating to me. I have one Divine Being to look to, to see what my eternal destiny is supposed to be... and I have no relationship with Her, and I have virtually no scriptural or scholarly examples to look to, and to study.The boys have Heavenly Father, and Christ, and we have thousands... millions of resources to look to, to see what they should aspire to be, and to work towards.

I don't know what my divine potential means as a female, and it makes me feel less important. The problem is... I don't know how to fix it...

"Lord, I Would Follow Thee"

"Who am I to judge another, when I walk imperfectly? In the quiet heart is hidden, sorrow that the eye can't see. Who am I to judge another? Lord, I would follow thee."

This is the second verse of Hymn 220 Lord, I Would Follow Thee from the LDS Hymn Book. We sang this hymn at the opening of my Teachings of President Thomas S. Monson Institute class last night, and after all the hell that has gone on in this class, Brother Butler has really redeemed himself.

The entire lesson was about how we are to be our brother's keeper; not picking out their flaws, and shortcomings, but loving them without judgement or scorn. We talked about President Monson's time serving as the Bishop of the 6th & 7th Ward, and his overwhelming generosity he expressed to his ward members. He gave love and service to his ward without a second thought.

Brother Butler then wrote on the whiteboard these 7 words: Vision, Patience, Balance, Effort, Understanding, Courtesy, and Love. He asked us to pick one of those words and search the Scriptures for references that meant something to us. I immediately turned to the Topical Guide to find something for Understanding. Proverbs 3:5-6 popped out at me first, "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths." For the word Love, I immediately thought of Doctrine and Covenants 18:10, "Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God."

People tend to believe that because someone's lifestyle or opinions don't match our own, we are right in our excuse to not understand them. And because we are excused from understanding them, we excuse ourselves from our duty to love them. We are wrong in doing so. Every soul is of worth in the sight of God! Lean not unto your own understanding about them, and go seek them out in compassion.

The final verse in the Hymn, "Lord, I Would Follow Thee" begins like this, "Savior, may I love my brother as I know thou lovest me," We are to lift the fallen, not to figure out if they deserve to be lifted. We are to heal the hurting, not to judge whether or not they are worthy of the healing. We are to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and to do so without hesitation nor pause. For inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of my brethren, ye have done it unto me. - Matthew 25:40

Mormon Newsroom

I was browsing around the Mormon Newsroom, mostly because I'm a gluton of punishment. But I stumbled upon this gem, and I don't know how to handle my feelings...

It opens up with this statement, "On 7 June 2006 ABC’s Nightline ran a story on members and former members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who struggle with same-gender attraction. This issue is one that evokes strong emotions and, unfortunately, often perpetuates negative stereotypes on both sides of the debate. Nightline’s story contained some comments that do not reflect the views and teachings of the Church and its leaders."

Here are the comments:

Daniel Holsinger: “There is a very strong notion that I am a sinner — fundamentally who I am is hated and reviled by God. I am alone; there is no one else like me.”

Morgan Smith: “We’re not recovering from God, but we are recovering from the put-downs, the discrimination, the people that come along and say that if you’re gay, you’re not good.”

Russ Gorringe: “There is no place for me in the gospel as a person who never married.”

*sigh*

It's not the bloody comments that are contrary to the teachings of the Church! It's the behavior of the members towards these people! For all of our talk about being a Church of love and compassion, the LGBT members of our wards and stakes have a hard time finding them in our congregations.

Why do you think that Daniel feels hated? Because there are members of the Church that do! Not all, but there are enough. We hear all about the "homosexuals"... from everyone but LGBT people. We see statements like this made by the First Presidency in 1970, “Homosexuals can be assured that in spite of all they may have heard from other sources, they can overcome and return to normal, happy living,” as if my life isn't already normal and fulfilling. We are compared to bank robbers by Elder Mark E. Peterson in 1978, “Since homosexuals have become a nationwide entity, and have come out of hiding to demand their place in the sun, many of them claim that they are what they are because they were born that way and cannot help it. How ridiculous is such a claim. It was not God who made them that way, any more than He made bank robbers the way they are.” And we are (frankly) belittled by President Spencer W. Kimball in 1978, “’God made me that way,’ some say [i.e., homosexual] … This is blasphemy. Is man not made in the image of God, and does he think God to be ‘that way’?” When I see these things, I feel hated and unwanted... by the membership, as well as the leadership.

Morgan feels put down, and every single LGBT person has been, whether it's direct or indirect. Can you blame us? Bishop Keith McMullin of the Presiding Bishopric said this in 2010, “If someone seeking your help says to you, ‘I am a homosexual,’ or, ‘I am lesbian,’ or, ‘I am gay,’ correct this miscasting… it is simply not true. To speak this way seeds a doubt and deceit about who we really are.” That makes me feel put down! You are ignoring my trust in you to tell you something this personal about me, and you shut me down and tell me that I'm wrong? When you clearly have never gone through what I'm going through?! Or how about the douzy in 2010 from President Boyd K. Packer, “Some suppose that they were pre-set and cannot overcome what they feel are inborn tendencies toward the impure and unnatural. Not so! Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone? Remember, He is our Father.” You're telling me that I am impure and unnatural... sounds like a put down to me. From the membership and local leadership, I've heard them all... from little things like being called a "dyke" to being told there is an evil spirit residing inside of me. They are hurtful, plain and simple.

The Church has made SO many steps in the right direction since the 1960's, and since 2006, when this article was published. But if you think for one second that we are "at the forefront at having love and compassion", you are horribly mistaken.

As I Have Loved You

I had one of the worst experiences of my time in the Church yesterday. I had taken a year of hiatus from Institute, and decided that I would take a class titled, "Teachings of Thomas S. Monson". When I walked into the class, there was a substitute teacher, Elder Peters – a Church service missionary – giving his introduction. He immediately started off with politics and controversy, and that's when everything started going downhill.

He started going on and on about how Mormons need to be the moral compass of the world. That we were so popular in the 1960s and 1970s, specifically with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. And then the ERA came around, and the Church became the "bad guys". Then it was Prop 8, and now it's the Federal Court ruling about marriage. Just going on and on about how people that supported these measures, and those that affiliate with these people are sinning.

I couldn't keep quiet anymore. I was so uncomfortable and I had physically felt the Spirit leave the room. When he paused and asked if we had any comments, I raised my hand. I quoted President Monson from his closing statements of the April 2013 General Conference, "We are a worldwide Church, brothers and sisters. Our membership is found across the globe. I admonish you to be good citizens of the nations in which you live and good neighbors in your communities, reaching out to those of other faiths as well as to our own. May we be tolerant of, as well as kind and loving to, those who do not share our beliefs and our standards. The Savior brought to this earth a message of love and goodwill to all men and women. May we ever follow His example."

I went on to explain that his comments are especially painful because he is speaking ill of people who are sitting in this room. Me. I'm gay. I know I'm gay because I've had personal revelation from our Heavenly Father – personal revelation that our Church values so highly. I have been to the brink of suicide and self hatred. I said that we need to be compassionate and loving like Elder Cook calls us to be. We need to acknowledge that every one's personal experiences are valid, like Elder Christofferson tells us. We need to be tolerant of other people's political opinions like President Monson told us in an interview with the Deseret News in 2008, "Regarding another question about whether church members could disagree with the faith's opposition to legalizing same-sex unions and still remain in good standing, he said the answer 'depends on what the disagreement is... If it's an apostasy situation, that would not be appropriate. If it's something political, there is room for opinion here and there on either side.'"

He blew his top. He rose his voice, and said, "There is no such thing as homosexuality and so called same sex attraction! It did not exist in the premortal existence! It does not exist in the post mortal existence! And it does not exist here! You are choosing to sin. You are choosing to be inferior."

I walked out in tears. No one stood up to support me. No one even looked at me. They just stared straight ahead. As I walked down the hallway, and found a seat to calm down in, I opened my Scriptures to John 13:34. It reads, "A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another."

As I have loved you.

Do you have any idea how powerful that is?? Christ loved us so much that He defended us from Lucifer's disastrous plan of forced obedience. He loved us so much that He came and fulfilled the Law in order to bring a new and everlasting covenant, where we are forgiven of our sins. He lived us so much that he bore the weight of the world and suffered the price of our sins. He shouldered the weight of our guilt, pain, sorrow, and suffering. A weight so large and so traumatic that He showed a rare moment of mortal hesitation and plead with His Father, Our God, to "take this bitter cup" from Him. And yet, He pressed on bearing the weight that would cause His blood to run from every pore.

He completed His Atonement, and guaranteed that you and I will never be left comfort less. He has secured us a place. He allows us to return to celestial glory to live with Him, and our Heavenly Parents again.

We need the Atonement, because we aren't perfect. We abuse our fellow men at worst, and tolerate them at best. John is telling us to love others, and to look at those people that we despise, abuse, and tolerate through the eye's of Christ, and to see them as sisters and brothers of Christ.

I had never looked at it that way. I despise this teacher because of how uninformed, and hurtful he was. I despised my classmates for their indifference. I despise Governor Herbert for his decision to nullify over 1300 marriages because he has a "moral opposition". But I need to look at it in a completely different way.

The next time I see Elder Peters, I need to look at him as my brother in Christ, and know that he is a product of his generation.

Next week, when I walk into class, and I see my classmates again, I need to look at them with compassion, and remember how hard it is to speak up on a tough situation. None of us is quite as Christlike as we know we should be.

This week, when I support my LGBT Brothers and Sisters who have had their marriages annulled and fight and pray for their civil rights to be reinstated, I will look to Governor Herbert and see him as a son of God. A son of God who is doing what he believes to be right. I will look at him with love, even though I strongly disagree with his political and civil decisions.

Will I yet go away from Institute? Not yet. I've contacted the Institute office to let them know about the events that transpired, and I will be going into class early next Tuesday to discuss what happened with our assigned instructor, Brother Butler. I will give it another chance. Because the only Apostle that I love more than President Monson is President Uchtdorf, and I will not shy away from learning how to be a better person from the teachings of this great man.

Unworthy

I want to go to the temple.

There. I said it. Out of my system.

The problem is that I didn't know how to go. And trust me... it's a hell of a lot harder and more complicated than convincing the bishop and stake president to sign a piece of paper, and then driving to one of the four temples in the Salt Lake Valley.

I'm a Mormon. I'm a Mormon who's a Democrat, an intellectual, and a feminist, and a lesbian. That right there just put four road blocks down my path to "spiritual enlightenment", and I have no idea how to reconcile it. I'm the danger in President Boyd K. Packer's imfamous quote, "The dangers I speak of come from the gay-lesbian movement, the feminist movement (both of which are relatively new), and the ever-present challenge from the so-called scholars or intellectuals."

The biggest road block is easily the fact that I'm gay. I believe that the Church has got it wrong on homosexuality. Like the Church's new policy on race, I believe that the denial of full fellowship to LGBT members is coming from a place of privileged bigotry. I have had personal revelation from God that tells me very plainly that I was born gay, and that it was absolutely something God intended. I was gay in the premortal existence, I'm gay in morality, and I will be gay hereafter. Easy peasy. But I can't be dishonest. Because I have had sex with a woman *gasp*, I need to go through the repentance process. Am I ok repenting for sex before marriage? Yes. Am I ok repenting for having sex with a woman, and promise to never do it again? Absolutely not!! I simply can't do that with good conscience. However, in the Bishop's eyes... this is a "cut and dry" example of not being repentant of my sins. And BAM. No recommend. No temple. And possibly a form of formal/informal Church discipline. No bueno.

But all of these concerns are things that are real to me. I have severe concerns, and disbelief about the Church's positions on homosexuality, and the ordination of women to the Priesthood. I have serious concerns about the Church's teachings to our Young Women about modesty, and how they are responsible for the "pure thoughts" of the Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood holders. I have serious concerns about the Church's lack of transparency about it's history. I have concerns about the Church's "worship" of Joseph Smith, and his portrayal of the most perfect man who's ever lived, when in truth, while inspired and called of God, he was a man with many flaws. I have doubts! And simply "doubting my doubts" isn't cutting it. They are not going to go away.

And yet the temple pulls at me. Everything aches when I drive past... knowing that everyone else around me can go in, and I can't. I've tried to ignore it. I've put it out of my mind, telling myself that it's simply something I won't get to have in this life. But I shouldn't have to resign myself to the fact that I can't go! Do I feel worthy? Yes! I respect my fellow brothers and sisters. I strive to do good in my day to day life. I help when I can. I pay my tithing into the Book of Mormon fund, and the general missionary fund. I sustain the leadership of the Church. I read my Sciptures and say my prayers. I feel the presence of the Holy Ghost in my life, nor have I ever stopped feeling it. I know that I am worthy.

But it's up to 2 men to decide if I am. And I don't think that they'll rule in my favor.

I Am Free At Last - Marriage Equality For Utah

It happened. I honestly didn't think that this would happen while I was still in my twenties, or even in my thirties... and I certainly never expected it to be within the year that DOMA was struck down.  But after years of fighting and getting ourselves out there... showing that we are normal members of society and that we have the same capacity to love and cherish a spouse and raise beautiful children, Utahns have gained the right to get married in the state that we love. Judge Robert J. Shelby, District Judge for the United States District Court for the District of Utah wrote in his 53 page decision, "The state’s current laws deny its gay and lesbian citizens their fundamental right to marry and, in so doing, demean the dignity of these same-sex couples for no rational reason. Accordingly, the court finds that these laws are unconstitutional."

Couples are lined up at city hall in Salt Lake County, Davis County, and Cache County. Seth
Anderson and his husband Michael Ferguson were the first couple to be married, and in early reports it looks like over 200 liscences have been issued. Salt Lake City Mayer Ralph Becker has announced that he will stay all night if nessessary to perform marriage ceremonies.

Seth and Michael

 

Mayer Ralph Becker

 

I am so proud of my city!! I am proud to be a citizen of this great state.

The state of Utah has already filed an appeal from the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals, and filed for an immediate stay of the ruling. As far as I'm able to see... a stay has not yet been granted, but we'll see if one comes through tomorrow morning. While it's disapointing, it was certainly expected. I hope and pray that the pathetic reasons that are being argued in support of discrimination, will be swept aside. And if they do stand, I hope they refuse to issue marriage liscences to couples who are no longer of child bearing age, and refuse to allow couples to have children, when they won't follow "responsible procreation" or be raised in "optimal child rearing enviornments".

When I heard the news, I was sitting at my desk at work, and immediately after I read the message from a friend alerting me of the news, I started crying. Tears streaming down my cheeks, and a huge smile spread across my face. I'm sure I looked like a fool. But it was one of the most monumental moments of my life.

The Church has also made a statement after the announcement, "The Church has been consistent in it's supporter of traditional marriage while teaching that all people should be treated with respect. This ruling by a district court will work its way through the judicial process. We continue to believe that voters in Utah did the right thing by providing clear direction in the state constitution that marriage should be between a man and a woman and we are hopeful that this view will be validated by a higher court"

 

 

One day I hope that the Church I love so much will one day recognize the words of our Savior, quoted from John, "A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another." It is also my hope that the leadership reads the declaration given by Joseph Smith on August 17, 1835 in the 134th section of the Doctrine and Covenants. Verse 4 reads, "We believe that religion is instituted of God; and that men are amenable to him, and to him only, for the exercise of it, unless their religious opinions prompt them to infringe upon the rights and liberties of others..." Verse 9 reads, "We do not believe it just to mingle religious influence with civil government..." We are a Church that has faced discrimination in the past, with a extermination order issused against us. We know, more than many religious and civil groups, the bitter sting of discrimination under the law.

Today, I am recognized as normal. I will be able to call my (one day) wife, my wife! I won't have to call her my "partner". Partner has always felt cold, distant, and not real. Now I can say I'm "married" without it being a lie. I'll be married rather than being eternally engaged to my girlfriend. I am now protected by law... laws without any pretty exceptions that they have to put in there so that people cannot deny me a home, or employment solely based on my sexuality.

I am free. No one can cage me now.

Nostalgia

The best gift you can give a loved one is by far, the gift of a pleasant memory. 

I made my roommate go check the mail today... I was exhausted, and in bed, and I didn't want to move. When she came in, she handed me the gas bill, but she also handed me a package.  On the box, I recognized the handwriting for my Grandpa Romary's, and immediately a smile came onto my face. The last time I saw my Grandparents was on Spring break in 2007, and since then I treasure the phone calls and letters I receive. 

I brought the package inside, and when I opened the package, I pulled out the card my Grandma had enclosed. Tears streamed down my face as I read her words. She reminisced about us grand kids eating "poofies" (multi colored mini marshmallows) out of plastic cool whip containers and drinking chocolate milk out of Tom and Jerry jam jars. I remember those trips to Gram's house fondly. Enclosed in the package was a bag of those beloved poofies. I laughed out loud because it was so perfect, and unexpected. But as I kept sifting through the newspaper, to my surprise, there was a Tom and Jerry jar too. It touched me so deeply that she had sent such a special token of my childhood. It is so powerful that even now, the tears are welling in my eyes.

But perhaps more powerful, is the second gift she enclosed. Sitting inside the Tom and Jerry jar were two bells. They were given to her, by her father, on her wedding day in the early 60s. I don't remember my Great Grandpa Rainey. He died in 1994 when I was only four years old, and the only memory I have of him is a photograph that hung in my Grandparents' house. These bells had hung in her kitchen for as long as I can remember... I never knew their story, nor their significance. But she gave them to me, and no other gift can be given that is more precious to me than this.

"Regular" Christmas gifts are great... don't get me wrong. Last year, and the year before they were sets of beautiful winter hats, gloves and scarves. I love them, and I wear them often. This year it was a beautiful watch... One that I cannot bring myself to change from Central Standard Time in Fort Wayne, Indiana to Mountain Standard Time for Salt Lake.

But those poofies, bells, and the timeless Tom and Jerry jar out weigh them all. They always will. They put their unconditional love for me over their disappointment of my past actions and words. They put their love for me over the expectation to shut me out like my parents and siblings. Today they chose to see me as God sees me, rather than as my mother and father see me.

This year, Gram and Gramps sent me the gift of love. The gift of tender care and mercy. They emulated Christ. They followed His commandment to "love one another as I have loved you." By showing me Christ like love, they truly put Christ back into Christmas.

Thank you Gram... I love you.

I Need Feminism

I'm not a feminist because I think it's fun. I'm not a feminist because I'm gay, or because I like to stir up trouble. I'm a feminist because I feel unequal and marginalized in the vast majority of experiences and day to day life of being a woman in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

I feel unequal when there are more a lot more men’s voices in religious texts, meetings, leadership positions, and decision making bodies.

I feel unequal when callings that don’t require the priesthood are given only to men: Sunday School Presidency, BYU, BYU-I and BYU-Hawaii Presidents, Church Education Commissioners, Ward Mission Leaders, recommend takers at the Temple, etc. (Similarly, men are not currently called in Primary Presidencies and should be.)

I feel unequal when women doing the same job are called by different titles (i.e. "the missionaries" vs. "the sister missionaries", Sister vs. President) and/or are accessories to rather than serving equally with their husbands, i.e. Mission President’s wives.

I feel unequal when I have a calling as an auxiliary leader and have to get approval of every decision by men and/or when I am not invited to attend Priesthood Executive Committee meetings (PEC) which directly influence my stewardships.

I feel unequal when my value is primarily linked to being a wife and mother rather than by being a child and daughter of God.

I feel unequal when the men in my life acknowledge that they have no female spiritual leaders in their wards or communities.

I feel unequal when women have less prominent, prestigious, and public roles in the church, even before and after child rearing years.

I feel unequal because even one of the most inherently female-dominated time periods, having a new baby, is publicly displayed at church in an all male ritual of the baby blessing.

I feel unequal when males handle 100% of the church finances.

I feel unequal when I am taught at church that my husband presides in my family, he is the head, and all things being equal, he still has the final say.

I feel unequal when people preach that men and women are completely equal and in the same breath say the above sentence.

I feel unequal when I realize that at church all men have the final say. Good leaders might consult with female auxiliary leaders, but ultimately even after being called to a position via inspiration, men still make the final decisions.

I feel unequal when cub scouts and boy scouts have a larger budget than achievement days and Young Women's and thus, they often have better activities.

I feel unequal when the Young Women and Young Men’s programs have such different manuals, budgets, activities, etc.

I feel unequal when fathers and mothers are encouraged to fulfill primary roles to provide and nurture, but only the fathers are given the freedom to seek out the best way for them to provide, whereas, mothers are told the best way for them to nurture—to be stay at home moms.

I feel unequal when men teach me that being a stay at home mother is the most important thing a person could do, and yet most of them do not do it.

I feel unequal when people do not emphasize fatherhood as much as they do motherhood and when we have numerous annual lessons on the priesthood and I’m not taught anything about the woman’s role as a priestess.

I feel unequal in primary when most of the lessons and songs are about men although most of the teachers and leaders are women.

I feel unequal because church disciplinary courts are made up of solely men and there are no female voices in the very sensitive matters of church discipline.

I feel unequal when women have to talk to men about their sins, especially sexual ones, and have no other church sanctioned options.

I feel unequal because most men, even inspired ones, can’t fully understand or provide enough resources for sexual abuse.

I feel unequal when young girls are taught about modesty and chastity from older men, especially because females make decisions about these things for very different reasons than males.

I feel unequal because many of the official church declarations and proclamations have no female input, regardless of how drastically they affect women.

I feel unequal when there are no checks and balances for females who experience abuse in the system. While abuse may be rare, it is terrifying that women have no resources to go to outside of the male hierarchy.

I feel unequal because the Relief Society’s autonomy was taken away and it became an auxiliary presided over by men.

I feel unequal when women’s financial autonomy isn't encouraged as much as men’s at church and/or church schools.

I feel unequal because men conduct, men preach, men speak. Men teach us how to be women.

I feel unequal because local leaders rarely use gender inclusive language even though church manuals and General Conference talks try to do so.

I feel unequal when men speak at Relief Society and Young Women’s meetings, but women never speak in priesthood meetings.

I feel unequal when there are very few women’s voices in our official correlated church manuals.

I feel unequal when women don’t pray (until April 2013) in General Conference and usually only give 2 or 3 of the many talks.

I feel unequal because men and women can be sealed to different numbers of people.

I feel unequal in the temple because women a have different script and role.

I feel unequal when female employees of the Church Educational System and temple ordinance workers are no longer allowed to keep their positions after they have children.

I feel unequal because we know very little about Heavenly Mother and her role in the Godhead and there doesn't seem to be any emphasis on the part of our leaders to pray and find out more about Her. I don’t know what my divine potential means as a female and that makes me feel less important.

I feel unequal because all of these concerns are mediated by male leaders and that they are only as important as these men deem them so. While most of our leaders are wonderful, there is very little in the structure or doctrine to prevent male leaders from misogyny or benevolent sexism.

I feel unequal when these gender inequalities are not acknowledged by leaders. It is difficult to be a female in a patriarchal church and we are trying our best to make it work. Acknowledgement of that difficulty would go a long way.

I'm a feminist because it emulates how Christ treated women. Christ refused to condemn the woman caught in adultry, and reminded us that we all are guilty of sin. Christ prefered Mary sitting at His feet listening and learning, rather than in the kitchen, slaving away with Martha. Christ treasured the widow's mite over the rich man's showy gift. Christ took time to engage with the woman at the well rather than shunning her. Christ first appeared to Mary Magdeline after His resurrection, rather than to His disciples.

Feminism looks like valuing women's opinions and perspectives, rather than passing them over for a man's opinion. It looks like valuing women who work outside the home, just as much as women who choose to be stay at home moms. Feminism looks like loving women, and accepting women as respected equals.

The Life That's Waiting For Us

When I was 17 years old, my parents sent me to a residential treatment center to begin and finish my senior year of high school. The experience was not the worst experience of my life, but it tore me down bit by bit, inch by inch, until there was little left of the light, and strength of my spirit. It tore my self confidence to shreds. The experience taught me that no matter the pain or heartache I had experienced in the past, I was solely at fault for everything that had happened.

Observing the interactions with my family was telling as well. Very few letters, awkward and shorter than allotted phone calls, and being the only one whose parents did not permit them to go home for Christmas. I learned that I had
earned their tolerance rather than their unconditional love.

This is only one side of the story, and not a complete one at that, but it conveys accurately the feelings of my heart... Feelings from 7 years ago, and feelings from today.

During my time there, I developed the belief that God alone could save me. That God alone could heal my afflictions and mistakes. I believed that with enough faith, with enough devotion, I would be made whole.

This led me to the Church. I was yearning for truth in a way I had never sought before. I was entranced in the idea that righteousness brings blessings. And the only blessing that I wanted was to be made whole. To be made into the image that God intended. To see myself in the way God saw me. And it was a bitter pill to swallow when I realized that after two years of strict adherence to the letter of the law... nothing happened. My family relations were still non existent. I was still broken. I was still gay. And it only led to more self loathing, more self hatred, and more failure.

But it lead me to really open my eyes. That's when my search for truth took off. And the truth I found, while unorthodox and unexpected, was exactly what I needed.

I learned the truth. I learned that while I had done wrong, and that I was to blame for the vast majority of it, I was not to blame for all of it. I learned that my parents had done wrong, and they were to blame for some of it, but not all of it. My classmates, teachers, neighbors, friends, bullies... they were all to blame for some, but all. They were to blame for their words, and their actions towards me. I was to blame for my words and actions, and for all of the hurt that I caused. But I learned not to carry blame that was not my own.

From that day forward, I learned that healing was possible. I learned how to have compassion and forgiveness for my fellow men and women. I no longer looked for their faults, but instead I looked for their good. For their praiseworthy actions. I learned to recognize that all of us have done wrong. You. Me. Your spouse. Your dog. Some of those wrongs were done intentionally, but most weren't. Some of these wrongs were severely painful, and others were not.

Because Christ's Atonement is infinite, I've been able to forgive myself. I've forgiven myself for my lack of self control, and inability to think before I speak. I have forgiven myself for the wrong I have done. Because after all we can do, Christ's Atonement picks up the slack. When I drop to the floor in exhaustion and anguish, He picks me back up. He carries me until I have the strength to stand on my own. And on those marathons where I am too fat and out of shape to finish, He carries me to the finish. He is there. He knows me to my very core. He knows the intentions of our hearts. He is there.

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." - Joseph Campbell

Just Be There

A couple of months ago I went to BYU in Provo, to help with a video that USGA (Understanding Same Gender Attraction) was shooting about suicide awareness among LGBT Mormons, especially those at BYU. Although I am not a BYU student, I went and participated, because this is something that I have dealt with in the past, and it's something that is important to me. Suicide rates are high among LGBT teens and young adults, and even more so when they come from conservative religious backgrounds. It needs to stop.

Stories like these, and talks like the one given by Elder Jeffery R. Holland in General Conference, will help us on this journey. Things are changing.

Without further ado....

"Come Join With Us"

Yesterday I stood in the stand by line with over 300 women (and our male allies) for admittance to the Priesthood session of the General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was a bittersweet experience. I started my morning by watching the morning session of Conference, and eating breakfast with about 10 other LGBT Mormons. We were all in shock with President Dieter F. Uchtdorf's address at the close of the Saturday morning session, and it touched me on a deep personal level. It prepared me for the activities for the rest of the day, because it proved to me that I was doing the right thing. The Church has a place for me.

I went home, and got dressed, and really mentally prepared for what was about to happen, not because I was nervous, but because I was about to make history. I was about to do something that I genuinely believed in, and it was something so many people in the Church look down upon, and claim to be apostate.

I went and parked at the Ballpark (1300 South) TRAX station, and got on the train to head downtown. I got there early so that I could listen to the rest of the afternoon session on Temple Square, and after the session I headed to City Creek Park on State Street and 100 North. When I got there, I saw over 200 women, active, worthy LDS women gathered, and ready to head over to Temple Square. I had some time to meet new people, and visit with my two friends, Bridey and Elizabeth. We were briefed on logistics, sang the hymn, "The Spirit of God", and had a prayer, and then we were off. We were off to make history.

By the time we left for Temple Square, we had over 300 women and male allies among us. As we turned onto North Temple, I pulled out my Scriptures, and started reading my patriarchal blessing. You have been blessed with a sense of right and wrong and with a willing heart to hear the truth and you are true to it. You will experience loving, tender feelings as the Lord visits you by the power of His Spirit to comfort you, to give you reassurance, and strength to go on in times of need. Those words sang true to me that day. I was truly doing what I absolutely know to be right. And it was exhilarating!

Once we made our way onto the Temple Square grounds, we got in the stand by line for the Tabernacle. It was real now. We were there. People started coming up to us asking what the line was for. On more than one occasion I replied with, "This is the standby line for admittance to the Priesthood session in the Tabernacle." Most looked confused, but then smiled and said thank you. Others however... they smirked, and looked me up and down, as if looking for the male genitalia requisite for holding the Priesthood. And then the Sister Missionaries came to call... three companionships total. The first two were pretty... hostile... in that sugary, sweet sister missionary way. But the third set as amazing... they listened, they heard me out, and they understand how hurt the marginalized groups in this Church are. It was missionary work at it's best. They listened. They actually listened.


It wasn't long until word came that we were officially denied entry to the session. It wasn't really surprising to me. We decided to turn and face the crowd of men walking past us... this way they had to look at us. And we walked up, one by one, to ask for entry to the session. Once it was my turn, I walked up to the man standing in front of the door, and said, "My name is Ellen Koester. I'm requesting entry to the Conference Center to hear the counsel of the Prophet and his Apostles." This man, replied, "As you know this is the standby line for men to enter the Priesthood session. It is for male members only."

That statement floored me. I was expecting to be denied, but I was expecting the reason to be because I don't hold the Priesthood... not because I don't have a penis. I looked him straight in the eye, and said ok... and paused to look through the doors into the Tabernacle before I turned to walk away. Soon after, they closed the door, pulled a red tape across the entrance, and eventually drove a mini garbage truck in front of it... as if they were expecting the well behaved women, who had been asking peacefully for entrance, to suddenly storm the building. We all soon gathered for a prayer, and to sing the hymn, " I Am A Child Of God", and we made our way back to City Creek Park. But not before noticing three men standing inside by the window staring at us. They didn't smile, they didn't show any sort of outward emotion. They just stared.

On the walk back, I did a lot of soul searching, and conversing with my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. To hear their personal stories was unbelievably inspiring, and faith promoting... I felt the Spirit more strongly than I had all day... with the brief exception of when President Uchtdorf spoke that morning. 

Conference weekend as a whole has been discouraging to say the least. But I am holding fast to the words of President Uchtdorf, "Brothers and sisters, dear friends, we need your unique talents and perspectives. The diversity of persons and peoples is a strength of this Church." This taught me that my opinions and perspectives are valid, and that they are valued... even by the Church. "If you define hypocrites as someone who fails to live up perfectly to what he or she believes, then we are all hypocrites. None of us are quite as Christ-like as we know we should be. But we earnestly desire to overcome our faults and sins to become better with the help of Jesus Christ.", and "If these are your desires, then regardless of your circumstances, your personal history or the strength of your testimony, there is room for you in this Church. Come join with us." This taught me that although I break certain commandments, and have differing opinions about certain doctrines and practices within the Church, that I am valued. And that there is a place for me. I am Mormon... no matter what anyone else says or thinks. "If you expect to find perfect people here, you will be disappointed.", "If you are looking for a place of belonging come join with us." , "If you have left the faith you once embraced, come back again and join with us.", "If you are tempted to give up, stay yet a little longer. There is room for you here." He showed us that there is a place for us. He showed us that we are vital to the Church, as are our opinions and perspectives. He showed us that we were valued.

I am valued. I am wanted. My perspectives are valued. An Apostle of the Lord has asked me to stay. Many people have told me that I don't listen to the counsel of the Prophets, and that I should leave for the benefit of the Church, and the members around me. To them I say........ I'm listening. And I'm staying.

Outer Darkness

If there's anything that I've learned from speaking and participating at Affirmation two weeks ago, it's that there are high emotions surrounding being gay in the Church. The workshop that I participated in was highly weighted in why we stay in the Church as LGBT Mormons, but there were many participants who expressed their concerns, and pain with staying in the Church. I'm someone who will defend the Church when it deserves to be defended. I am someone who finds the good in the Church when there is good to be found. But when there is no good to be found, I don't stay silent, and I don't go away. It's just how I roll.

Because I don't let up on my convictions, I get beat down. Often. Which sucks. But it makes me wonder how many other LGBT Mormons, and our allies, get beat down for our beliefs and our lifestyles. How much longer are we going to be marginalized? How much longer will we hear the audible gasps and feel the unabashed stares? How many more friends and family will quietly walk out of our lives?

I've grown weary. I hear the disapproval of my peers often. I get it on social media, and through my emails. To them, I'm an apostate. I discourage the Spirit from coming anywhere near me, and by extension, them. I entice doubt, not faith. I promote deviance, not obedience. I am Satan incarnate... I am damned to Outer Darkness.

Believe it or not... these are all real examples, and they are all people who claim to "love their LGBT brothers and sisters". Some even claim to be building bridges between the communities. This doesn't build bridges. It tears them down.

My bridge is slowly crumbling... and sometimes I don't know why I stay in the Church. I honestly have no idea why I put myself through the pain. I wonder if I would be happier outside. I wonder if Christ only atoned for our sins... rather than for our sorrows. I wonder if God loves me. I wonder if He had me turn out gay so that He could damn me to Outer Darkness. I wonder if God is the vengeful God of Evangelical Christianity. Is He the loving God that we say He is? I want to believe it! I want to believe that He is compassionate, and warm!

But why are His children so cruel?

Journal Entry 2 December 2011

It's three weeks before Christmas... And for the fifth year in a row, I'm alone... again. My family doesn't want me. God doesn't want me. Nobody wants me. I'm nobody's somebody.

I get why my parents hate me. I get why they don't want me around. They don't even know that I'm gay, but I'm a bad enough person that my gayness doesn't even need to be mentioned for me to be expelled from the family.

I get why God hates me. God hates me because I'm gay. That's a pretty good reason. It's cut and dry... Plain and simple. God loves straight people. God loves people who can "multiply and replenish the earth." God loves people who are pure of heart. But that's not me. I have impure, immoral, and unnatural thoughts all the time. I'm dirty, and repulsive. No unclean thing can enter God's presence. No unclean thing can go to heaven. But no matter how hard I scrub my skin, no matter how much, and how sincerely I pray... I'm still impure. God can't possibly love someone like me.

I still hold my temple recommend... But I know that I shouldn't. Someone gave a talk in Sacrament meeting last week about morality, and told us that if we feel rotten in our hearts about something that we have done, it means that we've sinned, and that we need to reevaluate our temple worthiness. I know that I shouldn't have it. But I need to go to the temple one last time... And then I'll figure out what to do. But I have to go just one last time.
 

I'm wearing out the carpet in my room from pacing and kneeling in prayer. I've never prayed about anything more intently, or with more sincerity than this. I was told I would be blessed when I joined the Church... And the only blessing I want is for me to be cured... I want to be straight. Yet God is silent. I've been taught that He will always answer our prayers... but to me, He is silent. He doesn't love me. He can't love me.