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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...

What Is Truth?

I encourage people who read my blog to express their opinions on the subjects that I write about. Even (and especially) when those opinions disagree with my own. I encourage people to comment on the posts themselves, or on social media where they're posted. Comments are common, and I love them... it shows that you are speaking your truth, and it's instrumental in my ability to speak my own.

Today, I got my first email. I didn't think too much of it, until I got to the subject line. The email, while polite and courteous, spent almost a full typed page telling me that I create doubt rather that build faith... and honestly, I was surprised. This last conference, President Uchtdorf taught us that, "A question that creates doubt in some can, after careful investigation, build faith in others." The things that create doubt in me, can build strength in others. These things that are creating doubt in this person, create strength and stability for me. And that's ok!

I'm used to being labeled. And believe it or not, I really like labels. They're linear, and structured, and I need a little bit of that in my crazy, messed up life. I'm labeled as not having enough faith... and sometimes that's true. I'm labeled as spiritually stunted because I rely on my brain AND my faith, instead of on my faith alone. I'm labeled as a "Doubting Thomas" and quite honestly, I carry that as a badge of pride.

I don't blindly follow the Church. I don't believe it's honest to believe in something, simply because a Church leader told that you it is. Brigham Young said, "I am ... afraid that this people have so much confidence in their leaders that they will not inquire for themselves of God whether they are led by Him. I am fearful they settle down in a state of blind self -security. ...Let every man and woman know, by the whispering of the Spirit of God to themselves, whether their leaders are walking in the path the Lord dictates." Way too many people do this... me included!

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf gave a CES Fireside in January 2013 titled "What Is Truth?", where he tells us, "Latter-day Saints are not asked to blindly accept everything they hear. We are encouraged to think and discover truth for ourselves. We are expected to ponder, to search, to evaluate, and thereby to come to a personal knowledge of the truth." 

I feel like it's hypocritical to "fall in with the party line" when you don't believe in it, and I believe it's contrary to the message in James 1:5 to ask of God when you lack wisdom, or truth. It's hypocracy, and I firmly believe that there is only one thing that God disapproves of, and it's being a hypocrite.

So... anonymous letter writer... I'm Mormon. I know it. I live it. I love it. I'm Mormon because it's where I belong. I'm Mormon because doctrinally, I believe more often than I doubt. Personal revelation, and promptings from the Holy Ghost have led me to stay in the Church, even while surrounded by hurtful doctrines, and teachings. I'm not going anywhere, better get used to me. ;)

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.

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....

I Support Ordaining Women To The Priesthood

I often mention my Catholic background in my day to day discussions about religion. Maybe it's because I like that it makes me different from my Mormon peers. I don't have the same pioneer stories about my ancestors, and unlike my generational Mormon peers, my family history binder is bare... there are just too many members if my family to find!

I still identify as Catholic in a way... not so much doctrinally, but culturally. I still attend mass on Christmas Eve and Easter, and on other holy days of obligation. I still light Advent candles and observe Lent... to prepare for Christ's birth, Atonement, death, resurrection and ascension. I will still make the sign of the cross occasionally after a prayer, because it helps me remember the three members of the Godhead; The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost.

In short, I still have a deep devotion to a cause that is no longer my own.

I feel this same devotion on the topic if women's ordination to the priesthood. I never considered myself a feminist until about 18 months ago. I was too scared of my homosexuality to think of anything else I could do to mock and displease God. And even now... as an advocate in the Church for the harshly marginalized LGBT community, I've slowly aligned myself with the Mormon Feminist movement, because it helps me feel like I'm not alone. I'm not the only person that sees the Church as an old (white) men's club. I'm not the only one who wonders why Heavenly Mother is frankly... Ignored. I'm not the only one who believes that religion has no place in government, and politics have no place in Church. I'm not the only one who sees inconsistencies in Church History. I'm not the only one who hears mixed messages in General Conference... "Love one another!" , "Tolerance is a trap!" I'm not the only one who has had doubts, and I'm not the only one who still has a deep and sincere love for my Heavenly Parents amid these doubts.

Should women be ordained to the Priesthood? I believe we can, and we should. I don't know if God meant the Priesthood to be for men only... Just like I don't know if the Relief Society should be for women only. I haven't asked all questions, but the question I have asked is, "What is required to be ordained to the Priesthood?" I don't have all the answers, but my I have received an answer... that you must be worthy, and willing to serve throughout your whole life. No mention of male genitalia. 

I don't know if women will be ordained in my lifetime. I don't know if women will ever be ordained. But I believe that we should. I know that I can worthily serve God. I know that I can serve worthily in the leadership of my ward, and stake. I know that God respects my devotion to my convictions. And that's why I stand with the rest of the women who tirelessly work for this cause. And on Saturday October 5, I will be standing in line at the Conference Center in Salt Lake City, requesting entry to the Priesthood Session of General Conference. This cause no longer belongs to someone else. This cause is my own.

Horseshoes And Handgrenades

I've never really understood Mixed Orientation Marriages... a marriage where one member of the marriage is straight, and the other is gay. I've never understood why the gay spouse would subject themselves to a marriage of tolerance... a marriage of "horseshoes and hand grenades"... a marriage of "good enough". I've never understood why the straight spouse would subject themselves to the same marriage of tolerance... a marriage where they are loved... kind of.

I've never understood mixed orientation marriages. Until today.

Yesterday I went to my friend's house for FHE (which... was only FHE because we read one scripture... and then we went on with our lives). These friends are a married couple, and they are in a mixed orientation marriage. (For their anonymity, I'm not going to give their names). We talked about how mixed orientation couples are really overlooked by both the gay community, and the straight normaity. To the gay community, they are unauthentic because it's perceived that they "aren't gay enough... Secretly bisexual", or that they are selling out. Society's normality tends to just assume that the straight parter is gay too.

Their marriage is different from most married couples. The dynamics are different and will always be different. She has to really work to make the marriage work, and there's nothing wrong with it. She's gay. She's really gay. He knows she's gay, and is totally ok with it. He acknowledges that things could change, and they have a plan if they do. The most remarkable thing to me is that she didn't feel "obligated" to enter into this marriage. And I think that's important. No one should feel like the "have" to marry someone of the opposite sex, or the same sex.

Mormon culture is a little wigged out for me... when I was a brand new convert to the Church, I was consistently asked if I had "prayed about it" whenever I had a big decision to make... Like picking out matching socks. So naturally, most people in the Church will pray about the person they want to marry. When she prayed about marrying her husband, the answer she received was, "If you want to marry him, I will help you be happy." She believes the answer would have been the same had she wanted to marry a woman. How remarkable! There are SO many stories about LGBT members of the Church who have had divine confirmation from our Heavenly Parents, about their same-sex relationships, but how many of you have heard a story about a LGBT person receiving a confirmation that they can choose to marry someone of the opposite sex? 

I still don't have a personal understanding of Mixed Orientation Marriages, and I cannot advocate positively for them, because I know that I cannot honestly enter into one. I would never be able to love a man in the way that he deserves to be loved. But if I have learned anything, it's that people absolutely deserve to make their own choices when the choices are right for them... especailly when they have confirmation from our Heavenly Parents that what they are doing is right. We have no room to judge. We have no place to say what people can and cannot do. We need to love people for the lives they live, and support them in the decisions they make. We need to support them in the beautiful families that they raise, and we need to love them for the work they put in to make their families happy. 

Anonymous couple... you are my new besties. Stay gay, and stay awesome. And y'all have a cute baby!!

Silence

What do you do when Heaven is silent? When God simply doesn't answer a prayer? We're taught in Church that God will always answer our prayers. That not one goes without consideration. Sometimes the answer is yes... you pray to find your keys, and the next table you look under, voila! there they are. Sometimes the answer is yes, but in the most frustrating ways... "Sure... I'll help you find your keys... keep looking, I'll make you remember this experience." This is probably the most common answer, at least it is for me. Sometimes we are so hurt and upset that we can't recognize His comforting hand on our shoulder, and I think that is common for everyone. Sometimes the answer is no, "Nice try... This is the tenth time this week. You're on your own kid." But what happens when there's silence?

About a year and a half ago, I was taking a Statistics class. I studied hard, and spent hours with tutors. But Math has never been my strong point, and I struggled with even the most basic concepts. The night before my final exam, I knelt down and prayed that I could pass... even telling Him that a C- would suffice (C 's get degrees after all...) But I felt nothing. Not a yes, not a no... just empty space. I didn't know what it meant, but I got up and went to bed anyway.

I failed my exam. With flying colors.

I personally believe that silence is the "answer" when our hearts are closed to what God could say. I limited God. I doubted His power and influence. If we doubt (consciously or unconsciously) that God can actually answer our prayers, then He'll be silent. It takes two to tango.

That doesn't mean that if we have perfect faith that God will answer our every prayer, that He will do so. I can't tell you how many times I have begged and pleaded with God to help me find my car keys. His answer? "You're on your own with this one kid... this is the 10th time this week." God doesn't answer our prayers in the way we want Him to... That's the beauty of it. He makes us think; He makes us learn. Our Heavenly Parents are just that... parents. They will help us learn. But sometimes, it means teaching us a lesson... and that lesson is to put your keys back where they belong, otherwise you'll be ten minutes late for work.

It's not just the general membership that have silent prayers every once in a while... It's the Brethren too. I used to work with a guy who is one of President Monson's grand kids. He asked President Monson one day if he and the Brethren had prayed about homosexuality in the Church. And they have. They pray in their room in the temple, and they haven't received an answer. Not yes, not no... just silence. Why is this? I believe that it is because some/most/all of the Brethren have a bias... They believe that they are already right, and that they don't need to be praying about it. But instead of getting the instantaneous "yes" answer that they are looking for... it's absent. Gone.

I don't know about anyone else... but it gives me hope.