Here we go again...

Spring is the time when the weeds begin to grow, yes? Okay, really bad joke.

Not going to say much. Just posting this:

http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865597175/Same-sex-marriage-debate-needs-voices-of-hope.html

and this:

http://youngstranger.blogspot.com/2014/02/of-hope-flawed-logic-no-win.html

and this:

http://serendipitystr8wife.blogspot.com/2012/06/recent-hype-over-mixed-orientation.html

Sigh.

'Nuff said.

Goodnight.

Exhaustion

The last two days--as well as a few days and weeks prior--I spent time preparing for and attending the "circling the wagons" conference. I was on the planning committee as well as on a facilitation panel for a straight spouse workshop. (Circlingthewagons.org)

My dear friend John wrote an excellent blog post about the conference that I will refer to here instead of detailing my own experience for now. When the podcast is available for my workshop, I will post it here. I am too tired to rehash what happened there, other than I'll say that I thought it was good.

My favorite thing about the conference was meeting in person the people I've grown to love online on Facebook, as well as seeing other dear friends that I only get to see at events like these.

My second favorite thing about such events is being able to discuss the gospel within the framework of those touched in some way by the gay issue in the LDS church or even just in the Utah/LDS culture. It brings such peace to know I'm not alone in my beliefs and thoughts and struggles. It also gives me great opportunities to learn from those who navigate this journey differently than I do, as well as share my journey in the hope that it will help someone else.

But the process is exhausting, and as I've been tired and depressed this morning, it occurs to me that although my heart wants to be active in the church, and I've learned to handle those things I disagree with, the thing that makes Sundays really hard for me now is that most of my children will not come with me. The youngest, who is now three, is the one that got me going because he loved nursery. The second to youngest, who turned 8 last June, has been attending for a couple of months to prepare and qualify for baptism, which happened February 1st. Now he will not come with me any more. Even the day after he was baptized required a bribe to get him here. I thought he understood what he was doing and wanted it for him, not just for me.

Giving my children freedom to choose to attend church or not is important. They have been down the difficult journey with the church that I have. But since they are still minors, where do I draw the line? Making those decisions and sticking to them is so exhausting. The path used to be clear, and there were two parents directing the children down that path. But now we are completely different paths, neither of which is the one we were all on before.

Just a difficult and exhausting journey to navigate. So not easy being a pioneer.

P.S. It didn't help that the lady conducting Relief Society today, after I wrote this blog post in Sacrament meeting, went on and on about how we need to go to Stake conference, and take our children, so that they can see that we love and support the Stake presidency, and so that the amazing and strong youth can stay on the right path in this wicked, wicked world. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound. I came home and had a good cry. Not that I think my children are doomed to wickedness. And not that everything in the world that she finds wicked is also what I consider wicked. But tough to take when I was already feeling down about my children. :(

Gay marriage in Utah?

'Twas the day after my gay friends began to legally marry.

In Utah!

At first I only saw the decision from the judge on Facebook. I didn't understand that there were actually people getting married, and more lining up to get married, in case it would all be shut down within hours or days.

As usual, it was a stressful day with the kids. In fact, it was the first day of the winter holiday break. So when I actually found out, I was in shock. And then I felt dread--dread for the topic coming up in church because it's all over the news. (I'm actually writing this months after the fact, because I found this unfinished draft in my list of blog posts.) Needless to say, I wasn't as happy about it as I always thought I would be. I wasn't sad about it, but just kind of in shock. My first reaction when I really found what was happening was to exclaim to the children, "Has hell frozen over? There is no way this is actually happening unless hell has frozen over." And maybe it had--the weather had been really cold.

But then the next morning, I woke up early to attend a stake choir practice for a Christmas program the following evening. Each ward was going to perform a song or two, but the concluding number, with a Stake choir and organ and piano accompaniment, was O Holy Night.

As I began to sing and paid attention to the beautiful, well-known words, I was overcome with emotion, I choked up on the words here and there, and I think some tears might have run down my cheeks...

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining, It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth. Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. 
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!  

Truly He taught us to love one another, His law is love and His gospel is peace. Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!

It was a new and glorious morn. Couples rushed to the county offices to get marriage licenses, full of hope while their friends and family rejoiced! Many people showed love one to another, and oppression of a minority was, for a few days at least, ceasing.

Finally I was excited and emotional and everything I expected to be when same-sex marriage became legal in Utah. And there was no doubt in my mind that the hand of the Lord was in it, in everything falling into place for these wonderful people and families.

What a wonderful Christmas gift to so many this year. What a wonderful, beautiful gift.

Wearing Pants

Today was the second annual "wear-pants-to-church day."

I was not brave enough last year. I figured I was enough of a spectacle even attending church at all, that I didn't want more attention. Also, with all of the media on the topic, I figured people would be curious as to whether I would participate, rebelling against the norm in yet another way.

But this year it felt right. I've been attending church regularly. Also, I participated in the "ordain women" movement, supporting my feminist friends by standing in line with my daughter and asking to get into the priesthood session of conference. I didn't expect to get in, but I was touched by those women to whom this means so much. Also, I thoroughly enjoyed listening to the session on the radio in my car on the way home, and then at home on my TV--the first time the session has been publicly broadcast for all to hear.

So wearing pants to church seemed like something I could do, and I was excited.

But I was amazed at how uncomfortable I felt. We arrived at church late, and though as I walked past one of my friends she pointed to my legs and gave me a thumbs up, and though no one else said anything, good or bad, I felt like I had a large scarlet S hanging around my neck.

It got worse in Relief Society when I was asked to say the closing prayer and then immediately asked to fill in for the chorister. I accepted, of course, but me--in pants--standing in front of everyone. I smiled and sang and gave it my all, the whole time thinking that everyone was starring at me and wondering what in the world I was wearing.

Toward the end of the lesson, I was on Facebook, reading things that my friends were posting about wearing pants to church. One particular article touched me--right before I was supposed get up for the closing music and prayer. 

It wasn't about making a statement. It wasn't about rebellion. It was about empathy, about understanding more fully how out-of-place some individuals feel at church and within our ward families. My heart was touched for those who suffer in silence, for those who feel like they stick out like a sore thumb for being different, even when they actually don't or when no one actually cares or actually judges them for how they are different. But somehow we've created a culture within Mormonism that makes many--if not all of us--feel that way in some way or another.

My heart was full as I lead the closing hymn and reverently spoke the closing prayer. I had walked in someone else's shoes, had felt how they might feel. 

What a great, uncomfortable experience.

Just another day...

I hope no one minds if I post about my evening, which to me seemed as it should be, while others would find it to be incredibly weird.

I had a medical procedure done this morning (ablation, to hopefully eliminate messy, painful periods) and the timing happened to fall on the date my 17 and 15 yo left for a youth conference. In other words, they weren't around to babysit me nor their younger brothers.

Scott lives near the hospital, so I drove to his apartment this morning, he took me to the hospital, and then picked me up this afternoon, leaving the boys for few minutes each time to do so (ages 12, 8, and 3).

We originally planned that I would spend the day recovering  at his place and then take the boys and I back home, but when it became obvious that I was not going to be able to drive myself home yet (due to anesthesia, narcotics, etc.), we decided that we should stay overnight. 

But Scott already had a date planned; a second date with a guy he likes that seems to like him back for once. I want him to be happy, so I honestly felt no resentment in just planning for him to keep his date. I tried to find someone to come stay with us for a couple of hours, but no luck. So we would all be in the care of my flighty 12 yo.

The evening was uneventful, thank goodness, and now I am sleeping in Scott's bed while he probably will be up all night working (freelance graphic design) to support our two households before his client meeting in the morning.

Just a day in my life, LOL.

Building Bridges

Wow. I know it has been forever. So, so busy with job and five kids. And I guess I kind of abandoned the blog after one of the comments called me whiny. And I now have other "secret" forums where I am more likely to vent the whiny stuff.

But I have to share a quick experience.

I've been attempting this month to go back to church on my terms. I've managed to make it at minimum to Relief Society and at most the entire three hours for the past four weeks. When there is a lesson I'm not really into, I distract myself with my phone, or grading papers, or last week, crocheting flowers. :) Or if the teacher is one that I know in particular is difficult for me to listen to, then I will just find someone in the hall or library to talk to and sluff that portion. I really think I am probably going back more for the community and the friends and less for the gospel messages, but I get a bit of spiritual nourishment in the process.

Over the last year to 18 months I have probably averaged attending at least one meeting or class at church about once a month. And the times that I have been most reluctant to go back have been when I've felt inclined to make a comment that lead to awkwardness and sometimes a feeling of conflict within the room. So over the past month, I have pretty much kept my mouth shut.

This past Sunday the lesson in Relief Society was from the 2012 October General Conference: "I know it. I live it. I love it," by Ann M. Dibb. The teacher was a substitute and a sister in the ward that I don't really know. She indicated that she liked her lessons to be more of a discussion, so she asked questions and expected participation. One of the main topics she threw out to us toward the beginning of the lesson was whether or not any of us had been in a circumstance where we had a difficult time admitting that we are Mormon. As I pondered the question I thought, well yeah, now I think I sometimes don't want to admit it. But it's not really admitting it as much as it is that I am in a different place with Mormonism--less active and not believing everything any more. So sometimes I will say that I am sort of Mormon, or I'm honest and say I am Mormon but that I don't go to church very often. I never would have hesitated admitting my religious affiliation at all before my crisis of faith.

Anyway, I was sorta thinking through all this when a thought went through my mind and I decided that maybe I should share it. I hesitated at first, but that was okay because there were lots of other ladies participating and sharing their stories. Finally I raised my hand bravely and shared something like this:

"Many of you know that I have gay friends that I would stand up for. I am the adviser of a gay-straight alliance at the high school where I teach. Inevitably the topic of Mormons comes up once in a while with these students, and the Mormon-bashing begins. When that happens, I stand up for Mormonism by telling them that I am a Mormon and that I don't judge them and they know that I love them."

For once I said something that did not seem to make everyone awkward. In fact, the teacher began sharing a story about a gay man at her work that was hesitant to get to know her at first, that he might have expected that based on her age and religion that she would be judgmental of him. But soon he learned that she wasn't at all what he expected and they became good friends.

Another lady (that I also didn't know) shared another story about a gay friend of hers. I was amazed! I had used the "g" word in the room, and it did not catch on fire. The spirit didn't leave, and no one appeared to get tense and uncomfortable. I've always felt like I wanted to get people in my ward talking about the gay issue. Not about what is right and what is wrong and what is sin and what is happening to the morals of this world we live in. But about people. About love. About acceptance. About children of God.

This positive experience makes me want to continue to go back and to watch for opportunities to build bridges.

Four Years Ago

Note: I wrote this November 4th, but didn't post it until January 30. So if it just barely showed up in your news feed and you weren't sure why it took three months to get there, don't worry--my fault. :)

I woke up this morning and began to think about my day. I have to finish making a costume for my daughter for the school musical and I have a tiny bit of grading left to do to finish the first term grades for one of my classes. I am also participating in the last part of the "Circling the Wagons" conference this weekend by saying a prayer at the interfaith service this afternoon.

But there is barely time before the service that I could attend my own Sacrament meeting at 11, which I have not done since the end of September when I attended the Primary program. I was not planning to go to my meeting at all, but as I thought about it, I remembered that this is an anniversary of sorts.

It has been four years today since Scott stood up in Fast and Testimony meeting and came out to our ward. If any of you read the story back then and still remember any of it, you would recall that both Scott and I, separate of each other, woke up nervous with the distinct thought and feeling that he should come out in Sacrament meeting that day. Finally, I couldn't handle the thought screaming in my head any longer, so I shared it out loud with Scott. He had a shocked look on his face as he shared with me that he had been feeling and thinking the same thing.

Up to this point, I knew he had toyed with the idea of doing that very thing, and I had expressed that while I valued the reasons he had for coming out to our ward, I thought we should work toward getting permission to do it during a 5th Sunday meeting with the adults. The fact that this day I woke up feeling that it should be in Sacrament meeting was not my own thoughts and opinions, but I'm certain rather that it was the inspiration of a higher power.

So Scott wrote up what he would say, because he knew he would be extremely nervous. He went to the church and told the bishop what he intended to do, to which the bishop responded that he wasn't going to stop him but he preferred that he didn't. And then together we asked our two oldest children (11 and 12 at the time) for permission, and they were on board, excited not to have to keep this family secret any more.

While I still believe that decision was inspired, I had no idea that it would lead me to where I am now.

So I remembered today that event four years ago, and I started feeling like maybe I should go and share my testimony today, my testimony of how that event was inspired, a few details of where Scott's testimony is now (which is pretty much non-existent, as far as I can tell. I'm not sure he even believes there is a God any more), and where my testimony is now, which is a testimony of a few basic principles of the gospel, including Christ and loving one another. I had a script going through my head when I sat down at my computer and now I can't remember it...

"Four years ago, Scott shared in fast and testimony meeting that he had come to terms with being attracted to men, but that he knew God loved him the way he is. He and I both woke up that day feeling like he should do this, and I still believe that decision, which we made as a family including our two oldest children--was inspired. We didn't know what the consequences of that decision would be, and we knew they could be horrible, but neither of us could deny the spirit that told us to move forward.

I am so grateful for the outpouring of love that has come from so many of you as our family structure and testimonies have changed in the last four years. I have made some amazing friends in this ward that I'm certain came as a result of this pivotal event.

This week I was going through some old newspapers, and I read one of Robert Kirby's columns. In it he said "Jesus Christ gave us the gospel, but Satan gave us religion." While I'm certain he meant the sentence to be humorous, it hit very close to home for me. I have a testimony of Jesus Christ and his gospel. I have a testimony of loving others without judgement, realizing that Christ is the judge and He is able to make that judgement based on all aspects of our lives. I no longer have a testimony of a certain church being true. I believe that any religion that helps a particular person live a good life, serve others, and grow closer to God has done what it needed to do for that person. I know that the LDS church has done much good for me through many years of my life. Now I'm not sure if this religion or another one is best for me and my family in this journey. Someday I will figure it out. For now, though, I am grateful."

I did not end up going to church and sharing this testimony, by the way. But thinking through it and writing it here was helpful for me.

I spoke with a friend yesterday at the conference who came to our first Moho party four years ago. He had fond memories of what that connection did for him. He continues to be married to a woman and active in the church, and now serves as president of the NorthStar organization. And yet a year later when we tried to renew our temple recommends, Scott was told that our parties were "associating with those whose teachings and practices are contrary to the church." I feel like we are martyrs of sorts. Or at least Scott's testimony is a martyr. And I feel like Emma Smith, unable to fight the fight any longer because of what I've been through. I went to a fireside where the author of the book Emma spoke and shared that she believed that Emma had fulfilled her calling as wife to the prophet, her calling in this life. And when Joseph was brought home to rest, she was also given the opportunity to rest. I know of many who were critical of her decision to not come to Utah and remain an active member of the church, but I completely understand why she had to do just that. That is where I am. And though it pains me to know of the generations of posterity that could be affected by my decision, I can only hope and pray that it will be for the best, and that my children and grandchildren will learn to love as Jesus loved, regardless of which or any religion they belong to.