Up North

Thursday night I left my daughters with my mother in Appleton, Wisconsin, got in my rental car, and drove three hours north to my dad's house on Vandercook Lake in the woods of northern Wisconsin. The locals refer to this part of the state as, simply, Up North.

Up North has special meaning for me. I've spent part of nearly every summer of my life here. For many years, my dad had a small piece of land with nothing built on it on Broken Bow Lake, several miles east of here. When I was a kid we would camp there. I would fish with my dad every day, swim in the lake, catch turtles and frogs, play in the woods, and sit by the campfire each night. I lived in Salt Lake City with my mother for most of my growing up years and saw my dad only during the summer and on holidays. I cherish the memories of the time I spent with him at Broken Bow. Even in my teenage years, when I often did not want to spend an entire summer away from my friends in Utah, I enjoyed the time I spent fishing with my dad Up North.

A few years ago, he bought a house on Vandercook Lake and the Up North tradition has continued uninterrupted. I still come to northern Wisconsin each summer, now with my family. This part of the world is a touchstone for me. A place where I can renew myself and share the experience of being here among the lakes and the trees and the wildlife with my family. It is a place where I can strengthen the father-child bond with my dad and with my own daughters. I wrote about an experience I had with my dad out on the lake on my old blog. I go back to it and read it every once in awhile, especially when I am feeling the need to connect with my dad or to remember what a summer night on the lake can feel like. This is sacred ground.

I am here for a few days, on this sacred ground, by myself. This is the first time I have ever been alone in northern Wisconsin. A year ago when I was here, I was in full crisis mode. I could feel my grip on my life slipping and my relationship with Keri deteriorating. Now, I am here to rest and renew myself after the most difficult 12-month period of my life. It has been quiet. It has been energizing. It has been relaxing. It has been what I hoped it would be. The promise of Up North has been fulfilled yet again.

It has also been difficult to be here without Keri. I have never been on vacation to this house without her. Next week, I will go back to Appleton, retrieve the girls and bring them here. We will do what we always do when we come--we will fish, we will swim, we will make a campfire and roast marshmallows and make smores. But we will do this all without our Mommy here with us. And I would be lying if I said that it doesn't make me sad to be here without her. She had become a part of the touchstone experience for me. And it is hard to imagine spending time with my kids in this very special place without her. But that is what we will do next week.

When I came out to Keri on September 17, 2005, our lives changed for ever. Since then, almost no part of my life or hers has been untouched by change. Most of the time, I think that's just good. We needed things to change. I needed things to change. As I wrote in my last blog, I think we are and will be better off. But that doesn't mean that I don't mourn the loss of the life I had. It doesn't mean that I don't miss some of the things we did together as a family--like come "Up North" to Vandercook Lake.

Better Off

Restored Vows (a married man who says that he "struggles with same-sex attractions") posted this comment a few days ago on HURRICANE:

If you want to get divorced and lead a gay lifestyle, go for it. But you need to think through to the outcome of your decision. I'll leave you with a modified version of what President Reagan said in 1984: "Are you better off (gay and divorced) than you were (married)?

Better off. It seems like that ought to be fairly easy to figure out, right? But what does it mean? Better off.

I have considered this at length, and I think I will be better off gay and divorced than married. (And really, Restored Vows should have left "gay" out of it. I can stay married. I can get divorced. I can't change being gay.) Here's why...

KK and I had eight or nine really great years together. The last bit of our marriage before I came out was not a happy time for either one of us. Most people we know didn't see that. Really, in some ways we didn't see it either. But I was deeply unhappy and unsatisfied with my life. From about the time my younger daughter was born, I developed a death wish. I wasn't suicidal in that I wasn't planning my own death. But I was hoping for it. I imagined a plane crash on a business trip. Getting pushed in front of an oncoming subway car. A heart attack. Cancer. I was deeply unhealthy. I was overweight and out of shape. I had acid reflux disease that I hoped would become something much more serious.

I wanted out of my life. I figured it would be better if I were to go to my grave at an early age with my secret still mine than shame my family with my homosexuality. I figured my children would be better off with a dead father than a gay one. I knew KK would be better off with a dead husband than a gay one.

Better off. Better off dead.

Surely, part of my emotional pain came from keeping a deep, dark secret from the people I loved the most--especially KK. It could be argued that once I came out to her, I should have been able to press forward together with her. We could share the burden. We could make it work, despite our mixed orientations. Many couples try to do this, and some find a measure of success. We could be like them.

KK wanted this, at least on some level. She wanted the security and love that a husband would provide her. And she loved me. And to this day, I feel sorrow for the pain that this has caused her. I love her. She is my closest friend. But once I came out to her, I found myself driven to feel self acceptance and happiness about being gay. I didn't want it to be a cross I had to bear. I didn't want it to be a challenge we would struggle through together. With her love and encouragement, I began to embrace my gay self, and that set me on a path that leads out of the marriage.

I'm 34. KK is 33. There is a lot of life left ahead for both of us. She has gotten a grip on her depression and begun the process of realizing professional ambitions she didn't know she harbored. I am openly and happily gay. I'm meeting new people and feeling no shame for this simple fact of who I am.

Better off? I think so. There is pain in the short term, and there will be challenges in both the short and long term. But this is the best chance for both of us to find lasting happiness. And that's better off.

American Life

I know it's Madonna, but I identify with this song. Plus, I'm a gay man and it is Madonna, so what do you expect?!

American Life

Do I have to change my name?
Will it get me far?
Should I lose some weight?
Am I gonna be a star?

I tried to be a boy,
I tried to be a girl
I tried to be a mess,
I tried to be the best
I guess I did it wrong,
That's why I wrote this song

This type of modern life.. is it for me?
This type of modern life... is it for free?
So, I went into a bar looking for sympathy
A little company
I tried to find a friend
It's more easily said it's always been the same
This type of modern life.. is not for me?
This type of modern life... is not for free?

American life
I live the American dream
You are the best thing I've seen,
You are not just a dream

I tried to stay ahead,
I tried to stay on top
I tried to play the part,
But somehow I forgot
Just what I did it for
And why I wanted more

This type of modern life... is it for me?
This type of modern life... is it for free?

Do I have to change my name?
Will it get me far?
Should I lose some weight?
Am I gonna be a star?

American life
I live the American dream
You are the best thing I've seen,
You are not just a dream

I tried to be a boy,
I tried to be a girl
I tried to be a mess,
I tried to be the best
I tried to find a friend,
I tried to stay ahead
I tried to stay on top...

Do I have to change my name?
Will it get me far?
Should I lose some weight?
Am I gonna be a star?

I'm drinking a Soy latte
I get a double shoty
It goes right through my body
And you know
I'm satisfied,

I drive my mini cooper
And I'm feeling super-dooper
Yo they tell I'm a trooper
And you know I'm satisfied

I do yoga and pilates
And the room is full of hotties
So I'm checking out the bodies
And you know I'm satisfied

I'm digging on the isotopes
This metaphysic's shit is dope
And if all this can give me hope
You know I'm satisfied

I got a lawyer and a manager
An agent and a chef
Three nannies, an assistant
And a driver and a jet
A trainer and a butler
And a bodyguard or five
A gardener and a stylist
Do you think I'm satisfied?

I'd like to express my extreme point of view
I'm not Christian and I'm not a Jew
I'm just living out the American dream
And I just realized that nothing is what it seems
_________

Happy Independence Day.

Change

Recently, an anonymous reader left this comment on another thread:

I am perplexed by the tenor of the blogger's comments re his account of informing his wife that he is homosexual. He seems to suggest that he has started on a path that irrevocably leads him away from any notion of a hetersexual lifestyle. Therapist Floyd Godfrey of Mesa, AZ and Evergreen have successfully counseled many a struggler to understand the genesis of his homosexual feelings, address the relevant factors and revive his heterosexual feelings. If that is the path that Hurricane wants to explore, he should vigorously investigate. Signed, a fellow struggler.

Other gay Mormon bloggers have spent far more time on the question of changing one's sexual orientation from homosexual to heterosexual than I have. The reason for this is pretty simple: I don't believe it's possible.

Our anonymous friend here suggests that the work of Evergreen International and a therapist in Arizona have helped many understand their homosexuality and begin to change it or, at least, cultivate some heterosexual feeling. Though I myself have never been through reparative therapy, I know many who have, and I am familiar with the work of Joseph Nicolosi and NARTH, and I assume the aforementioned Arizona therapist subscribes to the same essential theories about male homosexuality and its origins.

The biggest issue I have with the approach of Evergreen, Nicolosi, NARTH and the broader "ex-gay" movement is that their theories about the origins of homosexuality have never resonated with me. Nicolosi points to an overbearing mother, an absent or distant father and the resulting early eroticization of male relationships. He describes how this precludes some men from forming close non-sexual relationships with other men; all of the male relationships become sexualized. Moroever, Nicolosi, et al, theorize that such men are uncomfortable in the world of men--they are more effeminate and sensitive; they are more artistic and less athletic. In other words, they are more stereotypically gay.

I am not stereotypically gay. I have, over the years, had close relationships with heterosexual men that I felt very comfortable with. I don't paint, sing, dance or act. I played sports willingly in my youth and on most days can tell you the score from last night's Red Sox game. Though my parents were divorced and my family dysfunctional on many levels, my mother was not particularly overbearing. I am not effeminate. (But I will plead guilty to being sensitive.)

It also seems to me that many of the things that those in the Nicolosi camp describe as the social and environmental causes of homosexuality are in fact the effects of a biologically-determined sexuality and the social distress that results from it. Do young boys who are alienated from their fathers become gay because of that? Or are they alientated from their fathers because they are gay and different from other "normal" boys? The latter is a more plausible explanation for me.

The general lack of success that reparative therapy has in changing one's sexual orientation from homosexual to heterosexual cannot be overlooked. All discussions of politics in science and political correctness aside, there is just no solid evidence that it happens in anything but the rarest of circumstances--and even then, definitions cloud the picture enough for me to be skeptical. The many men I know who have been through such therapy are as gay now as the day they began any systematic and therapeutic efforts to change. That's not to say that such men are not out there. They may well be. I, however, have never met one. Moreover, many of the men I do know who have been through reparative or change therapy come out of it feeling damaged. (Though, to be fair, many have also described the experience of bonding with other men like them and of learning how to be more comfortable in the "world of men," as healing. Still gay though.)

And, finally, after all these years, I simply don't want to pursue reparative or change therapy because I don't want to change. I hated myself for being gay for so long. I desperately wanted to change for many years. Not anymore. I'm comfortable with myself. I accept that I am gay and always will be (and always was). More than accept it. I am happy that I am gay. I feel complete now in a way that I never did when I was in the closet and struggling against my sexual orientation. I am more myself than I ever have been, and I think that is overwhelmingly a good thing--for me and the people I love.

I can understand why the anonymous commenter is perplexed by the tenor of my comments on this blog if he still believes that his own homosexuality is something to be overcome. But I don't look at it that way. It's not something to be overcome. It's something to be accepted and embraced.

Calm

It's been a quiet week on HURRICANE. KK and I have both been pondering some new posts for the blog, but we've also been busy and otherwise emotionally occupied. One or both of us will have some new thoughts up soon.

sharq's suggestions

A HURRICANE reader who goes by the name sharq left a very thoughtful and intensely practical comment on the thread "Choices, Part II" in response to my question about what I should do. In fact, that post elicited a number of comments that I think I will repond to in new posts over the next couple of days. But I will start with sharq.

First, sharq, though I don't know you, I feel confident in saying after this brief interaction that I'd like to know you. You seem to be a person of compassion and commitment. A long lost friend of mine wrote recently to say that good friends are hard to find, so we have to hang on to them when we do. He's right. I imagine that you are a good friend to many.

Second, I want to thank you for reminding me of some of the things I love about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I hadn't forgotten those things, but the focus of discussion in recent weeks has not been on the things I love. I'm glad you brought them back.

Third, you have done what I hoped someone would do. You have given me things to consider that I hadn't previously. I value that.

Let me address each of your suggestions.

1. Don't remove your names from the records of the church. It will make things easier for your family members and friends, and you can still choose to consider yourself "Mormon" with whatever definition you want to give that term.

I have pondered the status of my church membership over the past couple of months and have felt unsettled. I appreciate your perspective here, particuarly as to the impact on family and friends.

2. If you follow #1, there will be some ramifications you'll have to accept. Accept home teachers. Let active members of the church into your home, and both you and they will be blessed. Most likely, they will bend over backwards to be non-offensive, but in the event somebody starts in on the condemnation track, you can cut them off and let them know it's not appreciated. Sure, it would be awkward, but I think those odds are slim and you will benefit far more than you stand to lose.

We have had active members of the Church into our home on numerous occasions over the past several months. We have not had home teachers. Honestly, I can't imagine that having them over would be beneficial for any involved at this point, but I'm willing to keep the door unlocked.

3. Occasionally accept invitations to attend church functions. My ward recently made a serious effort to invite a gay member and his partner to the annual high priests' barbecue, and we were thrilled when they showed up. They seemed to enjoy themselves as well. If it seems like these sorts of things would be too painful, you've got to make the call, but I think eventually you'd be able to enjoy something like that.

In time, this might be something I could do. KK would have to decide for herself.

4. Chris, when you find a partner, expose him to the positive aspects of the church. You'd probably have to do this no matter what, or else he'd never understand you. Have the missionaries teach him the lessons (clueing them in to the situation beforehand). Take him to church at least once, and introduce yourselves to the bishop. He'll certainly have to understand the negatives as well, in order to fathom what you've gone through. But never deny that the Church influenced you in a number of positive ways, and don't be shy about owning up to that.

Wow. If I end up with another Mormon, I can skip some of this. If I don't, I'm not so sure about the missionary discussions. That said, the essence of this suggestion--that I share the positives of my church experience with a future partner--is something I absolutely can and will do.

5. KK, when you remarry, see #4.

KK gets to respond to this one on her own.

6. Live within walking distance of each other. That may be quite a challenge, but there is nothing to compare with being able to visit your mom or dad whenever you want, unfettered by custody schedules, distance, etc. Divorce brings real negative consequences for kids, and it's your duty as parents to ameliorate those as much as possible.

This suggestion brought tears to my eyes, and is something that we've already talked about at length. I have every intention of staying close to my family (and that includes KK) and we have talked about me finding a place very near to the house--something walkable.

I am a child of divorce, and one of the things I have lamented about my experience is that my parents were never close to each other. Not emotionally and not geographically. I never could approach my parents as a unit--a "Mom and Dad." I had to deal with Mom, and then I had to deal with Dad. It sucked. Keri and I want our children to know that they still have a "Mom and Dad" that they can look to and that will be guiding them along and cheering them on. Future partners for each of us could complicate things, to be sure. But if you've learned nothing about us from reading this blog, I hope you've learned that we've come to embrace life's complexities.

So thank you especially for this suggestion.

7. Accept that by retaining a connection to the Church, people will occasionally set out to reclaim you. Be patient with these folks. Virtually all of them have the best of intentions. Don't worry about giving them false hope or leading them on--if you are upfront with them about your situation you will be fine. You may win some friends, open some minds, and feel the true love of Christ.

I love too many Mormons to not keep some connection to the church, so I think this is very good advice regardless of how involved I/we might be with the actual ward we live in.

8. Likewise, never worry that you're somehow mooching off the church by accepting the benefits of membership without actively contributing. You've done your time. Let the home teachers move your piano up the stairs. Go to the high priests' barbecue. Read those tear-jerking stories in the back of the Ensign about people who feel the hand of God blessing and protecting them, and allow your tears to be jerked. Anybody who is allowed to serve you in any capacity will enjoy the blessings of God, and your sincere thanks will mean the world to them.

I have to confess to you that with the exception of my mission I've never been a faithful Ensign reader, but for the First Presidency message when I was home teaching (which I did with irregularity) and a bishop. But I will keep my subscription to Sunstone current. Does that count?

9. Find your own ways to serve. If you're not actively involved in the Church, you need to find a way to get outside yourself and make a contribution. Volunteer at your kids' school. Tutor an immigrant. Better yet, ask your home teachers if they need any help, and give them a hand with their piano. I imagine that if you think back on your best experiences in the Church (especially as bishop), you'll see that nothing is quite as rewarding as service. If will keep you spiritually healthy.

Here you have brought forward one of the things I loved the most--and now miss the most--about the LDS Church. KK and I are each wading into new communities. As a family, we have waded into a new faith community. As individuals, we are entering new communities as well. It will take some time for us to find our places in these new communities, but I think I can speak for KK when I say that we are both actively looking for opportunities to serve.

10. Allow your kids to be Mormon if they want to. I bet they love Primary, and they'll probably be invited to attends all sorts of events during their growing-up years. They may get exposed to some anti-gay rhetoric that will be hurtful, but you'll be in the best position to defuse those sorts of crises. Be willing have friends take them to church, and be willing to drop them off when a ride falls through. Attend their baptisms (if they get to that point), and show up when they're going to give a talk or a musical number in sacrament meeting. With any luck, somebody will recognize you from the barbecue and you'll have a pleasant chat before the meeting starts.

This one is harder. My children will, no doubt, be exposed to anti-gay rhetoric as they grow up. My oldest daughter, E, is already a champion of sorts of gay rights, so I don't have a lot of concern that they won't be able to handle that. Of course, I wish they didn't have to confront pain and unpleasantness, but having a gay dad is their reality. People will be unkind. So KK and I have no intention of regularly putting them in an environment where they not only might hear such rhetoric but where the things they would be taught about homosexuality run counter to what we believe.

That said, my children are the great-great-great-grandaughters of a Church president. They have ancestors who crossed the plains to get to the Great Salt Lake Valley. I want them to be proud of their pioneer heritage. I want them to know their own Mormon history. We will teach it to them. Their grandparents and aunts and uncles will teach it to them. If, in time, they decide on their own that they want to be Mormons, I will honor their choice. But it will have to be something they come to on their own, born of their own desire. They will have to become Mormons much as I became a Mormon if they decide that is what they want.

Well, that's a lot of advice from a perfect stranger, but you can't say it's unsolicited advice. It comes from a faithful, heterosexual Mormon who will never have to stand in your shoes, so you're certainly within your rights to disregard it entirely. But it also comes from somebody who has stood on countless doorsteps with a membership record in hand, looking to determine whether a new move-in will or will not accept visits. I am always thrilled when the response is positive, and the person is willing to interact with the Church on his or her own terms.

This touched me. I've been that Mormon, too, standing on a doorstep or stoop, looking for the lost. When I was bishop, we tried our best to track people down and hear their stories so we would know, and so we could take care of them--even if that meant simply honoring their wishes to remain unengaged. This is the best part of the Church. It's not dogma or doctrine. It's just good faithful people looking after one another--and the others who struggle with faith or commitment or testimony. This is the Church I loved and still love.

sharq, thank you again for your kind words of advice.

Gratitude

I was talking with someone yesterday about the difference between understanding and compassion. As we've come out to more and more people, a select few seem to have both understanding about why we've made the choices we have, and compassion for how difficult our road has been and the struggle we've been through. Some react with understanding, but not really compassion: "So, you're gay. I get it. Move on." But some of the most touching reactions have been from our Mormon friends and family who don't really understand, and have sadness for our divorce and our leaving the church, but are able to express an incredible amount of compassion anyway.

It's easy to have compassion for someone who is in a difficult situation that you've been in before, or that you can easily relate to-- rejection while dating, losing a job, becoming ill, etc. It's also relatively easy to have compassion for someone who experiences a loss that you can't imagine, but is common within human experience, such as the death of a child or spouse.

It's one of the hardest things in this life to have real compassion for those you don't understand, and I wanted to thank all of you who have expressed that for us. I have felt so much love over the past few weeks, and though I feel the need to explain my choices so that you might gain greater understanding, I did not want it to go unsaid that I am incredibly grateful for the outpouring of love we've received. I am proud to have surrounded myself with such a generous group of people, and know that I can expect to receive love and support from you in the future, no matter what.

Choices, Part II

In the previous post, KK described the journey that has led her to make the choices she has made over the past year of her life. I've written about my own journey of choices in several places on HURRICANE, and I'd like to return to it now.

Yesterday I had lunch with someone I consider a dear friend and one of the very best Mormons I know. He is kind, caring, compassionate, and tolerant. He is faithful, but not dogmatic. As we have talked about difficult issues over the years, I have always felt that he has carefully examined all sides. He seeks understanding for its own sake. He acknowledges that sometimes there are gaps in our understanding or that teaching and reality don't always seem to line up as nicely as we would like.

So it was no surprise to me when he told me yesterday that though he is sad to see me leave the Church and thinks that it is in a very real way the wrong thing for me to do, he also understands as well as he thinks a faithful straight Mormon guy can why I have made the decision to no longer associate with the Church. He then told me that what has been really hard about my coming out is not that I'm gay (which he seems genuinely okay with), or even that KK and I are spliltting up (though he seems less okay with that), but that I have decided to leave the Church.

This puzzles me.

I have heard this from others in comments here on the blog. I have heard it in e-mails from friends and family ("I hope that in time you will return to the fullness of the gospel.") . I have heard it in phone calls ("I know that you have a testimony that the Church is true and I hope you'll return to it one day."). Anonymous Jerk and others have been pointed in telling me that I have broken my covenants and that the path I am on now leads only to unhappiness. "I hope you find what you are looking for, " I hear. "But you won't," seems to be the unspoken conclusion from many.

On one level, I understand this. These are expressions of faith and testimony offered in love and conviction. These comments come from people that I know genuinely believe that the best--and often only--path to true happiness is found within the teachings of the LDS Church, which includes marriage and commitment to covenants.

But mostly I'm puzzled.

To those who think the choices I am making now are wrong and lead nowhere but unhappiness, I ask this, in all sincerity: What should I do?

Each time I ask this question, I get no answer. I'm told what I shouldn't do, but no one seems willing or able to tell me what I should do.

First, marriage. I don't know how KK and I could stay married. We had reached a very unhappy place in our marriage before I came out. And while coming out opened up new (and old) lines of communication between us that restored much of our relationship, I came to realize that I could never feel as though I was free of the self loathing I felt for so long unless I was able to live a gay life (life--not lifestyle). What could we go back to?

I know other mixed orientation couples that are trying to make it work. Those I know most intimately have had tremendous challenges and I think the jury is still very much out on whether or not they can--or even should--continue to try to make it work. I'm acquainted with other gay married Mormon men here in the gay bloggernacle, some of whom seem to be having greater success. Yet even there, there seems to be so much angst.

The research KK and I have done into mixed orientation marriages suggests that most of those that last do so because a) their is openness in the marriage and b) the gay spouse at some point is permitted to pursue same-sex relationships on the side. Are there exceptions here? Absolutely. Is this the life I want? Absolutely not. Is it the life KK wants? Absolutely not.

Next, faith and testimony. I simply don't know how to stay in the Church. The underlying assumption in LDS thinking about homosexuality is that it is aberrant and wrong and must never be acted on. Could I live life as a celibate gay LDS man? No, I don't think I could. And it's not because of the sex. It's because it would require me to think of myself as somehow defective (even if it's not my fault). I feel as though I could only stay Mormon if were willing to accept that my homosexuality is a pathology, akin to alcoholism, compulsive gambling or some other affliction that draws one into sinful behavior. Plus, my faith shattered last year. And as I have put it back together, it is something new, something more symbolic and metaphoric and less literal. Something not quite Mormon anymore.

I've been accused of constructing a new belief system to justify my new identity and (again, largely unspoken, but implied) my sinful behavior. Why then do I feel a sense of integrity I've never had before? Why do I feel fundamentally honest in a way that I never have before? Why do I feel God's love in a way that I never have before? How can what I feel now fit with what the Church teaches and expects of me?

Someone take up the challenge here, because I really want to know. If you think what I am doing is wrong and will lead only to sadness, offer me something better. Share a possibility I haven't considered. Tell me how you think I can be happy (and gay--because that's not going to change).

Let's bring this back to choice. I have choices. Being gay isn't one of them, but what I do with it certainly is. I am making what I believe to be the best choices I can for myself and my family. Are there better choices here?

I await your responses.

Choices

I began to make a comment on one of the other threads about this, but decided it was better for a new post. Now that we've experienced all kinds of reactions to our news, and have let it settle with people for a few weeks, I have begun to sort the responses in my mind. Many of our Mormon friends and family fall into the same category-- love us, but don't love the choices we're making. Very sad for the loss of our family, but not optimistic that we can make a good future for ourselves. I've expected these kinds of reactions, because there is a measure of sadness, and I know that not everyone is going to understand why we do the things we do. I don't understand why anyone else does the things they do, either, so it's only fair.

What I want to say is this: Chris and I are each doing the very best we can to salvage the love and family that we want to continue to share. We are doing the best we can to remain close to God and to our Savior. We are doing the best we can to give our girls a spiritual and open environment where they can feel free to explore their own beliefs as they get older, but where we make it clear to them what we believe.

A lot of people have said that they've seen this situation before, and that it never ends well, never results in happiness for either of the parties. While Chris has already pointed out that we do know a few couples who have made it work pretty well, I agree that when a husband comes out of the closet, it rarely translates into a positive thing for the family.

I would venture a guess that because this situation is so personal to me, I have done more reading and research on this topic than most of you. From that reading, I've gained a bit of perspective as to why this is so. First, many husbands who have come out do so only when either their adulterous homosexual activities are exposed, or when the guilt stemming from those activities is so overwhelming they cannot take it anymore and have to confess. Many husbands struggle with their homosexuality alone and rather than include their wives as helpmates in this struggle, try to "get it out of their system" by exploring anonymous sexual encounters, or even real relationships with men unbeknownst to their wives. Beginning the conversation with "I'm gay, and here's what I've been doing about it" is not the best way to explore healthy dialogue regarding the future of the relationship, and leaves many wives feeling so betrayed and angry that there is no hope of a family.

Chris did not choose this path. He chose to begin the conversation by saying, "I'm gay, and I don't know what to do about it, but I want you to be a part of whatever comes next." He chose to remain faithful to the marriage vows he took until he is released from those vows. He chose to talk rather than act. He trusted me enough to know that I would be a partner in finding a way for our family to find the most happiness.

Second, even when there has been no infidelity, but especially when there has, many wives react to their husbands' news with disgust and horror. Many choose to cut off contact, to start their lives over and forget they were ever married to a gay man. Sadly, this sometimes includes cutting their children's father out of their lives as well. This can't be the way a family finds happiness.

I was blessed to have an immediate empathy for Chris, and during our first long night of discussion after he came out to me, I gained an understanding of homosexuality that I can only attribute to God. I believe He allowed me to ask the questions I needed to, and enlightened my mind with true empathy. This wasn't sympathy, as in, "This must have been so hard for you, tell me all about it, I'm sorry you had to do this alone, I'm your friend, I'm here for you." This was a completely real feeling of BEING Chris, of looking back on his life and heartache and actually feeling it as if I had been in his soul with him. I saw things from his point of view, I cried as if I had been the one traumatized by my self-hatred and fear of judgement. It was only one of many miracles given to me that have enabled me to not just "get through" the last nine months, but to grow from it and have a restored faith and hope in the future.

I did not walk away from the church lightly. I did not follow Chris out without considering my beliefs for myself. The first week after the coming out, I had such spiritual experiences that my testimony of God as my true Father was undeniably strengthened, and I felt Him holding me and comforting me in a way that I had never understood before. I knew He was there, and since the only way I had come to know Him was in the Mormon church, I wanted to find a way to make it work for me. In another post, I'll talk more about my spiritual experiences and my rebuilding of my faith. For now I will simply say that I asked in earnest of God how I could reconcile my newfound knowledge of homosexuality and my unshakeable witness that everything Chris had shared with me about his experience was true, with the doctrine the church has given on the subject. They were completely at odds. This struggle took me to Elder Oaks's article (which Chris referred to in an earlier post) and to various church-sanctioned sites such as Evergreen International, and took me to my knees, and took me to my ward, and took me through long nights of discussion with Chris.

I know that many of you will perhaps be even more saddened by what I concluded. I know that many of you will believe, and some will say, that there is no way the Spirit of the True and Living God would ever lead someone away from the LDS church. I know that many of you will decide that it is an evil spirit that pursuaded me of this, or that Chris's influence on me was too strong and I couldn't stand on my own. Our beliefs differ here, friends, and only I know what I felt and the strength I have gained from the Spirit on this topic. I cannot explain it. I cannot tell you why I was blessed this way. But neither can I deny it.

So my choice was not simply to follow Chris, but to follow God. My choice was to turn my path over to Him and allow Him to guide me, cautious step by cautious step, along the high wire that has been my life over the past year. My choice is to pursue the happiness that He has in store for me, in the only way I know how right now.

Matthew 7: 18-22:

A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring
forth good fruit

Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn
down, and cast into the fire.

Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know
them.

Some of you may not see the good fruit that has come for us in the past year. Some of you may view our decision to leave the church as proof of evil fruit from a corrupt tree. I respect that belief, and wish you the peace an happiness you are entitled to from searching out a path for yourself on which God will walk with you. From my viewpoint, every person this experience has touched, really touched, has been the better for it, and those are the fruits I see. Is it easy? No. Will it be easy in the future? No. But I believe Elder Monson once said, "That which is easy is rarely right." (Sorry, can't find the exact reference right now...) I am following the path I believe is right, but not easy, not by a long shot. So when you say to me that we're in for a rough time, or that the way will be hard for us, or that we have no easy choices, I say you're right. I embrace the roughness. It will polish me. I embrace the choices I am making, because I am making them with God.

A Wife by Any Other Name...

I am flattered that Hurricane agreed to let me introduce him to all of you, and remove this last vestige of anonymity in our journey. We have had an interesting couple of weeks since we sent an e-mail to our friends and family and on balance, feel stronger and more sure of our decisions and path than ever. I am eager to begin posting here, and elsewhere, as my true self, with no question of cowardice. I am proud of the way I have handled this situation, I am proud of my loved ones who have been touched by our story and are interested in helping us instead of judging us. Most of all, I am proud of my one-time husband and best friend, Chris Williams.

Rather than bore you with biographical details, I will make this short and simply tell you that Chris is one of the most honest, trustworthy, caring, talented, intelligent, articulate individuals I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

Our friendship began over twelve years ago, after we had been acquaintences and "ran in the same circle" for a few years. He had been on a mission, where we had exchanged a few brief mailed words, and we were both attending the University of Utah. One snowy January day in 1994, my family experienced the tragic loss of my two-year-old cousin to congestive heart failure. I had spent many hours with this precious little girl over the course of her short life, and with her parents and siblings, on the roller coaster that only those with a terminal illness can appreciate. On the morning she finally died, I saw her in her father's arms and was distraught. I had, of course, classes scheduled and although I didn't feel like going, something compelled me to campus. Instead of sitting in my class, I simply took my usual path from one building to the next, where I often ran into someone I knew. I thought I would feel better if I could just tell someone what had just happened. Chris was one of the first people I saw, and though he was with a couple of other friends with whom I had a closer relationship, he didn't hesitate to hug me tight and express his sorrow at my loss. From that moment, I knew he was someone I would connect with, and we began to hang out together all the time.

We have recently been able to return to that friendship, but on a deeper and more meaningful level as our relationship was enriched by the ten years we spent as a married couple. Chris and I are committed not only to our children, to our collective future, and to our household as a loving and spiritual home, but to each other as important partners on the journey of life. I have been struggling over the past few months to come up with something we can call each other, something that means not spouse, since we are no longer that, but more than friend, since that is thrown about so casually. We simply cannot invoke the term "ex," as it sounds so bitter... We need a word that conveys the importance of our relationship, the nature of our partnership, while still leaving room for potential spouses for each of us in the future. Chris has taken to calling me "WINO" (Wife In Name Only), but obviously, I think we can do better.

The recent hub-bub over the book and film The Da Vinci Code has thrown the relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene into speculation. I don't mean to digress, and I won't, except that some of the confusion seems to stem from a word used to describe Mary Magdalene as Jesus's "companion" in the gospel of St. Phillip. Some have commented that since in Jesus's tongue of Aramaic, the words "companion" and "spouse" are the same, that they must have been married. Some have pointed out that this particular gospel was written in Coptic or Greek, and the word used to describe her was koinonos, which means "religious partner," "friend," or "companion," but NOT spouse. Perhaps we can start using this term, but it doesn't roll off the tongue that easily.

So I don't know what to call myself, and I don't know how to convey to others in simple terms what our relationship means to each of us. Perhaps there will never be a concise way to describe it. I will tell you that I am not the wife or ex-wife of Chris Williams, nor just his friend, but myself, Keri-Kathryn (Fowles) Williams. I can't think of any other name I'd rather have.

It is rather long, however, so on this blog I will be known as "KK." I don't know if Chris plans to continue posting under the name "Hurricane," or if he'll adopt a username closer to his own now that we have no secrets. I invite anyone who wants to post here to be as courageous as we have been, and let us know who you are and if you are personally acquainted with us. Friends, come out of the closet.

Response to Bishop J

A good friend of mine who goes by the name greenfrog here in cyberspace has posted a response to Bishop J's letter to me, which I posted last week.

An explanation--and a testimony

A friend of mine who also knew me as his bishop told me yesterday that the hurt that people are feeling with my news stems from the fact that I seem to have abruptly abandoned my testimony. Just a little more than a year ago I was a bishop. Today, I no longer consider myself a Mormon. How is it possible for this to all happen overnight?

The answer is that it has, in fact, been a long time coming.

Faith and doubt co-existed in my mind for many years. When I came home from my mission, I went into a brief period of inactivity. It didn't last long, but I was able to come out of it in part because I discovered the world of Sunstone and Dialogue and connected to other Mormons who were willing to acknowledge their doubts and difficulties, but who were also able to stay commited and faithful to the Church. That's what I wanted, and that's what I was ultimately able to do.

The absence of big conversion moment didn't really bother me. I knew other people who also had never had that big moment. And I had had smaller moments that seemed to confirm for me the path that I was on. I felt God speak to me when my relationship with K turned romantic. I felt the Lord work through me when I was young men's president in Chicago. And K and I both felt drawn to Brooklyn after graduate school, and we quickly became deeply involved in church service when we moved there.

Indeed, one year after we arrived, I was called as bishop. And I know as much as I know anything that my call to serve as bishop came from God. I knew it was going to happen five weeks before I was asked to meet with the stake president. The Lord told me it was going to happen. He told me to prepare.

I needed that calling. It was an affirmation to me that I was loved of God. When the call came I was certain that my homosexuality was no longer an issue. There was nothing that I needed to repent of, and K and I had started our family and felt content with life. I was still aware of my attraction to men at that point--I certainly noticed attractive men wherever I went--but it seemed managable and being gay just didn't fit with the life I was building for myself.

I cherished my experience as bishop. I felt like I was able to help a lot of people, and that, in turn, helped me to stay focused on the things that seemed to matter most. I was able to set aside my "issues," which ranged from my struggles with my sexuality to various questions in Mormon history to doubts about the historicity of the Book of Mormon. None of that seemed to matter when I was actively engaged in service, and I was inspired by the study that being a good bishop demanded.

And still, I wasn't well. I blamed other things for my struggles--issues from my childhood and with my parents, job troubles, even sleep deprivation (by 2002, I had two small children). But really, I felt like I was living a lie each day--that by simply not acknowledging my struggles with identity and sexuality, I was living a life that was utterly lacking in integrity. It wore on me.

As the day of my release as bishop came last year, I was filled with dread. I didn't know how I would be able to go on with the life I had built for myself. I felt my faith slipping and the doubts taking over. And the biggest doubt was the defining one--homosexuality. I just didn't believe what the Church was teaching about what it was and how to deal with it. And I didn't believe it because it didn't match with the reality of my own experience. It didn't match with my own intimate, personal truth. As I spiraled downward, the faith that I knew began to unravel very quickly. Once I accepted a truth about who I was that conflicted with what the Chruch taught, I began to question just about everything else that had troubled me over the years.

Coming out to K was a profoundly spiritual experience. We connected in a way that I can only describe as divine. The Lord allowed us to understand each other in a way that was truly miraculous. And I began to feel the presence of God in my life in a way that I hadn't before. I began to feel affirmed and loved as I was and not as I had tried and failed to make myself be.

A defining moment came for me when I went with K to a church service at a Protestant church here in our hometown in December. During the course of worship I was moved to tears several times. I can't even remember now what the pastor said that brought me to tears, but I remember very distinctly the sense of unconditional love I felt from God as I sat through the service. For the first time in my life I sat through a church worship service and didn't berate myself for my failings, particularly the "failing" of my sexuality. I felt the Spirit of God wash over me in a way that it rarely had in my life and I felt the Spirit whisper to me, simply, "I love you as you are."

That was a turning point for me. It essentially solidified my decision to leave the LDS Church, because I knew that I would never get to a place of acceptance about my sexuality and identity if I returned. In that moment, I felt that my life was a gift from God, not a cross to bear.

Bishop J took me to task for abandoning my testimony. I understand why he sees it that way, and why so many who have known me over the years have seen it that way. But that's not what happened. My faith changed. As I got to know myself better and accept the reality of my sexual orientation, I heard God speak to me in a new and different way.

To my Mormon friends: I honor and respect your faith. Many of you have written to me and told me that I helped stengthen your faith and testimony. That makes me happy. That was what I genuinely trying to do when I was a bishop and a believing Mormon. I'm sorry if the path I have chosen now has upset some that knew me before. I really, truly am. But K and I have tried to stay close to God through all of this, and we believe that he has guided us through this difficult year and continues to guide us now.

Pause

I admit it. We were naive.

When K suggested that I include a link to my blog with the coming out/getting divorced e-mail we sent to family and friends earlier in the week, I thought it seemed like a good idea. It would allow us to share with these loved ones some of what we have been through over the past several months. I have also expressed to K and many of my friends that I don't want to cut myself off from my Mormon past, but I'd rather stay engaged and see how sharing my experiences as a gay Mormon could further understanding of gay issues in the Church. The blog seemed a good way to do that.

Instead, it seems that people are hurt. I apologize for any hurt I have caused. That has not been my intention.

And it turns out K and I are feeling hurt, too. I've been vilified as spiritually depraved, of weak character, and selfish. I've been mocked for sharing my coming out experiences. I've been accused of justifying my immoral choices and hedonistic "lifestyle" (which is interesting, since I still live with my children and K).

I have also been defended and honored.

It's been a little overwhelming, so I'm introducing some new ground rules for discussion.

Moderation has been turned on. I will not moderate for viewpoint. If you want to criticize as Bishop J did, that's fine. I'll pass it through moderation and we'll get it posted. Anonymous comments, however, will not be posted. Abusive and hateful comments will not be posted. If you know me and you want to make a comment but don't wish to do so publicly, you can e-mail me.

Recovery

A couple of people have taken me to task for my use of the phrase "recovering Mormon" to describe myself. I see now how that might be hurtful. It could suggest that I think there is something in the Mormon experience that we all need to recover from. That has not been what I have intended to suggest.

I use the term "recovering" because that is very much what I am doing. My own Mormon experience, while deeply fulfilling and enrichening at so many points and in so many settings, was also a source of pain for me. Deeply personal pain. I became Mormon in part because I thought it would help me not be gay. I thought it would be a path to overcome my homosexuality and to have the kind of life I longed for as a child and adolescent.

One of my most haunting memories of being young and gay occured just hours after I was baptized. I was with a male friend and I found myself feeling very attracted to him. Just a few hours after my sins had been washed clean! I was so upset. And I sat down and picked up my copy of The Miracle of Forgiveness, given to me by a sister missionary at my baptism. President Kimball condemns homosexuality in the very strongest terms in that book, compares it to bestiality and calls it unnatural and a sin next to murder. I don't know how else to describe how that hit me except to say that I was devastated.

But I was able to move on and do the best I could to be a good Mormon. I loved the Chruch, I loved to serve, and I loved the people I knew there. And when K and I started to develop a romantic relationship, I was so relieved. It seemed I wasn't gay after all! But my attraction didn't go away. It simply coexisted with my love for and life with K.

Throughout my life I would dive into the literature of homosexuality when I had the chance and read whatever I could about clinical treatment or how to manage it or overcome it. I spent hours on the websites of Evergreen International and NARTH. I prayed that God would change me. He didn't. So I prayed God would give me the stength to endure. For awhile I did. But about two years ago, my prayers changed. I prayed God would just take me. Better dead than gay. Better dead than to devastate my wife and children. Better dead than to betray the Church I loved, that told me I should either change or endure when I couldn't seem to do either. By this time last year I couldn't imagine myself old. I was sure I'd be dead long before I was elderly.

So I am recovering. I am recovering from the hurt I felt as a deeply closeted gay man trying my best to live the life I was told would bring me the greatest and eternal happiness. Some of that hurt is self inflicted. Some of it is not.

Coming Out, Part IV

I have expressed this week that I am increasingly convinced that coming out is the right thing to do. That doesn't mean it has been easy.

Homosexuality and Mormonism do not coexist easily. For those who knew me as an active Mormon and church leader (I served as a bishop for five years, until spring of last year), this has been especially difficult news to swallow, particularly since it is coupled with my decision to leave the Church and to make public my doubts and evolved beliefs. Some people have been hurt. I accept that. Indeed, I'm sorry for it.

I received an e-mail from a friend who, I think, speaks for many and have decided to post it here for that reason. He served as bishop of another ward at the same time I did, and we were good friends.

K has reacted to his letter and to a comment from an anonymous poster. In time, I'll respond as well. But not today. Not yet.

(Posted with the author's permission.)
_________

Dear H,

Last night, I read your e-mail about coming out. It was forwarded to me by someone, and is certainly making the rounds (which will not surprise you). I’m sure by now you’re used to the reaction that many of us who knew you as Bishop have had. At first, of course, I was shocked. Then, deeply saddened. I am so very sorry to hear about the end of your marriage. It’s particularly sad to hear about the inner pain and anguish that you have been experiencing all these years, as you’ve secretly battled these tendencies and desires. I am convinced that no one who does not struggle as you have can fully understand the scope and magnitude of the inner-war that’s been raging inside you all this time.

I so enjoyed the friendship that you and I shared as we served together as bishop. I always felt that you and I had a special relationship, not just because we were called at the same time and then were released within a few months of each other, but also because our personalities and humor seemed to blend so well. I truly treasure the memory of our association during that time.

After reading your letter, I followed the link you included to your blog, and I proceeded to read just about everything you had written there about your experience of coming out as a gay man. I didn’t know that you struggled so much with your faith, and had so many doubts about the truthfulness of the restored gospel. In your blog, you talk about never having had a “big conversion experience, a moment when I felt God speaking to me and confirming the truth of all things, as Moroni promises”.

I felt sad when I read that. I know that there are probably many members of the church who can relate to that statement, many whom, like you, may not have had a significant “conversion experience”.

I don’t know what makes the difference in someone’s life, why one person can have a profound witness and another feel uncertain. When I joined the church 12 years ago, I had a profound witness by the power of the Holy Ghost that the church was true. It was a feeling that I had never experienced before, and I could never deny it. Since then, I have had several similar confirming witnesses of the truthfulness of the restored gospel, including a sacred witness that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.

I’m not for a moment suggesting this makes me in any way better or more worthy than anyone else, and of course these experiences are not a daily occurrence. But they have happened often enough to create a spiritual reservoir that has sustained me through times of trial and difficulty. If, as you say, you really were not in possession of such a testimony, I can certainly understand how painful and difficult your life must have been these past years.

Now you and I have been good friends. I would like to continue our friendship. But in order for our friendship to continue I have to say some things to you. Just as you felt the need so deeply to express yourself, and felt a tremendous sense of relief about doing so, I too must take this opportunity to get some things out. If I can’t speak my peace now, we’ll never be able to be friends again, because I’ll always have these feelings buried inside me.

So here goes...

I was very disturbed by some of your statements about the church, and about how your faith has changed. It will come as no surprise to you that I and many others are deeply troubled by such a public renouncement of your testimony in the church.

Some of the things you write on your blog are, frankly, heartbreaking and disappointing. Your coming out e-mail (with the link to your blog that you included) is being forwarded to many members of the church in the stake. I’m sure you knew this would happen. I wonder, did you consider that some of the content of the blog might be emotionally devastating to people you once served as bishop? (You label yourself a “recovering” Mormon, which suggests that our religion is a disease of some kind, or an addiction, like alcoholism.)

In your blog, you talk a lot about your new religious beliefs. You say “I do not believe that there is one true church--churches are creations of men.”

It seems to me that this is very convenient. If, as you say, all church’s are “the creation of men”, then all of us can simply invent our own religion, each of us recreating God in our own image, to suit our needs. And of course, that’s exactly what you’ve done: “I'm content to think of my beliefs as my own rather than a part of any system or formal theology. My faith is part Mormon, part liberal Protestant, probably even a little Catholic, with a healthy dose of agnosticism tossed into the mix.”

You’re certainly free to invent your own personal theology, one that most accommodates your new “identity”, but what does that have to do with truth? Something doesn’t become true simply because you or I choose to believe it. If I choose to believe that the sun revolves around the earth, does my belief somehow make it “true”? Of course not. Real truth, eternal truth, has nothing to do with what we chose to believe. Truth stands independent. It is the same yesterday, today, and forever. That is what makes it so precious and sought for.

From my point of view, you seem to have constructed an entirely new belief system, almost overnight. This new belief system is not based not on any sense of eternal truth. It’s primary purpose is simply the validation of your new gay identity.

For example: Now that you’ve found your new identity, Heavenly Father has lost His (“I believe in God-whatever he and/or she is”); The Savior has now become a myth (“I don't know if Jesus Christ is/was a real person.”); the prophets and no longer prophets (“deficiency in LDS theology result(s) from a deep societal and cultural bias against homosexuality, particularly among men of the generation that lead the Church.”); the scriptures are no longer to be believed (“I take the scriptures seriously, but not literally. My faith does not rest on the historicity of the Old Testament--which I believe is mostly metaphorical--or the New Testament descriptions of Christ's ministry--which I believe to be historically unreliable--or of the Book of Mormon--the historicity of which I have doubted for many years. As historical documents, they fail.”)

So, to sum up: According to your new belief system, there are now no prophets; there is no Savior; the Old Testament, New Testament, and The Book of Mormon are all not true; and Heavenly Father is no longer God.

Wow. A lot seems to have changed since you have come out. Have you considered the possibility that all things actually remain just as they always were, and that the only thing that has changed is your perspective? Is it possible that your view of things has become distorted as a result of seeing the world through the prism of your new gay identity?

On your blog, you write: “I've rejected my Mormon identity because of the conflict I perceive in keeping it while adopting a gay one”. I’m not sure I know what you mean by “Mormon identity”. From my perspective, Latter-Day Saints, rich or poor, black or white, wherever in the world they may live, are people who are trying to become like Christ. It is His—Christ’s—identity that all of us are trying to “adopt”. Isn’t the conflict you describe between your “Mormon Identity” and your new “gay” one really the conflict between the “Natural man” and Christ? The whole purpose of the gospel is the eternal process of putting off the “Natural man” so that, over time (ages, eternity) we can become like Christ. We are to take upon us His name. We are to receive His image in our countenances. It’s not about us. It’s about Him.

Perhaps the saddest statement I read on your blog was this one: “I am in control of my life, and am in the best position to know what will bring happiness to me and my family.” What a sad statement that is. Of course, it’s not true. None of us are in the “best position” to know what will bring us happiness. Heavenly Father, who knows the end from the beginning, who knows us so much better than we know ourselves, knows far better than we do what ultimately brings eternal joy and happiness.

As I was reading your letter and your blog, I just couldn’t stop thinking of something Elder Maxwell said a few years ago, and today I went and found the quote:

“Only by aligning our wills with God’s is full happiness to be found. Anything less results in a lesser portion. I am going to preach a hard doctrine to you now. The submission of one’s will is really the only uniquely personal thing we have to place on God’s altar. It is a hard doctrine, but it is true. The many other things we give to God, however nice that may be of us, are actually things He has already given us, and He has loaned them to us. But when we begin to submit ourselves by letting our wills be swallowed up in God’s will, then we are really giving something to Him. And that hard doctrine lies at the center of discipleship.”

To me the overarching message of your blog is simply this: MY will be done.

I guess what it comes down to is pretty simple. The church is either true or it is not. Either Joseph Smith saw what he said he saw, or he did not. Either the Book of Mormon is a true account of a real civilization and it’s dealings with The Savior, or someone made it up. Either God and Christ were in that grove on that day or they were not. If not, then you are right and I and all I have said is wrong, and it really doesn’t matter what any of us believe. Like you, we can all just invent our own personal theology and give God whatever character and attributes we want he or she to have, and live our lives according to our own will and personal code of what we think is right and wrong—a code each of us reserves the right to continually update and modify, based on whatever circumstances we find ourselves in or in response to whatever challenges we may face.

I do not think that is true. The “hard doctrine at the center of discipleship” that Elder Maxwell referred to is that there is an Eternal Being, and He is our Heavenly Father, and as we surrender our will and allow our will to be swallowed up in His, we become like Him. We become who we were always meant to be. We become who we really are. I believe that’s the only “identity” that any of us should be interested in “adopting”.

You may think that my attitude towards your struggle with same-sex attraction is callous and insensitive. I apologize if that’s how this is coming across.

I have known many individuals in the church who struggle with same sex attraction. It is a very, very heavy cross to bear. Crosses come in all shapes and sizes. A wayward child, addiction, illness, death, depression, abuse, and on and on. I believe that each of us bears a cross. (As I’m sure you would agree, one unique perspective a bishop gains from the calling is the understanding that even those church members who seem the “strongest” on the outside often bear the heaviest crosses, sometimes silently and in secret.)

And, of course, there are certain crosses, like yours, that are simply too heavy to bear. Why would a loving Heavenly Father place upon us a cross too heavy to carry? I believe that is the very purpose of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. Relying on our own strength, we stumble and fall. But if we can learn to turn to him on a daily basis, drawing strength from the Atonement, relying upon not our own will or “willpower”, but placing our will on the altar each and every day, then, I believe, his “strength is sufficient” for us. Our hearts can change. Our very nature can change. Eventually, as our wills are swallowed up in His, our weaknesses can become our strengths. That is how we become “perfected in Christ.”

Unfortunately, the Savior does not seem to have much of a role to play in your new identity. You say that you no longer believe that Jesus Christ was real. You talk about believing in “the idea” of Jesus, and not being concerned with whether or not he actually existed. Maybe that’s because you don’t need him to be real anymore. Or maybe it’s because you just don’t want him to be.

There. I’ve said what I needed to say. I don’t believe that anything I’ve written will cause you to change your course, but I needed to express it just the same.

I sincerely wish you all the best.

J

Coming Out, Part III

I've noticed a trend.

Generally speaking, my Mormon friends have expressed sadness upon hearing the news of the end of my marriage and my coming out as gay. Generally speaking, my non-Mormon friends have expressed happiness for me for coming out as gay, while also acknowledging the pain associated with the loss of my marriage for both K and me. There have been exceptions to this trend, but this is where it generally breaks out.

I have been surprised to hear expressions of unconditional love and support and acceptance from people I didn't necessarily expect it from. I have been surprised by silence from others that I expected would be among the first to reach out upon hearing the news. (EDIT on May 25: This sounds harsher than I intended it. People have lives.)

All in all, this has been a very good week for me. As I have indicated before, I feel liberated.

Coming Out, Part II

Yesterday, my best friend wished me a happy first day of the rest of my life. I am now almost completely out of the closet. As I was walking to my therapist's office today, it struck me that there is no one that I would hide my sexuality from any more. My mother and I had a wonderful conversation tonight. The final frontier is a conversation with my dad and coming out more widely at work.

The sense of liberation is so empowering.

This morning I was riding a ferry boat across the Hudson River from New Jersey to my office in Manhattan, and as I did I had this overwhelming feeling of God's love. As powerfully as I have ever felt it, the Spirit whispered to me that I am on the right track and that I am doing the right thing in my life. I felt certain that coming out and starting over is the best thing not only for me, but for K and for our girls. I have been touched by the many messages of love and support I have received over the past few days, but nothing was quite as touching, affirming and validating as a note from a graduate school friend of mine, who wrote in part:

I hope you won't think me presumptuous, but as a relatively new father I couldn't help thinking about your kids last night. And it struck me that you and K, in a very basic way, have essentially saved their lives. Not their physical lives, obviously, but their emotional, mental and even spiritual lives. I've come to think more and more that secrets and an inability to face the truth (even truths far less important than one's sexuality) in relationships and families is like a toxin that if allowed to remain destroys everyone connected to it. I think you've done a wonderful job of flushing the toxin out - as a long run proposition I can't think of a greater gift to children than to provide them with an environment that is so safe and true. I'm humbled when I think of your accomplishment.

I'm humbled by his love and support and his recognition that accepting myself and coming out as a gay man is a gift not only to myself, but to K and my daughters as well.

Coming Out, Part I

On the thread "About your mother," K posted this last night:

Tonight my gay best friend sent an e-mail in which he came out to his oldest and dearest friends, and to his parents. In this moment, he has been the bravest individual I've had the privilege of knowing. You are part of his support and I am grateful to all of you for being there. I believe that this blog will not remain anonymous for long, and I also strongly believe that he will be a huge strength to others in the future. I love you, H.

I love you, too, K.

She was at my side last night as I hit the SEND button and took the process of coming out to another level. I was so grateful for her support and love and encouragement.

All of my posts this week will be about coming out.

The Closet

One week after I came out to K, I had an experience that truly jumpstarted the process of liberation from the closet for me. I wrote about it a day later and just came across it again. I decided that it was worthy of posting on the blog.

September 26, 2005

Yesterday morning, I got up with my family and made all three of my girls breakfast. Bacon, eggs and waffles. K had decided to take the girlies to church. It's important for her to work out her feelings toward the church, and she doesn't think that just walking away from it is necessarily the right approach for her at this point. She wants to know if she can still feel anything there. She's done with the dogma, but she needs to know if there is anything still there for her. I understand that. I am grateful, however, that she has no problem leaving me behind at home.

In fact, we've decided that 10:00 to 1:00 on Sundays will be devoted exclusively to spiritual renewal for our family. Sometimes we'll be together for that. Sometimes we won't. But during those three hours on Sunday, we'll work on communing with God, whatever he/she is. For my spriritual renewal yesterday, I destroyed a closet.

We are about to finish our attic. But before we can do that, we have to remove an ugly old closet that was built many years ago just off of the one finished room up there.

I sent the girls off to church then went across the street to borrow a sledgehammer and crow bar from our neighbors. I went upstairs and browsed my iTunes library for some appropriate demolition music. I couldn't find any, so I browsed the Apple Music Store and bought four Def Leppard songs: Tear It Down, Demolition Man, Make Love Like a Man and Rock Rock Til you Drop.

I cleared the area around that closet. I took off my shirt. I put on some safety glasses. I turned the music on and played it LOUD. These are the words that I was listening to:

Tear it down
There's got to be a better way
Tear it down
I can't wait another day
Tear it down

With Def Leppard screaming in the background, I took the sledgehammer and beat the living shit out of that closet. I cursed at it. I yelled at it. I told it that I hated it for what it had done to me, and to K, and to my kids, and to gay men like me everywhere. I cursed that damn closet like I've never cursed anything in my life.

This is what it looked like when I was finished.

And the funny thing about this closet... it had a fairly strong wooden frame, but it was mostly just particle board held together by a few nails. It looked stronger than that to me when I started. But it came down easily and quickly. I thought the job of demolishing the closet would be much more daunting.

I cleaned up the debris after I took the closet down. I put the wood in one pile, the particle board in another, and the hardware in another. Then I took the crowbar and got rid of the last vestiges. I did not want there to be any signs of this closet once I was finished. I swept up when I was finished. And the attic seemed clean and bright.

I sat down and rested for a minute, then changed the music on the iPod. I put on the song that has become our hymn over the past few days, The Sun Song by Michael Tolcher. I walked to the space where the closet had stood. I turned the music up loud. And I danced on that spot. I danced and twirled and sang as loud as I could. I cried. Tears streamed down my face as I celebrated that open space and listened to these words:

One more beginning for as long as it lasts
A new day for the living all forgiving of the past
A heavy foot steps to the dark unknown
This is a mystery
No security of home

Here comes the sun
Over my head
Show me a path and I'll be led
Walking alone
I'm not afraid
I have my wings to fly away

When K came home I took her upstairs and showed her that open space where the closet once was. I showed her the pictures I took of the closet and its destruction. I gave her a hug and cried on her shoulder for a minute and told her what a nice time I had at church that morning.

About your mother

Dear Girlies,

Today is Mother’s Day. It’s a special Mother’s Day because it’s the first one for our family since I came out as a gay man and since mommy and I decided that we are going to get divorced. That makes it a somewhat bittersweet day for us—happiness and some sadness all at once.

Let me explain the sadness that I feel. I sometimes feel sad that I’ve decided that I don’t want to be married to mommy anymore. She’s a remarkable woman, and she has brought a lot of happiness into my life and into the lives of the many people who love her. She’s been very supportive of me and I still feel like she’s my best friend ever. But over the last year I realized that I wasn’t as happy as I need to be because I couldn’t feel like I could be myself when married to mommy. That’s not her fault. She’s beautiful and fun to be with. But God made me in such a way that I love men and I want to spend my life and commit myself to another man, not a woman. I’m happy that I’ve made peace with that. I’m happy that I can admit that to myself and to mommy and to the two of you and the other people in my life. But I still feel some sadness about the pain that has caused our family. I feel a sense of loss.

But this letter isn’t about me or about sadness. It’s about your mommy.

You girlies are lucky that God and nature conspired to make you her daughters. As you grow up and become big girls, then young women, and then adults, you will understand why I say that. You will be inspired by her strength and compassion. As you get older you will better understand how difficult this past year has been for her and you will learn that strength can blossom and grow in the face of adversity. You will learn that you can be graceful and kind under intense pressure. You will learn that you can always start over in your life, even when your whole world seems to be turned upside down and you’re not really sure where you fit in. You will learn how important it is to forgive. You will look at her and you will see an example of a strong, independent woman who has always allowed her love for the people around her to trump feelings of anger or resentment or bitterness. You will see a woman with a great sense of humor and a love for life.

Your mommy isn’t perfect. She makes mistakes. You’ll see that as you grow up, too. You see it sometimes now. And sometimes your mommy’s mistakes will make you angry. She can have a fiery temper sometimes. Sometimes she yells too much and her patience runs thin. But she is always trying to make herself a better person, and she’s willing to accept her imperfections and her humanity. You’ll learn from that as you grow up as well.

I think the most important thing you need to know about your mommy is that she finds the greatest joy in seeing the people in her life succeed and be happy. I’ve seen it with you girls. The times when I have seen her happiest as your mom have been when you have been happy being yourself, dancing and playing or imagining, or when you have achieved something. I’ve seen the same thing with her sisters, with her mother, with her friends, and with me. Mommy feels really joy and contentment when she sees the people she loves doing well and being happy. She wants to help all of us be the best we can be.

You will have many examples and role models in your life. You should have many because you can learn something new and different and helpful from so many different people. But I really hope that your mother will be one of your greatest and most influential role models. I just want you to know on this Mother’s Day that I honor and respect and love your mother. She’s a special woman and a special friend. Even though our family is changing now, we will always be a family. She will always be my family.

I love you girls. I hope you will grow up to be independent and strong and happy with yourselves, but I hope you’ll be a lot like your mommy, too.

All my love,
Daddy