Coming Out Day 2018; Learning to Let Go and Still Love - From an LDS Mom

Kerry and I had such dreams for our little family of six.

But, they were our dreams...not the dreams of our children.

We were the parents of four young children under five years old when the last one was born.  For several years, our lives were filled with broken sleep, lots and lots of diapers, lots and lots of bottles, more diapers, more bottles, and an awful lot of scurrying.

And, we laughed a lot.

Thank goodness there were years filled with laughter, for there were some times that were also filled with tears.  Raising a family brought me to tears so many times; both from frustration, and from joy.

But, the one thing we wanted our children to know is that they were wanted, and that they were very, very loved.

Very.  And, that there was nothing that they could ever do that would cause us to stop loving them.

Nothing.

Fast forward through music lessons, swim meets, tennis matches, dances, and graduations...

A year after our oldest son returned from his mission, I knew that he was gay.  He didn't tell me, and he didn't tell his dad.  I discussed it with Kerry, and one night while talking on the phone with him, I came right out and asked him if he was.

There was stone, cold silence.

"Mom, who told you?", he said.

There were clues that had been there for years, but none of us had seen them.  It's easy to see them now, but we were in the middle of raising this very busy family.  Most of the time I was caring for others, and didn't have time for deep thought.

Over the next few years, our lives ran a gamut of emotions.  It was a roller coaster ride for all of us, including the younger siblings.  Sometimes we tiptoed.  Sometimes there were strong words.  Sometimes there was silence.  

And, we grieved.  We grieved for the daughter-in-law that would never be, and the grandchildren that would never be.

But, there never was a lack of love.

Not once.  Not ever.

That son went full bore into a lifestyle that included heavy drinking and drugs, which eventually led to acquiring HIV, aids, and hepatitis C.  We tried and tried to get him to commit to his health care, all of which he could get for free.  But, he wouldn't.  He was young, and probably felt invincible.

And, we grieved some more.

We grieved because we knew how this was going to end.  And, we were right.  His life ended because of a drug overdose on 21 Dec 2009.  His sick and wasted body fought hard, but wasn't able to overcome.

And, the grieving was the worst we had ever experienced.  It still is.

Then, our youngest son followed the same pattern.  And, though his life has taken a more diligent course, some of the same feelings emerged as we feared the same ending.

But, it's a different world now.

It was only a few years ago that our oldest son was being used and abused by so many.  It was not unusual for us to find out that he had been beaten, robbed, thrown out, kicked to the curb, and was dumpster diving.

And, though this may occur in today's world, too, the chances of it seems to have lessened.  This generation is more loving, and far more accepting than generations before.

And, I am grateful.  

So, even though my grieving is still fresh from the oldest son, and somewhat there for the youngest, I have learned that they must figure out life for themselves; not for the one we had planned for them.  

A few years ago, we stopped to visit our youngest son and his partner on our way to a genealogy conference.  We ate.  We laughed.  We ate some more.  We took photos.  We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Since then, we attended a housewarming party they invited us to, with the caveat that we would be surrounded by about eighty gay men.  I laughed, and said, "Well, I'll probably be spending the evening alone."

I couldn't have been more wrong.  Kerry and I laughed and talked and connected with these good men all evening long.  There was always a crowd around us, along with the hired chef who was always putting a tasty bite of something from the kitchen in my mouth.

On occasion, I have had non-LDS friends comment that they are so happy we were able to spend time with our son.  That they were really, really happy about it.  Really happy.

Finally, I asked them why in the world they kept saying that.  The answer was, "Well, knowing how your church feels about gays..."

Wait a minute!  The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints has never told us to shun, or to turn our backs on any person of any race, or lifestyle, or family member.  If anything, we are to open arms and embrace them, and let them know how much they are loved.  One of the members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, Elder D. Todd Christofferson, has a brother who is gay.  I read Tom's book, and the thing he states most strongly is the love and acceptance from his family that got him through some pretty tough times.  You can read about him here:   http://www.ldsliving.com/One-Gay-Man-s-Powerful-Journey-Away-from-the-Church-and-Back-Again/s/86366

So, on this National Coming Out Day of 2018, I have some bittersweet feelings.
1.  That I lost a son who never felt accepted by either the heterosexual or gay community.  
2.  That we are living in times where people are free to live and express themselves as they wish; as long as it's not infringing on the rights of others.
3.  That the sweet and gentle nature of a loving God will take all things into account that we aren't even aware of, and that He will make all things right.  I'm also included in that mix.
4.  That if any of my dozens of gay friends are belittled, attacked, or anything like unto it...if I am near, come over to me.  I will not tolerate that happening to you, or to anyone.  I am an LDS woman.  Hear.me.roar.

So, because of my faith and trust in God, I thought I would include some paintings that speak to my heart.  Every teaching by Him, every depiction of Him shows Him with his arms outstretched to us.  He's beckoning to us.  

And, he's asking us to do the same.

He's not standing there with his arms folded, telling us that we had our chance, and there is no more hope.

May we all learn to do the same.

He's there for us.

His arm is outstretched still

I can hardly wait to hold my son again, and embrace him like this.