31 August 2010


I love finding little tidbits of inspiration.  They seem to occur in every day life, they can seem fleeting, but if you really pause and think about it, there are sometimes deeper meanings hidden within small things.  I love finding meaning in little moments like this.

I picked up one of these tidbits in my English class last week.

Since it was the first class, my teacher was giving his spiel and making his presentation about what he expects, what the class will entail...you know, the usual.  Then he said that one thing he wanted from us as students was to have an open mind.  He said it drives him crazy when people are close-minded because it defeats the purpose of teaching and learning.

Then he said that if you go to the biology department and look at the classifications they use to define a living thing, one of them is the ability to change.  "So if you insist on being close-minded and refusing to change, you may as well be dead."

I find this to be completely applicable to the struggle many of us Moho's have.  We are between two ropes, religious obligations pulling us one way, natural inclinations pulling in another way. 

Change is not an easy thing to embrace.  Often there are a wide range of emotions that roll over us when change occurs.  For me, there was a long time where I refused to change.  It wasn't willful, it was just how it was.  I do not remember those days with much fondness.  I didn't want to be in my situation, but I didn't want to change.  I was afraid to.  And I can truly testify that I felt dead.  What I lived through wasn't really living.  And I didn't want to live.  I would have rather died than change the parts of my life that were causing me so much frustration, pain, and anxiety.

Fortunately for me, God intervened.  I found something to help me, I found people to help me, and I found that I had the strength and courage to embrace a change.

John 11: 43-44
(43) And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.
(44) And he that was dead, came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin.  Jesus saith unto them, loose him, and let him go.

I have always loved the story of Lazarus.  It has always given me great hope and a very great sense of peace and comfort.

Life is good and it has much to offer, especially to those of us who are strong enough to be born both gay and into Mormon families.  It's an experience that isn't made for the weak or faint of heart.  I believe that we have been given the opportunity for our growth, and for the inherent courage that we have deep within our precious souls.  It is difficult and it is intense.  Sometimes it gets overwhelming.  But when we are in that place where it feels like something in us has died, we can return to the living through our Savior.  He has made it possible, especially for those of us who cry His name and beg for relief.  He was there for me.

Every day, I thank God for the infinite blessings He has seen fit to bestow upon me.  I have so many.  He gave me a good heart, a caring and compassionate personality, where I have deep concern for what happens within the fabric of mankind.  I have a good family, a family who is trying very hard to love me.  I have amazing people in my life who embrace me, and in turn help me embrace myself.  I was given the opportunity to find my soulmate, and I am so grateful that she loves me and is good to me, and that we can intertwine our lives for the better.  I am grateful for the sense of spirituality I have that allows my faith to be simple and sustaining while still being powerful and close to God.

I know that God gives us the ability to change, so we can live.  I know that Christ helps us find the ability to change, so we can live.  There is beauty all around, and we can find it when we live.

We can live.

27 August 2010


Ever feel like this?

I, I won't justify
The way I live my life
'Cause I'm the one livin' it
Feelin' it, tastin' it
And you're just wasting your time
Trying to throw me a line
When you're the one drowning
I like where I'm at on my back
Floating down in my own riptide
The water is fine.

This is the chorus to a Sick Puppies song called Riptide.  I really like it (the whole album is really enjoyable actually, and if you like rock and hard rock, it's definitely one I would recommend--it's called Tri-Polar). 

The message though is one that I've been pondering in some way lately.  There are so many people out there, trying to save the world, trying to save everyone else.  But what if the person they are trying to save doesn't need saving? 

This is a thought that has been tumbling around in my head lately, and I will likely be addressing it here in the near future.  I'd like to stir it around a little more before posting.  Until then, do you have any thoughts?

18 August 2010

After Midnight

So I received a comment on my writing blog from a person who wished to remain anonymous, basically saying "thank you so much, this helped me on my college assignment."

Needless to say, I am making my writing blog private.

I honestly don't know who reads and who doesn't, so if you would like an invitation to view my blog, please send me an email or comment on this post.  I'm happy to invite anyone, but I'm not about to let my ideas be used for something I don't give permission for, ESPECIALLY a college grade.

09 August 2010


Whenever I see this sticker on a car, I wish I had some way of thanking that person for their display of support.  I wish I had some posterboard or piece of paper that said "thank you."  I wish there was a way to make eye contact and pass that message along.  But more often than not, and for my safety and the safety of others, it's a silent acknowledgement, and it's a silent "thank you" that I send out into the universe, hoping that somehow, it reaches that person in some mystic, karmic way.

Thank you for your support.  Thank you for believing people like me deserve rights too.  Thank you for understanding that equality is important.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  Even if you do nothing else, if displaying this sticker is all that you do, it is more than some do.  And for me, it is enough. 

It means something to me, and I am grateful to you, and for you.  Thank you.

Two Daughters

As I start this post, I am very much aware that I don't quite know where I'm going with it.  I suppose that I am doing what I have always done...working out my emotions through writing.

Last year, my great-grandmother died.  She was 99 years old.  She always had an important place in my life and the lives of my sisters.  My parents made sure of it, and for that, I am eternally grateful.  My cousins missed out on her goodness, her love, her humor, and her influence.  I consider myself lucky that I did not. 

She was not a member of the Church.

Last week was the one year anniversary of her death.  My mom arranged for my great-grandma's temple work to be completed.  My parents and my grandma went to St. George, where both my sisters live, and they all participated.  There was an ordinance for everyone.  My mom was telling me about it and who did what and what happened and all that.  I had a somewhat difficult time listening, finding myself distracted.  I wondered about what my great-grandmother was thinking of all of it. I wondered what they told my grandma about why I wasn't participating.  I wondered about what my sisters and their husbands thought about my absence, if they noticed (which is selfish I suppose, but relevant...at least, to me).  When they were going into the endowment session, my mom had to go ahead with my grandma, who has problems with her knees.  She was saving a place for each of my sisters.  When someone asked if they could sit next to her, she relied that she "had two daughters coming still."

Something about that struck me.  Two daughters.

My mom talked about when they finished the session and were there in the celestial room.  I found myself feeling sad in a way.  To clarify, it was my decision to not be there, and it's a decision I'm okay with.  I didn't renew my temple recommend when I was being good, and they wouldn't issue me one now anyway.  And that doesn't hurt my feelings.  But I feel like I missed out on something.  Maybe I just miss being with my family, when it was still easy to be a family.  And since typing that just brought tears to my eyes, I'm going to say that's probably a very valid thought.

I think I also feel sad because I think my mom gets sad too.  I know that religion is so important to her and my dad.  Everything in their life revolves around the centerpoint of being a Latter-Day Saint, and being a faithful Latter-Day Saint at that.  I'm sure that when they were all there in the celestial room of the St. George temple, mom noticed my absence.  I wonder if part of her feels that is any indication of how the eternities will be.  If she does, I think I can say with some degree of confidence that it is a dreadful thought for her to have.  And that makes me sad.

It has never been my intention to make my mom sad, or my dad distant, or my sisters disappointed.  It has never been my desire to remove myself from their lives, or to remove them from mine.  But it's not easy right now.  I miss them.  I miss being loved by them.  Not that I think they don't love me, but it feels different.  I feel like they're in the "love the sinner, hate the sin" place, and that leaves room to doubt the love they do give, like it's an conditional love that's only given because they have to, not because they want to.  I don't know if that makes sense or not.  I wish I could describe it better. 

I find myself in that place of believing what I have to offer won't be good enough.  I feel like my parents are so proud of my sisters, so happy with how their lives are, so content with how they raised them to be the wonderful and faithful daughters, wives, and mothers that they are.  I envy them for making mom and dad proud.  I don't feel like I do.  Will they always be disappointed?  Will it ever be easy to be a family again?

I find myself frustrated, because at this very moment I am sitting next to a wonderful woman too, and they may never know that.  Will they ever open their hearts to the possibility of having four daughters instead of three?  Or will it be easier to acknowledge two daughters instead of three?

I don't know.

Here's what I do know...I don't think much about the afterlife.  I don't worry about my fate.  I have total and complete faith in an omnicient, loving God.  I am totally and completely comfortable with the knowledge that He and I will talk about the things that happen in this life.  He will fill in the blanks, He will know the details, and He will have the final say in where my soul will reside.  And I know He won't make a mistake.  Upstairs, downstairs, wherever, I'll end exactly where I am supposed to.  And I'm good with that.  All I can do is the best I can.  I have to be the best I can.  And to be the best I can, I can't limit who I am.

I can only hope and pray that someday, my family will find some small piece of understanding about me, and the pain that all of us feel will ease.

04 August 2010

Total Happiness

This last one is probably my favorite.  I love being happy.

(all photographs taken and prepared by the fabulous J. Michael Wiltbank)

Propped Up

Today is a good day.

Today, Judge Walker in California made his ruling on Proposition 8, and the news is good for our camp.  Prop 8 has officially been overturned!  Who knows how long it will last, but let's enjoy the reprieve while we have it. 

I really admire him for what he said about it:

"Moral disapproval alone is an improper basis on which to deny rights to gay men and lesbians. The evidence shows conclusively that Proposition 8 enacts, without reason, a private moral view that same-sex couples are inferior to opposite-sex couples."
Morals are wonderful to have.  As one nation under God, I think morals founded this country and have guided us through history.  But like so many other things in this world, morality is subject to personal opinion, and opinions differ far too often.  That's why we have checks and balances, and judicial review.  I am personally grateful that the morals of Judge Walker guided him to the decision he made.  I'm glad that he sees civil rights as more important than segregation and double standards.

I pray for good people in government.  I am grateful for the religious freedom people have to go to church and cultivate morals and standards.  I pray that churches of all faiths teach the same compassion and love for mankind that our Savior has for each and every one of us.

And tonight, I pray with gratitude for good men like Judge Walker.

I'm sure there are many who are disappointed by today's ruling.  To those people, I say this:

Look into my eyes and tell me I'm not equal.  Stand next to me and tell me I do not have the right to marry the person I love.  Tell me I'm not the same as you, that I'm not good enough, that you deserve to have the privileges that I don't.  Tell me that my love is irrelevant compared to yours.  If you were here, if you knew me, if you had to say that to my familiar face, I don't think you could.

I am a person.  I am a daughter.  I am a sister.  I am an aunt.  I am a friend.  I am an employee.  I am a student.  I am not a nameless, faceless, ominous threat.  I am real, and so is my love, and my desire to one day marry the person I love.  The fact that the person I love is a girl should be the only thing that is irrelevant.

Step outside of your own shoes. Stop thinking about how the country is going to hell in a hand basket. Stop worrying that your children will be corrupted because two men or two women can marry. I promise you, that is not the case. If your children have questions, it's your job to answer them.  But no one can verbally persuade someone to be gay or not gay.  My parents can't talk me out of it.  They can't talk my sisters into it.  It's up to you to teach, and I hope when you do, you teach love instead of hate.

Love conquers hate, and that's what is propping me up tonight.

03 August 2010

Such A Doormat

Sometimes I wish I wasn't a nice person.

Sometimes I want to be mean.  I want to say what I really think.  I want to tell someone "no" and not feel guilty and terrible about it.  I want to be able to stand up for myself and not feel like I don't have the right to do so.

Why is everyone else's happiness and well-being more important than mine?  Why should I work so hard to keep everyone else comfortable at my own expense?

Maybe I'm not a nice person...maybe I'm just a weak person.

Either way, right now, I just wish I wasn't that person.