Forgiveness and Trust

I was having a conversation with someone the other day that ended up emphasizing the difference between forgiveness and trust. At this point in our adult lives, we’ve all heard that we need to forgive others, right? We’ve all heard that Jesus instructed that we would be required to forgive 70 times 7. And of course as adults we understand that is not meant to be taken literally but instead to mean that we are not meant to put limits on our forgiveness to others just as our Heavenly Father does not put limits on His forgiveness for us. 

Now, something that comes up now and again is the fact that there is a difference between forgiveness and trust. I can forgive those who trespass me. Absolutely. And I need that. We all do, right? Holding on to the anger and the hurt is not healthy. But it is important to remember that God is not commanding us to trust people without boundaries. Forgiveness without limits is not the same as trust without boundaries. Now, I’ve heard that said before, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt that it was backed up by scripture before. And that can be hard especially when you are feeling pressured by people who are misusing that commandment to forgive to manipulate you into trusting them without making amends.

But you know what I realized this week? It absolutely is backed up by scripture. As one example, the parable of the master distributing talents to his servants is an example of trust and boundaries. Expectations were set, trust was extended. To the servants who utilize the talents wisely, he doubles them. He exercised trust in them. And when they showed they were worthy of that trust, he extended more trust. However, the servant who failed to meet those expectations had what was given to him taken away. Does that mean the master never forgave that servant? No it does not. It means a boundary was enforced when expectations were not met. And I absolutely believe that if we were to write an extended edition of that parable, if the last servant were to come back and express his sincere apologies for his actions, show that he understood where he had failed, and that he had a sincere desire to repair the relationship, repair the trust with his master, and that he had put forth the time and effort to show that he had a plan for how he was going to do better, that with time the master’s forgiveness could have grown into a new opportunity to exercise trust in that servant once again. And with evidence of change, that relationship could have been healed. But without the servant making the choice to apologize in a way that was truly penitent, then the master was under no obligation to trust that servant ever again. 

Far too often I see the commandment to forgive misused by people who think that those they have hurt have a duty to forgive them without any effort made on the part of the person who caused the offense. And should those people forgive them? Absolutely. Although I will say that it is not anyone's place to put a timeline on that forgiveness. However, it is critical that we understand that apologies still hold a critical place in this equation. 

Without apologies, forgiveness can still happen, but relationships die. Trust dies. Sincere apologies are like repentance. And the apology turns into a lie unless you are willing to put forth action to support the apology. Actions that address the hurt. Actions that show a desire to not only slap a band-aid on the situation but promote healing. Actions that show an understanding of how you made that person feel, and the desire not to make them feel that way again. Sincere apologies show that you care about the person, they show that you care about the relationship you have, whether it be professional or friendly or romantic, it doesn’t matter. Apologies show that you want to build something and not tear people down.

This is why repentance is so important to our Heavenly Father. It’s not because he needs us to say sorry for Him to forgive us. He absolutely can and does forgive us even when we do not apologize. It’s because He needs us to care enough about our relationship with Him to want to seek him, acknowledge what we did, whether accidentally or intentionally, repair the damage that was done, to understand Him, and seek to grow closer to Him in the process. That is why we need to repent. It’s not for His sake. It’s not so we can be forgiven. It’s so we can grow together with Him. It's because without repentance we can't love and respect Him. Without repentance we can't have the type of relationship with Him that He desires to have with us. 

And that is the model he has given us for our relationships here on earth. So the next time you tell yourself “I don’t need to apologize to that person,” let’s acknowledge that what you are saying is “I don’t care enough about that person to repair my relationship with them.” And sometimes, maybe that’s okay. Sometimes we need to put up boundaries and walk away. But if you aren’t willing to apologize, if you aren’t willing to put forth the work to repair what was broken, please don’t tell that person that you love them as though that fixes things. Because that is a narcissistic kind of love. That communicates a love that only cares about you and your needs and not theirs. Love without respect. And that’s not Christ-like love. Depending on the context and the relationship that can be extremely damaging and toxic. Even when we need to walk away... if we are truly seeking to be Christ-like, then our arms should be outstretched if the moment ever presents itself, that they are finally willing to repair things with us. "Knock and it shall be opened unto you."

I’m gonna end with a series of quotes I’ve been thinking about lately:

“The highest form of love is consideration. When someone thinks about how things would make you feel. Pays attention to detail. Holds you in regard when making decisions that could affect you. In any bond, how much they care about you can be found in how much they consider you.” 
Kira J

“If you are around people who can confidently speak up when your behavior is impacting them negatively, it means they have respect for themselves, and it means they are teaching you how to love them because they value you enough to keep you in their lives." 
Nina Grewal

“When a woman bravely reaches out to address something that hurts her, it's a precious gift. It's her saying, "I still care enough to fix this. I'm willing to fight for us." It's a profound chance for connection, for healing, and for mutual growth. But when that moment of vulnerability is met with anger, blame, or dismissal, it pushes her further away. Not just emotionally-but spiritually. Because nothing is more damaging to a woman's spirit than constantly being made to feel wrong for simply wanting to be treated right.” 
Unknown

3 Simple Rules to live by:
Love needs action.
Trust needs proof.
Sorry needs change.

Honestly I could share a dozen more, but I'm not sure it's worth the time right now. I have spent so much time and energy the last few years into reaching out to people when things hurt me. And more often than not I have been met with dismissal instead of the desire to reach understanding. Excuses are made instead of accountability shown. And afterwards, nothing changes. Each time I am expressing that I still care enough about that relationship to want to provide an opportunity for this to be fixed. And each time I find myself feeling more angry and then more detached. Not because I don't care, but because I have cared for too long and I'm not getting enough in return. That's a status quo that cannot be maintained. I don't know how to keep caring enough, and I don't know when to let go. We can't expect that we will always get apologies or real change. But we can choose who we trust. And once trust is broken, it takes more than "sorry" or love to fix it. It needs action, proof and change. 

Pain and Allies

I had the chance this weekend to attend a presentation on Supporting LGBTQ Latter-day Saints put on by a well known author/podcaster (or at least well-known by the LGBTQ+ crowd in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints). While the presentation was good, I want to share a few thoughts I had from the dinner I attended with him beforehand. 

At dinner, he made a comment that he has a friend who is a doctor who made this observation:

"Pain is a friend to us as doctors. It tells us there's a problem that needs to be addressed." 

This was followed by the comment that the same should be true of church. If someone is having painful experiences at church, it tells us there are things we need to address. 

So let me ask you a rhetorical question. When you see someone struggling with their church experiences, are you asking yourself "what can be done to improve their experience?" or more personally "What can I do?" I think a lot of people at church tend to tell themselves one of these lines (to name a few): 

• people's experiences are their responsibility and not mine
• it's their job not to take offense
• they need to fix their attitude
• they need to repent
• if they just endure they'll be blessed
• it is what it is
• they just need more faith
• I am not my brother's keeper

I'm not saying those statements are necessarily categorically false. Perhaps they are true, at least some of the time. But if that is our primary attitude, I think we are unrighteously relieving ourselves of our duties to mourn with those that mourn, and to stand with those in need of comfort. 

I heard a snippet of a podcast today where a pastor was explaining that his ministry had come to feel they needed to change how they talked about their inclusion of LGBTQ+ members. His comment was that his ministry had become

"reticent of using words like full inclusion or affirming because they feel a little self-congratulatory. We finally settled on the word repentant. Our sense was that we had not done something wonderful. We had stopped doing something awful and you shouldn't get a Nobel prize for the release of slaves or stopping abusing your spouse. It wasn't an act of generosity on our part, it was an act of repentance. We didn't invite queer people to the sacrament, we finally joined them there."

Does that hit a little hard to you? Inclusion was something they should have been doing all along, not something to be pointed out so it can be lauded for bonus points. Inclusion was an act of necessary repentance. They realized action is expected and not just better than inaction. This leads me to something else he said that evening. I wish he mentioned it in his presentation.

"As an ally you take any arrows you can for queer people." 

 I've never really liked the word ally, and I'll tell you why. It means a lot of things. And I find that a lot of people only take the most shallow sense of the word to heart. At least in action, I find that it most often means "I'm not a jerk to gay people." or "I don't judge gay people." or maybe "I agree with you politically." None of those things actually say to me "I can trust that person to be there for me." Silence and inaction don't make you a hero just because you're not out actively sinning by being a jerk. Just like the phrases "full inclusion" and "affirming" from above, I tend to find the word "ally" a little self-congratulatory. Congratulations you're not a jerk. Should I give you a medal? Sorry if that hurts your feelings. But I think it's worth noting. You can be a nice person, and still not be an ally.

I had an experience last year where someone approached me to say that I totally had their support, but not publicly. And I think to myself, I bet she thinks she's an ally. I bet she pats herself on the back and says "I did good." Can I request that the word "ally" be taken one step further like he did above? If you are not willing to "take any arrows," if you are not willing to take actual action to try to improve the experiences of people who are on the receiving end of those arrows, then you are not an ally. I interacted with people in our church last year who I'm sure would call themselves "allies" and yet allowed themselves to be weaponized against me, protecting the anonymity even of the person throwing those arrows. There was no attempt to catch those arrows or shield me from them. Only a concern for "justice" which in the end proved unnecessary. If there had been a little more concern for me, then they would have delved a little deeper before acting and would have caught some of those arrows instead of handing them to me or driving them in. Instead, sentences that included "I'm here to support you." would be followed by sentiments like "well you have to admit it's your fault for being openly gay" or "you should have known this would happen."

The same people who, if I told them I was offended by some bigoted and/or homophobic comment someone had made at church, would respond "just choose not to take offense." Those were the same people coming to me and telling me I needed to "filter more" to avoid making people uncomfortable. Where was the attitude that they have a responsibility to "not take offense" then? If you're going to have that attitude, it ought to go both ways so you don't become a hypocrite.  There's a longer conversation that could take place on that subject, but I won't delve into it now. Suffice it to say, that I think it would be more accurate to say "don't hold onto offense" instead of "don't take offense." But that's not really the point at the moment.

I've never found church policy all that painful. What I find painful is people. People who talk about you instead of to your face, people who never admit they were wrong. People who don't prioritize showing people consideration and/or respect. People who never apologize. People who will do the easy thing any day like say "I support you" but won't do the hard thing and actually show up how people need them to. People who insist they are "loving you" by doing X despite the fact that you have repeatedly communicated that they need to do Y for you to feel loved. People who don't listen to understand. People who think their silence and inaction relieves them of any responsibility for the things they are allowing to be said and done around them.

That presentation, and speaker made me more sad than anything else (not his fault).. Because he made it sound so easy and so simple. His demeanor absolutely exuded love and acceptance and it was beautiful and healing. And yet I felt an overwhelming sense of "nothing is going to change, people won't change, people don't care and I don't know when or if I'll ever feel at church, the way he makes me feel." And no one presentation will ever be enough to help the people who need it, change.. Too many will miss the point when it counts. Of course the shiny silver lining perspective here is that every drop in the ocean counts.

I'm reminded of a leadership training I also attended this weekend, where one of the teachers was discussing the notions of "line of authority" and "line of communication" and without those, messages from above don't always reach the right people, and even if they do, people just think "not my responsibility" and it doesn't get done. I know announcements regarding this event were sent to all the stakes in our area and yet we only had maybe 50 people in attendance. Majority of those people were probably those with some connection to a queer loved one (or queer themselves). I wonder if most who saw the invitation just thought "well that's not my responsibility" or "well I'm already an ally (not a jerk), I don't need to attend that", and of course "Super Bowl is more important." I'm not saying people should have to attend every fireside. I know we all get pulled a dozen different directions and feel pulled too thin and time for ourselves is also important. There's also the simple fact that because there was no line of communication in place for this event, lots of people simply missed the memo. But I wonder how many stopped to consider the message those 50 people received last night when they looked around at the attendance, and realized that helping LGBTQ+ people feel supported was not a priority to very many people. I suppose I hope most there were just grateful for those who did come. And I am, grateful.

I'm sorry this blog wasn't the most warm and fuzzy of my blogs. But it's what was on my heart today.

Hurt

To anyone who has asked me in the last few months how I was doing, and I answered fine, or good… I am sorry. I have not wanted to be dishonest, but how I’ve been doing has been complex, and wrapped up in a situation that has left me feeling censured, censored and judged... and quite honestly... attacked. And it’s a sensitive issue that while I feel strongly that I should be able to talk about, affects more than just me, and therefore shouldn’t be broadcast publicly. I have been trying desperately to protect everyone involved, while also trying to protect myself, even if not everyone feels that way. Mistakes have been made along the way all the way around… but I am trying and intent matters. In a lot of ways, this has been the worst year of my life. I just haven't felt like I could talk about it, and that is hard for me too. And at this point, I am trying to let it go.

The Facebook gremlins have been sending memes and posts my way that have been speaking to me and how I’ve been feeling for quite a while now, (darn those clever algorithms) and rather than keep sharing vague references to where I’m at I’ve been screenshotting them and saving them to a collective file of things that have resonated with me as I try to find the words for what to say.

I’m not sure I have those words, honestly. But I also need to speak.

I feel like my silence is being misconstrued. And what I have said on the matter has also been misconstrued. Know this... reading my blogs will never be a way to know exactly what I would say to someone about a specific issue because real conversations should be like living creatures that grow and change during open dialogue and earnest listening. Words should be tailored to the listener as you seek to care for that person and how they are feeling and what they understand. And the most important conversation I would have right now, can't happen. Therefore, there are things I have not said and will never say. I have done my best not to bring attention to the issue, which has been viewed as making light of the situation, and I feel the very opposite. It has meant more to me than any of you will ever understand. I have felt betrayed by all the onlookers aware of the situation who have never once sought to seek my perspective on the issue, whether they think they are offering me grace or not, to only listen to one side, and assume you know the whole story, is to deny and insult the other. And it hurts. I have always said that I will strive to honestly answer any sincere and direct question. But those aware of the situation, haven't been asking so it doesn’t matter. And there’s been a lot of dishonesty and faking it when it comes to the sincerity. 

I have always hoped that my blogs were a window. A way for people to see through the day-to-day fog of coping and striving for normality. I have always hoped that people trusted that it was an open window and not rose colored glass intended to obscure or alter your perception of my reality. I will continue to have that hope, but for now it is a guarded hope. I hate being misunderstood. I have never wanted to be viewed as unthoughtful or unrestrained. I have never wanted to be considered an enemy or as unworthy. I have never wanted to make choices that would result in those perceptions. I have never wanted to make anyone uncomfortable. I am just a person, trying to do the right thing. And I hate feeling like I can't trust people, because that is not my nature. But that's where I'm at right now.

I am a fixer, and I wish I could fix things. But I can't. I can do my best and someone can still misunderstand, and that is a burden I am trying not to carry. I am not perfect, but if I screw up I want to make it right. I want to be given the opportunity to try to make it right. It hurts to be denied that opportunity. It hurts to feel like people don't care about your feelings. It hurts to feel betrayed by people you trusted or hoped you could trust. It hurts to feel like you are dumped into a situation where you need to prove and defend your intentions and your attempts to do so don't make a difference and aren’t even heard. And I'm done trying. 

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland taught: “When you struggle, when you are rejected, when you are spit upon and cast out and made a hiss and a byword, you are standing with the best life this world has ever known, the only pure and perfect life ever lived. You have reason to stand tall and be grateful that the Living Son of the Living God knows all about your sorrows and afflictions”

I am trying to focus on my loving Heavenly Father and his understanding of me, when others cannot. I am grieving. And I am trying to learn a lesson in all this, even if no one else will. I am trying to find peace, and let people be wrong about me, and be okay with it. I am trying to still be someone who trusts people on the whole. I am trying to stand tall, and be grateful Christ knows me and loves me and has felt my tears, even when I am feeling rejected of men. I can't control how people perceive me, but I can try to be free from the burden of shame regardless by remembering that I am worthy of being loved, and my Savior knows me. So, in case you need that reminder, you are worthy of being loved too. And the Savior knows you too. Your best is good enough for Him, even when it isn't good enough for anyone else.

A Hiss and a Byword

A hiss and a byword among women. 
I have been labelled.
I have been described as an enemy.
I have been thought of as wicked.

A hiss and a byword among women. 
My intentions have been assumed, 
Yet all I yearned for was to help. I didn't.
That effort later stabs me in the back.

A hiss and a byword among women. 
I have been avoided.
I am the subject of hushed conversations.
The rumors more important than my truth.

A hiss and a byword among women. 
I am approached with fraudulent smiles,
Or perhaps they are smiles of pity.
Regardless, the dishonesty stains them.

A hiss and a byword among women. 
An assumption their silence provides safety,
For them? For me? I can't tell.
But it's all just lies. There is no safety in it.

A hiss and a byword among women. 
They think they know me,
Or that they don't need to know me.
But without talking to me, they cannot know.

A hiss and a byword among women. 
Some have thrown stones.
And some have refused to catch them.
It feels the same.

I am weary of the anger 
I am weary of the unrighteous judgement.
I am weary of the lies in the silence.
I am a hiss and a byword among women.

I am weary of betrayal.

I am weary of weaponized shame.

I am weary of the failure to apologize.

I am a hiss and a byword among men.

But I am more than a hiss and a byword to Him.

Relating to Lepers

I find myself pondering on the stories of lepers in the scriptures. Men and women who were cast out of their societies--left to feel like the only way they could survive or even feel another’s compassion was from a dollop of charity from strangers. Men and women who probably longed to feel normal and well. People who missed living amongst their brethren without fear of a disgusted side eye lingering in their direction. People who suffered daily without hope for a better tomorrow. People outcast for something they could not control because they were deemed dangerous. I imagine they felt invisible in their suffering and yet painfully obvious in their perceived uncleanliness. I imagine they struggled with their sense of self worth as they felt limited in their ability to contribute to society or be accepted by society. I imagine they mourned the loss of their skills and talents being accepted and utilized to serve others or provide for their families. I imagine they longed to reach out to people but felt no longer worthy to do so. I imagine they longed for human touch, but felt painfully aware of the potential consequences should they get that wish; and painfully aware of the potential recoil from the recipient. I imagine they prayed to God daily uncertain he was listening, or if they would even get response.  I suspect some of them wished they had been able to keep their condition secret even just a little while longer. I’m sure they often wished they could be cured, and I suspect sometimes they wished that they could just die. I'm sure sometimes they longed for feeling in the parts of themselves they had lost. Maybe sometimes the pain they felt seemed unbearable. And maybe sometimes that pain was the only thing reminding them that they were still alive. Perhaps sometimes they wanted to hurt themselves, because of those feelings. The pain of being constantly rejected, avoided, despised and pre-judged whether it be directly or indirectly.

This is often how being publicly gay makes me feel, especially lately. There have been bright wonderful moments from being out. There have. And there are people who love me. There are people who view me as being no different than before I was out. I think. People who judge me on my character and not some twisted version of what they deem me capable of simply because they are aware of my sexuality. There are people who see me for what they have seen me do, and not for what someone else says I've done. There are people who would defend me when I’m not in the room.

But there has also been the opposite. And it’s unfortunately easy to let the bad overwhelm the good. And admittedly, I am tired. I am tired of feeling like a leper. 

And the only healing those lepers found was in Jesus. I guess that’s something to remember. Healing won’t be found in anyone else, no matter how much I can hope for changed behavior or changed attitudes. And since Jesus isn’t walking around today, I think I have a greater obligation to seek Him, and seek healing in the right places. Perhaps easier said than done. Someone was telling me the other day about their scripture study in the "war chapters." I can't remember the exact chapter or I would reference it. But they mentioned that a comment was made that despite being in war, those were some of the happiest years of their lives. And I thought to myself... "I feel like I'm in a war chapter." And then I thought to myself "is it possible to make this the happiest year of my life?" And that sounds pretty hard, but also, I think immersing myself in Jesus and friends and family who focus on Jesus would make for a pretty good start. 

My husband said something yesterday about our trials being blessings offered to us by our Heavenly Father, because those trials pull us closer to Him. It is in the moments of our trials that we feel most inclined to pray and draw ourselves to Him. Sitting in a space last night intended to be a safe place for members of my church who identify as LGTBQ+ and their loved ones... I guess I was thinking, that I wasn't totally sure I'd ever sit in a space like that with my husband. And how grateful I am to be in that space with him, and other people willing to sit there with me. And my trials have brought me to that place. My trials have let me be vulnerable with people in ways I'm not sure I otherwise could. And those moments have let me feel more loved than I think I otherwise could. Someone at that meeting last night made the comment that we are afraid of intimacy. And we're not talking physical intimacy here, we're talking mental and emotional and spiritual connections that go beyond the static protected versions of ourselves we often portray. And I felt that. I've been afraid of intimacy with certain people. But finding that intimacy with the right people, often through our trials, can be a very faith affirming thing. A relationship affirming thing. A soul affirming thing. And when it happens, and you relax into that feeling, it feels far safer than any portrait of yourself that you normally portray. Those that make me feel like a leper will never know that intimate version of myself. But those that see past the depiction that would make me feel like a leper help me feel loved... in the way that I imagine Jesus loves me. And maybe a little less like a leper. I imagine with enough time in that space, maybe like a leper who has been healed by Jesus, who turns back around to cry aloud their gratitude to God. May we all find that place eventually.

Attracted but Married?

There's a part about identifying as gay, and staying in my church that I haven’t talked a lot about, and it’s balancing my “desire for women” with upholding the standard of not experiencing sexual relationships with the same-sex. Mainly I don’t talk about it because I’m married which obviously affects my experience. But maybe that needs to be said.

From time to time people have asked me why it matters that I’m attracted to women, if I’m married to a man. And that’s a fair question. Honestly, I ask myself that question a lot too. But it does affect how I interact with the world. Mostly at this point, because people know about my attraction to women, it becomes a perception issue. I spend a lot of emotional energy worried about how I’m interacting with people and hoping I’m not sending an unintentional message to anyone.

I’ve talked about this before, but because I am married, I am no longer “out shopping” so to speak. Therefore, I really don’t think about anyone in a sexual capacity except my husband. However, it’s not quite that simple. Male relationships and female relationships are obviously different. My male relationship bucket is filled by my husband, and he does an excellent job doing so. I love him and I know he loves me. But he obviously does not fill my female relationship bucket. Most women, straight or gay experience this. The concept that they need female friendship and companionship in addition to their male companions is normal. Right? Because of this I still actively seek female “companionship” in my life. And I have several women who help fill that “female bucket” but none of them fulfill it in any sexual capacity. And part of me mourns that, but as I said, I love my husband, and I’m not seeking a sexual relationship with any woman, let me make that clear, but I am seeking friendship.

However, because I am attracted to women, this gets a little tricky. There’s a passage in the book “Tender Leaves of Hope” by Meghan Decker, that addresses the difference between celibate straight women in the church vs celibate gay women in the church and it’s this: “your daughter can pray every day that she will meet someone and fall in love. A celibate gay member of the church prays every day that she won’t.” And that sums this up for me. There is a part of me with every new friendship I make that is praying every time that the switch won’t flip in my brain, and that I won’t develop an attraction for this person. Because I don't want to feel that painful pull. I mean I suppose I could just make a rule to only be friends with blondes because I know they’re not my type at all (no offense ladies!)… but that seems like a rather arbitrary and limiting qualifier for friendship 😝

I’m currently reading the book “The Holy Covenants: Living Our Sacred Temple Promises” by Anthony Sweat and there’s some interesting passages about the law of chastity in there, but one line I want to share is this: “….the innate human desire to create children, form families, and have intimate union with someone symbolized in sexual expression is heaven sent….”

And that simply and beautifully illustrated something of what I feel about women. My brain is not sitting here desperately wishing to have sex with women. My husband keeps me happy. But my instinct is to yearn for a deeper union with a woman, and at least in this life, it feels like that deeper union is symbolized through the physical acts we attribute to sexual expression. I love to know and understand women on a deeper level. I do. And in my brain it makes logical sense that the next step of that would be symbolized through sexual expression. But because I am married, I do not want any of my friendships to progress to the point of wanting that with them. I’m terrified of it, honestly. Because I know that the instant that were to happen, I would need to back off and distance myself from that relationship, and I don’t want that because I love my friends. But more importantly, I love my husband more and so I will choose to back away from someone I deem to be a possible temptation every single time.

Recently I’ve had the experience of someone believing that I was attracted to them. I won’t go into a lot of details about this, but the short and sweet of it is that I am not, nor have I ever been attracted to this person. But in reflecting on that situation I have realized that when there is no attraction for me, and I trust their character, and there is a perceived friendship and mutual trust, I have the tendency to get more relaxed in my interactions. I trust they know my character and that I wouldn’t want to betray my husband. I trust that they care about me enough to look past my awkward moments and see them for what they were... awkward moments. I trust that I can be myself without stressing so much about filtering myself. This becomes a problem if they don’t have that sense of trust in my character or our friendship that I hope they have. Misunderstandings abound. In my last blog post I talked about discussing boundaries with people. And I realized I never did that with this person because nothing about our relationship indicated to me that I would need to. I wasn’t spending one-on-one time with this person that would potentially indicate a need for boundaries. I regret that my communications were able to be misconstrued and caused discomfort. But something that came out of this I suppose is just a reminder that boundaries are a good thing to discuss with people even when you don’t feel your relationship puts you in positions where you feel it would be necessary because you never fully know where someone else’s head is at.

I’m still not sure exactly what that will look like, because I don’t often discuss the gay thing with my more shallow friendships unless they bring it up. And for those of you who have experienced me “coming out” to you personally, you know that I am not graceful about it. I am awkward and sometimes confusing. And I don’t always feel it’s necessary to talk to people about it because it doesn’t define everything about me…. Nor do I really think I should feel forced to discuss it. Maybe it just needs to be something as simple as "please know that it will never be my intention to make you uncomfortable, and I hope you will tell me if I ever cross any lines."

It's important for me to remember that while I am hoping and praying with every friendship that I make, that the switch for attraction won’t get flipped in my head, that my friends are probably experiencing something similar: a silent and perhaps unrealized prayer that I won’t be attracted to them. And that is perhaps worth addressing for the long term comfort of everyone involved even if it is awkward.

In short, not acting on my sexual attraction to women for me… most tangibly comes down to a desire to be faithful to my husband. But it remains an active balancing act in my life. And I'm still learning.

Managing Female Friendships

We all remember that Emily is gay. Right? 

So the other day, I recounted to a friend, the first day I had met a mutual friend of ours. It was their first day at church after moving to our town. We were having a discussion about how awareness and understanding of our divine identity affects our lives. I ended up feeling prompted to share with the whole room of women, that defining myself only as gay felt very limiting, but that focusing on my identity as a daughter of God was very freeing in that it encompassed all of me, including being gay, and made room for me to be so much more than just one thing. It was perhaps an awkward moment but also a good one. 

Anyway, when the meeting ended, as part of leadership I felt obligated to approach the new girl and try to make her feel welcomed. Got her number, (which, after a gay-confession felt really uncomfortable to ask for), and I texted her the info for our park play date group and book club. 

I texted a few random get to know you questions to this person over the coming weeks and felt increasingly awkward as time went on. The fact of the matter was that I had never tried to become friends with someone where the fact that I was gay was the absolute first thing they knew about me. It felt like the giant elephant in the room. 

Anyway, remember this was a story I was telling a friend? So, in this moment she asked me a question. She asked if I thought that knowing this about me would somehow change something for that friend. To which I responded with an emphatic yes. (But let me just say there was something comforting about this person acting under the assumption that knowing this would NOT change anything). Of course it’s difficult to tell how much of any situation is actually there, and how much of it is just in my head, but to me, any time someone finds out that I’m gay it feels like there is instantly a different level of accountability. Anything I do could be evaluated on a level of “what if this were a man doing this.” Any touch could be misinterpreted, any glance could be misinterpreted, questions or expectations can be misunderstood. I worry about it a lot.

So how do I deal with this? Well, let’s continue using this story of this mutual friend as an example. Initially I wasn’t too stressed about it because my first impression was that I was never going to be close with this person and therefore their acceptance of me didn’t matter too much because they weren’t important enough for me to care what they thought of me. But as time went on I felt myself feeling inclined to trust this person, so I decided I needed to approach the elephant in the room and find out if there was any issue or discomfort that would stem from it before I let myself care. So we talked about it. Reassurances were made that I was not sexually attracted to her, and she was 100% straight. But also, reassurances were made that my attractions in general did not make her uncomfortable. And honestly it took a few times of being reassured before I let myself really sit in that assurance. 

As we started spending more one on one time together I asked her to speak with her husband and make sure that he knew and was also comfortable with me spending time with his wife. We discussed boundaries, and I made it clear that I never wanted to cross any. I requested that she be open in communicating with me if I ever did anything to make her uncomfortable so that I could adjust accordingly. I told her that I never expected her to keep secrets from her husband. And I have regularly reinforced that her husband comes first. Honestly this helps reinforce in my brain not to expect or hope for anything different. I had a similar conversation with my husband too, but instead of “hey my friend Emily is gay, are you okay” it was a reassurance “hey my friend Suzie is straight, and there’s nothing there.” Because I don’t want him to ever have to wonder. And I encourage him that he can ask too. Not that every friendship follows that example to the letter. I was far more pointed in this situation because again, first friendship where the person knew I was gay right off the bat.. But I think it makes a point.

My husband can see my location on his phone. He knows the passcode to my phone. He may not always remember the password to my email 😅, but my email is permanently logged into my computer which he also has easy access to. We have a no-secrets rule. That doesn’t mean I tell him everything that my friends tell me, because confidentiality is not the same as a secret. And it doesn’t mean he roots around in my phone but we both know the option is there and it’s ok because there’s nothing to hide. He and I both know that our marriage will always be first priority, and anything that has the power to affect our relationship will always be shared. 

When I am spending one on one time with someone, I tend to ignore my phone because I want them to know that my focus is on them in that moment. And if my phone is blowing up, then I’ll put it on silent. But my husband’s texts always ring through. And unless the moment is super sensitive like they’re telling me something while in tears kinda moment, then I make it a priority to respond to his texts promptly so that he knows I am thinking of him and he comes first. 

People who knew me in high school might remember that I was extremely touchy feely. I didn’t have a space bubble and most of my friends didn’t either. Now days, I tend to be far more strict with how I touch people. For years I stopped initiating touch with female friends entirely - no hugs, no hands on the arm, nothing. It was something I felt like I needed to do so that there were no questions and no temptations… but eventually I decided that I needed to respect that touch is important to me and how I feel and express love, and I needed to start allowing myself to adjust that boundary. That is still a new thing for me, and I’m still very self conscious about it. If I just touched your arm in the midst of our conversation you can bet that I thought about it both before and after to evaluate if I thought there was any chance it could have communicated anything other than friendship, or if it was safe to do. There is still a vast difference between how I interact with people physically now, and how I interacted in high school, and honestly sometimes I still long for more. But for now, where I’m at feels safe and doesn’t risk being inappropriate. 

And in the rare case that I feel like there is either the possibility that a friend could be attracted to me or that I could be attracted to her, then I instantly put up additional boundaries. I don’t let myself feel as vulnerable with them because I don’t want to open a door for emotional intimacy. I don’t let myself hang out with them after 10pm. Things like that. 

Perhaps that answers the question, how Emily manages female friendships. You know what I love most about my favorite friendships? They tend to teach me things that help me have a better relationship with my husband, and my Heavenly Father. Cuz I have good friends. That reminds me of the most important part of how I manage female friendships... I have the trust, love and support of my husband. It wouldn’t work without that and I won’t risk losing that. 

Prayer

Some of you may be familiar with an old movie called "The Other Side of Heaven." It's honestly been a long time since I've seen it, but I believe it's one of those movies filled with moments that stick with you. One such moment is when this missionary and his companion are on a sailboat of sorts, and there is no wind, leaving them stuck and not heading for their intended destination. The missionary stops to pray for a "tail wind" which leads one of his companions on the boat to advise him that he needs to revise his prayers. The man asks the missionary to consider others on the same ocean who may be trying to get to a different destination than they are, and that a tail wind would hinder them. Instead, he advises, the missionary should pray for a "good wind." And that, perhaps silly as it may sound, has always stuck with me. Obviously God can work around such small syntax differences. But I believe that it is good practice for us to consider whether our desires in prayer are ones that will benefit others and not just ourselves, and whether they could pose any harm.

Michael and I had a conversation about this recently, and he recounted a story of an eager mission companion, bouncing with enthusiasm, who once asked him "How do you pray?" as though this was the most exciting question he could ask, and the answer would be just as exciting. On the surface, this might seem like a simple question, but delving into it, I believe the answers to this question can very greatly, and I do think that there is something very intimate in understanding the differences in how people pray. The way Michael talks to Heavenly Father in his personal prayers is certainly different than how I do. And that is because his relationship is different, his personality is different, the way his brain works is different, his faith is different, and the foundation for his testimony is different. But most importantly, what he does works for him. So don't consider my thoughts on this to be prescriptive, only my perspective. We're all different and that's okay.

One thing we believe, is that God can do all things, and our prayers will be answered so long as they are in line with God's will. To me, that indicates that I should strive to pray for things that are in line with God's will or that will help me be in line with God's will. Only problem with that of course is that sometimes we don't know what God's will is regarding the direction of our lives. (There's more that could be said here, but that's a deeper subject.) One way to deal with that is by just telling God "I know this is what I want, but thy will be done." There's a certain amount of humility involved in that if it is sincere. 

One thing thing I think should be pointed out though, is that it is not wrong to tell God about things that you want or feel that may not be in line with His will. I can have a conversation with a close friend about frustrations I feel, or problems in my life, and how I might wish they would be solved, but I disclose those things without any expectation for them to do anything about it. I disclose those things out of a comfort and sense of security in our relationship. I disclose things to share vulnerability, break down walls whether they be mine or theirs, and to release the tension of keeping those things bottled up. But again, not expecting that friend to fix things. Stereotypically, prayers include a list of things we are thankful for, and a list of things we want God to do for us. But I believe what is sometimes forgotten, is what can happen in between. In between those things, are when we can just tell God how we feel, what we think, and what we hope. And it's okay to share things that make us imperfect. Honestly, I think it's the most important moment. Because if God isn't someone I am willing to be vulnerable with, then who is He to me? Not much, I'll tell you that.

If I am praying earnestly, then my prayer starts with the intention of listening to the Holy Ghost, and letting Him guide my thoughts and words. Perhaps the umbrella I'm starting with is "what am I thankful for?" If I'm not listening to Him, then this section can very easily become rote. I'm thankful for my family. I'm thankful for my friends. I'm thankful for my home. If I'm being purposeful in this moment, and waiting for the Holy Ghost to prompt me, then this section could include any number of things. Things I need to remember that I am thankful for, or should be thankful for, and not just the blatantly obvious. Not that that list can't include the blatantly obvious, because obviously those are things I am thankful for 😛 The list is just longer and more unique. After that, I hope to take the time to be vulnerable. To share my feelings, my experiences, my desires, my doubts. And again, if I am attending to the Holy Ghost, then sometimes things come to mind here that I hadn't already realized I was thinking/feeling, and I can gain a certain sense of self-awareness I lacked before I started. But this is the time for word-vomit. And I try not to judge how organized my thoughts are, because if I believe God to be who I believe Him to be, then, He understands me even through broken thoughts and unorganized sentences. It's after that, that I can once again stop, and slowly strive to listen to the Holy Ghost guide me to the questions I need to ask. How do I believe God can help me, what blessings can/should I ask for, what actions should I take? This is the part that I need to be able to say "what I am praying for is in line with God's will." and "what I am praying for will cause no harm to others." And obviously, my prayers are not necessarily that neat and tidy: Section 1, Section 2, Section 3. Sometimes I go back and forth, and they intermingle.

I will never claim to be perfect in prayer. I am not consistent, and I am sometimes resistant. A lot of that has to do with other things I need to change in my life. But what I believe about prayer, when I am spiritually prepared to do so, is that prayer should lead me to a place where I feel God's love. And not because I am doing all the things I should be doing, but because I am seeking to receive Him, to allow Him to affect all the things I am doing. That desire to make our lives be in line with His will means far more than our lives simply being in line with His will by accident.

Alone in Our Doubts

Every now and then I’m perusing on Facebook and I see posts from old friends. To be expected. But sometimes while looking at their pictures I realize something. They are no longer members of the Church I belong to, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The whole reason I knew them and was then privy to the opportunity to befriend them, gone. And yeah the initial reaction is “that’s sad” but let me tell you the reason why it makes me sad. Because leaving the church does not make me think of them as any “less” as a person. The reason I think it makes me sad is because it makes me wonder if there was something in the back of their mind when I knew them, that they didn’t feel like they could say. Was there something they felt trapped by? Was there some feeling or doubt or frustration they felt they were alone in? Was there some vulnerable conversation that we could have had where we could have realized that neither of us was alone in feeling that way? Given comfort to each other? Because I know I have felt alone sometimes. And that feeling of being alone, for me, is often the largest driving force for why I might consider leaving the Church. Sometimes I feel like by leaving I would be joining a group of people more than I would be leaving a group of people because I could feel less alone in how I felt. Because people who leave the church, in my experience, are a lot more open about their doubts and their frustrations than people who are still in the Church. And that's just not how it should be. It makes me sad if they felt alone, and I missed an opportunity to let them know that they were not alone.

Can I just submit that none of us is alone? I don’t want you to feel alone just as I don’t want to feel that way. And maybe if we all talked about that just a little bit more, we would find that there is comfort that we could all find in each other. I am not the only one with doubts or frustrations. I am not the only one wishing things were different. I am not the only one who feels inadequate. I am not the only one who sometimes feels like there is not enough hope or faith to go around, or that I don’t have enough of a testimony to share it. And I am not the only one who chooses to stay despite those things. But I will tell you that one of the reasons that allows me to stay despite all those other things, is the people that have shared their vulnerable imperfections of faith with me. I know I’m not alone even if sometimes I still feel that way. Those are my people. And the people who, despite having very little in the way of doubts, who have wonderful testimonies, who maybe have no clue why I struggle with certain topics because it comes so naturally to them... yet still give me the space I need to feel like I fit, even when I'm not sure how, who love me amidst my frustration, and comfort me amidst my sadness without trying to fix me or barrage me with platitudes... they answer questions when I ask them, but do not advise unsolicited. Those are my people.

So in case it needs to be said, you are not alone. If there is but one truth that you can cling to that tells you that this is the church where you belong, that is okay. Sometimes it's okay for your testimony to be "I know this is where I'm supposed to be right now, even if I don't like it." Because sometimes that has been my testimony. And asking questions is always okay and you should feel safe asking them. We don’t always get the answers we want. But we should always feel safe in asking them. I ask them. I am grateful for the people who listen even when they can’t answer them. Because, if you recall, one of the things we covenant to when we are baptized is to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort. And I have never felt more loved than when someone fulfills that covenant, when I am in need of it. 

I hope we can strive not only to be willing to fulfill that covenant, but also willing to rely on others to fulfill that covenant.

Counselor’s Wife

My husband was recently called to serve as a counselor in our branch presidency. For those that don’t know, in our church, a “Branch” is a church unit defined by geographical location. The primary difference between a “Branch” and a “Ward” is that there are specific requirements regarding how many members there are within the boundaries to qualify as a ward. Because our boundary lines were recently redrawn, we are now a new branch. A Branch President is essentially the equivalent to a Bishop (with some differences I won’t get into at the moment). 

This has been a bumpy road for me. In the beginning I had strong confirmations from the Spirit that this was good, and this was right and that I could and should support him in this. And then the bumps hit that I knew I would struggle with—that those who know me well knew I would struggle with. And toss in the bumpy road of figuring out schedules and navigating all the communication that I need, and how to talk to Michael about my needs, and him figuring out how and how much to communicate with me, and needing to feel able to talk to him about my struggles and frustrations and differences of opinion regarding choices that were being made and things that were happening… but also feeling like doing so meant that I was failing to sustain and support him, which I don’t want. I want him to feel like I sustain and support him. Toss in with all that the fact that I went off one of my anti-depressant/anti-anxiety meds during this window and went through about one/two weeks of withdrawal symptoms—some of which still haven’t gone away. I have found some reason to cry more times than I can count since this calling was presented. Sometimes it was good happy crying. Much of the time it hasn’t been. And sometimes it’s for no reason at all. 

You go through a process like this and you yearn to feel validated and understood. Look online and you’ll find dozens and dozens of stories and blogs and accounts from women on what it is like to be the bishop’s wife. But there aren’t stories or blogs from the wives of the counselors. There is a large part of me that feels incredibly invalidated by this. But I don’t think it’s because none of those women struggled. It’s because they felt they didn’t have space to voice their feelings because “the wife of the Bishop has it worse.” I’m not really going to argue that. But maybe it would be more accurate to say “the wife of the bishop has it different.” There is a lot in common with our experiences, but there are also things that are different. And I won't claim to know what all she feels. The wife of the bishop has to reconcile her feelings with the choices her husband is making. The wife of the counselor has to reconcile that her husband is in some ways at the mercy of the decisions the bishop is making. Obviously it's more complicated than that and there’s more I could say on that subject but I’m not in a place to do so right now. 

I don’t really want to make the focus of this about all the things that make this hard. This is not the place. And I have already felt frustrated by people trying to get me to talk about things in the wrong place, or on an emotional level that is not on par with the kind of relationship that I have with that person. 

I just want to say that despite all of that… despite the regular frustration and annoyance and disappointment and sadness and sometimes anger that have popped up because of all of this, I still feel like I have reason to be grateful. Because despite all of that, I have felt like I have had an added measure of the Spirit. I have felt blessed again and again and again to feel a confirmation about something before it has happened and also after it happens. I witness it happen and feel a confirmation that God really is in my life right now. I have continued to feel a confirmation that our Branch President is who it is supposed to be. That he has been called by God and whatever his faults, is meant to be in this position. And that has helped me feel compassion and grace even in the midst of frustration, and I am grateful for that. I have needed that, and I know I will continue to need that. 

I have been blessed to feel a desire to grow in my faith in ways I have not felt motivated to grow in years. I have felt blessed by a desire to help my children grow their faith even in subjects I find difficult. I have been blessed with people I can talk to, with whom I can voice my doubts and my frustrations and they have made it safe for me to do so. I haven’t always had that in past struggles. I have felt blessed that my husband and I are currently in a place where I can voice my struggles and frustrations with him. It still feels like dangerous ground, because I hate that voicing those frustrations can come across as a lack of support for him… but it also feels sacred that I feel safe doing so because it hasn’t always been that way. I am forever grateful for that and I don’t want to lose that or take it for granted. It hasn’t been perfect, but I am proud of how we are managing this as a family, even if improvements can still be made.

I can’t speak to what the rest of this journey will look like. I know I won’t enjoy all of it. I know sometimes it will be easier than it is now and I know sometimes it may get harder. But I do have confirmation that I will have the Spirit to comfort me and I will have friends to comfort me and I can be that comfort for them too. I can have the Spirit to lean on, and I can grow in ways I haven’t. That doesn’t take away from the hard. Never mistake that to mean that I think the Spirit will make this less hard. In a lot of ways I don’t think that’s true (although I can recognize the validity of the argument to the contrary). But I do know the Spirit can add to the experience. I can’t say right now whether that means that it will be worth it, but I can say that right now it feels worth it. Even when I don’t want it to be. It feels worth it. There have been days when I have yearned to give up. And I have been blessed with the strength to not give up.

I believe that Heavenly Father has a plan. I believe he uses imperfect human beings to aid in the progression of that plan. And the Branch President, and my husband, and the other counselor, and the other wives, and myself all get to put up with the things that make each of us fallible. But we (like everyone else) also have the knowledge that His plan will buoy us, even though it is often carried out by the flawed disciples he shepherds.