Matters of the Heart: Tammy Maxwell

Before fifteen year-old Kayden came out to his parents there were changes in his personality that were so unlike him. He’d always been such a perfect son.“He’s very kind and loving. He’s always been so good with his younger siblings, nieces, nephews and cousins. He loves to play church hymns on the piano. He’s so Christ-like.” But her son had become dark and depressed. There were signs that he might be gay. So one day she sat him down and asked him if he was attracted to girls, at all. “He said no, and just started crying and crying. I just loved him so much. I wanted to put him in a bubble and protect him forever. There was no judgment. There was just love. Seeing the pain in his eyes. Yeah, I just wanted to take that from him. I knew for sure that it wasn’t a choice for him.” 

But the night they found out what had been bothering Kayden, Tammy thought she was having a heart attack. Her heart just kept hurting and hurting. Chest pains could mean something very serious, so they finally went to the hospital and after some testing found out that Tammy wasn’t having a heart attack after all, but a severe anxiety attack. Although the literal pain subsided, her heart would continue to ache figuratively as she expanded her love to include many other LGBT youth who would need her love. Tammy’s husband also was not judgmental about his son. From the onset, he’s been nothing, but supportive. 

When I sat down with Tammy Maxwell, it was impossible for me not to feel the magnitude of her warm personality and giant heart. I knew she was someone special, someone who was on a mission to make the world a better place for her son Kayden and for all of her now numerous gay friends. I think LGBT people sense in her that same acceptance that she shows her son. If they need a listening ear, she listens. If they need a place to live, she and her husband open up their house. Tammy has always loved the gospel. She’d felt like everything fit like a perfect puzzle. But suddenly she was thrust with a situation which didn’t fit. There was no place in the gospel plan for her wonderful son. There was no place for her new gay friends. 

For the first year, Tammy felt very alone as an LDS mother with a gay son, even though her ward was great. Kayden’s bishop assured Kayden that he didn’t choose this, that it was part of who he was. “But at fourteen when everyone’s hormones are out of control. And you tell a young person that they can act on these feelings [not in this life] but in the next life. That just tells them that death is the only thing they can look forward to. That sets them up for suicide. Even single sisters can look forward to marriage as a possibility. The church gives hope to everyone else.” Tammy sought answers and found Affirmation (a support group for LGBT Mormons). When she attended the conference, she met many inspiring people, including Tom Christofferson (Elder Todd Christofferson’s gay brother) who has been a continual support to many in the LDS/LGBT community. It was so spiritual. She felt reassured that we just didn’t have the answers yet, but she never felt that these LGBT kids were bad. She felt stronger than ever that she was needed in the church to help make the changes, but that challenge has been greater than she ever could have imagined. Her heart would be tested again and again. 

Tom Christofferson

Becoming a Mama Dragon (Moms who fiercely defend their LGBT children) came easily to Tammy. Being a Mama Dragon sometimes meant dropping everything and attending a funeral of a young man who had committed suicide even though the funeral was four to five hours away and you didn’t know the son or the mother. Sometimes, it meant attending a funeral to support a young LGBT Mormon whose father had just died, but who had said mean things to the son before he passed on. Sometimes it meant meeting other mothers for lunch and sharing your heart with them. Sometimes it means marching in PRIDE parades. When a family member was concerned about her activism and asked her what she was doing because “homosexuality is wrong.” She answered. “I’m doing exactly as our Savior would do.” For Tammy that means that you will continue to give support whenever and wherever you are needed. It means enlarging the bubble she wanted to surround her son with to include so many others who need protection also.

It means speaking up even at the most unlikely of places. Once when Tammy was attending a basketball game, she sat down next to a mother of one of Kayden’s friends. The mother said she hadn’t seen her for a while and asked how she was doing. Tammy said, other than my life being a rainbow, great, then explained that Kayden was gay. Tammy noticed that the reaction from the woman was very negative and the woman said, “That’s a choice.” So Tammy pulled out her phone and brought up the essay 

A gay Mormon teen (age 16) writes an essay for English class

that Kayden had written and had the mother read it right there during the half-time of the game.  .After reading it, the woman had tears in her eyes and said, “I had no idea.” 

After the Affirmation conference, Tammy and her husband had an appointment for a calling in the ward. She took the opportunity to share her family’s struggle. She stressed that the ward needed to do a better job of being a safe place for her son to attend church. She was able to address the entire bishopric. “It wasn’t the youth, it was the teachers. It all kept coming back to the evil gays.”  She trained the bishopric and told them about the PR person in the ward who had access to resources and training material. The bishopric got right on it and trained the teachers. “Things had really started to change and then this policy change happened in early November of 2015. And it really deflated everything.  And now at 18, Kayden feels like the church doesn’t want him.” Just days after the talk he gave this powerful talk in church. 

Since then, it’s been extra hard. Tammy has to remind herself of the strong impression she’s received from Heavenly Father. She’s never felt like there wouldn’t be a place for her son in the Celestial Kingdom. She knew her Heavenly Father had a plan and a place for him. Even though the church doesn’t have the answers, it doesn’t mean that God doesn’t have the answers. “I still know that there is a Heavenly Father and that our Savior died for me and for Kayden. I have to hold on to that.”

But lately the heartache has been hard to bear. “I hurt so badly for Kayden, not because he's broken or deformed or has cancer.  Because I raised this perfect child in a perfect church with the perfect plan.  I had family home evenings every Monday talking about this beautiful plan. I taught him to pray to a Heavenly Father that loved him and a Savior that died for him.  I told him of all the good in the world.

And that there are answers to everything in the scriptures...

Then I see him falling apart before my eyes and I can't understand.  I see him doubt his very existence and wonder why God sent him as such a horrible, awful shameful person.  And why had we not had a family night on this?  And where is there room for him in this plan I had taught him about over and over?

I want to carry him through all of it, and knock anyone down who questions me. And I just keep taking it all on...on an unnatural personal level.  So I cry a lot.  And I feel everything.  I know they have their personal free agency...I just don't like the wrecking ball that comes at them…” 

“My hope for Kayden is that I want him to be married to a man someday. I want him to find someone. I want the same thing for all of my gay friends. I want them to have the same thing that I have—a loving family. I think we all deserve the same thing…I would tell any mother or father who is finding out that they have a gay child that they have to know how much you love them. We will have less suicides if we talk openly. Love and withhold judgment. They need to know that the Savior died for all of us.”

A Young Gay Man Speaks Out

Bloggers note: Three weeks after the controversial policy change, I'm posting the thoughts of my friend Kade Kimber. Even though the LDS church clarified some things about their policy change, they left some of the most hurtful aspects in. I won't try to defend an indefensible policy. My heart broke along with many, many of my friends' hearts who been hoping for a more inclusive church.

The following is Kade's response. 

As with many of you who are LDS or have close ties to the LDS community, these past few days have been surprising, confusing, and perhaps disappointing after it was revealed that Church policy now excludes the children of same-sex couples from participating in religious ordinances (such as naming blessings for infants and baptisms for children who are eight years old) until they are adults, leave their home, and disavow the practice of their same-sex parents' relationship. Additionally, those in same-sex marriages (or, as I like to call it, "marriage") are also now considered to be apostates. If this is the first you're hearing of this: A) you don't have many LDS friends in your news feed, and 2) you can imagine it is a lot to digest.
For those unfamiliar with the LDS Church, there is a difference between doctrine and policy. Policies are put into place to reenforce doctrine. In this case, the doctrine is that same-sex relationships are a sin; this specific policy relates back to that. While doctrine doesn't really change, as the gospel is the gospel, policies can change--and the Church has a very robust history of altering policies over time. So, it's certainly not the first time a new policy has been implemented. Some context was added when a representative of the Church conducted an interview in which he tried to explain that this policy was designed to help protect children from being taught religious beliefs that are a direct contradiction to their home life.
So, with that as background, this is what I know to be true:
1) God loves all of us. Even us gays. And any children we may have. (By "we", I mean the gay community--not me and Artis specifically. Sorry, Mom. You'll just have to be content with the two adorable, brilliant grandsons you already have...)
2) The Atonement transcends any Church policy, regardless of if it's ill-conceived or not. It all works out in the end. The interim may suck, but big-picture it's merely a blip in time.
3) This policy's existence does not make every Church member a gay-hating bigot, even if they agree with the policy as a matter of unquestioning faith and/or as a religious principle. Hurtful blanket statements about a very diverse group of people--many of whom truly love their brothers & sisters, regardless of sexuality differences--doesn't help bring peace to anyone or a troubling situation.
4) Those who don't agree with the policy are not anti-LDS, faith-lacking individuals, nor are they apostates for questioning the policy. (I find commentary and articles that state otherwise to be a bit ironic, given the fact that the Church was founded because Joseph Smith questioned what he was hearing around him. Additionally, as a general practice, anyone in or out of the Church is encouraged to question what they're hearing in order to gain their own personal testimonies. So, I'm much more troubled by those that are against others questioning this than I am by those who are most vocal about struggling with this policy.) God's a big boy. He can handle any questions or anger thrown His way. There's no need to tear down those who are already hurting in some sort of attempt to defend God or your religious beliefs. If you're solid in your beliefs, you shouldn't feel threatened by others seeking to form their own.
5) This hurts a lot of people--on both sides of the fence. You may not be one of those people. You may not even have many ties to people who are hurt. But, please don't for a second think that this doesn't hurt others. So, compassion and an extra measure of love can go a long way--and that's true in both directions.
As far as where I'm at with it... Very few of you reading this will understand what it's like to be gay and Mormon, nor do I expect you to. I don't talk about it much, but I'll just tell you it's far from easy & I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. (For those outside of the Mormon faith, it's hard to explain just how much cultural impact and personal identity is associated with one's membership in the Church. Suffice it to say, it extends far beyond religious beliefs.) I thought I'd made about as much peace with it as anyone could do and that I'd found a space in which I could comfortably exist. That peace was shattered this past week & quite frankly, I'm struggling mightily to make sense of it. I can't tell you how many times I've had to remind myself these past few days of the mantra to keep calm and carry on, as it is weighing so heavily on my mind & heart.
For me personally, this policy makes it that much harder to want to be associated with the LDS Church. From where I sit, this does not feel right, it does not feel like something Jesus would do, it does not align to how I interpret scripture (such as Matthew 19:14--which has long been a personal favorite of mine), the defense of its existence feels like a feeble attempt at justification, it certainly doesn't feel like it comes from a place of love, it feels political and not remotely inspired, it does not feel like it's protecting anyone but the Church, it feels exclusionary and like a targeted attack, and it undoes any goodwill I feel the Church was beginning to make with the gay community. (Just this past week, I was telling a friend that I was encouraged at how much progress the Church was making in regards to relations with the gay community. I take back every single one of those words.)
I fully recognize that I'm in an emotional place right now and that the hurt side of me is talking. I don't know how much my opinion will change once more time passes (it took me two days to calm down enough to even address this without completely losing it), but in the current space I'm in, I'm struggling. And I know I'm not alone. So, I would ask that you please show some compassion & regard for others' feelings when you're posting, reposting, or sharing social media content related to why this policy is such a wonderful blessing and inspired revelation. For some of us, the world isn't so black and white & we have to work extra hard to make sense of all the gray...

"She Never Chose to be Gay"

Last month, I headed down to Riverton to meet with the Mama Dragons and one of our favorite people: Robert Kirby. Kirby is an active LDS columnist, who says his favorite church calling is the nursery, "because I'd rather smell s*** than listen to it in high priests." At our lunch meeting he explained that when he first started writing about LGBT issues, he didn't really care too much about same-sex marriage, but eventually he took an official stand. He suggested we try to maintain a sense of humor while working toward equality for those we love. 

That's Kirby being smothered by Mama Dragons

One of the Mama Dragons I met at Salsa Leedos was Nancy. We had a great conversation and shed a few tears together. She is just one of many typical, yet atypical Mormon moms I've met in recent years. Her passion for her daughter to have full rights is inspiring. The following story was written by Nancy. 

Lovely

When you have four daughters you have to be ready for everything and I thought I was. I was ready for sibling rivalry, menstrual  periods at the same time, fighting over boys and much, much more. Having lived through four teenage girls I thought I'd survived the hardest part of parenthood. But nothing really prepared me for the events of the last seven years.

 I will start at the beginning.

My third daughter Megan, was born without fanfare. I had no premonitions about the kind of person she would mature to be. I did notice an extraordinary compassion in her, however. When she was only 18 months old and our fourth daughter was born, Megan's first words were "baby cute.” Unlike my two older girls, there was never any sibling rivalry between her and her younger sister.  Throughout her childhood she always seemed to befriend children that no one else would. In fact, she seemed to have a childlike innocence that lasted beyond her late puberty. She was always a faithful Latter-Day-Saint Girl. She went to BYU Idaho, the most conservative Mormon college. When she did not date I really didn't think much about it, since education then marriage was my motto. My suspicions started when she developed an extraordinary close relationship with another women she met at college. At one point her father and I made it clear we would love her unconditionally but it brought no declaration.

Then one day about a year after she graduated she was visiting this friend in Idaho. She had taken the bus up there and I was afraid she had missed it. (We had missed a collect call from her saying she was afraid she would miss the bus.) As she had no cell phone, I decided I would try to call her friend and see if she made it. I opened what I thought was her address book to find her friend's phone number. It wasn't an address book however, it was her diary. As it happened the entry I opened upon was one admitting she was gay. So began the journey.

I could never tell her I knew without telling her how I knew. I was afraid she would think I was deliberately  snooping. I could not tell any friends without violating her privacy. Forget telling anyone in our  ward, not only did I not want to violate my her privacy but I wanted no ones pity. I knew full well the church’s teachings on homosexuality. Boyd Packer had especially reiterated that gay was a choice and could be cured. Thus began the cognitive dissonance between what I was taught and what I observed to be true. The most faithful church wise of all my children I knew she never chose to be gay. I also  knew she was not an abomination, an affliction, or any adjective that would imply a defect. As the years passed and the church dug it's heels in over its opposition to gay marriage and any kind of reaching out to LGBT members, I  saw my daughter slowly drift away from us. She even talked about moving to Canada. I mistakenly attributed my deepening depression to a stressful job, but a break from working and a new job didn't fix me. I finally admitted the problem when a friend confided in me her nephew was gay. Finally not alone! 

After I confided to her, she had her sister get me into some support groups. The most influential of them was the Momma Dragon Council. The sorrow in this group was huge, many had lost their gay children to suicide. Yet the love and support I saw was more powerful than anything I seen before. They supported all gay children not just their own with the most Christ-like love I'd ever seen. All my pent up emotions, all the hurt I'd felt over church teachings were finally expressed. I was finally able to communicate love and acceptance to my daughter and finally able to rid myself of the conflict I felt over my religious teachings and full support for my daughter. What does my daughter need? She doesn't need compassion. She needs to be treated like everyone else and have all of the opportunities and obligations available to everyone, including the opportunity to choose a person to marry and spend the rest of her life with.

Passing All Understanding: A Mother's Story

Almost twenty-six years ago, I sat in a hospital bed in a maternity ward after the birth of my fourth child—my third son.  He was born on Memorial Day and the events of that day are strong in my memory.  But the clearest memory came after the delivery as I sat in my hospital bed. I wondered what his life would be like.

And as I wondered, I had a very clear impression.  I may have just thought it with all of the other questions, but it seemed more precise somehow—more than just a thought.  In that moment I knew clearly that this son would come to me one day to tell me that he was gay.  

I have never been under the delusion that gayness was a learned act, or a choice, or that it could be changed—although wouldn’t it be wonderful if enough faith could move that mountain—but I knew from my own experience, that in a person who had perfection anxiety, it can be a worry.  I wondered for a moment what I was meant to do with this information, quietly whispered to my heart, and came to the conclusion that I needed to know this so that I would be prepared to reassure him, on that future day, that it was just a worry, and that he need not fear.  

As the years went by, I put all those thoughts away somewhere in my heart, but I remembered my impression. He was the best baby I had ever seen.  He was peaceful and calm and contented, a joy and light in my own dark time of depression.  I watched him grow and become a beautiful, creative, thoughtful boy.  When you looked into his “sprite eyes” you could see an amazing, loving, trusting, deeply thinking child.  He was precise and careful.  He was so concerned with doing and being just right.

I watched his love for music and all kinds of creative pursuits. He loved to have deep, philosophical discussions.  He is intelligent and funny—full of humor with a special grasp of irony.  He has always cared deeply for the people around him.  Children, who always seem to be able to sense the goodness in people, love him and even though he essentially ignores them half the time, they hang around where he is.  I believe it is because he has a peaceful energy—spirit, if you will. But he was never happy enough with anything he did, or with his ability to do it.  He wasn’t overly confident, but was overly cautious and careful.  His greatest pursuit seemed to be to get whatever he was doing exactly right.

He seemed to have a pretty big crush on a girl in his school class when he was eleven or so, but he never dated at all and wasn’t terribly at ease around any girls but his older sister and her friends.  I never pushed him to date.  He wasn’t very comfortable with physical contact and had a bit of a germ phobia, so I wasn’t surprised.  

He didn’t have the voice inflections and physical attributes most associated with gayness.  He didn’t have any of the more feminine affectations.  He was creative and quiet and not terribly interested in sports, although he is an amazing hiker, and his eye/hand co-ordination is impressive. But I knew, by little comments and worried expressions, that he was becoming concerned with his sexuality.  I watched and waited for him to come to me with his concerns.

I will ever be grateful for the innate understanding of these things that I seemed to possess—the calm I carried and the complete lack of homophobia that I have always felt.  Every young man, and the one young woman that I knew who were gay, were among the most thoughtful, unselfish, funny and kind people I knew. I couldn’t comprehend or predict the impact that it would have on any individual and family.  But I could only see that love was the answer to any of this—to everything.  I was blessed to always see mercy and to see little necessity for meting out justice.  I was blessed to be the right mother for this son, and with the Spirit that taught me, a little at a time, to listen and feel what I needed to know and understand. 

I was so disappointed in the campaign started by meaningful members of the church to oppose gay marriage.  I just can’t understand why it matters to us.  I started to see that for most LDS people fighting for family meant fighting against gay people.  I watched as people protested the showing of Broke Back Mountain, while in the next theatre there was a horrifying movie about mass murder and torture—unimaginable cruelty—that no one seemed to even notice or be phased by.  Who are all of these people that are thinking they are being so righteous when they have completely lost the most important of godlike attributes—charity—love—the love that passes all understanding—the pure love of Christ?

                                                    ***

I was not surprised at all when the day finally came that my son tried to tell me of his fears.  He was trying to get ready to go on a mission.  He was struggling with his disappointments in his own imperfections.  He didn’t think he was worthy to go, and I knew that much of it was because of his concerns about sexual feelings.  But I waited and he finally came to talk with me.  

This is another clear memory.  I was calm.  I felt reassured and I tried to reassure him.  I told him what I had always planned to tell him—that he is not the only person to have ever worried if he was gay, but that it didn’t necessarily mean he was—that it didn’t mean he wasn’t.  I watched the tears drip from his nose, into his hands.  I told him I knew a few things for sure—that I loved him and that he was loved by a Heavenly Father whose love would never change for him whether he went on a mission or not, whether he got married or not.  I think it helped in those moments, and for a while, but the path was just beginning to unwind before him.  I hoped that my hopes for him were true—that he would realize that it was just part of his perfection anxiety and that his wouldn’t be that most difficult path.  But I watched, and I knew.

When he was around twenty-two, he asked me once when he would have to get married.  I told him that both my dad and brother didn’t marry until they were twenty-eight so not to even worry about it until then.  The look of relief on his face was almost comical—the feeling of relief was palpable.  Later, he asked me several times if it would be fair to marry a girl if you couldn’t love her completely.  I knew what he was asking, and I was surprised to hear myself tell him that it definitely would not be the right thing to do. Everyone deserves a chance to be loved completely.  It would not work out well in the end.  I had seen it before and it was not best for anyone involved.  

Why wasn’t I telling him that it would work—that you just had to trust—that you would learn to love each other enough—that it would be the right thing to do?  Wasn’t that what I had heard long ago was the solution—the cure?  I wanted to know something different.  I wanted to be absolutely sure that the religion I love and the understanding I had about my son, and all of these sons and daughters, were in line with each other.  I wanted to know all of the answers, but the only answer there really was, and is, that saves families and people, is love.  Love this child.  Love these people, and those people, and make sure that everyone knows that there is a place for them—that they are loved.

That was it.  That was what I knew—what I know.

Two Christmases ago, Utah was all ablaze with the gay marriage fight.  At our house, my oldest son was particularly vocal in its condemnation. I tried to steer the conversation away, but it would constantly be brought back.  I knew my oldest son loved his younger brother, but he had no idea.  Everyone but my husband and I, and his older sister closest to him, just thought that he was shy, anxious and O.C.D.  

The day after Christmas I was so anxious for him.  He was depressed and withdrawn.  I knew, had always known, and still wished for denial, but he asked if he could speak with his dad and me.  So, in the quiet of our bedroom, after years of prayers and tears and anguish, my son finally let himself say out loud to me and to his dad that he was not like all of the lucky people in his family, who could—with the blessings of heaven—find a mate, have beautiful children, enjoy all of the blessings of the temple, believe in God and still be happy with themselves, repent of small or serious sins and still have the hope of every good desire being someday met.  He is gay.  He has become labeled and put in a very small box.  

The thought of all of these things was becoming well beyond bearable for him.  He was in complete despair.  But maybe because I had never voiced all of the negative notions, or preached a different line than love, he chose to come to me and to his dad at the bleakest moment and ask for our love and acceptance and help.  

I could have gone to wake him the next morning to come and join the family, and found him, and found the note telling me that he had given up, but instead I watched him as the tears dripped from his nose, and listened and prayed for the right words to say.  I heard my black-and-white-world husband tell his son how much he loved him and stop before he said too much.  I watched them hug each other.  I cried with him and felt the Spirit as strong as I have ever known witness to me that he was known and loved and in God’s watchful care. 

One at a time, throughout the next year, he told each of his siblings.  There was some surprise, but not a single bad reaction or unkind word—only love and support.  He was employed by my second son, who one day insisted to know what was wrong.  When he was told, he simply asked why my son hadn’t told him sooner and then went back to work.  A few minutes later he came back to reassure his younger brother that they would always be friends.

My oldest son and his sweet wife continued to invite him to dinner and her family get-togethers for holidays and birthdays.  Then, when his loneliness and anxiety were overwhelming him again, I told him to go see them and get a hug from his little nephew who absolutely adores him.  While he was there that night, he asked if he could move in and rent the room in their basement, and they invited him without hesitation and with open arms. 

We are all still puzzled by how this all works in our world.  I cry sometimes and tell God how ridiculous this all is—that I am angry—that I don’t want to lose Him—that I won’t lose my son.  

One day the words came to my mind—hold on to your faith, it will be the only thing he has sometimes.  He is not believing in the God I love right now—which is completely understandable.  But I told him, that day after Christmas, that when the darkness comes and he despairs again, to promise me that he will pray before he makes any decisions—that he will call me or dad, that he will trust our love—that he will chose the light, or if he can no longer see even a spark, that he will ask someone to help him see some light again.

It is the Savior’s light.  He loves my son.  He has suffered his anguish.  It doesn’t make sense to me now, but I know enough to know that there are more answers than are given to us in the simple parts of the gospel.  We are given more as we utilize what we have.  And what we have is this commandment:

“Wherefore, … pray with all of the energy of your heart that ye may be filled with this love, which he hath bestowed upon all who are true followers of his Son, Jesus Christ; that ye may become the sons (and daughters) of God; that when He shall appear we shall be like Him, for we shall see him as he is; that we may have this hope; that we may be purified even as he is pure.”  (Moroni 7:48)

This isn’t talking about praying for all of these things separately.  These things come to you if you have charity—the pure love of Christ.  You cannot have more knowledge, you can’t be like God, you can’t be purified, or have real hope without love.  Because without charity you are nothing.

“But whoso shall offend one of these little ones …, it were better for him that a millstone be hanged about his neck and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.”(Matt 18:6)

My son is one of these little ones.  There are those that, in the name of all that is good, would harm him — would say the words that would offend him — that make him uncomfortable before the table of God, that choose to teach him to despise himself, even though he, too, is a child of God.  

But charity never fails, and it will be well with you if you are possessed of it when someone’s son needs a kind word, and a loving touch from you.

Adults Bullying Adults

Because I'm involved with a few different LGBT ally groups, I've heard lots of heartbreaking stories in the last year. Here's a list of just some of insensitive remarks adults have said to other adults. In some cases I've changed the scene somewhat to protect the identity, but I've matched the intent.

Said to a mother of a gay son by one of her friends. "How does it feel to lose your child to sin?"

Said to a gay man at a store by a three adult LDS men. "Ew, don't get too close you might get HIV."

As a married gay couple ate at a fast food restaurant, the family next to them mocked, discussed, and made fun of them.

A server at a restaurant in Utah refused to wait on a gay couple.

A mother was told by a relative that she shouldn't allow her Lesbian daughter to be on the temple grounds to greet the bride, who was her sister, when she emerged from the temple.

Another faithful LDS mother was criticized by a sister she served with in a primary presidency for supporting her gay son's engagement party.

A fully active woman was released from her church calling for posting positive things about the LGBT community on facebook.

Another mother of a gay child overheard sisters in her ward talking about her in unkind ways because of her support of her child.

Bullying isn't just a kids problem. Bullies can be the co-worker at the office, the stranger on a bus, the church leader, the sister in the gospel, the neighbor, or even the couple with young children in the booth next to you. Sometimes bullying isn't as overt as the above scenes. Sometimes it comes in the form of well-meaning but ignorant remarks. It might be from a leader who calls the young person into his church office because he loves him only to scold him for not getting his mission papers in. Maybe its the parent who tells another parent that they are praying for their "lost child." Maybe it's someone encouraging another to "avoid their sinful lifestyle," without realizing the irony of judging another's path. I can't imagine what it would be like if people thought they had the right to discuss the morality of my marriage to my husband. I take it for granted when I walk into a public place with my husband that no one will tell me we don't have the right to love each other. I'm amazed at the strength of the gay couples I know. I'm inspired by mothers of gay kids who don't lose hope, who remain faithful to their convictions with never-ending and unconditional support to their children. It is my privilege to share in a small way the journey of some of the best people I know.

"I've Lost Track How Many Times My Son Has Attempted Suicide"

Update: Since this post was published in Dec. 2013, Mikey has passed away. I don't know the details of his tragic death, but in his honor, I'm reposting this piece.

I'm Carole T. Warburton. I'm the author of this blog. I am not gay, nor do I have any close family members who are, but I'm very interested in creating a dialogue to increase understanding. I'm so grateful to the people who have opened their hearts to share personal stories with the desire to increase understanding about our LGBT children, brothers, sisters, and friends. This week I talked with a friend, Shelly, about her wonderful son, Mikey.          

The following is written by Shelley, as told to Carole. 

Our son, Mikey, said he knew he was gay when he was ten. When he was 18, he left a voice message before leaving home. That's how we found out. He’s now 25, and I’ve lost track of how many times he’s attempted suicide. If he really wanted to be dead, he’d be dead. But three or four years ago we almost lost him.  Someone dropped him to Logan Regional Hospital after he'd been drinking or doing drugs. They’d admitted him and he aspirated during the night. So the hospital called me around six in the morning and said, you need to get up here. And I didn’t even know he was in the hospital. When I got there his body had shut down, and then he went into cardiac arrest. He didn’t have a heart beat for seven minutes. It was in January and life flight couldn’t land because of the weather. So they brought a team up from Salt Lake. Even though the roads were really bad they took him to Salt Lake where he was on a respirator for probably five days. He spent a week in the Intensive Care Unit. He recovered but still has lung damage from it. He gets sick really easy. And he’s gone into septic shock a couple of times.

We’ve had a hundred prayers answered. His life has always been up, down, up down. Maybe if he’d been able to accept who he was, he might not have gone down that self-destructive road. He was always fighting with himself and was a defiant, angry and unhappy child. Now I know why, but we didn’t know. I wish we'd known. Even though, he was teased in school, he didn’t tell me. I was supposed to be his protector and he protected me. We had him in therapy as a young teenager. But because of the confidentiality, the therapist couldn’t tell us very much. It’s taken a long time, but for the most part now he’s stable and happy. It’s on a daily basis though, and can be rocked anytime. He’s had a partner for about three years now. They have their ups and downs, just like any other couple, but we just want them to be happy. Mikey has a heart of gold. He’s very caring and compassionate.  He has a tender spot for the elderly and loves to do random acts of kindness. He never hangs the phone up with me without saying he loves me.  He is a very good cook and loves to try new things.  All the cousins just love him and want Mikey to come play and come to all the family parties. My family has been a great support too. 

When I first found out though, I was just devastated. I had been taught that being gay was wrong and that it was a choice. But Mikey said to me, “Mom, do you think I would choose this? Do you think it’s been an easy go? Do you think it was fun in school?” It took me a couple of years to come to terms with it. Now I just hope others would educate themselves. The good ol’ Mormon families that sit in church every week can be the cruelest. I have a lot of resentment about that. People can be mean. People have been mean, not just to Mikey, but to our other two children. Sometime, I want to teach a Sunday school class and just lay it all out. Teach people. We don’t really know for sure what God’s plan is. And sometime science will prove this world wrong, and they already have. It’s not a choice. Sometimes you hear stuff in church that hurts. Sometimes people claim they don’t judge, but then they stab you in the back the first chance they get. I’ve become very protective of myself and my family. I keep to myself a lot. I don’t want to put a lot out there just for people to judge and make fun of. I wish church members would be more Christ-like and not judge. I guarantee you there’s not a person in this world who thought they would have a gay son or daughter. But I also think education starts in the home. Parents need to teach  their kids.

Some church members and leaders have been helpful. I visited with our stake president (when she found out) I was so distraught. I couldn’t deal with anything. I didn’t know where to turn, so I went to talk to him. He just looked at me and he said. You’re not alone. And he said, All you do is love, love, love, love. He said, You’d be surprised, there isn’t one person in your ward, or any ward that is not affected by a gay relative.  Don’t let people tell you different. I guarantee there is someone in every family who is gay. That was very positive for me. He didn’t say, come in and let me meet with your son, I’ve got to talk to him. He just told me love, love, love. And I was just like OK, that’s all I need to do. Another woman said to me. Your wants and dreams are not his wants and dreams. I wanted him to have a wife and kids. I was devastated that he wasn’t going to give me any grandkids. I think for a person just finding out that their child is gay, you have to give it time. It’s sad to say, but it’s almost like mourning a person’s death. You have to grieve all those emotions in order to move on and work through it. Eventually it’s going to be ok. And knowing that in the end you still have your son (or daughter) that you can hug at the end of the day—that’s important. Because we almost lost our son. But when you stop and look back at the picture. Ok, these were my dreams and my wishes. Now turn it around and make your dreams and wishes ones are possible for them. Dream that they find a good partner. Wish them happiness.

Our bishop now is a wonderful guy. He’s always very concerned and asks how Mikey is doing. We appreciate that. Last Mother’s Day, we went to church and took Mikey and his partner. His partner has a niece and a nephew that I just love. I treat them like my grandkids. So we sat in church with these two little kids and our whole family. The bishop came up and talked to them. Mikey and his partner met the bishop. He greeted them. I couldn’t believe we did it, but afterward, I was so proud of myself. I deserve to sit in church on Mother’s Day, or any other day with my family, just like anyone else. I wasn’t even uncomfortable. But I could tell people were staring. I said, well I just wanted to make sure everyone had something to talk about come Monday morning on the Paradise hotline.

Even though there is a lot of judgment and misunderstanding, especially in such a small town, there are also some good families who have been kind and invited us all over for dinner. But some leaders haven’t been as wonderful as our current bishop. One bishop kept coming overm sure he could change Mikey. I didn’t understand that. And then recently Mikey called really upset and said his bishop in Logan sent the missionaries over to their house and one asked, “Do you have a problem with same-sex attraction?” The first thing Mikey wanted to do was have his name removed from the church. But I asked him to let it go. The missionaries were just doing what they were told. But why would he do that? I get really frustrated with that. I think there should be a place in the church for the gays, and for my son.

My faith has changed. It’s hard for me to have faith in the church. I pray a lot. I have a relationship with God. I know he answers prayers. I don’t know why my son is gay, but I know he created him to be who his is, just like he created me. In a lot of ways, I am a better person now. God creates a lot of different people. I think we should be more loving, caring, and be more accepting. It’s just like our former stake president said, love, love love. I can do that.

Meet Kade Kimber: "God Wasn't Going to Bargain With Me, No Matter How Many Times I Begged."

Blogger's Note: Last week, I posted Kade's mother's story. This week, I'm featuring Kade's story. This is part 1. Kade has a great sense of humor, so it's easy to forget that before he came to terms with who God created him to be, he was in a lot of misery. So many of these stories share some heartbreaking similarities: shame, denial, pain, self-loathing, anger, bargaining, and finally accepting and affirmation. It's my hope that by sharing these stories, our LGBT friends and family members can come to a place of self-love and peace before damage leads to despair, and so often self-destructive behavior and/or suicide. It's my sincere prayer that those who love someone who is gay can help create a healthy and safe environment for all to thrive. We are all in this together. We need to stop shaming and start affirming. 

By Kade Kimber 

Kade is in the striped shirt and red pants. This is about 1/3 of the whole school population

Like almost anyone who identifies themselves as gay, I knew very early on that I was different. The problem was that--again, like most gay people--I REALLLLLLLY didn't want to be.

Growing up in a very small ranching community in rural Utah is not an easy life; spending your childhood feeling like you're more tolerated by people than accepted as being no different from your peers--well, that's REALLY not an easy life. But, that is how my formative years were spent: knowing I was different, knowing others knew I was different--and yet, somehow fooling myself into thinking that I was hiding it & just imagining things whenever I felt people looked at me differently than others.

But, as the years went on and my family moved to a larger community, it became harder & harder to believe that I was imagining things. My classmates would make little comments here and there, name calling ensued (and continued through high school), and part of me was 100% miserable. Yet, the other part of me wanted to believe that if I just did X [prayed harder, fasted harder, worked harder at it, got more involved in church, etc.], then it would all be fixed and I'd be "normal" (whatever that is).

That belief continued long after it probably should have--I was a returned missionary in my 20s when I finally started accepting that my faith and any religious activity was not going to save me from the inevitable. It was clear that God wasn't going to bargain with me, no matter how many times I begged for that from the very depths of my soul. My prayers had evolved from pleading for these unwanted feelings to be taken away, to simply wanting my life to be taken away. Clearly, I was broken and no amount of fasting or prayer would fix that. However, I decided a Mack truck, a freak accident, or a heart aneurysm would. So, I started hoping and praying for that. Non-stop. In fact, it was all-consuming. I think my reasoning was that I knew I wouldn't do anything to hurt myself (though if things hadn't changed, I'm not sure how long that would've been the case), so the next best thing was for the Lord to end my misery. It truly made sense at the time.

I had done everything I was supposed to do--I'd served an honorable mission, I went to the temple regularly, I was heavily involved in church--and yet, no matter what I did, these feelings persisted. I foolishly thought they'd 100% stop once I was a missionary; after all, missionaries don't have those kinds of thoughts, right? I laugh at the idea of it now, but at the time I truly believed that once I was set apart as a missionary some sort of holy cloud, if you will, would come over me and my thoughts would be completely spiritual. (Obviously, I'd never spent any length of time around missionaries or else I'd have known better & not be so devastated when I did learn this idea was not even close to reality.) The fact this didn't happen was not only disappointing, but stressful. I spent a lot of my mission feeling like a failure, despite what looked like a successful mission on paper. There were a large number of baptisms, leadership role after leadership role, and great relationships built along the way. But yet, I felt like some sort of fraud for not being able to keep my overly human thoughts at bay.

I went on my mission because I knew it was what I needed to do--not because it was expected of me. I didn't go until about a year and a half after I was eligible to do so because I'd never planned on going on a mission. But, once the pressure was taken off of me (I think people gave up on me and wrote me off as a lost cause when my 20th birthday came along and I was still at home in college), I was able to really seek out answers. I not only gained a testimony, but then I knew I couldn't not go on a mission. I was so excited for it, and to this day I consider it a great honor that I was able to serve. That doesn't mean it was any easier when I got on my mission and realized I was still human. And, not only that, but so were the other missionaries. Some did better at others at masking their disdain over a person whom they saw as a closeted gay missionary, but even then it wasn't a big secret that comments were made. One companion in particular was so horrible that I went into a deep depression that took a long time to emerge from. Trying to do the Lord's work alongside someone who has called you a "fag" and "queer" isn't an easy task. But, I got through it. And, despite the challenges, still had an enjoyable time overall.

But, now that I was back home and still struggling, I finally decided that I needed to get help. I spoke to my bishop, who actually laughed when I told him I was afraid I was gay. He wasn't laughing at me; he was laughing at the idea of it. There's no way I was gay, he said. Me--the recently returned missionary who was traveling throughout the stake to give talk after talk at the request of the stake presidency who, for some reason, thought that of all people I had some ability to connect with congregations & enlighten them spiritually. It just wasn't possible. He said that almost every guy is curious at one point or another, so that must just be it. But, I knew that wasn't it. I was very frustrated that, while my bishop gave a loving attempt at reassurance, I still had no answers. I'd opened myself up to him more than I ever had anyone else, and yet--no answers.

I'd always been scared to really open up to Church leaders about this very awful, horrible thing that was inside me that, in my eyes, made me an equally awful and horrible human being. In fact, years and years before that while I was in high school, I even tried to get help anonymously. I had a friend whose dad was a bishop; they lived across town and I'd never actually met his dad, so I knew he would have no idea who I was. Caller ID had just been developed, however, so I had to be careful about my approach. I waited until I was dog sitting and then called this random bishop from the house where I was staying with the dogs. I told him that he didn't know me, but that I had heard he's a bishop and thought he may be able to help. I told him that I had a friend who was afraid he was gay and I didn't know how to help him. The bishop said, "Kevin, is that you?" I told him it wasn't and then I hung up. While it wasn't much help from a religious perspective, it was the first time I had ever felt that I wasn't alone. Somewhere out there, someone named Kevin was most likely dealing with some of what I felt. While of some comfort, it still didn't solve my problems.

So, years later, when I opened up directly to my own bishop who knew me, it felt like the bravest thing I'd ever done. And yet, from his reaction I couldn't help but wonder if I'd somehow made a mistake. I mean, all I got from it is that my bishop didn't take my concerns as seriously as I had needed him to. And that's when I decided to take matters into my own hands.

This interaction with my bishop occurred a few months after returning from my mission. I had also started back at college during this time. The university, of course, had counseling available. I thought that perhaps that could be a good start for me. I had gotten to where I was getting worn out by it all--the non-stop battle within myself to be anything but gay. I made the appointment and went to the counseling session, feeling like a freak the entire time I sat in that waiting room. I told the counselor my concerns. She said, "What's the worst that would happen if you're gay?" I said, "My life would be over." I wasn't being overly dramatic; I truly believed my life would be over. There was absolutely no way that my life could go on if I were gay. I look back and realize I felt that way because I didn't remotely love myself and couldn't figure out how it was then possible for anyone else to love me. Coming out would make this a reality with which I couldn't fathom coping, whereas keeping the secret to myself allowed me to continue under the disillusion of thinking that people loved me. I left feeling even more desperate, isolated, and hopeless, but then I determined that she clearly could not have been LDS if she were as accepting as she was of the idea of being gay. (Of course, I think quite differently now, but that was my reasoning at the time.)

Thus started my series of counselor shopping. I called LDS Family Services and got a list of LDS counselors that accepted my insurance plan. I honestly don't know how many I went to, but each of them failed to "fix" me. After going this exhausting route for some time and not getting anywhere, I found one counselor that seemed to be understanding of my plight. He assured me I could get these feelings completely under control, have my full membership in the Church, and even get married and have a family--something I had come to doubt was even possible for me. Unfortunately, however, no matter how many pamphlets, Church talks, psychology articles, etc., I read (and carefully hid from everyone around me, as not a single soul knew I was in counseling at the time), my feelings hadn't changed. I was again without hope. And I decided that counseling was not the right plan. I had to come up with something better. What, I did not know--but there had to be something.

I continued to live this way for a few more years before the opportunity arose for me to move back to where I'd served my mission. I had fallen in love with the area and wanted to be there again. Plus, I figured I could get residency to lower law school tuition. It was perfect. Scary and exciting, but also perfect. So, I moved and got settled. For the first year, I just worked and spent time at my apartment. My roommate worked all the time and was going to school, too, so it was the perfect arrangement. I basically had the place to myself.

At the time (in 2006), single wards were still in existence and I was excited to get involved in mine. I had had such a wonderful experience with my singles ward in Utah and had made great friends there--and even had dated a few girls from the ward, too. I was sorely disappointed to find that with the exception of exactly two people, no one in my new singles ward would talk to me. No one. I was living in a new place with so much promise--and yet, I had no friends around me. It was one of the loneliest times of my life. The only thing that helped keep my mind off my self-loathing was the fact it was such a mental thrill to move to a new place and start a new life. But, that thrill quickly wore off.

I was so poor at the time and finally saved up enough money to buy a small TV, as I'd left my other TV in Utah. I remember being so excited to have some sort of a distraction from my thoughts. Sure, I couldn't afford cable, but I could afford Netflix. So, I sat in my apartment and watched DVD after DVD...all the while thinking about how much I didn't want to be gay, how no one seemed to get me, how disconnected I was from any sense of community at church, and how I just couldn't do it much longer. Clearly, the TV wasn't as big of a distraction as I'd hoped. During this time of tremendous self-pity, my prayers for change were as strong as ever. But then something happened. I don't know what, exactly, but whatever it was forever changed my life.

Maybe I was just tired. Maybe my soul had had enough. I don't know. But, what I do know is that one night I decided to--for the first time ever--say aloud, "I'm gay." I should preface this by saying that for me, answers to prayers have always come from me making a decision and saying that decision aloud. If it felt right, then I knew I had my answer. If I felt butterflies in my stomach, I knew it wasn't right. That night (December 2, 2006), I immediately knew my answer the second the words escaped my lips. And it scared me to no end. But, I decided it was time to reach out to those whom I love and I just hoped I wasn't making a mistake.

Kade and Brenda

I called my mom first. After fumbling for the right words, which is never really a problem for me, Mom said, "Honey, just say it. Tell me what you're trying to say." I said, "Mom, I think I might be bi." Saying I thought I might be bi, rather than just saying I was sure I was gay, was as far out of my comfort zone as I could go at the time. Since then, I've learned that this is VERY common for those first coming out of the closet. It was a first step, anyway, so that was something. My mom replied with, "Honey, what took you so long? I've known since you were little. Your aunt, grandma, and I used to talk about it when you were young and I've just been waiting for you to come to me in your own time. I just didn't think it would take this long. But, it doesn't matter to me if you're bi or gay. All I want for any of you kids is to have you be happy and healthy. You're the same exact Kade I loved five seconds ago and that will never change. So, can we just accept this and get on with life so that you can now be happy?"

It was such a relief--of epic proportions, in fact. Though on one hand I was admittedly a little angry that my mom knew the whole time and didn't say anything, I also knew that I'd have shut down immediately and gotten defensive if she'd have approached me about it. She truly did know best and allowed me to come to the realization on my own, and she was there to support me when I did. I couldn't have asked for anything better. Similar scenarios played out with the five other people I told over that night and the next--my two big sisters, my two best friends from childhood, and a close friend who happened to be someone I baptized while on my mission. They were all equally as supportive and I feel so blessed to have had that kind of coming out experience.