$21 of Forgetting

I apologize to anyone who is here looking for discussion on being gay and Mormon.  My last blog post spread much more than I ever expected and that might be what has brought you to this usually rather mundane blog.  While I occasionally write serious posts, most of my posts are just about funny things that happen to me and I write them for my friends.  You can find my posts about being gay here, here, here, and here.  This post, like most of the things going on in my life, has nothing to do with being gay.  

So back to the status quo. 

Anyone who knows my mother would tell you that she's an angel.  But she also has quite the knack for forgetting things.  Last summer when I was in Washington visiting my family I went to the mall with her and my sister.  We stopped by the GAP for a few minutes and I found a hoodie that I really liked (I have a thing for hoodies).  I considered buying it, but not only was it summer, but I would soon be heading back to Arizona where summer goes on forever so my sensible side came out and I decided not to buy it.  However, my mom had recently learned something that rich parents have known for decades--buying your kids things makes them happy.  She said, "How about I buy it for you and then give it to you for Christmas?"  I accepted and the hoodie was purchased and stowed in a closet.

In November my mom called to discuss what I wanted for Christmas.  I told her that she had already bought me a hoodie.  She had no recollection of the incident.  She then tore the house apart looking for the elusive hoodie, but it was nowhere to be found.  She was incredibly apologetic and offered to buy me a replacement hoodie, but so much time had passed that I didn't even remember what it had looked like so told her to stop looking for it.  I got a Camelbak for Christmas instead.  A few months after Christmas she randomly found the hoodie hidden in her closet.  My mom just gave me the hoodie last week, one year after she bought it. 

My "new" hoodie a year after my mom bought it

 And here's one more case of forgetting (and just not paying enough attention). 

Last Tuesday I was flying from Tucson to Seattle.  During my three hour layover in San Diego I was glued to my phone responding to messages about my latest blog post.  Most of my blog posts get fewer than 200 hits so I wasn't expecting such an immediate response.  Because my eyes were so locked to my screen I boarded my plane without reading any signs or hearing any announcements (I know, I'm such a millenial). 

I thought my flight was a direct flight to Seattle, but after we'd been in the air for about an hour the pilot announced that we were starting our descent.  I looked out the window and I didn't see the verdant forests of western Washington below and the trip hadn't seemed nearly long enough.  A flight attendant walked by me just then so I said, "Excuse me, where is this plane going?"  She gave me a rather quizzical look that seemed to say, "How could you not know where the plane you're on is going especially since you had the nerve the ask for a whole can of cranapple juice earlier?"  She smiled and said, "We're landing in Oakland."  She started to walk away and I stopped her again, "Um, is it going to Seattle next?"  She once again looked surprised to be answering a question that I should have already known the answer to and said yes. 

When I landed in Oakland I called my parents.  They had told me that they were going to take me out to dinner, but that seemed like a hassle so I told my mom that she could just bring me something simple from home like fruit or a sandwich.  She replied, "Well, umm, okay... That might be hard to do."  I asked why and then I heard my dad say in the background, "Just tell him."  My flight was scheduled to land in Seattle at 9:20pm.  I had sent my itinerary to my parents weeks before so they should've known when I was arriving.  But for some reason they thought I was getting in at 5:00pm.  Trying to beat the traffic through Seattle they left really early and had gotten to the airport before 4:00.  My mom admitted, "We're already at the airport." 

To add insult to injury my flight arrived to Seattle about 20 minutes late.  As soon as I saw my parents I apologized that they had had to wait for me at the airport for so long.  They didn't want me to feel bad so they just smiled and laughed it off.  My dad did say, however, "I thought it was so weird that you were arriving at 5:00 because that's when traffic is the worst and you always plan your flights so we won't have to deal with traffic."  It's true, that's exactly what I do.  I'm a pretty considerate son.

I offered to pay for my parents' parking at the airport, but they wouldn't hear of it.  The charge for parking at the Sea-Tac airport for 6 1/2 hours: $21.00.  That's the price of forgetting.  

A Walk in My Shoes

If you go back to my very first post in 2008 you'll see that I originally started this blog for my friend Joleen.  I was moving away from Utah and she was bummed that she wouldn't get to hear my stories anymore so she said I should write a blog about the funny things that happened to me.  I often still have Joleen in mind when I write a post.

On Saturday I got a text from Joleen that said: "I've been waiting for a blog post from you about yesterday's Supreme Court rulings... is there one in the works?"  I told her that I wasn't planning on writing anything because so many people were sharing opinions and I wasn't feeling compelled to add my two cents to the growing sea of opinions.  She also asked if people had been asking me what I thought and no one had (which legitimately surprised me).  So she asked me what I felt about the ruling and I sent her what I had written in my journal on Friday night.

Now that a few days have passed I feel compelled to write something.  And so, Joleen, here's what I think about the Supreme Court's ruling last Friday.

On Friday I had a lot of trouble figuring out how I felt.  A lot of people said they felt so happy they cried.  I didn't feel that.  A lot of people were angry and worried.  I didn't feel that.  I did, however, feel happy for the people who can now marry the person they love.  I felt happy for the two men in their eighties in Texas who have been together for more than 50 years who got married on Friday.  I felt like marriage equality was inevitable and so I wasn't too surprised or shocked or moved.  Frankly, I was surprised by how little I was emotionally affected by the news.

I think the reason I felt so few emotions is that the ruling doesn't affect me personally.  The three states I've lived in already recognized same-sex marriages (one by popular vote and two through judicial rulings) so I could have already gotten married to a man.  And then over the weekend I kept reading Facebook posts and blogs and news stories and I finally felt something personal.  I felt sad.  And it was my friends and fellow Mormons who made me feel that way.

Dianna and I at Costco buying food for a
church activity.  At this moment neither
of us was aware that I would be coming
out to her in a few hours.

A few months ago I went to a conference in Mesa for gay Mormons.  I told my friend Dianna I was going and before I could invite her she said, "I want to go.  Can I go with you?"  I wanted to reach out and hug her in that moment.  Not only did she want to support me, but she wanted to understand what it was like to be me.  While we were at the conference listening to presentations she would lean over to me and ask, "Did you feel like that?" and I'd say, "Oh yeah."  A few minutes later, "Can you relate to what he's saying?"  "For sure."  On the way home she cried in the car briefly.  It was one of those rare times when instead of making me feel awkward the tears felt like a gift.  She said that she loves the church and its doctrines and that she supports our leaders who teach us of the eternal importance of marriage between a man and a woman.  But she also said that she cares about me and just wishes that I could marry who I wanted to marry.  I don't expect Dianna to support same-sex marriage.  In fact, I'm sure that she's a staunch supporter of traditional marriage and I'm totally cool with that.  But what I love about Dianna is that she cared about me enough to walk in my shoes and really try to understand what it's like to be gay and Mormon.  Precious few people in my life have done that and I'm so grateful for the ones who have.  Dianna earned my love and respect that day and to me she is an exemplary latter-day saint.  I wish more of my LDS friends were like her.

As I read comment after comment on Facebook I just kept thinking, "They don't get it.  They don't understand what it's like to be gay."  I feel like too often we defend our church and our doctrines (which we most definitely should do), but forget to reach out to the people who are affected by them.  So let me tell you what it's like to be gay and Mormon.

As a gay Mormon I have four options:
1. I can marry a woman
2. I can stay single and celibate
3. I could get a gay Mormon boyfriend and have a platonic, nonsexual relationship
4. I could leave the church and marry someone I'm attracted to

I have seriously considered each of these options.  I've been on dates with dozens of women including 27 blind dates (it'd be difficult to find someone who's tried harder than I have to get married).  I've considered leaving the church a number of times.  I also went on a date with a nice gay Mormon boy, but that just didn't feel like the right thing to do either.  It's a terrible predicament that we gay Mormons are in.  We love the church and we want to stay, but we also long for a committed relationship with someone we're in love with and attracted to.  It's a heart wrenching Sophie's choice as we struggle to decide which of the two things to give up--romantic love or our faith.  For me, the church is just too important.  I believe it too much to leave.  Being Mormon is who I am and I feel that by choosing to remain active in the church I am being my authentic self.  So I'm sticking with option two.

I've heard a lot of people say, "Choosing to be single and celibate isn't that bad.  It's just like any of the single women in the church who have never gotten married."  But it is not the same at all.  A single woman can get on her knees every night and plead with Heavenly Father to send her a righteous husband.  And if she ever did get married her congregation would throw the biggest celebration for her.  What about me?  What am I supposed to pray for?  What are the gay members of the church supposed to hope for?  Am I supposed to pray to not be gay?  I did that for years and years.  I eventually stopped praying for that and prayed that God would just help me find one girl, just one girl that I could love.  And that led to me feeling uncomfortable and making a few girls cry.  I have not been actively dating for the last two years.  You can tell me that I gave up too easily, that I should have had more faith, that I should keep trying, but I have felt so much happier these last two years.  I have felt so much more like me.  And I have no doubt that I'm living my life in a way that is pleasing to my Heavenly Parents.

I read a number of comments on Facebook that said things like, "There's just so much we don't understand about this issue."  That annoyed me a little.  It's okay to not understand everything, but we must be actively seeking to understand as much as we can.  In my coming out post I shared an essay I wrote about bearing one another's burdens.  We need to understand what others are going through instead of flippantly disregarding what they're experiencing as an incomprehensible mystery.  Talk to people!  Carry their load!  Walk in their shoes!  Learn what if feels like to be divorced, or have a miscarriage, or to come over from a mission early, or have a mental illness, or have a wayward child.  The Lord defines Zion as a people that is of one heart (Moses 7:18).  To me, being of one heart means that we empathize with everyone and strive to feel what they feel.

What would you do if you were me?  What would you hope for?  How would you cope with being a member of a church that teaches that marriage between a man and a woman is eternally essential and knowing that you just can't live that teaching?  Would you leave the church?  That's what more than half of our gay members do.  And I can totally empathize with that decision.

Here's how I handle being gay and Mormon.  Earlier I said that I chose option two, but the truth is that I really choose secret option five.  I see five possibilities.  The last path is one that I can't define and that I'm not even aware of.  Paul wrote: "Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for them that love him" (1 Cor 2:9).  And Joseph Smith wrote: "Ye cannot behold with your natural eyes, for the present time, the design of your God concerning those things which shall come hereafter, and the glory which shall follow after much tribulation" (D&C 58:3).  To me it is clear.  We just cannot conceive of what is to come with our natural eyes.  My life is a testament of this.  The best things that happen to me are things that I never could have predicted or planned whether it be my current living situation, random awesome jobs, sudden trips abroad or unexpected friends.  I could share dozens of stories of things miraculously working out and working out in completely unexpected and perfect ways.

Paul continues in the next verses to teach that while our natural senses can't understand these things that God makes them known to us through His Spirit.  Now, I'm not going to claim any great revelations, but I have felt time and time again that remaining an active participant in the church is the right thing for me.  And even though I live alone and eat dinner by myself most nights, I feel so much joy and happiness.  My life is good.  It is really good.  It's not the kind of life that I was taught to want, but it's the life I have and it's good.

I have an assurance that really great things are going to happen to me in my life.  Things that I can't even imagine.  I have a conviction that if I stay true to the principles that I believe that all will be well.  I know that great things are coming because so many great things have already come.  I try to live my life according to this verse penned by Joseph Smith: "Let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to the see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed" (D&C 123:17).

If you walked in my shoes for a day you would see me eat my meals alone.  You would see me text and call people that I care about.  You would see me listen to podcasts to keep me company.  You would see me turn on music and dance while I put my dishes away.  You would see me go to work and then spend time with friends in the evening.  And you would see me come home alone and sit on my futon in silence.  And even though I spent my entire day with other people, you would watch me feel sad that I was alone in my house.  Then I'd pull out my scriptures and read a chapter or two and then sit and think about something that touched me.  And then I'd sit on my bed and write in my journal and shed a tear or two as I write about how good my life is and how blessed I am.  And I would mean every word.  Then I'd slide off my bed and kneel on the floor and thank Heavenly Father for all the good things in my life.  And you would watch me plead with Him that He would send us further light and knowledge and create more of a place for me and other gay Mormons in His church.

This is the reaction that I had last Friday.  I wished that more people would walk in my shoes.

Summer Camp for Spanish Teachers

This year I was invited to attend the AP reading in Cincinnati, Ohio.  More than 1,000 Spanish teachers from around the country and I converged on downtown Cincinnati for one week to grade Spanish AP tests.  It was a lot of work!

Downtown Cincinnati from the Kentucky side of the Ohio River

 I realized very quickly that the AP reading is basically like summer camp.  This was my first year, but many of the people who attended have been coming for years and they have very good friends who they only see once a year at the reading.  I saw loads of people excitedly hug each other and say, "It's so good to see!  How are your kids?  What have you been up to for the last year?"  It was fun to watch, but since this was my first year I had no such friends.  And I may have eaten lunch by myself twice before I made friends.

We were organized into table groups of nine people.  My group consisted of me and a bunch of Hispanic women.  I felt really young all week (which was a nice change of pace because I usually feel the opposite) because most of the AP readers were so much older.  One woman at my table is about to have her first great-grandson.  She's in her sixties and I tried to do the math to figure out how old everyone from each generation would have to be in order to have a great-grandson at 65, but the math got too cumbersome for my brain and I'm sure the answer would have disappointed me.  Most of the women at my table were in their forties or fifties, but the lady who sat directly across from me was in her late twenties.  She usually wore low cut shirts and had a large piercing right above her cleavage that looked like sparkling diamond.  The shininess of the piercing subconsciously drew my eyes to her chest area every time I looked up.  Not only did I not want to be looking at her chest, but I for sure didn't want to be caught looking at her chest.  I didn't care for that piercing. 

A few days in my roommate Josh ran into an AP friend that he had met at a previous AP reading.  After the usually hugs and "Oh my gosh!  How are your kids?" I was introduced to Meghann.  She asked me my name and I unoriginally said, "I'm Ben Schilaty."  She said, "How do you spell your last name."  I told her and she said, "Shut up!  Did you write your master's thesis on such-and-such a topic?"  I did.  She then said, "I printed out your thesis before I came and I'm going to read it while I'm here."  I was stunned.  It was such an unexpected honor to meet one of the 12 people who has heard of my thesis.  It's a very exclusive group.  Meghann and I then became friends and I'm sure we'll excitedly hug each other if we're both at the AP reading next year. 

St. Peter in Chains Cathedral

While I had a lot of great experiences during my week in Cincinnati, Sunday was by far the best day.  We worked from 8:00 to 5:00 so I wasn't able to go to church which really bummed me out.  I decided that since I couldn't go to LDS services that I should at least go to some church so I went to Catholic mass that afternoon.  It was an uplifting experience I was glad I went.  I especially enjoyed singing hymns that were new to me and experiencing a way of worship that was foreign to me.  Also, when the priest was talking it struck me that both he and I have chosen to be single for religious reasons.  That realization made me feel connected to him in a small way.  

After going to mass I met up with 18 other LDS folks who were also at the AP reading.  Every year they get together on Sunday for a short devotional and testimony meeting.  I only knew one person in the room from before and everyone else was basically a stranger.  However, I felt an instant connection with those people and sitting in a circle with them in a small room in a convention center in Cincinnati felt like being home.  As we sang a hymn I was familiar with and said a prayer I felt the Spirit in a remarkable way.  None of us was there under any pretences or because of any kind of social pressure, we just wanted to worship together and share or thoughts and feelings about the Savior.  It was the best religious meeting I've been to in months.

I shared my testimony and in it I mentioned being gay.  After the meeting as we were putting the chairs away (it wouldn't be a Mormon meeting if we didn't put chairs away after) two guys approached me with some questions.  One of them has a son who identifies as gay and the other is a newly called bishop.  They were very interested in my perspectives as a gay active latter-day saint and we talked for over an hour.  That night I felt so grateful for this small group of latter-day saints who meets together every year at the AP because I was uplifted and inspired by the things that were shared.  When I got back to my hotel room that night everything felt right with the world.

I loved the architecture in Cincinnati

And how their buildings look like Pringles cans

One day it rained and I got very wet

My New Home

So much southwest charm

A few weeks ago I moved into a new house and I love it.  I'm house sitting for the summer and then in October the homeowner, her girlfriend, and I will share the house for the winter.   They're great and I'm excited to have roommates, but I'm also really enjoying living here by myself.

I'm not the most organized person so packing all my things into boxes, moving them to a new house, and then putting everything into its new place is pretty much the worst.  And what made things even worse was that Dianna and fun Laura weren't here to keep me company while I tried to put everything away.

This was the moment when I considered giving up on life

And then everything magically got put away

I excitedly told a friend that I'd made a reading nook in my bedroom and he said, "You mean you just put a chair in a corner?"  Yep, that's about it.  But it's also bookshelf adjacent so I feel like that gives it some nook-like qualities.

I've been considering taking after gym selfies in my bathroom, but that weird pelican picture would just make them seem lame.  Also, all after gym selfies are lame.

My duck face needs some serious work

I hid a note in the bathroom for any snoopers

I mostly love everything about my new place.  However, the one thing it lacks is a really, really comfy couch.  There are a few futons and they're nice and all, but an awesome couch just can't be beat.

It's a top notch futon, but still a futon

Not the comfiest chair, but it's great for directing movies

I had Phil, Danielle, Carl, and Maggie over for dinner last week.  This was the first time I'd invited Maggie over for dinner.  She asked what she could bring and I said, "We'll be drinking water and there is no dessert so if you want either of those things you'll need to bring it."  So she did!  She brought drinks, dessert, and also bought me this awesome flower because, why not?

I dressed Mr. Cactus Head in his summer garb

Part of my backyard

My new pad is pretty rad.  Feel free to stop by for a visit whenever you like.  Also, I'm responsible for watering the plants this summer and I'm very worried that I'm going to kill them all.  Any watering advice you have will be appreciated.

Middle Naming

A week and a half ago I woke up at 6:00 am to the sound of a new email on my phone.  I rolled over and groggily read the email that said that Allison had given birth to her baby boy earlier that morning.  I smiled briefly at their immense joy and then rolled over and went back to sleep.  A few hours later I got a text from Kevin asking when I'd be coming to the hospital to see their new baby.  I had some things to do in the morning and I said I'd head over as soon as I finished. 

On my drive over to the hospital I wondered what they had picked for his middle name.  Months before they had chosen Levi as his first name and Kevin had expressed a desire to name him Levi Savage after one of his heroes from church history.  I really liked that idea, too.  I see Kevin and Allison every Sunday at dinner and I constantly voiced my approval of naming the unborn baby after Levi Savage since Savage would make such a rad middle name.  Allison did not agree.  They had also considered middle naming him after Kevin's dad or giving him Kevin's middle name.  I already knew what his first and last name would be, but as far as I knew the middle name was still to be decided. 

I really don't like going to hospitals.  As I walked by myself down the hallway of the labor and delivery ward I saw signs on all the doors that said, "Shh... Please be quiet.  New moms and babies are sleeping."  Definitely not the right place for someone as loud as me to be.  I found their room and, remembering all the warnings on the doors, knocked super-quietly.  I walked into their room and both Kevin and Allison looked as normal as ever and they seemed ridiculously calm and laid back for having become parents just seven hours prior.  I asked them all the nitty gritty details about the birth and after being there for 15 minutes Allison asked if I wanted to know what middle name they had chosen for the baby.  She said that they decided to name him Levi Benjamin.  I replied, "WHAT?!  REALLY?!" and Allison said, "Well, not if you're going to shout and wake up the baby!"  They had decided to make Benjamin his middle name weeks before and waited until he was born to tell me. 

At first I thought it was really neat that Kevin and Allison had middle named their baby after me (I mean, I did introduce them after all), but as the day went on and I thought more about it I was stunned by the decision they had made.  This was a really big deal!  Both of their families have been so good to me, Kevin's in particular.  My journal is riddled with comments about how much I appreciate Kevin's family and how much they mean to me.  They include me in everything and have welcomed me into their family in an extraordinary way.  And now I feel like we'll be connected forever.

That night I opened up the Book of Mormon and read in Helaman 5 where Helaman explains to his sons Nephi and Lehi why he chose their names.  He says, "I have given unto you the names of our first parents who came out of the land of Jerusalem; and this I have done that when you remember your names ye may remember them; and when ye remember them ye may remember their works..."  I sat on my bed for quite some time wondering if Levi will ask Kevin and Allison about why he was middle named Benjamin and what they will tell him.  I wondered how long I'll be an active part of his life and what he will know of my works and what I've done.  And for the first time the idea of living in Tucson forever didn't sound like such a bad idea. 

Then I thought about what I would name my children and whose names I would trust them to bear.  For the last year or so my two biggest heroes have been Elijah Abel and Jane Manning James.  They were two of the earliest black members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and it is well worth the time it takes to read their biographical sketches on blacklds.org.  Being a black person in antebellum America was incredibly rough and church members were not as Christlike to Elijah and Jane as they should have been.  They faced persecution and were treated like second class citizens by some simply because of the color of their skin, but both of them stayed faithful to what they believed to be true to the end of their lives.  They had what I consider to be legitimate reasons to leave the church, and yet they stayed.  Both of them were very close to Joseph Smith's family and the way they were welcomed by the Smiths is truly remarkable.  I love this sentiment expressed by Jane: "I try in my feeble way to set an example for all."  If I had a son and a daughter I'd want them to be named Elijah and Jane to honor two people who I respect so much.

I don't know what Kevin and Allison will tell Levi about me when he's older, but I imagine they'll tell him how they each met me and how they met each other through me.  And I hope when he's old enough to understand they'll explain to him how their friend Benjamin is gay and despite what he considers to be legitimate reasons to leave the church, he chooses to stay.  I will try in my feeble way to set an example for Levi Benjamin.  I feel so incredibly honored to have a little baby in Tucson middle named after me.  

A Home for Ben

When I moved back into my house last August one of the first things my roommate Rick asked me was when I'd be moving out.  This didn't make me think that he hates me, he just really wants his little brother to move in this Fall.  I initially tried to be friends with Rick, but despite living together for almost a year and half we aren't that close (like, we're not even Facebook friends).  He mostly just stays in his room and we occasionally run into each other in the kitchen.  He only ever starts a conversation with me when he wants to know when I'll be moving out.  Most of the conversations I start with him go like this, "Hey, could you take your clothes out of the dryer?  They've been in there for two days."  He's actually a super-nice guy, we just never clicked (Except when Sarah comes over.  We she comes over he'll talk to us for 40 minutes, but she's way pretty so...). 

Two weeks ago Rick again asked when I'd be moving out and then he asked again last week.  Feeling a little unwanted I decided to move out at the end of the semester.  I started going through all the leads I had of people looking for roommates.  Nothing.  Then I went to the housing board at the Institute and even emailed a stranger about living together.  No reply.  I had exhausted all the options I knew of.  And then Laura came to the rescue.

She forwarded me an email she'd received on the Peace Corps listserv about two retired women renting a room.  The email said that they were looking for an international tenant, preferably female.  Not being either of those things I wrote them an email expressing my interest in meeting them.  I strategically mentioned that I'm Mormon so they would know I not smoke, drink, or have raucous parties, but I also mentioned that I'm gay so they wouldn't think I'm some Glenn Beck loving conservative (I also assumed from the email that the two retired women were partners so I wanted to be like, "Hey, we're all gay here!").  It worked like a charm because they asked me over to meet them the next day even though I'm a tall, white, American male. 

I don't know if they'd like me posting their names online so I'll just call them A and B for now.  A has owned the house for 35 years and it feels so homey and welcoming.  I instantly wanted to live there.  Both A and B have graduate degrees in Education and are both retired teachers and that instantly made me want to live with them.  As I got acquainted with them they kept doing cute little things that old couples do.  For example, after A showed me a picture of her struggling musician son, B grabbed a plaque off of the bookshelf to show me.  A said, "Don't show him that!" and B said, "Why not?  It's wonderful."  It was a "Teacher of the Year" award that A received a few years ago.  B is very obviously proud of A and wanted to show off her accomplishment to me.  It was adorable. 

Where I'll be living in May

Talking with A was a lot like talking to my mom.  She'd start telling me something important about the house and then go off on a random tangent and I'd have to say, "Sorry, what were you saying about watering the plants?"  These ladies are awesome and I couldn't be more excited to live with them.  And then A told me how much the rent is and I nearly jumped in the air and clicked my heels for joy.  I'm not moving in until May, but I'm going to dinner with A next week so we can get to know each other better.  And their little house is perfect for me.  It's $75 cheaper than my current place, a mile closer to campus, and I'll have an adult size bed.  I'm super-excited.  This will be my third time living with retired people (fourth if you count my parents). 

This is kind of how my life works out.  I try my best to make the most sensible plans and then some completely random opportunity that I never envisioned pops up and it works out better than I could have imagine.  Like last semester when my Spanish teaching contract wasn't renewed and then I got a job as a TA for an art history class that pays me the same amount as my teaching job, but requires a lot less work.  And now I am randomly moving in with two retired lesbians and my life is turning into a foreign film again.  You know, the kind of movie where nothing really happens, but the setting is a little out of the ordinary and some young person sits around talking with old women while eating cake.  Yeah, that's what life is about to become.  

Ten Years Ago Today

Delicias, Chihuahua, Mexico 2005
This is one of the few framed pictures I have and it sits on my desk

Ten years ago today I returned home from my mission in Chihuahua, Mexico.  

Ten years ago today I woke up feeling nervous and excited at the mission offices of the Mexico Chihuahua Mission.  The previous day I had taken a bus from where I had been serving in Delicias to the city of Chihuahua.  I hadn't told a lot of people I was going home, but a number of people figured it out and came to the bus station to say goodbye.  One of them was a man I had baptized named Gabriel.  He gave me a decorative plate that says "DELICIAS" on it that I carried all the way home fearing it would break in my bag.  It's still on the wall at my parents' house. 

Saying goodbye to everyone at the bus station was one of the oddest experiences of my life.  I had lived in Mexico for two years and these people had become like family to me.  Mexico was my home and everything there felt familiar to me.  I didn't know if I'd ever see them again and saying goodbye to them broke my heart.  And yet, I was so excited to be going back to Washington because that was actually my home and I had a real family there that I hadn't seen in two years.  I felt like I was dying -- leaving a place and people I loved to return home to be with other people that I loved. 

President and Sister Torres drove me and the only other American going home that day to the airport.  I hugged them goodbye and got on the plane.  My first layover was in Monterrey, Mexico.  We had a four hour layover there and I had brought a bunch of old issues of the Ensign to read.  After sitting in an empty terminal for over an hour an airline employee came over and asked, "Are you Benjamín?"  No one had referred to me as Ben for two years, but I said that I was.  She informed me and the other missionary that our flight had been cancelled and that she would help us book another flight. 

After a few minutes of typing on her computer this lady was able to find a way to get me home about four hours later than planned.  As politely and firmly as I could I said, "Look, I haven't been home for two years and I just want to go home.  Is there anything you can do to get me home sooner?"  A few more minutes of typing and she was able to get me back to Seattle 30 minutes earlier than my original flight.  I immediately called the mission offices to tell them about my new itinerary.  Sister Berry, one of the senior missionaries, answered the phone.  She told me she'd call my parents to inform them of the change and in her grandmotherly way told me how much she loved me and would miss me. 

We then flew to Dallas (or was it Houston?) where the other missionary and I parted ways.  We hadn't know each other very well, but he insisted that we exchange contact information.  So to be polite I gave him my phone number and address knowing he'd never call (he never did).  We hugged and then for the first time in two years I was without a missionary companion.  About an hour later I was walking around the airport and I saw the other missionary off in the distance.  I didn't want to have another awkward goodbye with him so I hid behind a pillar so he wouldn't see me. 

During my mission almost all the Americans I saw were Mormon so I had gotten used to equating being white with being Mormon.  As I walked around the airport I was stunned by how many Mormons there were everywhere and I had to remind myself that not everyone there was Mormon.  Being in the US felt very uncomfortable. 

I got to my gate, sat down by myself, and promptly started to internally freak out.  I had just left behind what I'd dedicated the last two years of my life to and my life was suddenly incredibly different.  And I was alone and that felt so weird.  I just sat in my chair worrying for a few minutes until a middle aged Mormon business man walked up to me and asked, "Are you on your way home from your mission?"  I told him that I was and he, probably sensing my concern, then asked, "Would you like me to sit with you?  I can be your companion until we get on the flight."  I gratefully accepted his offer and we chatted for a while which really helped me to relax.

When I got on the plane I started fretting again.  I was feeling so stressed and I was so exhausted that I fell asleep before the plane took off and I slept through take off.  I woke up to the flight attendant handing the guy sitting next to me his drink.  As he grabbed the drink I heard him say, "Gracias."  I looked at him and asked if he spoke English.  He didn't.  He was from Mexico and was going to visit his daughter in Seattle.  He asked how I knew Spanish and I told him all about my mission.  Just being able to speak Spanish, to do something familiar, really calmed me down.  During that conversation all my worries left and I didn't feel nervous again.  A tender mercy.  

When I got off the plane my sister was standing at the gate waiting for me.  She had flown in from Utah just a few minutes before me.  I wasn't expecting to see her at the gate and we both hugged and jumped up and down like a pair of thrilled idiots.  It was awesome.  We hurried out to the main part of the airport to meet up with the rest of my family.  I think we walked, but I was so excited we may have run.  When we left the security area I saw my parents standing there cheering with excitement.  They were wearing the bright yellow jackets they always wore so that they'd be easy to spot in a crowd (my parents' fashion sense could be defined as "practical").  We all hugged and it was marvelous.  Any sense of fear or trepidation I'd felt about returning home was gone forever.  My brother and sister-in-law were there, too, with my 21 month old nephew whom I'd never met.  My brother said, "Where's Ben?" and my nephew pointed right at me.  After two years of being Elder Schilaty I was Ben again.

As we all walked to the baggage claim I exclaimed, "This is so awesome!" and I hugged my parents again.  That is what I was doing ten years ago today. 

While my whole life has been pretty great, the last ten years have probably been the best.  I've grown and learned and experienced so much.  And a great deal of what has happened has been unexpected.  By now I thought I'd be married with a few kids, have a stable career, and a house, but that's not what has happened.  If you had told 21 year old Ben that in ten years he's be getting a PhD, would be openly gay, but active in church, still single, and incredibly happy I know he wouldn't have believed you.  But my life is great.  I feel just has happy and content as ever.  I'm so grateful for my mission and so grateful for the last ten years and all the marvelous people who have made them so wonderful.  I'm confident the next ten years will be equally spectacular.