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.  

Mr. Cactus Head

My birthday this year coincided with my comprehensive exams which made for a fairly lame birthday, but I did get some incredibly thoughtful gifts.

I often write parody songs for people for their birthdays and I have written two songs for Allison over the years (although never for her birthday, oddly enough).  She wrote me a song to the tune of Colors of the Wind and it was perfect and filled with hilarious inside jokes.  This was my favorite line: "You hugged some cactuses, or is it cacti? That's a tricky one, like using lie or lay."

Dianna has been talking for weeks about how much I would love the birthday present she got me.  When she ran to her car to get the present Carl told me to close my eyes and guess what my present was by feeling it.  I was totally cool with that idea because my best guess was that she'd gotten me a box of doughnuts (I've been telling her for weeks how much I want to eat a really good doughnut).  Dianna  told me not to feel the present with my eyes closed because she, unlike Carl, doesn't want me to get hurt.  She had me open my eyes and there in front of me was a cute little barrel cactus.  I love cactuses (cacti?) and I was thrilled.

Then Dianna excitedly said, "Wait, there's more!"  She then pulled out a box of what appeared to be random crap.

A box of random crap

I looked at the box for about 10 seconds and admitted, "I have no idea what this is for."  She then explained that the stuff in the box was to decorate the cactus for different occasions.  You see, in December I saw some saguaros with Santa hats on them and I thought it was the coolest thing ever (like hyperbole) and Dianna used the information to get me the perfect present.  Fun Laura helped her make some of the props.  I had no idea how much I wanted a cactus I could decorate until I had one.

This is how its currently decorated

Ready for a Saint Patrick's day pub crawl

Dressed up as Hermione for Halloween

Unaware of what teaching the pilgrims about corn is going to do to his civilization

That hat is supposed to be a bandanna, but I couldn't figure out how to put it on right 

Cowboy!

Dressed for the big game against ASU

I got some other super-thoughtful gifts.  Fun Laura bought a card nine months ago that says: "Hyperbole is the best thing ever!"  She new I would love it and waited to give it to me.  And I do love it.

LeAnne set me some money, told to get some takeout, and then Skype with her while I eat it so it'd be like she took me out to dinner.  I'm excited about that.

Jenn, Lani, and Cari bought me a toilet plunger because my house doesn't have one.  I've lived here for over and year and have only needed one once.  I had to borrow Danielle's which was only slightly embarrassing.  A very thoughtful gift indeed.

I had a great time turning a year older and mostly I'm just impressed that my friends know me well enough to get me such awesome gifts.

Also, tune into Shark Tank in a two years to see Dianna, fun Laura, and me try to raise $100,000 for our company Mr. Cactus Head.  We don't have a lot of sales, but everyone says they love our product.  Band-aids will be included in every box because Mr. Cactus Head is pointier than most children's toys.

How Did I End Up Here?

Phil wondering where the other adults are

Last week all the group fitness classes at the U of A rec center were free.  Phil was pumped about this and invited me to go to a class called Butts and Guts with him.  We met up at the rec center and I got to the class about 60 seconds before Phil did.  Our room was still in use so I waited in the hall with all the other class participants.  It was immediately evident that coming to Butts and Guts may have been a very bad idea.  I looked around at all the other people waiting for the class and not only were they all female, but they were all a foot shorter than me and at least ten years younger.  Seriously, a number of them didn't even look like adults yet.  We all had to sign our names on a class roll and since I was dreadfully embarrassed to be there I signed with my Spanish alias -- Benjamin Sanchez.  It's the name I use whenever I have to make a reservation in Spanish since giving them my real name over the phone just seems cruel ("I said Schilaty!  It rhymes with beef patty!"). 

When we got into the room I counted 45 girls and Phil and I were the only boys.  I tried to have a good attitude about it all, but it was a little hard to not feel a little out of place.  Phil is both taller and thinner than me and as I watched us do jumping jacks in the mirror I couldn't help but notice that we kind of looked like giraffes. 

During one of the water breaks I stood in line at the drinking fountain panting heavily from doing burpees for a full minute.  I waited patiently behind three girls who could easily have passed for my daughters, hoping that no one would make eye contact with me.  If they did, I'd either be forced to smile which would make me seem like a flirtatious creeper or I'd look away quickly which would make me look like a rude creeper.  There really wasn't any way of not looking like a creeper in the current situation (especially with all the panting).  When it was my turn to get a drink I pushed the button and the water shot way higher than I had expected completely soaking my face.  As I walked back to my spot with water dripping off my eye brow, surrounded by not yet physically mature sorority girls, I couldn't help but think to myself, "How did I end up here?"

For the next few days my legs were so sore I couldn't stand up without complaining.  Phil, Eric, and I went to Core and More (I really love the class names, by the way) a few days later which resulted in me not being able to sit up in bed for a few days.  Sitting up was too painful so I just had to role out of bed and flop onto the floor.  I think the pain was worth it, though, because my butts and guts now look, well, pretty much the same.   

The Death of Hannah Montana

I spent the summer of 2008 doing an internship in Mexico.  I'd get home from work very tired just wanting to veg out and watch TV.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot on Mexican TV that I was interested in watching.  I started watching CNN in English, but that got boring so I switched to watching the Disney Channel in Spanish.  Hannah Montana was on right when I got home every day and I got hooked pretty fast.  I thought it was hilarious.  I should mention, however, that when I got back to the US I watched an episode in English and I didn’t care for it.  But it’s very entertaining in Spanish.

I was Skyping with Craig one day and I mentioned that I’d been watching Hannah Montana and we also said something about my being gay.  At this point in my life I hadn’t gotten used to calling myself gay so whenever Craig and I talked about it we’d usually say things like “my issue” or “you know what” which was really imprecise.  It was also kind of annoying that we couldn’t just call it what it was.  At the time I had been trying to come up with a good code word for being gay.  I didn’t want everyone to know that I was watching a show for preteen girls so after telling Craig how much I loved Hannah Montana I said, “Oh, and don’t tell anyone about Hannah Montana.”  At that moment the perfect code word was born.

After that conversation “Hannah Montana” became the code work for being gay.  For those of you not familiar with the show, Miley is a regular brunette teenage girl who also happens to be rock star known by the pseudonym Hannah Montana.  When she performs she puts on a blonde wig so no one will recognize her.  Even though she’s super-famous only her family and close friends know that she is Hannah Montana so that she can have a normal teenage life.  Just like Miley, I had a super-awesome secret that only my close friends and family knew about. 

For years, whenever I’d come out to people I’d end the conversation by explaining that the code word for my being gay was Hannah Montana.  That was usually met with a puzzled look and then a full embracing of my made up term. 

"Ben, you're looking very Hannah Montana." -Sarah
In my defense, the speaker was really low and I
had to bend down to place my order at Sonic.

Let me explain how to use it appropriately.  You never say that someone has Hannah Montana so it would be incorrect to say, “I have Hannah Montana.”  But it also isn’t simply a substitute for the word “gay.”  For example, instead of saying that I had come out to someone, I’d tell my friends, “I told so-and-so about Hannah Montana.”  The uses of the code word have expanded throughout the years.  Sarah often uses it to let me know that I’m doing something that seems overly gay.  For example, if I’m talking too excitedly about a musical she might say, “Ben, your Hannah Montana is showing,” or “You’re being so Hannah Montana right now.” 

It’s been a real blast having a code word that only my close friends know about.  It allowed us to bring up that I’m gay in the presence of others without giving away the secret.  And if anyone ever brought up the real show my friends and I would give each other furtive glances and giggle to ourselves.  The success of this code word led to the spontaneous invention of a few others like “baking a pie” for making out and “having mono” for being pregnant and "IBS" for something that is still a secret (and it's not my secret so you won't have to read a blog post about it).  

Over the last year I've almost entirely stopped saying Hannah Montana because so many people know that I'm gay that there hasn't been a need to hide it with a code word.  It has slowly been drifting out of our collective lexicon.  After publishing my first coming out post I got an email from my friend Joleen.  She jokingly wrote, “I'm disappointed. Now I'm not a special friend who knows your secret.”  Joleen is one of my most special friends, but now that I've let everyone in on the secret, knowing the secret no longer binds us together in the same way that a good clique should.  It's a bummer, but we don't need secret code words be to awesome friends.  I was talking with Kevin and Allison and Sunday and Allison worriedly asked, “So, are we not going to say Hannah Montana anymore?”  Of course you can still use the term Hannah Montana, there’s just no longer a need.  

For my 25th birthday Craig and Heidi bought me a singing Hannah Montana pen.  Not only do I have friends that I can trust with secrets, but they also tease me about it in clever ways.  I think I'd agree with Hannah Montana--I get the best of both worlds.  

Post #3--Charity: Love Everyone

Ugh! I wish I could've thought of a less cheesy title for this post.

I would describe myself as a happy, jovial, generally optimistic person and I think those who know me best would agree.  I saw a comment from someone who read my first post in this series.  He was worried that I'm depressed.  While I appreciate the concern, I'm not at all depressed.  Like everyone I have my sad, difficult moments, but generally my life is really, really good and I'm quite content.  I realize that my last two posts and this one deal with some very trying moments, but these do not reflect the general quality of my life.  What my life is like is more accurately described by this post.  Thank you to everyone who is worried about me, but I'm seriously doing just fine.  That said, here's the last coming out post I wrote.  As with the previous two posts this one was also written for an audience familiar with Mormomism. 

There have been a number of times when I have given up on dating.  Trying to date women as a person attracted to men is very uncomfortable.  But throughout the years every time I decided to throw in the towel and completely stop dating I would have a spiritual experience that I would interpret to mean that I should continue dating, and so I would.  I often wondered why Heavenly Father would repeatedly tell me that I should try to date women when I was consistently so unsuccessful at it, but I couldn't deny the promptings, and so I kept trying. 

About a year and half ago I was extremely frustrated with my dating situation and I prayed fervently trying to figure out what I was supposed to do.  During a CES broadcast I received an unexpected answer--God was trying to teach me charity.  There are a number of ways that I have learned charity through dating, but I will just share just one.  Through my friend Allison I was introduced to LeAnne, a woman who lives in Utah.  We originally started talking with the intention of dating each other, but we never fell in love and just became good friends.  But through LeAnne Heavenly Father has once again showed me what true love is. 



LeAnne and I.  Isn't she a knockout?

I could tell story after story of people who have shared my burdens and let me talk about my problems.  But LeAnne, more than anyone else, really listens to me and asks deep, probing questions so that we can both understand things together.  A year ago I was traveling through Utah and I spent the day with LeAnne.  We were chatting and she asked me a very personal question about my experiences as a gay Mormon.  I was happy to answer.  When that conversation ended two hours later, I left feeling uplifted and edified.  LeAnne called me the next day and said, "You know what?  I have felt so good all day.  I felt the Spirit so strongly last night as we were talking and it has just carried over into today."  I agreed, and that often happens when we talk.  We have some of the most inspiring conversations I have ever had. 

A few weeks later I was having a really tough time and like a good friend LeAnne called me.  She had no idea that I'd been feeling so low, that I had been considering taking a sabbatical from church, and that I desperately needed to talk to someone.  We talked for 90 minutes and I told her everything that was going on.  She didn't judge me, reprimand me, or try to solve my problems; she just listened and encouraged me.  I'd like to think I'm not much of a crier, but both LeAnne and I cried during that phone conversation.  I cried when I was talking about how hard it is to have to choose between the church and loving someone I'm attracted to.  I asked why I have to choose between the church and companionship when other people don't have to.  LeAnne didn't have an answer, but she just cried with me.  I shared my favorite line from Preach My Gospel with her that says that "all that is unfair about life can be made right through the atonement of Jesus Christ," and she testified that she knew that was true. 

The shortest verse in all of our scriptures simply says, "Jesus wept."  He cried because he had just heard that Mary and Martha's brother Lazarus had died.  And even though Lazarus would soon be raised from the dead and all would be well, Jesus shared in Mary and Martha's pain and wept with them.  I often feel awkward when someone cries around me, but when LeAnne cried with me it felt like a gift.  She was feeling my pain and sharing my burden and empathizing with me in a very real way.  She wept for me and in so doing she showed that she loved me.  And I love her, too.  She is a woman filled with the pure love of Christ because she is one of His true disciples. 

While I'm not going to date or marry LeAnne, I have needed her in my life and continue to need her.  She and I originally formed a friendship because we were hoping to date each other.  That didn't work out, of course, but we are still incredibly close friends.  After trying to date LeAnne the prompting that I consistently felt to try to find a woman to date has stopped, and I haven't really been dating since then.  I know that there are many reasons and lessons that Heavenly Father was trying to teach me as I tried to date women, but I am certain that one of the principal reasons is so that I could meet LeAnne.  Had I not still been trying to date, we never would have met. 

This past summer I stopped by her house on my drive from Seattle to Tucson.  We hugged at the door and then walked into her house.  As we were walking through the kitchen she suddenly gave me another big hug and said, "It is so good to see you."  God works in mysterious ways and He will always take care of us.

As I have talked to my family and friends about the trials and struggles that accompany being gay and Mormon I have witnessed true charity over and over again.  Hearing my parents tell me that they will love me even if I leave the church and that if I ever have a boyfriend or husband he and I will always be welcome in their home.  Having my mom hug me and say, "Ben, we're not just on your side, we're with you 100%."  Hearing friends tell me that they just want me to be happy and that they will support any decision I make even if that means not being active in the church.  I recently told a friend of mine that I'm gay and he told me that if I ever decide to marry a man that he would support me and would be honored to be at my wedding.  These affirmations of love for me in spite of any decisions I make mean the world to me.  To me, this is true charity because their love for me is not conditional.  It is not based on my actions, but exists no matter what I do.

Knowing that in the eyes of my friends and family I'm free to leave the church whenever I want makes it easier to stay.  It's not due to social pressure that I am active in the church.    It's not because I'm trying to please my parents or siblings.  I'm active in the church because I love the gospel of Jesus Christ and I know it's true.  I believe in the restoration and I know the atonement is real because I have experienced it in my life.  I know that I can leave the church whenever I want to, but I don't want to.  I don't plan on ever doing that because I love it too much.  When a number of Christ's followers abandoned Him because of  His teachings He asked the twelve, "Will ye also go away?" and Peter responded, "To whom shall we go?  Thou hast the words of eternal life" (John 6:67-68).  There is nowhere I'd rather be than actively participating in the gospel of Jesus Christ.  It makes me happy, and I am willing to make any sacrifice to keep my covenants. 

I have decided to be more open about my experiences as a gay Mormon because I feel like we have many of examples of people who leave the church to be actively gay.  We need more examples of members who are gay and active.  It is my hope that all of us can "pray unto the Father with all the energy of heart, that [we] may be filled with [charity]" (Moroni 7:48).  It is my hope that we can love each other, no matter our circumstances, the way that I have been loved.  The love exemplified by Buzz and Ginny Schilaty who were willing to give up their lives for me.  The love demonstrated by Mitch and Craig who bore my burdens with me.  The love shown by LeAnne who wept with me.  May we all be like the Savior and love everyone regardless of their choices and circumstances is my hope and prayer.

And if you're still reading now, thank you.  Thank you for allowing me to be more open and maybe a little too vulnerable as I try to be more honest.  If you have any questions or comments I would prefer that you email me directly instead of commenting on this post.