Late yesterday afternoon I learned of a news story regarding church policy, and that it would likely break today (Friday). I went to my Body Pump class and by the time I was walking out to my car I had text messages from friends, like this one: “Wwwhhhhhhhhhhyyyyy did they do that to the handbook. Whyyyyy.”
Turns out the story broke between 6:30 and 7:30 p.m.
Even without knowing it had happened, I felt…cracked. Not just from within, but around me. Things in the air were off (and not just because I couldn’t get my arms to stop shaking). Finally getting into my car I was enveloped in sorrow, like The Nothing was just waiting in there for me. I needed a hug, but no hugs were to be found.
Having almost an hour’s drive ahead of me, I pulled over at a gas station to collect myself, try to compartmentalize what I was feeling. I began to cry. I didn’t stop.
I turned to my playlists on my phone, which is typical as I’m nearly always listening to music. Picked a list, put it on shuffle; listened to a bit of a song, then hit next. I needed a song—like, the song, the one to calm my heart and give direction. One song led to another, and I found it.
I don’t want the name of the song* or band** to be a distraction*** to what I’m trying to say here, so let me just share what turned my tears of hopelessness toward a direction of community, of alliance, even if in sorrow:
Come, Sister, my Brother,
Shake up your bones, shake up your feet,
I’m saying, Open up
And let the rain come pouring in.
Wash out this tired notion
That the best is yet to come.
But while you’re dancing on the ground
Don’t think of when you’re gone.
Love, love, love, what more is there?
We need the light of love in here.
Don’t beat your head,
Dry your eyes.
Let the love in there.
There are bad times,
But that’s okay.
Just look for love in it.
Just look for love in it. That’s where I am, looking for the love in it. The problem is that it’s really hard to see the love in it. Really, really hard.
I have many friends, as you likely do, who have been affected by church policy, culture, and/or practice over however-many years, maybe a lifetime, to the point of deciding to leave; maybe you’re someone who has left. I’ve had many experiences, as you likely have, of strong and conflicting feelings about being unmovingly committed to and aligned with an institution through which Christ’s teachings are to be administered, while simultaneously wondering how certain decisions made are even possible when policy and practice seem to conflict with the very gospel itself. I have stood, as you likely have, by friends who have had it, for whom the newest policy change is their last straw; we have held their hands, we have shared tears and hugs, and it has felt like a breakup of sorts, even though our friendship and love with our friends remains, because that’s the kind of people we are.
Maybe we march with them, maybe we campaign with them. In my case, I often find myself not knowing what to do other than mourn with, and comfort, and maybe that’s because while I don’t know what it’s like to suffer as they suffer, I do know what it’s like to suffer.
So how was today different? Why all the heavy feelings about today’s breaking news?
Because this time I get it.
I’m not gay. I haven’t experienced the same limitations within the church as our LGBTQ brothers and sisters.
But I’m a mom. I have kids, and they are my life. Most of my kids have been baptized. One or more of them did it because It Was Time. But (an)other(s) chose to be baptized. They chose.
That’s the difference. This announcement of the change in the handbook has brought out the Mother Bear in me…but a different kind. A Mother-Bear-by-proxy, if you will.
As a woman in the church (yes, I’m playing this card) I have experienced inequalities. But, as with all aspects of my life: Do what you will with me and I’ll deal with it; mess with my kids and we’ve got a problem.
My thoughts and heart turned to my friends who, at their core, have lived the conflict of two seemingly opposing core values: being gay and being Mormon. Many have, as is consistent with the laws of the land, gotten married (or plan to) and have (or plan to have) children. It is for them that I weep. Parents. Because I get that.
Now, back to the song: we need the light of love in here. Look, I get the anger. I do. But anger is a secondary emotion, typically rooted in hurt. Right now I’m calling for more love. Online, in person, in word and in deed. Many, if not most, of us are struggling to see the love in this addition to the handbook which means an outpouring of love is needed to compensate.
Please remember: this is the very issue over which individuals are shunned from families and communities, the very issue which has led to far too many (read: any) cases of suicide. We need our brothers and sisters, all. Extending kindness costs nothing. In our shared confusion, even our sorrow, online and otherwise as we figure this out, it is necessary that we look for love, and if love isn’t to be found, or is in short supply, we are the ones who need to create and impart.
*Pig
**Dave Matthews Band
***Spotify Live Series
Image courtesy of Melissa Leilani Larson, used with permission