THE HIGGINBOTHAM FAMILY

“As soon as Lu was born, my husband and I were sitting on our bed and looking at this cute little baby with black hair that stuck up in every direction, and we both felt that there was something about this child that we couldn’t quite put our finger on,” says Leah Higginbotham of Highland, Utah. She and husband Dylan are the parents of Olivia – 19, Gage – 17, Nash – 14, Lu – 11, and Lila – 8. Leah says that as Lu (birth name: Lucy) grew, as soon as they could express a preference, Lu was always in boy clothes and wanted their hair cut short. One of Lu’s first sentences when Leah tried to put her toddler in something pink was, “No, I a boy,” as Lu pushed her mother away. Every Sunday was a struggle trying to get Lu into a dress for church. The rest of the week, the Higginbothams allowed Lu to dress as preferred, which frequently attracted comments like, “Oh she’s a tomboy. I used to be a tomboy…” But as Lu grew, instead of leaning away from being a boy, Lu leaned into it even more.

Lu’s parents always let them just wear the clothes. For Leah and Dylan, it was not a big deal. Lu also played on all-boy baseball teams. They were obsessed with all sports, actually, as well as Star Wars, playing Lego, and Lu excels at martial arts. “Anything a typical boy would be into, Lu loves doing it.” But for Leah, there was always a hang up with Lu’s hair. She says, “Lu has shiny hair with a white streak – ‘a ghost spot’ -- that runs through it. I kept Lucy’s hair long, and it was always a fight. One time we compromised with a side shave, and I added in a side lightning bolt. As I first shaved Lu’s hair, I started to cry; Lu started to cry. We hugged, and it was a beautiful moment.” Shortly after, Lu turned eight and was baptized, and Leah incorporated the letters CTR into Lu’s hairstyle. A few months later, they shaved Lu’s full head – a big moment for Leah. “And I was okay with it. When I took that buzzer to Lu’s head, I felt a release of emotions. Those golden locks held all those hopes and dreams… and here was a real moment when I could let go of expectations, and let Lu be the person he is.” 

The Higginbothams are in a homeschool co-op, and their kids meet twice a week with 30 other families. One week, Lu asked Leah if they could be called Luca at the co-op -- just to try it out. Leah sent the request to the other co-op families who responded with a positive, “Great! Let us know how we can support you.” Leah was touched when a teacher also reached out to say, “Sorry, I’ve slipped up a couple times, but please let me know how I can help.” 

Leah says, “That’s where we’re at – this trial period.  A grey zone. I usually call them Luca. A lot of cousins and others still say Lucy. Lu doesn’t seem to care. Lu’s middle name is Love, and that 100% embodies this child. They want to be friends with everyone, they love everyone. Lu is generally an easygoing kid. When I ask if they’re bothered by being called Lucy at times, they shrug and say, ‘It’s the name you gave me’.” 

Lu’s older sister Olivia, who is heavily involved in theatre, left the LDS church a couple years ago because it was too hard for her to reconcile the stance on LGBTQ issues, having so many LGBTQ friends. Leah says, “She’s a real warrior for Lu and ready to honor any name/pronoun changes.” Leah says, “I’m also now having a harder time going to church and listening to people’s unkind, uninformed comments in classes, but I really want to build a bridge instead of a wall. I want to be in the church to fight for Lu. Lu’s baptism was the most spiritual experience any of us have ever had -- we kind of expected angels to come down singing. It took place on a crystal clear day outdoors in a fresh water stream in a tiny town called Fayette, UT, where my ancestors are from. Right after the baptism, Lu asked, “When can I go in the baptismal font in the temple?” Leah says Lu has been looking forward to that day since, but now is asking – “Wait, I have to get baptized for girls? Why not boys? And why can’t I baptize others like Gage can?” Leah hates that she has to say, “Sorry, because you were born with girl parts.” 

But still, this hasn’t dampened Lu’s desire to go to the temple, now just a month away.  Leah herself feels both “excited and nervous” for that same moment. Lu wears a three-piece suit to church and “looks so sharp” every week, says Leah. For Dylan, it’s been more of a struggle as his fourth child’s identity doesn’t align with a lot of his firmly held beliefs. But Leah has seen more understanding as of late. She says, “Just this week, for the first time Dylan called Lu by his chosen name of Luca. It was just a ‘Luca, put on your shoes to get into the car’ kind of thing but it was a big deal for me.” Leah says Dylan used to watch a lot of political commentary that was very black-and-white about gender issues, but lately he has tried to “turn off the noise.” Recently, a pundit made a comment that ruffled Leah, and she was happy to hear her husband say, “That guy obviously hasn’t had a gay kid.” Now, Dylan also listens to Listen, Learn and Love and Latter Gay Stories podcasts, and Leah says he practices more of a “the older I get, the less I know” mindset about things.

Leah’s awareness as to the different paths some face started at an early age. She grew up with a younger brother with special needs, including a deformed body and severe speech impediment. Leah says, “I know his spirit is fully intact. And because of him, I’ve worked with lots of special needs people – and I see all these people with temporary mortal bodies that do not match up with their spirits. I think it can sometimes be easy for people to see that some disabled bodies don’t match. But when I look at Lu, I feel the same – not that Lu has a physical handicap, but that Lu’s temporal body does not match up with their spirit. I know that someday everything will be reconciled. In the meantime, I hope people will be kind, and that Lu will find happiness and hope.” 

The Higginbotham kids all love and embrace each other, though for some it’s easier than others to understand what Lu’s experiencing. Older brother Gage has experienced moments of discomfort adjusting to Lu’s new name and gender identity, but remains staunchly defensive of Lu regardless. Once, when the Higginbothams were in Arizona visiting family, they had gone to walk around the grounds of the Mesa temple, and to a nearby park. After Leah and Dylan circled the pond, they returned to find Gage with his arm around Lu, both walking to the car. Lu was visibly upset. A mom from the playground ran up to tell Leah “You’re raising your kids right. They stuck up for your kid.” Once inside the quiet sanctuary of their car, the kids shared that a girl on the playground started throwing rocks and screaming profanities at Lu because she’d heard the Higginbotham kids calling Lu “Lucy” while wearing “boy clothes.” Lu’s siblings quickly came to their defense, circling and protecting Lu from the bully. In the car, Lu broke down sobbing, “Why would someone say that? Why would someone do that? I didn’t do anything to her.” Riled, Leah later posted about the incident on Facebook, saying, “You’ve got to choose a side. Are you going to be on the side that’s throwing rocks or standing on the side that’s protecting? This is what our LGBTQ kids face every day. Pick a side.”

When the Higginbothams returned from their trip, their house was covered with hearts, posters, plates of treats, and positive messages that filled Lu’s tank for weeks after in a “Gee Mom, people sure do love me” kind of way. Many of the sentiments still hang today in Lu’s room. 

As Leah reflects on what it’s been like to raise Lu, she says, “I had someone tell me once that gay people can’t feel the Holy Ghost, and I have never been so close to punching someone in the face. I was so hurt by that because as I think back on my 21 years as a wife and mother, my top five spiritual experiences all involve Lu. I have seen miracles surrounding this child. I have seen angels protecting this child. I have been given visions that have literally saved Lu’s life. So I know for a fact that God is very much involved in Lu’s life. Lu feels the Holy Ghost. Lu knows they’re a child of God. This is what reassures me as I face all the fears and the unknown future.”

THE KELLY FAMILY

“When he was 13, Aiden, (who went by Emma at the time), came to me on a mundane Saturday morning, with a ghostlike expression and journal in hand. I was working in the kitchen; my husband Joseph was folding laundry. Emma said, ‘Mom, I need you to look at something. Can we go somewhere private’?” Annalee was then led outside where she silently read the confessions of her second born child who had she had always known as her little girl. She read Emma’s words that she had “no attraction to boys whatsoever,” and confession that she was gay. Annalee read all this silently, but inside felt like she was screaming. “I didn’t see this coming.” 

Annalee and Joseph watched as Emma soon after cut her hair and expressed a desire to dress in a more masculine way. As they grieved the loss of the future they anticipated their child would have, Annalee went to a Northstar conference. New in her journey, she wondered what they had done wrong, and how could they help their child feel their love. At the time, Annalee and Joseph had no idea that another unexpected announcement would be coming. A few years later, (then) Emma stayed home from school, feeling sick, and confessed that, “My brain does not match my biological sex. I want to use he/him pronouns; I like the name Aiden.”

Annalee says “I had just digested him being gay; I didn’t fathom he might also be transgender.” For LDS-raised Annalee, everything up until that point had fit into neat little boxes. She was a returned missionary, college graduate, married in the temple to another RM, two-time Young Women’s president and mother of four: Josh – now 21, Aiden – 19, Caleb – 16 and Lizzy – 14. She says she had always been the type of person who saw things as black and white, and “used to feel being gay or trans was a choice.” Annalee has a gay sister who she always believed had chosen this -- to the extent that she didn’t invite her sister’s girlfriend into her house, saying she “didn’t want that modeled for the kids.” Before it was her own child who had come out, Annalee used to wonder, “Why would anything go against the plan God has for His children?” 

But it wasn’t until Annalee saw Aiden writhing on the floor, clawing at his chest, hating his body and assigned gender, that it hit her – why would anyone choose this? 

Ever since Aiden first came out as gay, the Kellys have always been on the same page as a couple, in putting their family first. When their son told them he’s transgender, they did wonder if it might be a phase. But as it became clear it was more than that, together they mourned the loss of their child’s given pronouns, name and identity, and moved into full love and support mode. She says, “I hate that it was Aiden’s suffering that finally softened my heart. I’ve learned line upon line that Aiden is who he says he is, and I know him now fully as my second born son. We know that him leaving church is what it is, and he needed to do that to find peace. Through his suffering, I have grown closer to Jesus Christ more than I have from any other element. Jesus has walked with me as I’ve walked with Aiden, and He’s taken me to other beautiful, lesser-known corners of His vineyard.”

From Aiden’s perspective, he says his childhood experience probably sounds similar to those of most queer kids. “I knew I was different from a young age; I just didn’t have the language to describe why, having grown up in the environment I did.” After Aiden came out as gay, he still continued to question his identity, and it was through social media that he finally figured out exactly what he was experiencing. “I found an account of a transgender person and scrolled through posts from their history to their transition to their current state and something finally felt so right. I thought, that’s me! That’s who I am. Once I learned the term ‘transgender,’ I KNEW I was a boy.”

As a child, Aiden says he loved to play pretend, and always cast himself in a male role. He loved action figures, and always chose playing with Ken over Barbie. He’s grateful his friends at the time just went with it. But around the age of 15, Aiden says, “Once I realized what I was, it wasn’t something I could keep to myself if I wanted to keep living. I felt so dark, and knew if I couldn’t be myself, I would die. I just felt that way. Today, if I had to live as a girl, I’d be dead.” And indeed, it was a loving bishop who reassured Annalee back when the family was struggling with everything that “I’d rather have a transgender son than a dead daughter.”

Once Aiden’s parents got on the same page with him, he began transitioning. In his sophomore year, he had to leave high school for a trimester for mental health reasons; and when he returned, he found his former friends weren’t there for him anymore. He reasons that this drifting away partly had to do with him also stepping away from their church community. But Aiden quickly became involved in his school’s drama program, and for the next three years, he says, “That was my home, and I made the best friends I’ve ever had. They didn’t even hesitate when I said I was trans. They loved me for me. It felt so nice to be loved without a second thought. It will always mean so much to me.”

After high school graduation, Aiden moved to West Jordan, UT, where he is now thriving. He loves the bigger town atmosphere. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” he says, and he laughs that he now often sings along to Billie Eilish’s song “Happier Than Ever” with authenticity. Aiden loves working both at the box office at the U of U, and Culvers. He has reconnected with some friends he made at Northstar, and they share an affinity for filmmaking -- a career he’d like to pursue someday. He has dated a few girls, and would like to find a relationship in the future, but says he understands that, “It’s complicated to find girls attracted to a transgender male. But someday I hope to find a girl who likes me for me.”

In retrospect, Aiden says he is grateful for the good times he experienced at church – girls’ camp, friends, and some especially kind and loving Young Women’s leaders who really showed up for him during hard times. “There was nothing anyone could have done differently – I just couldn’t be there anymore. At first, I didn’t want to leave, but some of the teachings were really harmful. I wouldn’t go back; but it wasn’t all bad,” Aiden says.

Aiden respects the relationship and involvement his parents still have with the church, and they admire the maturity he shows in not questioning their faith as a lack of respect or love for him. Annalee says, “He knows I have questions about the LDS culture and stuff, but he know this is where we need to be.” And Aiden also knows they are always there for him.

For many years, the Kellys have co-hosted a monthly support group for LGBTQ+ people and families in their Idaho Falls area along with the (recently featured) Taylor family. Open Arms typically welcomes a standing room only-sized crowd as dozens come each month to hear and share stories and find acceptance and love. Aiden lauds the attendees as “some of the kindest people in the LDS community – I wish everyone was that loving.”

Annalee takes great comfort in the Open Arms group who has embraced them while creating an equally safe space for others. She also appreciates that she has come to a place where she can maintain a firm faith in God and also understand her son’s divinity.  “I celebrate that I have my Aiden – he’s taught me so much, and I wouldn’t trade those tears of the past for anything. I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned.”

THE HUNTER FAMILY

John and Jenie Hunter of Brandon, FL had been trying to have children for some time when the opportunity presented itself to adopt a baby boy from a teen mom in Tennessee. They were ecstatic to bring their son Nicholas (now 24) home, and further thrilled when they were able to later have five biological daughters, Grace – 21, twins Ellie and Sarah Jane – 19, Mary – 17, and Kate – 12. As they raised their kids, John and Jenie noticed other differences about Nick -- besides being the oldest and only boy. They wondered how much nature vs. nurture played into things. “He was always exceptionally artistic,” says John. “He’d come to me and say, ‘Dad, draw me the ship from Star Wars,’ and I was like ‘Uh…,’ and then he’d proceed to draw it out with incredible detail. He saw the whole world in lines and shapes. He was always so creative. We love that about him.”

Nick also went through phases of becoming consumed with random passions – tractors, diamonds, skeletons, Faberge eggs. As he grew, his parents noticed more differences between him and their other kids and they started to wonder if he might be gay. When Nick was 14, Jenie could tell something was weighing on him and they started going to counseling. Shortly after, she says, “I went to the temple and had an impression where the Lord told me, ‘Nick’s gay.’ I came home and told John, and he believed me.” They decided Jenie would take Nick on a date to discuss it. They went to a museum, and at lunch, Jenie asked her son, “Nick, is this something you’re dealing with?” Nick started crying and said he was so relieved Jenie had asked him, and was so accepting of his affirmative response. He then shared he’d been so nervous his parents would kick him out of the house, based on what had happened to other kids who he had read about online. Jenie went home to John that night and confirmed their impressions were real. John says, “While it didn’t hit us out of the blue like it does for some families, it was still hard. Life was difficult. You could tell Nick was in emotional pain. We were just happy we could have a real discussion about it all.”

Growing up the only son in an LDS household, John says there were built-in expectations that your kid would do this or that, or hit this benchmark, that he’s sure Nick felt the pressure of. The family pivoted as they realized some of those things might not lie in Nick’s future. Jenie says, “We didn’t know a lot of people with gay children and how we should handle everything. We were making it up as we went. We made a lot of rookie mistakes. One time, we even suggested a weekend camp he could go to and maybe he’d come back differently.” John acknowledges there’s both a learning and grieving process all parents of LGBTQ+ go through as they readjust their expectations and preconceived notions of what parenting their kid might be like. Jenie says in hindsight, she’s not sure whether it was the chicken or the egg, but when Nick turned 16, he really started struggling with emotional issues. He started self-medicating with drugs and spent a year in a residential treatment center that initially was a very difficult thing for all the family, but he now credits the experience with saving his life.  

The Hunters are very open with their family’s journey, and they say their Florida ward family has been supportive and accepting. Back in high school, Nick started dating guys and his parents were fine with this, as long as he adhered to the same standards they expected of their daughters, many of which were from the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet. They laugh, remembering one time Jenie drove an hour away to meet a guy Nick had a date with just because they had a family rule that they had to first meet all their kids’ dates. John says, “Just because you’re gay, it doesn’t mean you have a different set of standards.”

Jenie was an early morning seminary teacher, and Nick was her best student. Now, as a student at UVU, he attends church “occasionally.” He says things are a little harder culturally for him in Utah, but likes to go back to his home ward in Florida with his family. His parents are impressed how Nick is as much an ally as LGBTQ himself. He’s open with sharing his story as he believes, “If I can help anyone, I’ll do it.” The Hunters have always maintained a strong relationship with lots of love and support, even during his tough years. “Our love is not transactional.” And John and Jenie love that their daughters are the biggest allies and maintain a close relationship with Nick. Both Grace and Sarah Jane, who now attend BYU, are in the same town with him and get together often. 

Nick loves his Savior Jesus Christ but chose not to serve a mission because he didn’t feel comfortable teaching all the doctrine. He wants a happy marriage partnership like his parents, and they likewise want him to find his person. Jenie says it’s “heart-breaking” to imagine him living his whole life alone. While Nick’s told his parents a dream of his is to have all his future kids baptized and to have his family in the LDS church, his parents say he still finds it challenging to balance his testimony and beliefs versus other positions of the church. Counseling has been a positive addition to his life, and he is now studying psychology to become an art therapist for kids. He’d like to specialize in helping LGBTQ+ kids. 

Currently, while attending school, Nick works as a preschool teacher in Park City, and his parents say he loves the unconditional love the children he teaches show him. They also say he continues to be an amazing artist: “He can turn garage junk into a sculpture we could sell. He can build a robot out of a pool noodle and a broken chair.” John admits it’s a continual process for he and Jenie to build Nick up and reassure him they love him. “We tell him we’re here to support him on his journey and can’t even begin to understand how hard it is. But no matter what, we’ll stand with him. We loved the part in Tom Christofferson’s book about how Tom’s mother said that how the family treats Tom and his partner (of the time) will let all the family members know that nothing can ever change the way their parents feel about them. I’ve had to learn and grow to be able to recognize there’s not just one way, or perhaps my way is not always the only way. There are lots of paths – some zigzag, some have a lot of detours and scenic overlooks, but you eventually make it there.”

John says he loves all the things that are different about Nick, because they help John himself to be a better person. “I’m changing, I’m learning, I’m growing. I have more charity, more understanding, more empathy. This all impacts my journey, too. He’s helping me become who the Lord wants me to be. Having an LGBTQ child allows us a great canvas to grow with. You learn more how the Savior treats everyone. I’m a better person because Nick’s my son.” These lessons have helped John greatly through his current service as stake president as he counsels others who are met with various challenges and growth experiences. He strongly agrees with President Nelson that anytime we show love to another, we are helping people feel the love of their Savior and assisting the work of exaltation.

Jenie also says being Nick’s parent has been a privilege, and she encourages other mothers in her position to “embrace the calling.” When she first understood this was to be her path, Jenie said she barely knew anyone else in her same position, so she went to a good life coach who helped her navigate. She then got certified to coach herself, and she felt the Lord pushing her toward helping other LGBTQ families. You may now recognize Jenie as a familiar face at Lift and Love where we are lucky to have her help Allison run the podcast, support groups, and coaching program. In 2019, when Jenie first stumbled upon @liftandloveorg, she says, “I was impressed that here was a place I can work to keep people tethered to the Savior while navigating their journey as an LGBTQ family. These are some of the most amazing moms I’ve ever met. I want to help people stay connected to Christ and the gospel; He’s our partner in this.” 

The Hunters have helped start an LGBTQ FHE group in their Tampa, FL-area stake. John is buoyed by the thought that “there is room in the choir for everyone.” He says, “We have to continue to make everyone feel more welcome at church. It should be diverse. We need and want everyone. Anytime someone wants to make Christ a part of their life, we want them.”

THE TAYLOR FAMILY

“Our story starts with my brother’s, really,” says Amy Taylor of Idaho Falls. It was a cold Christmas Eve night in 2003. Amy’s husband Brooks was working the night shift at the sheriff’s office, so her fresh off his mission brother, Jamison came over to help Amy prep Christmas for her young kids. Once the kids had gone to bed, Jamison opened up to Amy. “He confided he’d been experiencing what he, at the time, called same sex attraction. I was completely surprised; it’s nothing I had ever considered. But in that moment, it changed everything I’d ever thought about gay people. I just felt bad he’d been living alone with this for so long. It made me feel closer to him and I appreciated him telling me. He asked me not to say anything because he planned to change his orientation, and didn’t want anyone knowing he had struggled with SSA,” Amy says.

 That’s when Amy first defined herself as an ally. She watched her overachiever brother who owned his own business pay his way through therapy, intent on changing his orientation because he was intent on having a wife and family. She watched as he systematically dated women, and he even became engaged. But finally one day, he approached Amy and Brooks and said, “This isn’t working. I don’t think I can be with a woman. I don’t think this therapy works. The more I learn about others’ stories, the more I realize therapy might work for awhile, but people rarely change their orientation. And if they do… well, it’s not working for me.” Jamison decided to be celibate – dating women was too stressful. Amy says, “And he didn’t want to do that to a woman, make her live in a relationship where he’s not attracted to her.” But that goal took Jamison down a dark path of hopelessness. It wasn’t until he came out via video, started dating men, and learned to accept himself that they saw his burdens lift. Amy says, “We were learning as he was. I was reading everything I could get my hands on in the LDS-LGBTQ world. I thought there was a path for him in the church because I thought there was a path there for everyone.”

Simultaneously, the Taylors’ extended family were watching Amy and Brooks’ two-year-old son, Jackson, develop an affinity for the performance stage they had built in their home. Following the lead of older sisters Abby (now 24) and Hally (now 22), Jackson would don their dance costumes and prance around with them. “And he was so good at it!” Amy exclaims. Several of their relatives were quite humored by his performances, but their laughter did not sit well with Brooks. The truth is, he and Amy (and Jamison) already sensed what this might mean – Jackson’s preference for tutus over the superhero costumes they had bought him – and Brooks didn’t want anyone mocking his child.

At the time, Jamison shared something he was being told in therapy: that boys benefit from the masculine influences of their fathers.  Eventually, Brooks eased back on working two jobs while Amy stepped back into the workplace so Brooks could spend more quality time with  Jackson (now 20) and younger brother Lincoln (now 15) camping, motorbiking, hunting “and other guy stuff.” But all along, as Jackson grew, his parents noticed his struggles to assimilate with his peers. Something was just different.

While Jackson liked active activities like climbing, tumbling, and gymnastics, he turned to dressing in his sister’s costumes while they were away, so they wouldn’t become upset. He didn’t really fit in with the guys in their area, but young girls also didn’t always want to play with boys. When Jackson was six, he asked his mom, “Is it bad because I think a boy is cute?” At the time, Amy tried to steer him away from this train of thought by calling it admiration and emulation, not attraction. Looking back, she understands why her reframing bothered her son at the time. 

A stake in the area was hosting a special meeting for LGBTQ members and their families, with Ty Mansfield and Fred and Marilyn Matis speaking. With some trepidation, Amy and Brooks decided to go. Their son was not out – not even to them yet – but as they walked into the packed building, Amy said she had one of the most spiritual impressions of her life: “This is where you need to be. These people belong here, and you belong here.” She was deeply moved in a breakout session as the Matises, who had lost their gay son to suicide, reiterated the importance to “just love our kids!” When Amy asked, “How can we do this, when they teach it’s wrong?” The Matises said, “You just do.”

That was Amy’s first moment of cognitive dissonance. At the meeting, they happened to sit behind a group of extended family members who had a gay sibling who had died of AIDS. It was a surprise when the closing prayer was announced, they realized it was another gay family member, their son and nephew, and they were all there to show support. From that moment on, the Taylors felt strongly, “This is our place. This is where we need to be advocating.”

Now in high school, Jackson went through a phase where he tried to boost his masculinity by hanging out with football players. “It was like his last stand of trying to be straight,” says Amy. “We didn’t know until later he was making deals with God and pleading things like, ‘I’ll do anything you ask if you make me not gay…’ and setting arbitrary deadlines for taking his life if it didn’t work out.” Finally, at 14 years old, Jackson came out to his mom first, sobbing, “I don’t want to be gay.” She just held him and said, “I know, but it’s going to be okay.” He then told Brooks and his siblings, knowing his entire family would be supportive and loving. And they were. It was another year before he came out to friends via a video, much like his uncle’s. That was the last night many of his so-called friends ever spoke to him. Others would still talk to him, as long as he avoided speaking of his orientation. Of their ultra-conservative, LDS community, Jamison advised the Taylors, “You need to move if you want him to have normal teen years.” But because of their jobs and because nothing is a given anywhere, moving wasn’t really an option. 

They took Jackson to an Affirmation conference, where for the first time he felt he fit in and made instant friends. They went back to other events, and as Jackson realized the kids around him were amazing, awesome, cool people, that maybe nothing was wrong with him either. In high school, he joined the cheer team, which he loved, but the culmination of his senior year competitions and graduation was diminished by the effects of the 2020 Covid-19 shutdown. Jackson is now a sophomore at UC Berkeley, studying molecular and cellular biology with plans to be a neurosurgeon.

At Berkeley, he has maintained his love for the Savior, saying, “Real Christlike love is freely given and never conditional. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around why church leaders would cause harm to individuals. Hopefully they can try to empathize more, to understand.” Jackson recognizes his upbringing was unique in many ways, namely in that he had “the gold standard of parenting.” He says he never felt anything but love and support from his family, and knew even if church and school were torture chambers, he could go home and feel safe. He doesn’t resent his parents’ activity now, saying, “If they can make church a safe place for kids who don’t have that at home, that’s amazing. Sometimes I wish I could do that, and I’ve felt guilty for not being there – but I just can’t. I have a big pain-baby where the church is concerned, lots of trauma. But at the end of the day, it’s about the doctrine, and not the people, who I struggle with.” 

He has now found his tribe in a place where he says people value people and are against any organization that spreads hate or harms others. The Berkeley LDS ward even dedicated a whole month this summer to LGBTQ lessons and support. “I went from an organization-first mentality, to a people-first mentality.” 

Meanwhile back home, Amy is now her ward’s Relief Society President and Brooks serves on the High Council. They feel church leaders need LGBTQ families to train them, and have embraced opportunities to offer their leaders advice. Amy says she “probably brings up Jackson weekly, and it probably drives everyone crazy, but I don’t care. I’ve sat in church so many times, so angry, and I’ve thought before, why am I here? And then I got called to be the RS President. And I figured, maybe this is my time to serve; maybe they need me.”

The Taylors have since built a new home, with a specially designed space for a new kind of gathering: Open Arms, their monthly LGBTQ support group. Now five years strong, it’s modeled after a similar one their family members run in Arizona. Open Arms has attracted speakers including Tom Christofferson, Ben Schilaty, Charlie Bird, Richard Ostler, and audiences of over 100. The group started when a family friend - a stake YW president - called Amy for advice, as her daughter had just come out. Amy’s words to her now resonate regularly with so many other parents in their position, “Just love her. Just do whatever it takes to keep your child alive.”

THE CHAPMAN FAMILY

“It wasn’t a shock,” Susan Chapman says of her 21-year-old daughter, Sarah, coming out earlier this year. In fact, when Sarah was in high school, Susan tried to broach the subject herself with a “Hey, so…” Sarah would laugh and tell her friends, “My mom thinks I’m gay.” Susan now knows Sarah wasn’t ready to admit it just yet. 

Brought up LDS, Sarah was under the impression that perhaps it was something that might go away after she served a mission. But during her mission, Sarah realized this is who she is and it isn’t going anywhere. When she returned, she thought she might date guys, but quickly realized that also wasn’t going to work out. Shortly after, Susan visited her daughter for her birthday, and Sarah shared a particular Questions from the Closet podcast episode with her mom. Susan says she isn’t proud of how she responded at the time, and the next day apologized for not being as open as she would have liked. “When I went home from that trip, I really realized: my daughter is gay. Heavenly Father was preparing me.” She asked Sarah if anything was troubling her. Sarah replied, “I’m just dealing with some stuff.” Susan said, “You might as well tell me because I think you’ll feel better once you do. I already know, but you’re going to have to tell me.” Sarah said, “How did you know?” Susan said, “God told me.”

The truth is, they were both dealing with a lot of really heavy stuff. In November of 2020, Susan’s husband Ryan had been diagnosed with colon cancer. He had lost his own father to a different form of cancer a year prior, and Ryan’s prognosis also did not look good. Sarah asked her mom not to tell her dad about her orientation, but Susan did – an action that upset her daughter, and the two did not speak for a few days, which was very out of character for them. But Susan needed the support of her spouse – her best friend, and most importantly, she knew that Sarah would need to know she had her dad’s support while he was still with them, if things were to go south.

Indeed, Ryan instantly expressed unconditional love for his daughter, and his own previous ideologies about what it meant to be gay changed on a dime once it hit home with his own daughter. Susan says he told her that up until that point, he wanted to believe it was a choice -- that if someone did not want to be gay, they could choose not to be. To each his own. But now, he knew that he had misunderstood. 

Susan said that while their community rallied around them through Ryan’s public battle with cancer, she was also privately processing the confirmation of Sarah’s reality. During those first few days, Susan got her hands on every source of information she could and listened to many Audible books to help her understand and prepare. She had a strong impression that this was something her daughter had signed up for in the pre-existence: primarily to advocate for others and create change. The family always joked about their daughter’s leadership and pioneering vision: “Sarah for President,” they’d say. Sarah is the second oldest of siblings Jared -23 (who is married to Brooke), Emma – 19, Joseph – 17, Joshua – 15, and Jacob – 12. As a child, she was very athletic, loving volleyball and basketball, and very intelligent. “I cannot match wit with her. She’s always going to win an argument, so I’ve learned not to argue with her,” laughs Susan. 

Her mother also lauds her genuine compassion for others. The Chapman family had two foster kids, ages 4 and 9, when Sarah was in high school and Susan watched Sarah develop an immense compassion for them and frustration with “the system.” Now she’s seeing that compassion shift to another cause: LGBTQ+ equality. “I’m excited to see what she does with it, because she genuinely feels called to help others.” And in turn, so does Susan as her mother. “I guess I must have signed up for this, too.” 

Susan is grateful for a predominately supportive local church community who have reached out with love. She is grateful a friend in her Tuscon, AZ ward is now trying to start an LGBTQ support group. Susan’s nephew is gay, so it was “a moot point” for her side of the family, who’ve already been down this road and fully support Sarah. Susan says it’s been nice to see Ryan’s side of the family also show love.

When deciding to come out publicly in a recent Instagram post (@s.chappity), Sarah first consulted Ben Schilaty for advice, and she appreciates those like him who have been open about their orientation. Sarah longs for positive, LGBTQ female role models in the church, and is on track to be one herself. She is employed by the LDS church in a teaching capacity, and is grateful she has been told by her supervisors that she should live her life with authenticity.

Susan says that Sarah has a deep understanding that she is a child of God and that He loves her immensely. She loves sharing this knowledge with her classroom, and hopes to make others in similar positions feel God’s love for them. The first time she acknowledged she’s gay to a class, Sarah said she felt like she was going to throw up, but she felt comforted seeing that a few in the room gave her subtle thumbs up signs. She’s not sure what the future holds, but for now, she feels called to stay in the church and share the message that people like her are loved completely and unconditionally by their Heavenly Parents.

By fully supporting her daughter, Susan says she is also on board to fully support whatever actions and life steps Sarah takes down the road. “I don’t want her to ever be afraid to tell me if she starts dating, or kisses someone. I want us always to be open and close.” Susan, who is crafty, was more than happy to make a fall rainbow wreath that hangs on their door with pride. Several of her friends (of other Christian faiths) have told her how impressed they are with her daughter sharing her truth, and how the family’s love and support have been positively modeled by them as members of the LDS faith. “I think we’ve come a long way, but we’re still learning,” she says. For other parents who may be struggling, Susan offers the wise advice, “Your child is still your child; they didn’t change. They’re the exact same person they were before they told you. So this shouldn’t change anything. I know some parents might feel shocked at first – and I try to remember that. Though, I’m grateful I was prepared and wasn’t totally shocked.”

Susan says there is some learning she observes that needs to take place with certain leaders so that they might be more inspired to create a safe space for our LGBTQ brothers and sisters. “The leadership sets the tone for the ward. So as leaders, we must show love and support. The youth are always listening, and when you’re gay, you’re on hyper alert – you know where you’re safe, and where you’re not. You want to create a ward, stake, and seminary class where you know you’re safe. I worked with the youth, and they knew they were always safe with me.” Susan also wants people to know there is a better way to respond when someone comes out to you. Before Sarah hit send on her post, Susan was comforted knowing she had friends on standby ready to respond with, “We love you. We support you. Thank you for sharing this part of you with us.” She also said there were those who didn’t respond at all and who seemed to avoid Susan the Sunday after her daughter’s post. “You notice.” But overall, they are very optimistic about Sarah finding her place and making change.

On August 23, 2021, Ryan Chapman succumbed to cancer, with his loving family at his side. Susan says that in hindsight, both she and Sarah are grateful that Susan told Ryan what she did when she did, because when he followed up with Sarah shortly after, he was still in strong enough health that their conversation was deep and meaningful. And now, Sarah will forever know she has her father’s full love and support. Susan is also grateful to know that Ryan can and will support Sarah in more ways than they will ever know from the other side.

THE SAIS FAMILY

“This is a season Rebecca and Jeff Sais have eagerly anticipated for a long time. Jeff comes from a multi-generational farming family; and after working for four decades in the agricultural business himself, he was able to retire in August. Now the couple is in Provo’s Missionary Training Center preparing to embark on 18 months of senior missionary service in Kentucky, where they have been tasked with developing the church’s ARP program -- an opportunity they say never would have happened if it weren’t for their testimony of the Savior that deepened through raising their daughter, Lindsey (41).

Lindsey is the oldest of her siblings, John – 39, Erin – 33, and Andy – 31. The Sais kids were all born in Idaho, and raised in Santa Maria, CA where they moved in ’93. Rebecca and Jeff have always strictly followed the principles of their LDS faith. As a child, Rebecca says Lindsey was very spiritual and obedient, super bright, and always loved school. She also loved looking for worms to sell and playing outside, and was the head of her T-ball team. She did not like pink or anything frilly. Rebecca now regrets that there were times she tried to encourage her daughter to wear her hair differently, or otherwise be something she wasn’t. After entering high school, Lindsey later got involved with friends who drank and smoke pot. She also had no interest in dating and never expressed wanting to do so. While her parents had suspicions about Lindsey’s reality, Rebecca says, “We were in denial. We didn’t talk about it. We tried to love and support her the best we knew how, but she had different ideas and became closed off.”

Long Beach State became Lindsey’s new home after high school, and in college, her drinking and drug use became a problem. She’d occasionally visit home, where house rules mandated she align with gospel living, and this caused some friction between her and her parents. While at school, Lindsey became involved with a (non-LDS) man, and the two married civilly in an LDS chapel. Afterwards, he joined the church, and at the urging of Rebecca and Jeff, the two took temple prep classes and were sealed. Lindsey’s husband was in the military which moved them to Hawaii. There, things spiraled downward fast. Lindsey hung out more and more with her gay friends, and ultimately came out to her husband (but not her parents). At Christmas, they told their families they were getting divorced.

After living for 10 years in Long Beach, Lindsey hit rock bottom and moved to Bakersfield. She’d lost her reputable job, an ocean front apartment, a new car, and all her money. She dated women and fell into drug and alcohol addiction. Weeks would go by with no word from her, and her parents worried. One night, she came home and sat down with her mother on the couch. “Mom, I have something to tell you,” Lindsey said. “I think I know what you’re going to say,” Rebecca replied. Lindsey explained how she’d tried to marry a man, thinking that might “cure her” and help her “overcome her attractions.” After her divorce, she went to an LDS counselor to see if she could change. But she realized this wasn’t something that would change. Rebecca believes that it was her daughter’s cognitive dissonance with what she’d been taught at church and facing the truth of her sexual orientation that caused her to turn to substance abuse to cope.

Her parents sent her to a drug rehab in Michigan, where she did well; but shortly after, Lindsey relapsed. Her active addiction lasted almost 4 more years. After successfully completing a sober living program, on Mother’s Day of 2013, she went home to live with her parents. This time, something was different. They are proud to say she has been clean ever since. She still attends 12-Step meetings regularly because she recognizes that she is always one decision away from losing her life. While under the same roof, the Sais had to acknowledge where they stood on certain issues at the time. Lindsey respected their enforcement of Word of Wisdom guidelines, and Rebecca and Jeff ultimately came to accept that Lindsey was gay. “We couldn’t change that, only our attitude toward her. There were many times where everyone had to agree to disagree and go back to their corners. Along the way, we decided that our relationship with her was more important than our feelings about her sexual orientation. We loved her and wanted to keep her in the family.”

There have been tense times between Lindsey and her siblings and her parents, like the time they supported Prop 8 because Rebecca and Jeff say they committed upon marriage to “always follow the prophet.” Lindsey was understandably quite upset by their decision and didn’t speak to her parents for some time. While this is still a point of contention for the family, Rebecca feels that her attempts to set a standard to be true to the Lord is a positive example for her kids. She says Lindsey has often said, “I’m glad you didn’t bend over the years, that you didn’t bail me out of jail. I needed that. I needed to be told ‘no’.” Rebecca says that they have also benefitted much from lessons Lindsey has taught them.

Lindsey leans far left politically in contrast to her parents’ more conservative nature, but Rebecca and Jeff love how she always looks out for the marginalized, eager to help those in need. Jeff was deeply touched when one day while leaving a store with Lindsey, she stopped and kneeled down to talk with a homeless woman who was visibly struggling with addiction. After giving the woman food and some money, Lindsey offered to pray with the woman, and Jeff sensed it was just what the woman needed. He credits Lindsey for expounding the family’s testimony of the Savior. “I think one of the most powerful parts of the Savior’s mortal ministry is when he showed compassion toward those who would have been the most outcast, like the lepers, publicans, widows. One of the ways in which we can become truly Christlike is to show that kind of empathy, kindness, compassion and love to those who society has marginalized, like Lindsey does.” Rebecca once told her daughter, “Lindsey, you may not be active in the church, but you are active in the gospel because of your kind heart and willingness to act as the Savior would.” While the family says they don’t have all the answers, a Facebook meme they often quote says, “Just love everybody. I’ll sort it out later. Love, God.”

The entire Sais family adores their new member, Connie, who Lindsey married in 2018. Rebecca says Connie is a wonderful woman, and while not a member of the LDS faith, Connie supports Lindsey and the family in the various ways that they observe their faith. “Together, they make a great team,” says Rebecca. ”Lindsey’s more emotion-driven and can be impulsive; Connie is steady, quiet, constant. She thinks things through before acting.” The couple lives in Raleigh, NC where Connie works full time and is supporting Lindsey, who works part time while studying for her LSAT. She plans to attend law school with a focus on civil rights and social justice next fall. She is eager to work on the other side of the law and help people in need as she once was. Rebecca and Jeff feel grateful for all they’ve experienced alongside Lindsey and for how far they’ve all come. The family has adopted one of Lindsey’s favorite phrases from AA, “I can’t; He can. I think I’ll let Him.” Rebecca says, “As difficult as this journey has been, we can honestly say we’re grateful for where it’s brought us. And now, we feel it’s a huge blessing that we can help other people who feel on the edge of society or the church, and who might question their Savior’s or mankind’s love for them.”

Jeff also feels we underestimate the spiritual depth of people who don’t fit in a religious box. “When we don’t understand the depth of their spiritual nature, we place them outside the box. I think this issue of same-sex attraction goes a lot deeper than what society in general – and certainly those in the church – may realize; and as such, I think it creates a lot of conflict within people. And that’s where the importance of love in families and unity really comes in. As we strengthen families in the church, we will help everybody to create a place for talking about these things in such a way in which we can gain greater understanding.”

Jeff believes that once this life is over and we’re on the other side, we’ll see things as they really are. “We’ll understand there’s a place in Heavenly Father’s kingdom for all. Everyone will be happy. I’m not sure how that will look, but I think Heavenly Father is capable of creating a greater amount of happiness for his children – more than we can ever imagine.”

*Lindsey would be happy to lend an ear to anyone who may wish to feel a little less alone if walking a similar journey. You can reach her at IG: @kantyoudigit @palomas.gris

THE FOGG FAMILY

Shortly after Michelle Fogg turned 20, she became active in the LDS church and

received her patriarchal blessing. In it, she was blessed she’d have children “who will be

special to the Lord” -- verbiage she found odd at the time, as she presumed all children

fit that category. She wondered what might lie in store; and indeed, many unique

experiences have come as Michelle and her husband, Steven, have expanded their

family to include five children currently between the ages of 4 and 17.

The Fogg children have a range of severe food allergies, rare medical disorders, mental

health diagnoses, and giftedness. Emalee, now 17, was born with an array of medical

problems that launched science-minded Michelle on a 10-year journey into the food

allergy world. Michelle started a non-profit and advocated for kids like hers in front of

legislatures, created trainings for school nurses, served on national boards, and

promoted education and safety for kids with life-threatening allergies on a local level. A

decade of advocacy took its toll, and Michelle ultimately felt prompted to step back and

center her care efforts in the home.

It was soon after this time that her oldest daughter, Emalee, then 15, invited her mom to dinner to tell

her, “I like girls, instead of boys.” Saying these words brought Emalee tremendous relief. While this

news rocked Michelle’s world, there was some relief that she was now in a place in which she could

pivot to a whole new category of parental love, support, and understanding. Michelle shared their

daughter’s news with Steven, and together, they agreed to make it a top priority to continue to love

and support Emalee, while pursuing further education and understanding. This time, however, Steven

begged Michelle to not make their family a poster family for LGBTQ advocacy – not because they

didn’t support their daughter, but because of the lingering PTSD from allergy-world exhaustion.

Almost three years later, crediting the crucial connection and perspective she gained from listening to

other people’s stories (mostly via Ostler’s Listen, Learn, and Love podcast), Michelle trusts it is the right

time to share the signs and preparation she received along her daughter’s special journey. Because

there were plenty.

The first happened when Emalee was ten. Michelle picked up a phone her daughter had

set down to discover the search engine contained the words “Can you be Mormon and

gay?” At eleven, Michelle received a phone call from the mother of one of Emalee’s

friends at school, who shared that her daughter had received a flower from a girl

(Emalee) who she made a point to refer to as her girlfriend (not her friend who is a girl).

Michelle and Steven had a talk with their daughter at that time and made some fear-

based comments (they would later rethink), operating off the valid concern that their

daughter might become a social pariah in their conservative Salt Lake City, UT

neighborhood. On top of all the other medical issues that were already making her

daughter’s life difficult, Michelle followed a prompting to transfer Emalee to a charter

school. This fresh start ended up being a good move socially. But they also watched as

Emalee fell into a deeper depression throughout middle school – withdrawing more at

home, dealing with major anxiety, no longer wanting to go to her church classes or at

times, even leave her bedroom. 

Michelle prayed about what to do to help her now 8th grade daughter, who she

assumed was suffering from years of medical challenges. That fall, she felt led to

explore some of Emalee’s school work in Google Docs, where she found a writing

assignment in which Emalee talked about being gay, being afraid to tell her parents,

and fearing they would disown her because of their religious beliefs. Michelle didn’t

confront Emalee at this time, but filed the experience away in a growing file she wasn’t

quite ready to deal with.

The next spring, while in the temple, Michelle was pleading with God about what to do.

In her dressing room after a session, she felt a strong, clear presence – as if someone

was standing there and speaking loudly, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Michelle

burst into tears and took comfort in the understanding that God was in charge, and that

He loved and could help Emalee more than her parents ever could. It was their job to

just be still and trust Him.

It would be another couple years before Emalee and Michelle’s revelatory dinner date.

Up until that point, Michelle said she had always been a box-checking member who

questioned how anyone could ever leave the church for any reason. After the November

2015 exclusion policy, Michelle remembers thinking, “I’m so sorry those poor families

have to deal with that. I’m so glad it’s not me.” But now, it is. She is grateful for the

humility and enlightenment on this new path which has given her the opportunity to rid

herself of layers of judgment and bias, which she didn’t realize existed inside of her.

Michelle says beyond looking upward, she has always been the type to turn to study

and science to understand our world and the people in it. After studying the history of

LGBTQ people, Michelle said, “My eyes were opened to one of the most brutal tales of

human experience and treatment. What they’ve been through – it’s heartbreaking.”

Yet, she says God has continued to guide her in a method that feels personal. One

night after pondering the debunking of the “choice theory” of sexual orientation, she

prayed that she would understand the biologic mechanisms involved. The next morning,

she came across an article and lecture by Dr. Gregory Prince about the role of

epigenetics. She was fascinated and fully acknowledged her answered prayer – which

kicked off an even deeper study. Michelle also shares that she was buoyed up by the

coming out story of Stacey Harkey (of the family’s favorite TV show, Studio C), who came

out just one month after Emalee had. “His story helped to validate many parts of

Emalee’s life as a young child, and opened me up to a whole new flood of stories. Every

single one was so similar. I just KNEW what my daughter was telling me was true. And I

just want to thank the individuals who did what I’m doing right now – sharing their

stories because they helped me so much! To listen, learn, and love. To lift and love. I

learned through our collective experiences that fear is replaced with love. Then you

have peace. The peace doesn’t come without love.”

Since her daughter has come out, Michelle is grateful for new impressions and

perspectives. Once in prayer, she asked God, “Do you really want me to tell my

daughter that she needs to be celibate and alone?” After which, she felt an emphatic

“No.” Perhaps the greatest thing that has happened since Emalee came out, says

Michelle, is that “it was like a light switch turned on and we got our daughter back. In the

weeks following, she was walking around the house whistling!? I said to Steven, ‘Do you

hear her? There’s happiness again!’ The weight lifted – in knowing you’re not going to

be rejected by the people who love you most. That it’s okay to be who you are.”

While Emalee still has struggles with her mental and physical health, she is doing great.

She recently received an excellent score on her first attempt at the ACT, tested out of

high school a year early, and is now taking college courses. Michelle says, “She is so

much happier.” 

While her mother says, “Emalee was always the most valiant, pure, sweet innocent

child -- she once had the strongest testimony,” Emalee has now found it in her best

interests to step away from the church as she is about to turn 18.

Another Fogg child came out to their parents earlier this year, and Michelle senses this

is a road that several in her family will walk or otherwise come to understand on a

personal level. The Fogg family savored the quiet peace of the pandemic, and are

currently figuring out their future relationship with the religion in which they’ve always

been affiliated. In the meantime, Michelle says she is grateful for the sacred duty she

has to share with others how special her children are to the Lord, no matter where their

paths may lead. “I’m done trying to figure it out, I’ve turned it over to Him. I don’t know

any of our destinations, but I don’t worry anymore. Emalee is in God’s hands; He’s

walking right alongside her. He’s going to take her – and all of us – wherever we need

to go.”

THE BURTON FAMILY

One night, when Holly Burton was tucking her 6-year-old son Sam into bed, he looked up at her with his imploring blue eyes and said, “Mom, I have a question and you have to tell me the truth. Am I adopted?” Holly responded, “No, honey. I would tell you if you were adopted; why do you ask that?” Her son replied, “I don’t know, I’m just… different.”

It turns out Sam would experience a unique path from many of his peers, in more ways than one. “He was always a very creative, gentle, inquisitive and intelligent child,” says his mom. “He tested to be in a gifted program, but he wanted to stay at his regular school and be with his friends.”

Sam is the second of five children in the Burton Family. Throughout middle and high school, Holly says Sam didn’t identify himself as being gay, but later reasons that the guys he admired back then probably were crushes. He told her, “Our culture never provided me with a healthy framework to even conceive of being gay, so it was easy to dissociate and convince myself it wasn’t so.” Sam had lots of friends who were girls, but no girlfriends. Holly now laughs, “I always just thought he was so pure, he wasn’t going to kiss anyone before his mission.” Indeed, as he prepared to serve, Sam’s stake president told his parents, “I interview a lot of missionaries before they leave and really grill them – I want to tell you that Sam is one of the purest souls I’ve ever spoken with.”

Sam loved serving in one of the New York missions, and his friends and family loved receiving his “wonderfully entertaining letters.” Halfway through his mission, Sam began having what he thought were heart problems. He was put through a series of tests, but came to realize he was experiencing severe anxiety attacks. Sam was coming to the realization that he was gay and the cognitive dissonance that it created caused his body to react. He came out to a LDS services therapist as well as his mission president.

Unfortunately, telling his mission president is something Sam later regretted. His mission president approached Sam being gay as a problem to be fixed, a sin to be repented of, and proceeded by meeting with Sam regularly to help him determine what was preventing him from accessing the Atonement to help him be made straight. As a pretty straight-laced kid, Sam was unable to come up with answers that merited such a repentance process. Sam’s mission president advised him not to tell his family he was gay, so they remained unaware of what he was going through. After two years, Sam returned home to Holladay, UT, and began school at BYU Provo, where he found a good therapist. He found these sessions very helpful.

Soon after school started that fall, Sam met his mom for a last minute lunch at Thanksgiving Point. Over a table at Costa Vida, Sam shared a significant spiritual experience from his mission that happened during a time when he was in a particularly dark place. He was sitting outside his apartment on a fire escape feeling alone and without hope. As he prayed, he felt a great peace and these words came into his mind: “You are not broken. You are exactly who you should be. You are going to be okay.” This experience carried Sam for the rest of his mission until he returned home. On that day, after sharing this with his mom, he said, “You probably already know this, Mom, but I’m gay.” Taken back, Holly replied, “Wow. I didn’t know that. This is big… Just know I love you and that makes absolutely no difference.”

When Holly got back to her car, she had an overwhelming feeling of, “I wish it were yesterday. I wish I could go back in time.” While she was so grateful her son had shared this news with her, she says, “I was worried. I didn’t feel like this is end of the world horrible. But more like all those expectations and dreams I had for him are gone, and he’s going to have a different life, and I was mourning that. Things will be different – for this kid whose kindness, patience, and compassion are gifts. We thought he would be the best husband and father. And at that time, I thought that’s not going to happen for him. Now, my thinking has flipped – he will be the best husband and father, but it won’t be with a woman. And I’m completely okay with that.”

Sam had asked his mom to let him be the one to tell his dad, Brent, which presented a challenge for Holly who always shared her thoughts and feelings with her husband – especially big news. That night, as she was making dinner, Brent caught her in an emotional moment and asked what was wrong. She said, “I heard news about a friend who is going through some hard things. I can’t share the details, but I’m feeling sad.” Sam reached out to her that night to make sure she was alright, saying, “I’ve had a long time to process this mom…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Holly says, “Sam was still Sam. His love and empathy still came through.” Over the next couple weeks, Holly found herself processing alone, with many nights spent crying in the bathroom by the kitchen -- a place no one would hear her. She urged Sam to tell his dad, completely confident Brent would respond the right way. And he did. Later, Brent said, “This is Sam we’re talking about – one of the best people we know. We know this isn’t a choice.” While Holly and Brent were united in love and support for their son, they then faced the questions that flood so many parents in this space: What does this mean? For our son, for this church, for these people? Where is their place?

Initially, Sam considered the idea of remaining celibate, or alone, and staying in the church. But his family watched as he spiraled into depression, devoid of hope. “God did not make us to be alone,” says Holly. “Especially Sam – who has so much love to offer, so much to share.” Brent initially struggled, wondering “What kind of God would do this to someone? It just seems cruel to give someone a testimony of God’s plan, only for them to realize that one of the end goals in that plan is not possible for them.” Holly ‘s first thoughts were, “Of course this is going to change! If this really is Jesus Christ’s church, it will have to. He has a plan for ALL his children. I’m just waiting for the further light and knowledge!” Though she hopes she’s not being naïve.

Sam remained at BYU, where Holly says loving, affirming professors in his undergraduate program offered Sam the support he needed. “They didn’t love Sam because he was a gay student. They saw him for who he was – this amazing, talented kid. They gave him opportunities to succeed. He won awards, he presented papers, he taught undergraduate classes. He even went to DC to help a professor present their research at a conference.” She credits one professor in particular with offering the kind of support that she feels helped save her son’s life. In light of recent events, she hopes the BYU faculty will remain a safe space for kids like her son who so desperately need them to be.

Holly will never forget when she received a call from Sam one late night. She could hear it in his voice. He was not okay. She asked, “Are you thinking about hurting yourself, Sam?” His response quickly prompted her to drive down and take him to the ER where they met with the psych department. A nurse asked Sam to explain what was going on. “I’m a gay man; I go to BYU.” “Say no more,” the nurse replied. Together, Sam’s support team made a game plan. He started to turn to music, specifically the BYU piano practice rooms, where he’d escape whenever he needed to destress.

It was a short time later that Sam asked his parents, “What would you do if I ever married a man?” They told him, “We’d be completely supportive and love him just like we love you. He’d be a part of our family.” Once Sam realized he had his parents’ full support, Holly says they saw a weight lift from him. He felt hope. Sam is now thriving at UT Austin where he was granted a teaching fellowship and is now pursuing his masters in Media Studies. He plans on being a professor someday. Recently, out of respect to his parents, Sam told them of his intention to have his records removed from the church, feeling he can no longer “in good conscience have (his) name on the records of a church that treats people this way.” Although, he fully respects his parents’ choice to try to stay in the church, serve, and hopefully make a difference.

Holly is serving as a stake Young Women’s president. She strongly believes we should lead with love instead of fear on these issues. She says, “By listening to others -- really listening, we can build bridges and come to understand different lived experiences unlike our own.” She flies a Pride flag not as a political statement, but to show her love. She has often felt the presence of her beloved father, who passed away three years ago, and she hears his spirit reminding her to “Be fearless. Trust in the Lord and know that this is all so much bigger than we can even comprehend.” She believes we need less judgment and more love. “My job is not to judge. I believe that is the Savior’s job. Our job as members of His church is to love.” She wishes we had better training for church leaders on these issues. “Probably the best thing leaders can learn to do is to listen to LGBTQ people.” Her bishop did exactly this with Sam. Holly was so touched by how their bishop just listened to Sam and asked questions -- for hours. He was then inspired to plan a fifth Sunday meeting where he invited Samuel (as the main speaker) to share his experiences, and Holly and Brent and two other parents of an LGBTQ child, to share theirs as well.

What Holly hopes for most right now in this space is that we can shift the narrative so that when a LDS parent’s child comes out, the parents don’t see this as devastating, but see their child as a gift. She says, “The LGBTQ people I know are incredible. They are amazing! I know we say we have a place for them, but our doctrine is not so clear about that place. At least not a place or space that many can live with. By not having or creating that space, we’re losing out. We’ve lost so many people – not just those who have stepped away, but literal lives have been lost over this. It is heartbreaking to me! These are people who have so much to offer. Sometimes we have to ask hard questions – and more importantly listen to the answers. When we really listen to LGBTQ people, we see them, we understand them, and it is then that we are better able to fully love them.”

THE KENNEDY FAMILY

On paper, everything seemed ideal: top of his class, National Merit Scholar, Eagle Scout, Order of the Arrow member, returned missionary and recipient of a full scholarship to Utah State University. But for years, Jeffrey Kennedy’s parents had suspected something was troubling their son. “He was very closed off growing up; he didn’t want to talk about anything emotional. But as a middle child and someone who was so scholastic, he could get away with it – hiding up in his room to do homework. ‘That’s just the type of student he is,” thought his parents. But neither Pam nor Darin Kennedy was aware of the silent struggle their son was enduring, unable to acknowledge and accept a part of himself that he was battling to keep hidden.

On his mission to Vanuatu in the South Pacific, Jeffrey started having anxiety at a worrisome enough level that he spoke to his parents about it. While his mission president said he’d be fine, Pam sensed something else was going on. She encouraged Jeffrey to be tested for dengue or the West Nile virus. (Pam and Darin later discovered the mission president knew all along that Jeffrey was gay but did not disclose that information to his parents.) Had they known, so much surrounding his decision to serve a mission and his state of mind right afterwards would have made sense. Jeffrey served his two years, but was very emotional, anxious, and raw when he came home. Pam remembers Darin staying up all night long with him that first night in an attempt to comfort him. Several months later, after Jeffrey had left their Boise, ID home for school in Logan, UT, Darin was searching around the house for an SD drive. Figuring their techie son might be the most likely owner, Darin opened Jeffrey’s desk and within found a “To Mom and Dad” letter. Shortly after, Darin left his son’s room in tears and handed Pam the letter. She likewise read how Jeffrey had always tried to be the best son, how he was so sorry to disappoint his parents, but he couldn’t live up to their expectations. “We thought it was a suicide note,” Pam says, “But at the bottom, he finally said, ‘I need to tell you, I’m gay’.”

“It threw us for such a loop,” says Pam. “We didn’t see it coming. But in that moment, my husband did a complete 180.” Darin told her, “I need to be the one to talk to our son. I need to tell him I found his letter, that I love him, and I’m so sorry for everything hurtful I’ve ever said,” referencing the homophobic comments he’d made over the years about gay people and couples they saw on TV and around town. While Darin knew his son didn’t choose his orientation and couldn’t change it, he initially figured that as an RM, perhaps he’d choose to lead a celibate life. In contrast, Pam says she instantly thought, “Screw that, I want him to have a life.” While Pam wanted nothing but happiness for Jeffrey, she still cried for six months. Church was especially hard. She never saw her son’s orientation as a burden, but had a difficult time seeing it as a blessing.

A few months later Pam and Jeffrey attended a third temple session together in which the mother-son duo had been asked to be the witness couple. They both chuckled, thinking “If they only knew…” And then she realized, “The Lord does know.” During that last session together, Pam received a distinct prompting: “Your son’s going to leave the church, and it’s going to be okay.” After the temple, while sitting in the car in a Shopko parking lot, Jeffrey asked his mother, “Do you think it’d be okay if I start dating?”

With his parents’ blessing, Jeffrey began dating. While Boise is generally more liberal and accepting than other nearby towns (when Jeffrey told his younger brother he’s gay, Braedon barely looked up from his video game and said, “Okay, my friends are gay, no big deal”), Pam laments that gay children in conservative religious communities do not yet have acceptable offerings for safe dating. “Kids like my son don’t want the one-night stands, or get drunk and party, or date older men in secret type of scene. Jeffrey just wanted to date normally like everyone else did.” Jeffrey also hadn’t wanted to pursue dating guys with LDS backgrounds, figuring he wouldn’t find it helpful to have two partners in one relationship dealing with the kind of religious trauma he had experienced, but he met a great guy with a Christian background, who Pam says is “perfect for him. We couldn’t have asked for a better son-in-law.” Two years later, in May of this year, they were married in his older brother’s backyard and the entire family was there to support. When Jeffrey was engaged, he teared up talking to Pam about his love for his soon-to-be husband and said he couldn’t imagine spending eternity with anyone other than Cory. Pam reasons, “That says it right there. That’s all I needed to know.”

Pam’s kids have nicknamed her the “Gay Warrior.” She is a visible ally at the Boise-based high school where she works, wearing her rainbow gear every day to let the students know she’s a safe space. Her son Jeffrey is more subdued about his personal life. He and Cory live a simple, happy life, and enjoy cooking together, Star Wars,musical theatre (Cory knows every word to Hamilton), and trips in the camper they bought together, complete with twinkly lights, their dog, James, and two cats, Rhubarb and Whiskey. Like the rest of the Kennedy family, they are huge Disney fans, and they recently honeymooned at Disneyworld. Cory and Jeff both work and support each other as Jeffrey pursues his masters degree in Environmental Engineering. Cory will then complete his education. It means a lot to Pam that Cory took Jeffrey’s last name, and she’s excited that the two plan to adopt children down the road. “My son’s a good person. He’s done everything he could do within the church – he graduated from seminary, served a mission, worked in the temple; what more did he have to do?” Pam says, “The biggest thing I’ve learned on this journey is that God is bigger than the church portrays and our earth-bound perceptions. We say God’s love is infinite and eternal, but we also talk a lot about earthly requirements that we must follow. While these requirements are great and can be a strength for most families, they can be painful for members who don’t fit the mold. If we believe that God is in charge and understands our eternal situation, then we can put our trust in Him to sort out these complicated situations. All I know is that God loves my son even more than I do and created him exactly how he is. We have to expand our belief in what God is capable of doing and take away the fear in our teaching.” While Pam and Darin have raised all their kids in the church and know the Plan of Salvation well, Pam has never felt the fear of having family excluded from Heaven. “I have too many wonderful friends and family outside the church to believe that there isn’t a wonderful place for them.”

Pam and Darin try to visibly be a safe place for those who may need them to be. Pam says, “I wish the church would use us as a resource more often. When people are in crisis, they should send in someone who understands. My husband and I have been there, we know what these families are going through. It can really shake your faith.“ Although Pam and Darin have strong testimonies of Jesus Christ and the Atonement, there are times when church is difficult. Pam and Darin no longer feel compelled to force their youngest son, now 16, to attend seminary. They don’t want him to have to listen to any non-affirming lessons on marriage. Yet each week, Pam, Darin, and Braedon attend church to partake of the sacrament and hopefully receive just one tender mercy -- one golden message of Christlike goodness. They are never disappointed. They have seen Christlike blessings in the details of their lives, including unconditional support from family members.

During Covid, they have spent more time as a family and have had plenty of opportunity to bond. Through the experiences of these past few years, Pam and Darin have grown closer together and Pam has finally come to see that having a gay child truly is a blessing. “When what you thought you knew is stripped away, you are left with nothing but Christ and the Atonement to fall back on.” While their relationship with the church is strained, Pam and Darin feel that they are in a good place and that God will work it all out. They feel very blessed to have had the opportunity to raise one of God’s gay children.

THE BARTH FAMILY

Angie Barth is often asked what it’s like to raise identical twins. “It’s like having a lesson on love every single day,” she says. “The connection between Gavin and Garrett is palpable. When they were toddlers, if I gave one of them a cookie, he would immediately run off and give it to his brother.” At the same time, the two kept parents Angie and Scott on their toes, earning the nicknames “Seek” and “Destroy” because of the crazy capers they would concoct, including the time when, at two years old, they redecorated every surface of the kitchen in their new house with a rainbow-colored assortment of Sharpie markers they had accessed by strategically climbing onto each other’s backs. 

While the brothers were the best of friends and begged to be in the same class at school, they also were quite independent and pursued different interests. Angie recalls, “Growing up, Garrett loved to talk about his dreams for his future family. For years, he’d share his hopes of having 15 children who he’d drive around in a school bus. He’d rattle off the most ridiculous names for all of these poor kids,” she laughs. “But suddenly, one day, he didn’t want to talk about those plans anymore.”     

Around 14 years old, Gavin and Garrett started to grow apart. As he became increasingly withdrawn, a lot of Garrett’s anger was directed toward his brother. This wasn’t true to the typically kind, content character of the Garrett Angie had watched grow up, but she was at a loss for what to do, as he wouldn’t let anyone in. 

Finally, one night, Garrett confirmed to his mother that he is gay. She had experienced impressions since he was three years old that this might be the case, so it wasn’t too shocking. Yet, she still felt heartbroken that night in his room, looking over at the two pictures of LDS temples Garrett had always displayed on his desk. In that moment, she realized that realistically, a temple marriage would not likely be a part of his future. When Angie asked why he had withheld telling them sooner, Garrett confessed it was because his dad, Scott, was enduring a stressful job hunt, and Garrett didn’t want to add to the family’s burdens.

Angie says, “After Garrett came out, we learned that he had really come to resent Gavin because he knew that Gavin would be able to have all of the things that Garrett had always hoped and dreamed for himself—a happy marriage with someone to build and share a life with, complete with children, home, family—but he had come to the realization that he would never have these things, simply because he was born gay and his brother was not.” 

Garrett has had to distance himself from the church to continue to heal from religious trauma. It’s pained Angie to see how hard he’s had to work to untangle his relationship with God and Jesus Christ from the church teachings that have caused him trauma as he has sought to maintain his mental health. 

Like many parents in her situation, Angie now also questions her own place in the church. She says, “As parents we know, or very quickly come to know through personal revelation, that our child was intentionally, purposefully created this way. We know of their absolute goodness and of their divine nature. However, church teachings have mischaracterized gay people for decades, so it’s difficult to reconcile all of that with what we know to be true about our own child. With identical twins, the differences between how they are treated and the blessings that are or are not available to them in the church feel especially poignant and so completely arbitrary now. Both boys are equally righteous and worthy young men, but because one of them happened to be born gay, the church doesn’t make the blessings and ordinances of salvation available to him in a way that’s sustainable and congruent with the way that God created him. It feels every bit as arbitrary as having these blessings withheld from your child just because God created them left-handed. These days, there are many days I question where, how, and if I have a place in the church. Where is the space for the eternal family that my husband and I have created and have been working so hard for? But I’m trusting that God loves me and loves my family, so I’m just taking it one day, one step, at a time.” 

Crediting books like Evan Smith’s “Gay LDS Crossroads: A Scripture-Based Path Forward,” Angie knows that Garrett’s orientation was not a mistake, nor a choice. Rather, “he is loved and whole in God’s sight, and it is my job to simply love and support my son on his life’s path.” She has felt the impression from above, “Angie, you need to trust me. I’ve got you. I am with your family, and I have always been with you. You need to tell Garrett that you will support whatever path he chooses.” Once she did that, Angie says Garrett began tearing down his protective walls and rebuilding the relationship with his twin brother. At that point, Garrett told his mom that, “For the first time in such a long time, I feel hope again. I forgot what it feels like to have hope and to look forward to my future.” 

This, after a soul-crushing post Garrett had written when he publicly came out. In it, he says, “I prayed to God, every night, wishing I would wake up as something else. Everywhere I searched, answers taught me that God would ‘make it up to me in the end,’ or that I was damaged and would eventually be fixed. Online searches led me to harmful quotes by real-life prophets and apostles, which I’ve decided not to include.

I’ve spent a lifetime convincing myself I’m attracted to women. I’ve spent a lifetime blowing out my own birthday candles wishing I was straight. I’ve come close to booking myself into a conversion therapy. I’ve spent a lifetime being told I was not eligible to receive the same blessings as my twin brother because of something I never chose. I’ve spent a lifetime in a religion that is fundamentally incompatible with my hopes and dreams for the future, which I believe to be good and right.

I am not a ‘bitter fruit.’

I am worthy. I am beloved. I am beautiful. All members of the LGBTQIA+ community are worthy, beloved, and beautiful, and all members of all marginalized communities deserve to be respected, cherished, and unconditionally loved by ALL of us. It may have taken 19 years to believe it, but I’m proud to be gay. I’m proud of all my family members and friends that have helped me come this far. And most importantly, I’m proud of all those still in the closet / dealing with religious trauma. You are so strong, and I am SO proud of you. Better days are coming.”

After taking a gap year to work and save money for college, Garrett has now begun studying English teaching at the University of Utah. A talented creative writer, he is also working on a fantasy book series. His brother Gavin recently started home MTC training for his dream call: the Czech/Slovak mission (which happens to be the place from where Angie’s family originates). Angie loves that both her boys have supported each other’s unique paths in meaningful ways. Recently, Garrett happily performed Gavin’s favorite piano hymn medley at Gavin’s farewell; and both brothers remain close with their sister, Cassia.

What Angie wishes most now is for “leadership to understand that our LGBTQ children and peers are not some obscure, outside threat bent on destroying the gospel of Jesus Christ, the church, and the traditional family. These are children born in the covenant, who grew up loving the gospel, believing it, and embracing it with all their hearts. These are some of our Heavenly Parents’ choicest spirits with amazing spiritual gifts to offer in the service of Jesus Christ. It is such a shame seeing how the church doesn’t really provide a safe environment or framework in which these amazing children of God can thrive. We need them! If we endeavor to amputate them from the Body of Christ by providing no real sustainable place for them to thrive and worship among us, we all lose.” 

Angie would also love to see church communities work to remove the stigma often connected to people (like her son) who need to step away in order to maintain their mental health. “It’s difficult for those of us who naturally fit the church’s mold so perfectly to comprehend the intense turmoil and anguish experienced in the church by those who are born in a way that can’t fit that mold. I would love if we could embrace them instead and extend nothing but kindness, understanding, and love, trusting that God still is very much directing their personal paths as each seeks the healing and wholeness they need to thrive.”

Throughout her journey, Angie feels she’s been blessed to sit with parents of these precious kids and celebrate them together, as they grapple with pain over these issues and questions that don’t really have any answers. She says, “What sacred ground this has been. Because I have a gay son, I have been able to learn more about what it truly means to love as Jesus loves than I likely ever could have in an entire lifetime otherwise. Given the choice, I would change nothing.”

The Campbell Family

“I want Shelby to live a life that she loves.  I want her to have a relationship with God and feel His love every day. I want her to find a life partner, have a fulfilling career, and just be happy.” These wishes for a child could be echoed by just about any mother in the world. Only for Becky Campbell, she would also love “for the Church to find a better way to include families like mine, whatever that looks like.”

For Becky, a “family like mine” includes husband of 21 years, Dave, who works in information technology for the Associated Press, and children Shelby (19), Tessa (10), Christian (10), and Lilly (9). They live in Herriman, Utah, where Becky works as a medical transcriptionist, freelance photographer, and also stays quite busy taking care of everyone. One thing that sets the Campbell family apart from many in the church is something that Becky says has only brought them closer together: their love and support of transgender daughter, Shelby. “I know that each of our kids has been sent to our family so we could learn from each other. Having a transgender child has been a life-changing learning experience in the best way. Even though we have lots of differences within our family, we are in this together. Family means nobody gets left behind.” 

Shelby currently studies Music Production at SLCC. She plays the piano and guitar and records her own music. “Shelby is incredibly empathetic. She feels her emotions deeply and expresses herself beautifully through music,” says her mother. Shelby also values honesty and authenticity, and inspires those qualities in others. Becky says Shelby’s younger siblings “adore her -- they have a special relationship. And she keeps us laughing constantly.” 

Shortly before her 17th birthday, Shelby came out to her parents. She started medical and social (mtf) transition in spring of 2020, before coming out to her extended family and the world in September of 2020.

Becky now belongs to our “amazing” online support group for LDS parents of LGBTQ kids, and she values the advice of friends in similar situations who have helped her acknowledge that Shelby is the same person her family has always known her to be. “I think the best advice is to ask Heavenly Father how best to help and love your child.”

When it comes to the church, Becky says she would love for leadership to acknowledge that LGBTQ people and their families are “part of the church and that we matter. I want them to see us. I would love for policies regarding LGBTQ people to be more inclusive. I'd love to hear stories and talks where we acknowledge our LGBTQ loved ones.” For everyone else, she offers this advice: “If someone you love comes out as LGBTQ, please let them know you accept them and care about them regardless of what their church activity looks like.  Be interested in their lives and accomplishments, especially when it doesn't look like the typical LDS ‘covenant path’ timeline.”

Through loving Shelby unconditionally, Becky says, “I've felt a tiny slice of the love that I know Jesus feels for each of us. I don't love my children because of anything that they accomplish or what I think they could be in the future. I love them exactly as they are, today. I think this kind of love is the Savior's greatest gift to us.”

*** Much thanks to the Campbell family for sharing their story. We’d love to feature your (LGBTQ) family in our weekly Lift & Love at Home profiles! Please dm us. #liftandloveathome #liftandloveorg

The Winget Family

“You only need to do two things: love your family and trust me.” These were the divine words whispered into Robyn Winget’s heart when praying for guidance shortly after her then 27-year-old son Taylor came out two years ago. Luckily, Robyn knew it would be easy to do just that.

Now an empty nester living with her husband Jim in Eagle, Idaho, Robyn relished being a full-time mother of three and now loves it even more when they come home: Taylor and his husband Dallon, daughter Kaitlyn and her husband Tyler, and their son Parker who is engaged to be married in June. Robyn is looking forward to having three successful weddings under her belt, and for her equally supportive party-planning mother: three successful engagement parties for her grandchildren. Jim and Robyn appreciate how their extended family love and support all of their children. Everyone came to Taylor and Dallon’s wedding, and no one has ever said, “I love you but—” 

Taylor was already (quietly) dating his would-be husband, Dallon, at the time he confidently came out and told his parents he is gay, just a week after General Conference 2018. While Robyn and Jim were sorrowful over the pain he had lived with alone for years, Taylor’s coming out was a positive “we are going to be fine” experience for their entire family. For two years prior, Robyn had felt stirrings inside, a quiet preparatory voice that asked, “What would you do if one of your kids came out?” But Robyn already knew that child would be met with nothing but love. 

Taylor and Dallon are a Tinder success story and highly compatible – both returned missionaries raised in active, supportive LDS families. The couple now lives in South Jordan, UT where Taylor, a BYU graduate, works as a marketing project manager at BioFire and part-time as a realtor, which is Dallon’s full-time occupation. The two love to travel, work out, and bring the fun to family gatherings. Robyn says Taylor is “wickedly funny” with an apt quote from The Office for every occasion. 

Growing up, Taylor was a happy kid who played lacrosse and had a lot of friends... (cont'd in comments) 

Robyn says, “He was very obedient and my most temple-attending child. He thought if he did everything right, the Lord would ‘fix him’.” It was in the temple during his 20s that Taylor said he received a comforting personal revelation of his own, after asking his Heavenly Father if it would be okay for him to live his life as an openly gay man. The impressions he received were, “Man is not meant to be alone,” and “Men are that they might have joy.” 

While Taylor and Dallon claim they love the church and do not harbor bitter feelings, they “recognize this is probably not going to be a path for us” as living in a legal union precludes a gay couple from partaking of the sacrament. Robyn appreciates that the young bishop who lives in their neighborhood shows them genuine love and regularly invites them to church meetings and activities (they occasionally attend), by saying: “We want you with us. We are stronger with you.” 

When Taylor first came out, the first words from Robyn’s bishop’s mouth were, “I can’t imagine the amount of pain he has been in for the past years.” That response, and the fact that he and his wife came to Taylor’s wedding, has always stuck with Robyn as true discipleship. Her bishop also teaches, “We need to make the uncomfortable comfortable.” Robyn agrees, reasoning that if you are uncomfortable with another’s path, you need to get to know them better and make that your role. She is “grateful these remarkable leaders have lived their baptismal covenant: ‘to bear one another’s burdens’ which literally means to support us. To say, ‘I love you, but I can’t support you’ is not bearing one another’s burdens.” 

Robyn also appreciates it when members ask about her gay son’s marriage and life just like they inquire about her straight children. But when the occasional offensive comment or question comes her way, Robyn recognizes, “I can’t get angry with people for not knowing what they do not yet know.”  

The Winget family relies on the teachings of their prophet, President Nelson, who emphasizes the power and necessity of personal revelation. 

They are grateful for their experience to lift and love Taylor (who lifts and loves them right back), because they say they’ve learned great lessons they wouldn’t have otherwise. Robyn has met new friends on church pews who have confided their own struggles, feeling comfortable because her family also doesn’t “fit the mold.” 

Robyn is a temple worker, where she has felt the divine, godly love of a perfect Heavenly Father who, in a sacred experience, has conveyed He loves her and her entire family more than mortals can comprehend. That is her focus for the eternities. And for the now, she says she could not be more pleased with all Taylor has accomplished – he’s happy, in a committed marriage with a partner he loves, and he loves his family. Robyn takes great comfort in her eternal perspective: “I can’t imagine heaven without my family, and I know in my heart that won’t be the case.”

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If you’re willing to share your family’s story in a Lift and Love at Home profile, please dm us! #liftandlove #liftandloveathome