The Road Less Traveled By

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both …”

The stories and experiences of gay Mormons have held an unusual position in the media spotlight lately. In a previous post, "Shedding the Figurative Closet," I briefly discussed two gay men who have not only remained active members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons), but who have thus-far found success and happiness in being married to women and even having children. With this surge of curiosity about gay Mormons—and as a gay Mormon myself—I recently decided to add tags to my blog posts to make them more searchable and hopefully more sharable with larger audiences.

After adding the tags, I conducted an experiment to see just how specific someone would have to be in searching the Internet in order to locate my humble little blog. I went to Google and searched the name of one of the previously-mentioned men, Ty Mansfield, whom I had tagged in my last post. Unfortunately, my blog wasn’t anywhere to be found in pages and pages of search results; although in reality I didn’t really expect my blog to hold a popular spot, I was a little dismayed. However, dismay turned to intrigue as I scrolled through some of the things that appeared when I searched this man’s name.

“I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence: …”

The first thing I noticed was an image under the heading “Images for Ty Mansfield.” It is a wedding engagement photo of Ty Mansfield, and his wife, Danielle. Written boldly above Ty’s head are the words, “Gay Man.” Next to Danielle’s head, which rests on her then-fiancée’s shoulder, are the words, “Future Single Mom?” Above the photo is a large heading reading, “Danielle Don’t Do It .com.”

I admit that I was a little shocked and appalled, so I investigated further to see to what or to whom this image was associated. The image was included with a short article on the website of an organization called “Affirmation: Gay & Lesbian Mormons.” Affirmation is a national gay and lesbian support organization for people with Latter-day Saint backgrounds. They are non-affiliated with the LDS Church, and though they still claim some of the theocracy associated with Mormonism, they seem to be largely divided from many LDS doctrines and teachings, particularly those related to homosexuality.

The article was a brief report on the website DanielleDontDoIt.com, which was created in anticipation of the upcoming Temple marriage of Danielle Palmer to Ty Mansfield, which occurred in May 2010. The website was established to try to convince Danielle Palmer not to risk her future and her happiness by marrying a gay man. The website and the article noted that there have been many failed mixed-orientation marriages (MOMs) that have occurred particularly among Latter-day Saint couples, and it was implied that statistically Danielle was setting herself up for a doomed marriage and a fate of single parenthood. The website has apparently been discontinued, and I have not been able to find any information as to who created the site.

"In Quiet Desperation,"
Published by Deseret Book Co.

I knew that Ty Mansfield had experienced his share of criticism and support since telling his story in the book “In Quiet Desperation,” which he co-wrote in 2004 with Fred and Marilyn Matis, the parents of a gay son who took his own life. I remember the buzz of gossip that circled around the Internet when Ty and Danielle announced their marriage in 2010. As a couple they received, I’m sure, a barrage of criticism from many groups and individuals; and I know from my presence in different circles on many sides that the gossip came from all directions—Latter-day Saint members, non-members, ex-members, and from the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) community.

Experiencing all these things at a very involved level (though not as intimately as I’m sure Ty and Danielle did), I was still in disbelief that anyone could invite themselves into the most delicate and personal events of someone else’s life and expect to have a say in it all. It seemed to me that those in the LGBTQ community are often quick to demand acceptance and tolerance of the personal choices that they make, but when they feel that one of their own, an LGBTQ individual, is not living up to the gay standard—especially for religious reasons—that they are the first to insist that the one whom they feel is being suppressed ought to cease the charade and embrace their gay identity.

In a similar vein, I find it interesting that individuals in LDS circles can be so ruffled by the image of a Latter-day Saint who doesn’t fit nicely into some sort of typical, cookie-cutter Mormon way of life, and can even feel threatened by it. I think, sometimes, perhaps they are fearful that a bit of diversity within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints will mean an immediate slipping of Mormon values and morals, followed by leniency in doctrine and teachings, and finally culminating in the upheaval of their religion as they have always known it. Perhaps these assumptions are far-fetched to some, but I base them off of personal experience.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and …
I took the one less traveled by …”

To continue in this regard, the issue of homosexuality in the LDS Church seems to be equivalent to the “polygamy” issue of the 1890’s, or the “blacks and the priesthood” issue of the 1970’s. There were many during both of those periods of time in LDS history who felt that their world of religion was crashing down on them. Everything that they had always known was being uprooted and discarded. Many members of the Church, some prominent, willfully left the fold, or allowed themselves to be excommunicated.

I hear my LGBTQ friends who have Mormon ties talk about how it’s only a matter of time before the LDS Church leaders will “change their minds” about the issue of homosexuality the same way they supposedly changed their minds about polygamy or the priesthood. They claim that gay and lesbian relationships will soon be acceptable in the Mormon Church, with same-sex couples living in full fellowship without ecclesiastical reprimand. Some even talk about same-sex couples someday being able to marry for eternity in Mormon Temples.

I don’t quite know how approach their assumptions. I suppose there are multiple things that I could share, like the eternal nature of gender; the eternal organization of families and the responsibilities of mothers and fathers; the seriousness of sexual sin, no matter what the combination of the involved genders might be. Most of the time my LGBTQ friends have a retort that seems compelling, yet not very wise. They don’t seem to take in the whole picture of the gospel of Jesus Christ that has been restored in the LDS Church. 

Ultimately when these debates arise, I come back to the most important things that I know, and upon which all members of our Heavenly Father’s family can rely: The love and mercy of God, the Eternal Father; the gift of His Son, the Savior Jesus Christ, and His atonement of hope, forgiveness, and strength, and the reality of life after death; the commandment given by Christ to love our neighbors as ourselves, and to withhold our judgments; and the reassurance that only God and our Redeemer will be our ultimate judges after this life, and that they judge in righteousness and fairness.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama,
Tenzin Gyatso

One of my gay friends once posted to his Facebook profile this quote by Tenzin Gyatso, the fourteenth, and current Dalai Lama:

          “People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost.”

I think this masterful quote summarizes my concluding thoughts on this whole matter. My friend who posted this quote did so seeking to reaffirm his choice to leave the LDS Church and pursue a same-sex relationship and find his own happiness in coming out openly as a gay man. I think, though, that my friend and others in the LGBTQ community ought to remember that this quote, if they see its truth, also applies to a gay or lesbian person who chooses to embrace their faith and religion and to suppress the sexual urges that might cause them to drift from their spiritual beliefs. Likewise, a Latter-day Saint who might have trouble with the issue of gay Mormons existing within their religion would be wise to remember the Dalai Lama’s counsel.

As for me, I am happy travelling the road I am on. I certainly find much fulfillment and happiness in my journey. But I see myself being prepared for one of two possible divergences. One road could be living out my life joyfully in the love and affection of my immediate and extended family and my many wonderful friends. This path often seems lonely and difficult, but I feel I am prepared for it if I am called upon to bear it. And certainly I don’t believe that enduring faithfully to the end, if I should do so, would be any less sweet a victory in my eyes or in the eyes of my God, even if I endure it all without a spouse or children. 

“And that has made all the difference.”

The other road that might appear adjacent to the one I’m currently on, in the Lord’s timing, of course, would be that I will be blessed to find the special woman whom my Patriarchal blessing calls my “sweetheart,” and having the opportunity to marry her for time and all eternity in the House of the Lord. Raising the “noble posterity” that I am also promised in my faithfulness would be a great joy. Enduring to the end of that road, though, should I do so, would seem just a little more sweet than the road previously mentioned. I don’t know what God has in store for my life, but I remain hopeful and positive that He knows well what is best for me, and that He will bless me with what I need and what I am worthy of in His own time.

Years ago, I was a relationship with a woman. We dated for a few months. I told her that I was attracted to men, but that I had made covenants to remain faithful to God and the Savior and to live as they wanted me to. She was very understanding. But after several weeks of feeling like things weren’t going to work out between she and I, I decided to end the relationship so that she could pursue a man who could love her more fully and properly than I felt I could. 

As I walked home from my college campus just minutes after ending the relationship, my mind was furiously trying to put what I felt into poetic form—something that I do frequently when normal words just don’t suffice for the emotion that I feel. It wasn’t long after that when I finished the following poem about my feelings of inadequacy in loving a woman. The words of the poem grow from my desire to join myself in a loving, eternal bond with a daughter of God, but are coupled with the emotional lack that I feel for the female sex. It is the best way I can describe in few words what being a gay Mormon is sometimes like for me.

❧

– Inadequate Emotion –

~

A flower, newly woken,

To tuck into her hair;

Alas, the missing token—

Behold, my garden, bare!

A song of adoration,

Which no one could refute;

Herein there lies frustration—

My tongue is held in mute.

Her body pressed against me,

So soft her warm embrace;

Alas, my arms are empty,

I cannot fill the space.

A kiss upon her fair skin

That blushes gentle rose;

A prize this man cannot win—

This dream I do suppose.

A heart that’s full and beating

For her, and her alone;

A loving feeling fleeting—

My heart is made of stone.

A spiritual connection,

A half that makes me whole;

But fear of her rejection

Tears up my heart and soul.

A vow to love and cherish

With patience and devotion;

A promise bound to perish

From inadequate emotion.

Eternal bonds extending

Beyond our mortal years;

Instead, a fate unending

Of shedding lonely tears.

~

- Wade A. Walker -

April 12, 2010

Poetry excerpts used herein come from "The Road Not Taken"
by Robert Frost (1874-1963).  You can read the poem in its
entirety by clicking HERE.

~

** NOTE: I share my writing on this site trusting that visitors are scrupulous enough not to plagiarize. If you'd like to share this poem or other content with others, please share the URL to the entire blog post. Please DO NOT copy and paste any text for personal use without written permission. As the original writer of the content herein, I’d like the credit for these pieces to remain mine. **

Shedding the Figurative Closet

I used to never see the appeal in “coming out of the closet.” In fact, I found it kind of laughable and ridiculous. I couldn’t understand why gays and lesbians felt the need to openly expose themselves to an array of personal, emotional, and social troubles by all at once openly declaring to the world that they were homosexual. It seemed like a rite of passage for all who experience same-gender attraction, but not for me.

Coming out of the closet was
laughable and ridiculous to me.

I’m close to many people who have come out to friends, loved ones, and associates. I’ve seen the hurt that often trails behind coming out. I’ve witnessed the stigma attached to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) individuals. I have seen loved ones who turn away from their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters; I have seen the fast decay of bonds and ties that eventually become brittle and break away. I’ve witnessed the slow ceasingof contact, the silent “unfriending” on Facebook, and the arguments over whether homosexuality is right, wrong, good, or bad; and all because an LGBTQ individual decides that they want to make it known that they are different than the majority, and be accepted for it.

Yet, seeing many people go through it, I have felt in my own way, through their experiences, the long-sought, yet sudden liberation associated with opening that figurative closet door and stepping out, never again to return. I liken it to a mountain journey. You climb through the forests of shame, guilt, fear, and secrecy that obscure your view as you press onward and upward from the foothills where you began. Just when you think you can go no further, the forest opens into a great plateau overlooking a vast expanse. You step out into the light of the sun at noonday, and a crisp wind catches you, invigorating your spirit with a brisk rush of fulfillment—a striking difference from the stifling twilight within the trees. 

How did so many others seem to find fulfillment
declaring to the world that they were gay?

But the feeling of the cool wind is not so much your reward, as is the view. Standing at such a height allows you to gaze out upon your trials and tribulations of the past—though steep and treacherous as they may have seemed at the time—knowing now that you overcame them all and made it to a higher point than you had ever thought you could reach. You even see the foothills where you began and think to yourself, “Look how far I’ve come!” 

Such freedom, as I have witnessed it coming to others, seems to displace the deep, lingering heartache of keeping a secret that you fear, if others knew it, would bring about your utter abandonment in every way and by every person. It cleanses the innermost wounds of the soul, and fosters healing in the hearts of those who experience it. Greater still, are those loved ones who remain beloved—who do not let go, but cling tighter to their friends and family who share with them the one secret within them which seems darkest and deepest of all. Sweeter ties are formed when fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters extend to their LGBTQ loved ones a full hand of fellowship and love, along with expressions of understanding and hope.

Under a veil of secrecy, I confessed
to a few that I was attracted to men.

I have seen it happen many times to many people. And without a doubt, I have felt that, for them, it was right—it was good. There was an added measure of joy that could be sensed within them. There was a glimmer to their eyes that was not there before; a relief, a comfort. To be fair, I must say that many, if not the majority of my LGBTQ loved ones have had mostly positive experiences with their coming out process. Yet, for so long, I have remained unconvinced that coming out of my figurative closet was something I needed to do. Of course, there have been several times when I have waited for the shadows to descend upon my closet, and, under a veil of secrecy, inched out of the door just enough to confess to someone whom I trusted, while swearing them also to secrecy. 

On most of those occasions it was severely nerve-wracking. I don’t think any of the times I have come out to individuals has been easy for me. Just saying the words is a difficult thing. Then there’s the trouble of how to approach my sexuality in the moment of confession. How exactly do I say it so that they will best understand?

“I’m gay.”

“I have same-gender attraction.”

“I like men.”

“I experience homosexual feelings.”

To me, it seems that it’s going to mean something different to everyone, and so the wording has to be just right. I realize that everyone is going to understand in the moment I spit out the sentence that other males float my boat. That’s not difficult comprehension. What worry me are the labels that people associate with the terms. Gay, homosexual, queer—they register differently with everyone. 

I tried not to use "gay" as a label for my
same-sex attractions.

For a very long time, I would try not to call myself “gay.” I was told in Latter-day Saint-themed support groups for same-gender attracted men that calling myself “gay” was a label that denoted the accepting of an identity that I not only didn’t want to have, but that was tied to a community that I didn’t want to be a part of. I’ve never felt the need to march in a gay pride parade, waving a rainbow flag at the crowds. That is not what my attraction to males is like for me. If anything, I have always been resentful of my homosexuality. And it’s true that I am a much happier person, and better in control of sexual vices by choosing not to participate in some things that other LGBTQ individuals prefer. But I secretly admired those who could proudly stand up and say, “I am gay,” never fearing repercussion, having moved far beyond the stigma and the judgment of others; I longed to experience the full extent of that great plateau, the freedom of the wind, and the view from the top.

A few things seem to stand in the way of me simply waving a rainbow banner to the world in one, swift motion. Unfortunately, I am very afraid of the social whiplash associated with coming out. I do not doubt that my closest friends and family will still love and support me. But I know that people misunderstand, gossip, and back-bite, and that word travels fast. I understand that people will hear through the grapevine that I am gay, and I will not have a chance to explain or defend myself. I am well aware that many in our world simply do not understand the significance of having a seemingly-innate identity that clashes with the majority around you. And I know that many still think that all LGBTQ individuals are created equal, when in actuality they are not.

Ty & Danielle Mansfield on the
cover of LDS Living Magazine.

Then there’s the issue of not only being gay, but being a fully-active member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon). It’s not that I’m worried about being excommunicated, or removed from my Church, for I am in full compliance with all necessary commandments and teachings in order to sustain membership. More than that, I love the gospel of the Savior, Jesus Christ, and I strive every day to be more like Him and to become closer, through Him, to my Heavenly Father. In every way, I attempt to bridle my passions, actions, and behavior to stay within the bounds the Lord has set, so that after this life I might return to live with God. But honestly, there just aren’t enough religiously-active gay Mormons sharing their stories to displace the prejudice which I fear. 

In recent weeks, mixed-orientation marriages (MOMs) within the Mormon faith have received remarkable publicity. Ty and Danielle Mansfield told their story in the May 2012 issue of LDS Living Magazine.

Josh Weed decided to come out of the closet on his blog to celebrate he and his wife’s ten-year anniversary.

Josh & Lolly Weed
(Photo from Josh's Blog,
"The Weed."

I find this all great news for me, being in a similar boat; but it confuses a lot of people on both sides of the issue—the LGBTQ community, as well as the Latter-day Saints. I find that many Latter-day Saints are surprised that there are gay and lesbian persons within their own religion who marry the opposite gender. They find their idea of what being gay is suddenly skewed by a righteous, Mormon homosexual. The LGBTQ community, in my experience, is usually shocked that a gay person remains within an organization which they feel constrictively prohibits an identity and lifestyle that the LGBTQ community says they were born to embrace. 

Either way, I still see prejudice. Someone, somewhere, is not going to understand why I am what I am, or why I do what I do. And I don’t know if I want to endure the monotony and struggle involved with telling my story over and over again to every person at Church who asks, “So why are you still active?” And every LGBTQ friend who asks, “Why don’t you just be true to yourself and find a boyfriend?”

But, I digress. Let me make the point I sat down to write. I finally realized that the encouragement I received to say that I was “same-gender attracted” and not “gay” was like pretending that my attractions for men were somehow different from another gay man’s attractions to men. It is not more acceptable or more righteous to be “same-gender attracted,” though I think phrasing it thusly softens the blow for those who don’t agree with a homosexual lifestyle. Neither does being “gay” mean that I have to march through the city streets during gay pride wearing nothing but rainbow underwear and passing out free condoms to the crowd.

Stating that I am “same-gender attracted” has just become too tedious. Saying that I am “gay” is much easier. Three letters, one syllable, and everyone knows the implication. There’s no way to sugar-coat it—I am sexually attracted to my own gender at a significant level. Any word(s) you want to use, the meaning is the same—but the individuals who experience such attractions are not, nor do they have to be the same. 

I  am no longer ashamed to call  myself "gay," because I
know that I am much more that just my sexuality.

I think that all LGBTQ individuals of every walk of life experience the same positive and negative issues with their sexual identity in some form or another. It’s not easy for some, but it’s not hard for others. Each one has a different story, and each a different experience with their coming out. Some come out as early as 10 years old; others not until their mid-forties. For me, the process has been slow going, but my desire to quicken the pace increases with every new day.

I know that right now in my life, a complete, public, confession is not best for me. I think the world and I need to grow a little bit more before I am ready to shed my closet entirely. But where others have found, and continue to find success in coming out of the closet, I hope that I can, too. Every day is a little bit closer. This post will be the first step in a process I hope will lead to a positive, complete coming out, as I have decided that my blog will no longer be private, and that I will post updates to my blog on my Facebook page. From here, it is one step at a time.

My name is Wade. I am gay. But I am so much more.

Thy Faith Hath Made Thee Whole

I love taking time to reread things that I 
wrote in the past to see how I've changed.

I love reading my own written works. Periodically reviewing things that I’ve written in the past, even old assignments and papers I’ve written for previous college courses brings me great joy when I comb them over after not having laid eyes upon them for a while. I also love to pick out mistakes and make small changes now and again, this stemming from my perfectionist nature. But from this I learn a lot, and I feel that I grow so much from reading my former works, for they are reflections of my past—literary photographs, if you will, of experiences, feelings, emotions, and times past.

Recently I was reading this, my humble two-post blog, and thinking about many things. I admired my God-given talent of being so expressive with language, and I thanked my Heavenly Father within my heart for that particular blessing. I remembered my life as it was years ago as I retold stories from those times in my first post. I found and corrected a typo or two. But something struck me as I read. I wondered, if there were people out there reading my blog anonymously, or if they were to ever do so, would they properly understand my situation as a semi-open gay Latter-day Saint (Mormon)? 

“They presented unto him gifts; gold, and 

frankincense, and myrrh” (Matthew 2:11).

I realized that most of the people who read my blog are close friends and family who are already “in the know” concerning my plight with same-gender attraction. But if I were to reach the comfort level where I thought that I could share my roller coaster of experiences with acquaintances or strangers, would they get the wrong idea? Was I tarnishing good name and image of my Church? Or, more disconcerting—was I blemishing the image of my Savior, Jesus Christ, whose name I have taken upon myself? 

Then, the realization came that I must be certain to post something through which I could convince all of my readers that my true colors were not those of a rainbow (pun intended), and that in fact my identity as a same-gender attracted Latter-day Saint was only one key on the piano that makes up all of my many unique facets and traits. I wasn’t sure at first how I would do it. But then I wasn’t surprised that soon the idea came to use a poem; after all, as I have previously stated, poetry has long been the mode through which I best express the inner workings of my soul and mind.

"This is my beloved Son, in whom I am
well pleased" (Matthew 3:3-17).

The poem that I chose, “The Sinner’s Psalm,” was written in two parts, two verses at a time. I actually wrote the last two verses first, and the first two came much later. I commenced the first attempt out of a desire to accomplish two things that I’ve always wanted to do: Write a hymn text to one of my favorite tunes (a popular early-American tune known as “Nettleton”), and to put my testimony into poetic form. I eventually succeeded with both of these goals, and that work is what I share at the end of this post. 

The last two verses came to me in a moment of intense inspiration—the source, again, being the Holy Ghost (as aforementioned in a previous post). I was on my college campus one day at the LDS Institute of Religion, a building separate from my University which is used for religious course study by members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was relaxing in a soft chair, waiting for one of my religion courses to begin. Suddenly I noticed that there was a song playing over the Institute’s building-wide audio system. It was a beautiful rendition of "Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing," an early-American hymn written to the tune, “Nettleton.”

“Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, 

and ordained you” (John 15:16).

I began humming along to the tune, and I thought of the unfinished poem that I had begun months earlier. Then, like the rushing of great waters, the enlightenment came. I began to play around with words and phrases in my head. Interestingly enough, the analogy for water that I use here to describe the inspiration is quite accurate, because one of the first lines that came to me was about a symbolic ocean. I took a notebook and pencil out of my backpack, and began jotting down the lines and phrases that were coming to me. I arranged and rearranged words. I erased and rewrote. By the time my class had started, I had penned two new verses that meshed perfectly with the two I had written previously. I was stunned by the experience. It literally left me in awe of the blessings of God and how His Holy Spirit can influence His children in such miraculous ways.

I hope that this poem adequately expresses my feelings for my Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ in no uncertain terms. But just in case, for you, it doesn’t, I share my simple testimony here.

“Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they 

know not what they do” (Luke 23:24).

I know, of myself, and separate from any other person, that the God of the Bible—the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—is our Eternal Father. He is the Supreme Ruler of the heavens and the Earth, and we are literally His spirit children, the offspring of a divine Being. I know that Jesus Christ is Heavenly Father’s Only Begotten Son. He was foreordained before the foundations of the earth to fulfill God’s great Plan of Happiness by being sent to planet Earth as a half-mortal, half-immortal man to establish His Church, the Church of Jesus Christ, and to suffer and die for the sins of the entire world and all of its inhabitants—past, present, and future. 

I testify that Jesus Christ was and is our perfect example before the Father, and that He completed His mortal mission by performing the great and infinite atonement within the garden of Gethsemane in the land of Jerusalem, and then by being hung upon a cross on a hill at Golgotha where He died to fulfill all righteousness. I testify that after He was buried in the garden tomb, He arose from the dead three days later as a resurrected and glorified Being—forever breaking the bonds of death, and securing eventual resurrection and immortality for all of mankind. This is Jesus of Nazareth—the tiny babe born to Mary in a stable in the ancient city of Bethlehem, as told in the Holy Bible. He is the Savior of all mankind, both Alpha and Omega, from everlasting to everlasting.

“Why seek ye the living among the dead? … 

He is not here, but is risen” (Luke 24:1-7).

I bear my witness to all who may read my words, that because the sins of humanity were heaped upon the shoulders of Jesus Christ, and because He willfully bore them, later giving His life as a martyr to His Father’s will, that we have the opportunity to use His atonement to rid ourselves of sin and transgression. Every shortcoming, fault, mistake, pain, sorrow, and sadness that we may ever experience in mortality can be swept away by the river of sacred blood, shed by the Master, with His infinite atonement.

Without this miraculous power within my grasp, I would no doubt be a lost and fallen man. I would still be wandering aimlessly in a gulf of turmoil and misery searching for happiness and purpose. If I had not come unto Christ—and through Him to the Father—to humble myself before Them, sincerely ask for forgiveness, truly repent, and have my garments washed clean in the blood of the Lamb, I would have remained in sin forever and perished as a damned soul.

 “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy 

laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

I am forever grateful to my Heavenly Father for sending His Son to bleed and die for me. I am grateful to the Lord Jesus Christ because He did not shrink from the bitter cup of the atonement, but He drank the dregs of that cup, even entirely, and by so doing secured my salvation. I know, and can testify of the miraculous healing power of the atonement of Jesus Christ, and of the happiness that I experience every day that I am alive in Him by striving to be more like Him in my thoughts, deeds, words, and actions.

I hope and pray that more than just my eyes can read these words, and feel as I feel now of their truthfulness. I love my Heavenly Father, and I love my Savior. I am grateful for the Spirit of God, even the Holy Ghost, for being my connection to the Father and for blessing me to know the truthfulness of these words and inspiring me to share them. May you come to know these truths also, is my prayer in the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ, amen.

❧

– The Sinner’s Psalm –

Sung to the tune of

“Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing”

~

Lord, my strength is growing thinner,

As I rock upon this sea.

‘Mid the tumult, as a sinner,

And the waves engulfing me,

Comes a light unto my weak eyes,

Piercing through the dark of night;

Through the Savior there is sunrise—

Sweet forgiveness is in sight!

Holy Father, I beseech Thee,

Tune Thine ear to hear my prayer;

Set Thine angels roundabout me,

Loose my feet from Satan’s snare.

Bear me up, if Lord, I stumble;

Dry my tears if still I weep;

If my heart is meek and humble,

Seek me, Lord, Thy wand’ring sheep.

Unto Jesus, Lord and Savior,

I do give my willing soul;

By His grace and loving favor,

Is my broken heart made whole.

After sin oft times I've lusted,

By my pride been led astray;

But when Jesus I have trusted,

I have found the better way.

Though sore trials be thrust upon me,

Bitter cups I may partake,

I will drink them up entirely—

Not my God will I forsake!

Lord, how joyous is Thy mercy!

O, how perfect is Thy plan!

Let my heart reflect Thy glory,

May I live with Thee again!

~

- Wade A. Walker -

March 30, 2011

“Against the Wind” by Liz Lemon Swindle

Copyright © Liz Lemon Swindle

~

** NOTE:  I share my writing on this site trusting that visitors are scrupulous enough not to plagiarize.  If you'd like to share this poem or other content with others, please share the URL to the entire blog post.  Please DO NOT copy and paste any text for personal use without written permission.  As the original writer of the content herein, I’d like the credit for these pieces to remain mine. **

When Inspiration Comes Knocking

My dear Grandma Lois,
about the mid-1990's

On Thursday, January 26, 2012, my grandmother, Lois Geniel Adams Walker, slipped peacefully beyond the veil of this earth and into the rest of her Heavenly Father. She was 81 years old. Her life was nothing short of a legacy of love and devotion to her family. Though she may not have realized it, she instilled within others, especially her family, a deep and passionate ability to love and be loved; she did so always by example. Her willingness to give generously of herself and her love fulfilled that basic human need in all of us. Her legacy will undoubtedly live on in each of us, her family members, as we share the love she gave to us with all those who come into our lives.

As I pondered recently about how I could best honor my grandmother’s memory and legacy of love, I kept a prayer in my heart for inspiration. Carrying on in love is not something that is hard for me to do, thanks to the leading examples of people like my grandmother. And the love-light she kindled here on earth will certainly live on through her posterity and every other life my grandmother touched. But for me, I prefer tributes that are a bit more unique, and slightly more tangible. And for years I have used writing as the tool with which I create lasting memorials to people, ideas, experiences, and feelings in my life. 

I wanted to offer a tangible tribute to the memory
of my sweet grandmother, but I wasn't sure how.

However, a tribute in words is not as easy as sitting down with paper and pen and writing just whatever comes to mind. For me it is much different than that. Almost always I require inspiration from another source, and that source is the Holy Spirit. Everyone feels the Holy Ghost in different ways, but most of us seem to know just how the third member of the Godhead likes to speak to us, and we recognize Him when He is with us. I am no exception. When I pray for divine help, and am visited by the Holy Ghost, He often inspires me with words. Whether speaking or writing, using words comes much more easily to me when the Spirit is upon me. And when that inspiration hits me, I know it; my thoughts become more fluid, and the words begin to flow like a waterfall.

Recently, late at night (which is usually when all my inspiration comes), I was thinking back to the day of my grandmother’s funeral. Before the services started, family members gathered in a private room to say their final goodbyes before the closing of my grandmother’s casket. The first to approach the casket was my step-grandfather, who had been married to my grandmother for over thirty years. Grandpa Lyle, as we call him, has a rough exterior, but a gentle heart. Never in my life have I seen him express any tender emotions. But as he approached my grandmother as she lay in state, he began to sob. Tearfully, he kissed her forehead, and said, “Goodbye, sweetheart. Goodbye.” 

It wasn't until my family members said their final
goodbyes at the funeral that the emotions hit me.

At that moment, the emotion and reality of my grandmother’s death finally hit me as I watched this rugged man break down like a child and weep freely over his departed spouse. Tears filled my eyes, quickly breaching my eyelids, and began flowing down my cheeks. Grandma Lois and Grandpa Lyle had many differences and difficulties over the years. I knew that towards the end they often struggled to get along with one other. But there at the casket of his wife, all the good and bad they had been through in over thirty years seemed to culminate in just three words—one final expression, one last declaration. 

After several days of legalities, making preparations, making phone calls, signing papers, receiving condolences, shaking hands, and thanking guests, it seems he didn’t have time to face the reality of what lay before him. He had forgotten himself, and forgotten her. But as he came face to face with his dear wife lying in her casket, he remembered. She was his sweetheart; and she was gone. There was no time to linger or carry on. It was time to say goodbye.

The words of a poem came to me one night by
inspiration, an answer to my prayers.

In Grandpa’s tears I somehow sensed regret. Perhaps a bitter longing to take back harsh words once spoken, or an aching over lost “I love you’s” that were never said. I suddenly wished that Grandpa’s one last moment with Grandma didn’t have to be this way—that it didn’t have to be their farewell. I wanted to tell him that death is not the end, goodbye is not final. We would all see her again and rejoice in our reunion. 

Lying in bed with these thoughts surrounding me, I repeated Grandpa’s words: “Goodbye, sweetheart. Goodbye.” And that’s when the inspiration came. I recognized it immediately, and for a moment thought I could ignore it long enough to actually get the sleep I had intended on getting that night. But as the ideas and words began flowing into my head, I knew that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity I had been praying for. 

I rose from bed, turned on my lamp, and opened my writing notebook to a blank page. Using my grandfather’s tearful goodbye as a pattern, I penned ten verses in just over an hour. Though I tried to tap into the emotions I personally felt having to say a temporary goodbye to my grandmother, I also tried to tell a farewell story to which anyone who has ever had to let someone go could relate. I’m grateful once again for answered prayers.

❧

– Goodbye, Sweetheart, Goodbye –

~

The summer now has turned to fall,

“Goodbye, sweetheart, goodbye.”

I’ll do my best to stand up tall,

“I’ll try, sweetheart, I’ll try.”

It hurts me now to watch you go,

“It does, sweetheart, it does.”

Why you must leave I do not know,

“Because, sweetheart, because.”

My eyes are wet, my flesh is weak,

“Don’t grieve, sweetheart, don’t grieve.”

Just hold me close and kiss my cheek,

“Believe, sweetheart, believe.”

Now as we part, I breathe a sigh,

“You’re gone, sweetheart, you’re gone.”

Your memory will never die,

“Live on, sweetheart, live on.”

Your time with me, a cherished stay,

“You’re mine, sweetheart, you’re mine.”

Now days pass by in shades of gray,

“I’m fine, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

Sometimes I pause and feel you there,

“It’s true, sweetheart, it’s true.”

I bow my head and say a prayer,

“For you, sweetheart, for you.”

I hold the light you kindled here,

“For me, sweetheart, for me.”

With it, I know I’ll persevere,

“You’ll see, sweetheart, you’ll see.”

So dry your tears and don’t you weep,

“Be still, sweetheart, be still.”

Your love for me I’ll always keep,

“I will, sweetheart, I will.”

I look to when we’ll meet again,

“In time, sweetheart, in time.”

How joyous our reunion then,

“Sublime, sweetheart, sublime.”

Rest now in peace—the battle’s won,

“Don’t cry, sweetheart, don’t cry.”

Thank you, my love, for all you’ve done,

“Goodbye, sweetheart, goodbye.”

~

- Wade A. Walker -

February 5, 2012



My Grandma Lois loved orange roses.  I made a tradition of
giving her a dozen of them on her birthday every year during the
last few years she was alive.  We also chose orange roses to adorn
her casket.

~

** NOTE:  I share my writing on this site trusting that visitors are scrupulous enough not to plagiarize.  If you'd like to share this poem or other content with others, please share the URL to the entire blog post.  Please DO NOT copy and paste any text for personal use without written permission.  As the original writer of the content herein, I’d like the credit for these pieces to remain mine. **