Every Christmas, my parents put on a very large Holiday Get-Together with relatives, friends, and missionaries from our church. We typically get anywhere between 20 - 50 people together. For me, it's quite the ordeal. I would much rather have a quieter Christmas with just immediate family. I prefer a more intimate holiday, at home, with little hustle and bustle. Every Christmas, I complain that it's too crowded, too busy, and too noisy, and ask if next year, we can have a traditional stay-at-home family Christmas. Every year, my parents say, "Maybe next Christmas;" and I take it as a "no."
I guess you'd have to know my family a little bit to totally understand. My parents are very generous, loving, God-fearing people. They will give the shirt off their backs to any stranger they thought could use it, even if that stranger already had 3 shirts on. They have always been very popular with my friends, especially at Halloween: my parents would take all of our hard-earned candy, and give it to all of the other kids at school, just to make sure they all had some. It didn't matter if there were any left for us, as long as our friends were happy.
I remember, 6 years ago, when I told my mother that I couldn't go on a mission because I'd broken the law of chastity. Her first question was, "With a girl?" After I shook my head, she asked, "With a boy?" I felt so ashamed as I nodded, I thought she was going to disown me. She sighed, and said, "Oh, son! If it were a girl, it would be okay, we could fix it. But it was with a boy, so I don't know!" I was so shocked, I laughed. We spent the next 3 hours, analyzing my situation and hypothesizing as to why I had feelings for other boys. She was even able to pinpoint one of my ex's, and asked if we'd been intimate. Mothers always know! She felt guilty, she asked if it was her fault that I didn't like girls. I laughed, and gingerly reassured her that it was no one's fault, that it was something I dealt with, and didn't know why.
My mother asked me not to share this with my dad, that she would tell him herself. I was so grateful, I had no idea how to do it. Telling my mother ended up being so much easier than I ever dreamed it would be. My father was not so understanding. She told him that evening as the went to bed. He hardly slept. He cried; in fact, he cried for the next 3 days. He didn't look or talk to me during this time, it was so difficult for him to accept. After the 3rd day, he pulled me aside, very early in the morning, to talk to me about it. I felt so bad for him, to have to deal with the realization that his oldest child, the second man of the family, was unworthy to serve a mission, and worse, was a homosexual. I promised that I would fix things in my life, and that I would be more careful around boys. He half-heartedly believed me, but I could tell this burden would be very heavy for him. He went on to carry it in a very heavy manner for the next couple years, and gradually found solace and comfort as he shared this burden with a dear friend who also was going through the same thing with one of his sons, as he shared it with my sister, and as he grew comfortable enough to joke about it with me.
The older of my two younger sisters was the first sibling I talked to about SSA. She had a hard time with it in the beginning, much like my father. She even lashed out angrily at me from time to time, in frustration and disappointment. She stayed my close friend, though, and I'm so grateful for her support. She is now serving a mission in Las Vegas, and is fulfilling a dream my parents have always had for their children.
My other sister was the last person in the family that I became open to about SGA. I never actually came out and told her; she just always had the sense about me, and I realized one day that we were talking about homosexuality openly, and she was hanging out with me and my gay friends, and she was very comfortable and very much herself. She's now married, and living in Utah with her wonderful husband.
My brother was the most touching when it came to coming out to my family. It was in the afternoon, and I was hanging out with him in his bedroom, talking to him as he cleaned it. I was 20 now, and he was only 15 years old. I don't remember exactly what lead us to the conversation; I just remember receiving the distinct impression that it was okay to share my struggles with SGA with him. I remember telling him, and he stopped what he was doing, looked up at me, and said, "Wait, really?" I told him, "Yes, really." He stood up, smiled at me, and said, "Wow, you know... I didn't know. But I don't care. I love you, you're my brother. If it were someone else, I might care, but it's you, and I don't care." He gave me a big hug, and I stood there, shocked beyond comprehension. I was overwhelmed by the love he showed me, and as I hugged him back, I thanked God that I had such an amazing 15 year old brother. He is one of my very best friends to this day, and has the best gay-dar on a straight man that I've ever met! When recounting this event to him the other night, I almost cried, and he laughed, and remarked, "Wow, I was pretty open-minded, even at 15!"
This year, my sister's aren't going to make it to our Christmas gathering. And, yes, my parents are still putting on a huge Christmas thing, with tons of people, tons of noise, and tons of bustle. But at least I'll have my parents, and I'll have my brother. I am so grateful for them, and the love that they have shown me, all through the years. Sure, they can drive me crazy, but this year, as I celebrate Christ's birth with these people that love me so much, I'm going to remember why I love them so much, and I'm going to smile.
