Today is the one year anniversary.

One year ago today, I was a Mormon.
My husband was a Mormon AND the leader of our local congregation (called a Bishop).
I took my seven kids to church for (at least) three hours every Sunday.
Most of my friends were Mormon.
Most of my family (and my husband’s family) were Mormon.

It was all I knew. It was what I believed. It was an integral part of my daily thoughts and actions.

That is why it was so hard for my oldest son to tell me.
That is why he hid his real self.
That is why he prayed fervently and fasted regularly…
There was no way that God would have made him gay.

Being gay went against our religion. Being gay was a serious sin. Being gay would keep you out of heaven.

He didn’t plan on telling me. He didn’t know if he would even be alive long enough for it to matter. He didn’t know what to do, so he stopped eating. He went two and a half days without food, until his sight started to blur.

That is when I noticed. He looked pale. Sad. Hollow.

I prodded him for days, to tell me what was causing his sadness. He would allude to the loss of hope and future happiness.He talked about the importance of change.

I didn’t see it. I didn’t know.

I finally begged him to tell me.
To tell me why.
I promised to love him.

On April 4th, 2016 he finally told me that he was gay.

He was 17 years old.