DOES ANYONE ELSE FEEL STUCK on a timeline that is too confounding for words? Everything around me feels shoved into reverse as it stutters forward. Can a crab walk in two directions at the same time? Because it seems like anything can happen, especially if it makes no sense. And what does it signify when the people you’ve always known best are people you feel you don’t know at all? Is it only me? I doubt it. And that feels like the point. I need to slow down, start somewhere, so, because I’m the center of my own universe, let me start with Sunday morning, Sept. 28, 2025. I know what happened then. Not really. Oh, and it might be important to know (if you didn’t already) that I’m a Latter-day Saint. A Mormon. (Can I say that again?) Or it might not matter at all.
So here it is. On Sunday morning, a 40 year old man – a veteran who decorates his pick up truck with US flags and his home with a Trump sign – plowed into a Stake Center of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and then rained terror in the form of gunfire and improvised explosive devises on a congregation that included scores of children. He killed four people and wounded eight. To his mind, each victim, whether killed, wounded or traumatized, is or was, an “antiChrist” (his word), a Mormon, someone like me. The word he used – “antiChrist” – is decidedly Christian, but the actions he committed are not.
Continue reading “Whack-a-Doodle Timelines, the Death of a Prophet, and a Massacre or Two”
Like most progressive Mormons engaging in the discussion about inclusion levels of the LGBTQIA community within the Church, I’ve argued in favor of love—that love is a behavior, that Christlike love practices empathy and inclusion. There is no concrete opposition to that, since love is an abstraction, so what I hear from “opposing” voices sounds a lot like, “We do love; we want to include” followed by a caveat. In truth, most orthodox, mainstream LDS are sincere in their desire to love and include, but they both justify and endorse policies of exclusion without hesitation. It’s a baffling dichotomy. But this weekend, at General Conference, the fog lifted for me. I’ve had it all wrong. This isn’t about a lack of love. It’s about power and submission. It’s about the corruption of ethics and ideals and how we’ve exchanged them for easily quantifiable “standards” that bind a subservient class to the will of its leadership. It’s about control. 
On November 5, 2015 the policy change to LDS Handbook 1 regarding homosexual members became known to the public. Since then, in the US, 34 LDS LGBT young people between the ages of 14 and 20 have committed suicide. The numbers are being tallied by Wendy and Thomas Montgomery, leaders in the 
We’ve had nearly two months of discussion about the recent policy change regarding same-gender, committed couples and their children. The “wheat and tares” analogies are flying, with each side sure it is the wheat and the other, the tares. Just like in politics. That can never be a good thing within a religion. So, for a moment, I’d like to put aside arguments about the policy and talk about our kids. Not our gay kids. Not our straight kids. Not the kids of same-gender couples. Not the kids of traditional Mormon marriages, of mixed orientation marriages, or of divorce. But all of our LDS kids, regardless of orientation or circumstance. Let’s talk about what happens to them in the aftermath of the policy change because what happens to them affects us all. 
Life Outside The Book of Mormon Belt 