Sunday, May 8

Becoming a Parent Someday

My mother is a hero.

She studied rocket science at MIT. Between winning regional diving championships and cooking mass meals for the Institute, she met my dad, who was studying business. He had a year left, and she had two... so she did what her advisers thought impossible and completed her junior and senior years together, taking classes that overlapped and somehow being in two places at the same time.

Her colleagues became astronauts and scientists.

Her rivals won Olympic gold medals.

She became my mom.

Some parents aren't fully present in their children's lives. Many work, spend time with adult friends and family, and spend time in church callings away from home. Somehow, I don't remember that happening with my mom. When my dad lost his job, I always asked to go on excursions to find the sales to restock the food storage we lived on. When I had crazy ideas, she helped me make them work. We built a 12-foot tower from a piece of paper and a foot of tape one night for school, folding and creasing tiny strips into telescoping triangles. I followed her to stake choir practice, to Homemaking, everywhere.

She, like me, has always had trouble making close friends, and we lived hundreds of miles from her family... so she was always there for me. Not overbearing or hovering - I spent plenty of hours hidden in corners reading books and didn't often talk to her about school - but always available when I wanted or needed her help.

Watching my parents has fanned a flame in my own heart - a desire deep inside me that defines me more than anything else in my life - the desire to be a father. To have my own children, to be there in their lives, and to live adventures with them. To teach someone else to build intricate towers late into the night from K'NEX or look through telescopes on the roof at Orion or split hostas and irises until there's nowhere else to put them.

It colors everything I do, everything I plan, everything I want.

I've only ever wanted one thing more:

To be good... and to do the right thing.

In the beginning, I thought I'd get married young, have lots of kids, and live happily ever after with my family. I dated a ton, even though it didn't really work out and caused chaos for everyone involved. I even avoided study abroads and international trips because I thought that I'd have a better chance finding a spouse at home... and wanted to save money for when I did.

As time went on, my concern grew and eventually became enormous. I was getting older, everyone around me was getting married, and I wasn't anywhere close. I realized I had problems that I faced - specifically being attracted to men instead of women - and I hit a wall when I realized that I needed to trust God and let Him worry about the timing of my life. My zealous passion for dating subsided, and I focused, instead of on finding someone, on becoming a better man so that someday I could be a good husband and dad.

I feel like I've made progress.

I've gone to school and learned about myself and others, and found ways to make a difference in the world. I've beaten bipolar and gained enough coping skills that most people can't tell that I have autism. I don't have a lot in financial savings, but I've learned the importance of giving freely and often.

I'm a better man than I was a few years ago. As I've grown older, my dream to be a dad doesn't change, but the possibility of it being realized seems to get smaller and smaller.

Last week I was down on myself as I thought about my life... comparing what I want with what others have... and in my conversation with God He reminded me of the story of Abraham. Abraham was like me. Our childhoods were different, but he wanted to be a dad just like I do. So he did the right things, trusted God, and waited. A few pages later, when Abraham was 100 years old, his son Isaac was born.

The story gave me hope. If God could do miracles for Abraham, He can do miracles for me.

It also opened up my eyes to something that could have saved me a lot of grief. In my patriarchal blessing, it promises that if I "endure to the end," someday I'll be a father. That phrase has always made me wonder. Usually I think of "endure to the end" as something that comes after. I make covenants, see blessings from God, and then endure to the end through the ensuing trials of life. Endure to the end, from that perspective, is a pithy statement that means "stay faithful until I die." How am I supposed to endure to the end before I get married and have kids in this life?

The answer was right there. I was given the same promise that was given to Abraham. And while God always keeps His promises, I have to do my part as well. Abraham waited 100 years for Isaac... which is definitely long enough to count as "enduring to the end" in my book. Maybe that's why waiting is a difficult part of my life, too.

I'm grateful for a mom that has been there for me. For parents who helped me want to be a parent myself. But, most especially, for their focus on doing the right thing. Yes, I may have to wait... but God always keeps His promises, in His time and in His way, yes, but a promise is a promise. If I'm faithful, keep my covenants, and endure to the end, I'll be a dad someday.


  1. This is such a nice tribute to your mother, and to God. Thank you.

  2. I love this, David. Your faith helps to strengthen mine, to trust in God's promises.

  3. This is such a great post; I get a lost of inspiration and strength from your blog. You have an amazing capacity for hope. Here's a question I have about the Abraham reference: how do you come to terms with the fact that God would later ask Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac? I would love to know if you have any insights on that. Thanks.

  4. I have been following your blog for a while now and I am so grateful for the insights you share! Thanks for sharing your faith and experiences so that others can be built and lifted. Thank you for inviting others to come unto Christ.


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