Ashes to Ashes

All the things that I'll never be good at

All the talents that I'll never know

All the blessings I've asked for for decades

All the masks that I put up for show

All the people I've wanted for friendship

All my sorrows and all of my pain

When all the things that I want break to millions of pieces

Only dust and the ashes remain.

From dust to dust

From ashes to ashes

I build up a palace and watch while it crashes

But there, in the stillness of nothing God calls

"Some day you'll be more than a man."

All my hopes to make sorrow forgotten

My attempts to dry away tears

My prayers every night, hoping to help share the light

The courage that comes from my fears

Then I break all the rules and reverse all the good

And my actions bring sorrow and pain

I watch the walls all fall down, pushed down by me;

Only I and the ashes remain.

From dust to dust

From ashes to ashes

I build up a palace and watch while it crashes

But there, in the stillness of nothing God calls

"Someday you'll be more than a man."

Even though I may never feel good enough

And though life may be pulling me down.

Though my trials bring angst and frustration

And I can't seem to turn them around.

Even though I may never have friendship

And when I try I'll only cause pain

I'll keep trying.

Dear Lord, give me strength to build up a palace.

Only You and the ashes remain.

Rise from the dust

Rise from the ashes

Build up a palace; even if it crashes

I do what I can do; learn what I can

Because someday, with You, I'll be more than a man.

Sometimes I try to develop friendships. I push myself out of the shell that surrounds me and actually meet people. Try to get to know them. In the beginning, it always seems like it's working. But, inevitably, I do things that push people away, and when I've broken enough unwritten social norms to make anyone run, they almost always do.

For a long time, when my friendships failed, I would sever all the rest of my relationships. The thought was that since I was unknowingly inflicting pain in one place, it was probably happening elsewhere, too. And there are lots of people who can be friends without causing chaos in someone's life. Losing me from their life would be a good thing.

And then I'd spend the next few months trying to solve all the problems I could find. Identify all the things that I had done wrong in each relationship and create rules to help me in the future. Only when I felt like I could do it... that maybe my newfound skills would overcome my weaknesses, would I try again.

I don't sever ties anymore when my world falls apart. I've learned that isn't fair to people who have invested in a relationship with me. But I still find myself wondering if it's really worth it. To them or to me. Maybe someday I'll make enough mistakes to learn to be normal. Maybe not. And even if a friendship may be beneficial today, that doesn't prevent me from destroying it tomorrow.

The only thing that keeps me going - pushes me to try - is that I still believe that I can do good. At least someday, if not yet. That I can learn to be a worthwhile friend, and be there for people who really need it. That maybe I can have my own friends someday. And, perhaps more, that every time I make mistakes, God tells me to get up and try again.

I make more mistakes than anyone I know. It's a cop-out to say that having ASD means it should matter less. Pain is pain; mistakes are mistakes. Regardless of my circumstances, I should be learning better. But I still fail. So I'm sorry - to the people I've tried to befriend, to the people I'm trying to befriend right now, to anyone who meets me in the future, to the people who will never know me but are affected by me, and to God. Hopefully you can forgive me and help me find the courage and strength to try again... and improve for tomorrow.

From Lifelong Partners to Eternal Friends

Steven and Kenneth are two men. They both had same-gender attraction, were attracted to each other, decided to become partners, and have lived together for years.

Today they're faithful, temple-worthy members of the Church.

The first time I heard Steven and Kenneth's story, I wasn't sure how to respond. People had asked me if the doctrine of the Church allowed for "celibate partners" and I honestly hadn't really met anyone that had effectively made that work. I had, on the other hand, seen countless stories of people who had gotten more and more intimate with their physicality, then cross the line and lose (and/or abandon) their Church membership.

What I've realized in the time since is that all I needed to understand was a change in vocabulary. A partner, in context of relationships, implies that you live together and share sexual intimacy outside of marriage. A friend, specifically a best friend, can be almost the exact same relationship but without sexual intimacy.

Do the doctrines of the Church allow for friends? Yes. President Hinckley went so far as to assert that every member should have a friend in the Church. People all need someone to talk to, someone who understands, someone who cares. There are some exceptions to this rule - just like there are to every "should." Just like there are people who never find love in this life, there are people who never find mortal friendship. Thankfully, God fills in the gaps in all cases where life has left a ravine. He can be the friend I need and give the love I can't find, regardless of the circumstances that I face in life. But, in the end, whether mortal or divine, the friendship President Hinckley asserted is still pretty important.

"Best" friends are a little different I think. The moniker seems to hold a connotation to me that everything is shared... and to imply some type of long-term commitment on both sides. A friend may come and go with time, but a "best" friend doesn't. Or, at least in my mind, shouldn't. Scriptures and stories don't always use superlatives, but they still talk about the roles of "best" friends and the impact they had. Joseph and his brother Hyrum. David and Jonathan. Alma and Amulek. Alma the younger and the sons of Mosiah. Helaman and Moroni.

While we aren't sealed to our friends (except spouses...), I'm convinced I'll be friends in Heaven with my friends on Earth. (As long as I get to Heaven.) And if I took the time, I'm sure I could find scriptural and other references supporting that belief.

So the implications follow. The doctrines of the Church support friendship. They support "best" friendship. The commandments establish a standard of morality for those friendships to follow. And any friendships that follow those commandments and help people come into Christ are definitely ok. Including if the people involved were at some time in love.

If every man or woman in the Church had that - a friend who was totally and completely committed to them, who loved them completely and also loved the Lord and understood the role of God and His commandments in love... I think the world would be a better place. We'd have less infidelity in marriage, more love within and without. And fewer people would leave simply because they think that no one understands or cares. Do I think that young men with same-sex attraction should abandon the search for a spouse and instead find a best friend to spend life with? No. Marriage is ordained of God and a crucial part of His eternal plan. It also happens for some men with SSA and not for others. That's between the individual and the Lord to figure out. Friendship, when it leads us to Christ, is always a good thing.

Steven and Kenneth were partners (in every sense of the word) at one point. But they made the choice to change and submit their relationship to their beliefs. They repented, and eventually one baptized the other into the Church. They've been roommates, caretakers (they both have HIV), and best friends ever since.

I don't know how many other super-close SSA friendships like Steven & Kenneth's are out there. How many men or women have found friendship in someone who shares not only their complete love, but also their complete commitment to the gospel. It honestly sounds a bit utopian to me... but that's coming from the guy who has trouble navigating even the simplest of friendships. I envy people's relationships anyway. Either way, I think the doctrine of the Church does allow for best friends. It encourages us to find them and hold them close. Yes, between friends that share common trials, precautions to stay safe are essential. And those need to be personally applied - recovering alcoholics should probably not meet up at a bar, even for the dancing. But if I can bring a friend closer to Christ, and him me, then in the end... we're just friends, regardless of the trials we may individually or severally face. 

And that's definitely good in the eyes of God.

(Read Steven and Kenneth's Story, along with others, at ldsvoicesofhope.org.)

Nothing

I look across the street and see a beautifully manicured lawn and garden. Mine is a mess, with weeds and brown grass and a completely broken sprinkler system yet again.

My brothers' rooms are clean. Mine, again, is a mess. 

My little brother just got engaged. It's been almost a year since I went on more than one date with someone. 

Many of the people I know have careers. Or know what they are going to do in the next year or five. I don't feel like I know anything... and don't know which way to go.

A teacher in Sunday School today asked me how to be a good friend. She told me I was a friend to lots of people. I had no answer. Ironic that I don't feel it.

People think I'm too busy for friends, or that I have tons of them. But when we try to get close it doesn't work... because I don't know how to be a friend.

One place I feel useful is at the temple. But I wonder if I'm really good enough to be a worker there... even to the point of not going some weeks.

I live with my brothers, but feel like I would be closer to them if I didn't... because I inevitably do things that cause strife. When we work together, I find it's better to work on the opposite side of the house. Otherwise, something will happen to push us apart.

People ask me for help, and I feel more broken than they are.

A guy who just moved into the ward asked me after Church if there was anything else happening today. He sounded like he wanted an opportunity to get to know people. I thought about inviting him to dinner, and inviting others as well, but I didn't do it. I told myself I was tired, and fell asleep as soon as I walked in the door coming home.

I asked someone to be our choir director two weeks ago. She hasn't held choir yet, and people ask me why, and I feel like it's my fault.

I still deal with depression, with loneliness that doesn't go away even when I'm with people who love me, with inadequacies and frustrations that keep me awake into the night.

I'm alone, lost, broken, tired, and worn out. 

I feel like, comparatively, I am nothing.

And yet, somehow, it's okay. Because, even with the reality - that there are a thousand things I could/should do better - I feel peace. God loves me.

Maybe it's okay to be nothing.

Misgivings

For years I've wondered if it's even worth trying. And felt, often, like it wasn't.

Friendship, I mean. Trying to get close to people. Being there when they need me and opening myself somehow to them. It didn't feel worth it because I cause so much damage... feel so awful... and I don't know that it will ever go away. I have so many problems that inevitably some of the main factors of my relationships are miscommunication and pain. Somewhere in my head I thought that all I needed to do was find the right girl who could see through everything on the outside and understand and love me - someone I could love back - and then I wouldn't have to worry as much.

I thought I understood.

And then, twice this week, people told me about experiences in their lives. Where a parent has an autism spectrum disorder and struggles to communicate and understand love... first from the perspective of a child, then from a parent.

Both ripped me apart.

Will this never end?

It never hit me that my difficulty developing relationships would extend to my kids someday. That the things I face in the outside world could become obstacles to being there for them... in the walls of my home. That having autism/aspergers could make me less of a father and push them away from me... be a barrier to enabling them to feel loved.

It makes sense. This probably isn't going to go away suddenly... and it already influences my ability to communicate with my siblings, parents, and others. Why not my kids someday? I guess I always hoped it wouldn't... and yet listening to others makes me wonder, for a moment, about having a family at all. I've wanted nothing but to be a dad for all my life - that and a missionary. But if I can't be there... if I can't help them feel loved... if I can't be the kind of dad I want them to have... can I even want a family?

I don't know. Maybe it's still worth it, because the things I'm learning make me into a better person. Maybe I can learn enough to overcome the worst of it, someday. Maybe I will be a good father somehow. But right now I find myself wondering, even about the desire to have a family here. My dream to have a dozen kids and raise them in the gospel... Yeah. I don't know what to want anymore.

I still want it though... because I believe it'll be worthwhile. I just... knowing what I know, what girl would ever want a guy like me? And what kid would want me for a dad? I don't know the answer to that. Just that the journey will always be hard.