**Note: This post was published when I first started this blog. Some of my beliefs and opinions have since then changed, as have life circumstances. As they express my situations as I saw them at that time, I have kept these posts as they are.**

I’m gay. Now if you’re going to tell me I’m not then move on out of here because that’s not changing. No apologies. It’s not that I hate people who think being gay is a choice, or even those who think it’s a sin. I did too for the longest time. It’s just that this isn’t a place where I want to discuss that.

I’m gay. I remember telling my mother those two words. She looked right back at me and said, “No you’re not. God doesn’t make people gay.” I wanted to believe her. I didn’t want her to disown me. And so I agreed with her. But inside I didn’t believe it. I tried to change. I really did.

Finally I came to terms with myself. I accepted myself. But how could I tell my mother. Family has always been extremely important to me and I could not dream of losing it. My family was never perfect (but none are). We were very close whoever. I was home educated from kindergarten until High School graduation. When I told my mom I was gay I was visiting home before going back to college 11 hours away.

One frustrating thing about my mother is that she talks about homosexuality more than most of my gay friends – and not in a nice way. So after I came to terms myself, I could no longer agree with my mother’s view on her favourite subject. I kept changing topics and saying things that implied I didn’t think homosexuality was as wrong as she did and that I had gay friends. This brought her to the correct conclusion. I was gay.

After this I received from her the longest email I have ever received. It took me two weeks to calm myself enough to give her a civil reply. It said:

Dear Dad and Mom, I have learned many things in my life and the last year has been a time of tremendous growth for me as I have left home and had the chance to question my personal relationship with God. This process has brought me closer to Him and made me ask questions about myself, Him, and the church. Christianity is not written in stone, rather, it is written on our hearts. While I believe that we should live our lives in a way that pleases God, I have studied the word of God and have come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong with me being attracted to, or eventually in a relationship with, other men. I am going to continue focusing on pleasing God, being true to myself, and accepting people for who they are. I want to be a part of your life and I want you to be a part of mine. I am willing to set aside our differences of opinion and belief and find common ground if you are willing to do the same. I love you very much. Dillon

The next email I received from her was the last to this date. I never responded to it. I never will. It was the day before Mother’s Day.

She told me I wasn’t homosexual and that I had to repent, get ministry, and overcome it. She said it, was depraved, and perverted. Well I am ‘it’. She then told me that I could not be gay and work towards my “God-given destiny” and that she could not be part of it.

When I received that email from her I was at a Student Executive conference in Edmonton. I got it in the morning and was busy all day and tried not to think about it. But late that night I went for a walk in downtown Edmonton. I came to the grounds of the provincial Legislature. As I climbed those steps I was very emotional. The glory of that building against the night sky made me long for a better place. And not later. NOW!

I walked to the edge and peered over the wide stone railing. The fall, while not far, would be enough to break my neck if I jumped head first. I ran my hand along the ledge, longing for an end to my pain and the tears that would not come. I had been betrayed by the people who were supposed to be there for me. I wanted to kill myself. To end it all.

So why didn’t I? Why am I still here a week and a half later? I don’t know. I suppose God had has hand on me. I had one fear: that if I landed wrong I would have still been alive and in a much worse situation. So I thought of a friend who means the world to me. I thought of my little sister; and my brother whose roommate had killed herself a short time before. Could I really do this to him? I thought of who I would become and what I hope to one day do. I slowly walked down those steps. I walked to a footbridge in front of that grand monument and sat there in the night.

I hope to one day climb those steps as a political leader. I can one day point to the very ledge where I almost ended it all and plead for the helpless and the hopeless. Cry to the world to end the hate and the rejection.

Mary Griffith, the founder of PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians And Gays), whose own gay son Bobby jumped to his death, said it best when she said:

There are children, like Bobby, sitting in your congregations. Unknown to you they will be listening as you echo “amen” and that will soon silence their prayers. Their prayers to God for understanding and acceptance and for your love but your hatred and fear and ignorance of the word gay, will silence those prayers. So, before you echo “amen” in your home and place of worship. Think. Think and remember a child is listening.

Life is hard. But we can survive.