This miracle has always been immensely meaningful for me, hopefully for obvious reasons.  There are many times when I have felt tossed by stormy seas, and in those times, I have had to rely on the Master, who has power over the storms.  But our Area Seventy pointed out something about this story I’d never thought of before.

The scripture doesn’t say that the disciples feared during the storm.  It just says that they awoke Him and asked, “Carest thou not that we perish?”  But who were the disciples?  Several of them were experienced fishermen.  They knew how to handle a boat.  They had probably weathered a storm or two.  They were not strangers to this sea.

It’s easy to think of them just holding on for dear life and begging the Master to do something.  But the Savior did not choose weak, ineffectual men to be His eventual Apostles.  These were strong, vibrant men.  No doubt they were doing their best to fight the storm.  One was probably at the helm, another manning the ropes and sails, perhaps others bailing.  They were not sitting idly by waiting for somebody to come and save them.

This made me think of that moment when the Master sadly looked on His fearful disciples, and asked them, “How is it that ye have no faith?”  What did He mean?  Wasn’t there implicit in their cry for help, “Carest thou not that we perish,” a rather solid faith that He who slept in the ship had power to do something about the storm if He but cared to take notice of it?  In fact, it sounds rather more like a very presumptuous rebuke.  ”We know that thou hast power to calm these seas.  Why haven’t you delivered us?  Do you not care that we are about to be swallowed by the sea?”

I think that when the Savior looked on His fearful disciples and rebuked their lack of faith, that maybe He wasn’t condemning their lack of faith in Him, but rather their lack of faith in themselves—in their ability, using the gifts and talents God had already given them—to navigate the foul weather and endure to the end of the storm.

I can hardly believe that Jesus was so oblivious to His surroundings that He didn’t notice the raging storm around Him.  It makes more sense to me that He did notice the storm, and then thinking of who helmed this ship—those great men He had chosen, men like Peter, James, John, and Andrew, whose capabilities He knew so well—that He took comfort and slept peacefully, knowing that the ship was in competent, faithful hands.

How He must have sorrowed, then, when they awoke Him and demanded direct intervention.  Did He look on them and think, “Have I not already given you all the gifts and talents you need to weather this storm?  Why do you not have faith in what I have already given you?  Why do you demand more rather than using what you have?  Why do you doubt your ability to endure to the end of this storm in the strength of the tremendous blessings you have already received?”

And of course, that made me think of the many times I have been guilty of the same thing.  The Lord has given me storms to weather, including tumultuous seas of confused gender identity.  But He also gave me what I needed to navigate those storms.  And yet so many times, I have thought that He slumbered nonchalantly, and have wanted to wake Him and demand that He calm the storm.

In truth, He has never slept.  He has watched with me through every storm.  If He does not intervene immediately in every trial, perhaps that is not a sign that He has abandoned me, but rather a sign that He trusts me; that He has faith that I will steer aright.  Perhaps He is showing me that He has given me what I need already, and that if I will have faith in those gifts He has already given me, I will have no need to demand that He still every wind and wave.

Later, in a ship near to be overwhelmed by the boisterous winds, he saw the Master walking upon the water.  Peter wished to walk out to Jesus on the water.  The Master bade him to do so.  Without a second thought, Peter leaped over the side of the ship and began walking towards Jesus.  It was only when he took his eyes off of Jesus and paid heed to the buffeting storm around him that he began to sink, and Christ had to lift him out of the storm.

Still later, when he perceived that it was the resurrected Christ who awaited them on the sea shore, he had no thought for the great draught of fishes they had just taken, and couldn’t be troubled to wait for a boat.  He leaped into the water and swam to shore to reach the Master more quickly.

Just now, I was reading the following account of Peter, in Acts 3.  I was so touched by the power of his faith, and the result—instant and complete healing—that it brought me to tears.  I wanted to share it with all of you.

1  NOW Peter and John went up together into the temple at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour.
2  And a certain man lame from his mother’s womb was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beautiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple;
3  Who seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple asked an alms.
4  And Peter, fastening his eyes upon him with John, said, Look on us.
5  And he gave heed unto them, expecting to receive something of them.
6  Then Peter said, Silver and gold have I none; but such as I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.
7  And he took him by the right hand, and lifted him up: and immediately his feet and ankle bones received strength.
8  And he leaping up stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple, walking, and leaping, and praising God.

Pres. Packer gave an excellent talk about the power of the Priesthood in this past conference.  Peter was one who not only had the authority, but truly had the power of the Priesthood because of his great, vital faith.  I also loved how Pres. Packer taught that powerful Priesthood service begins in the home.

Thinking about Peter’s example the last few days has made me want to be so much more for my family and for the Lord.  I want to have the kind of faith that Peter had, the kind of faith that made him one of the most powerful Priesthood leaders ever—the kind of faith that never questioned why the Lord asked him to do something, but simply focused on what the Lord had asked him to do, and then he did it.  Immediately.  That was the kind of powerful faith that enabled Peter to say, with complete confidence, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth rise up and walk.”  This was the kind of faith that healed men.  I wish that I had that kind of faith.  Perhaps if I did, I could reach out and heal all of us who have GID.

Hi Jamie. First of all, thanks for dropping by and leaving a comment.

Having GID/being transgender really, really, really sucks. I’ve seen dark days in my life. Can you imagine how awkward, uncomfortable, dreadful, and awful it would be to have been born with genitalia of the other sex? To cross your legs or use a washcloth to cover up what you don’t want to see while in the shower/bath? To feel sick to your stomach while/after being intimate with your spouse? Etc. It’s hard!

Yes, I have experienced almost all of that.

I can choose my actions but I can’t choose to not be transgender.

You’re right. You can’t just “choose” the feelings away. It’s part of who you are.

I can’t change nor do I want to change my female wiring.

Nor do I. It would be like taking a knife to myself. It would be to destroy who and what I am. It has been the source of some of the deepest and most intense personal spiritual experiences I have had. But only after years of struggling. I have had those intense spiritual experiences only because I have struggled so long and so hard that I have had to strip myself of all sense of personal identity and cast myself before the Lord in abject humility, utterly naked in a sense, and tell Him that I would do and be what He wanted me to do and be rather than what I wanted. And after I had done so, He began to teach me what this all means to me and how it fits into my eternal identity and purpose—how the deepest yearnings of my heart could be fulfilled in a very literal and real sense, not by rejecting my role as a male, but by embracing it and fulfilling my entire mortal purpose.

I hope the same happens for you. And I hope it doesn’t take as long for you. I hope that you are wiser than I was, and that you commit yourself fully to the Lord with less fuss than I did. But I know that because He loves me, He permitted me to suffer as long as I needed to until I was ready to truly consecrate myself to Him.

Is it wrong for me to have strong, internal longings to be a loving mother, and a wife, and to nurture, and to care for others in a gentle, feminine way? Is it wrong to want to be a sister? To be a daughter of God?

No.  I think it just means that you are tapping into your sense of eternal identity in a particular way that most people never do. That doesn’t make you better than them. It just happens to be the path to discipleship that the Lord would have you take. Remember, we all must travel the same strait and narrow path and enter in at the gate. But the Lord knows each of us well enough to know just what prick of pain we need to wrench us away from Babylon and drive us to our knees.

Am/Was I supposed to be able to go more than 12 consecutive months wanting hormones and a path toward sex change without doing so?

I have gone my whole life feeling an intense desire to change myself hormonally and physically. But I and many others have chosen not to transition. It can be done. And we have found our own places in the Kingdom and ways of dealing with it.  The fact that I shave my legs and often wear nylon stockings under my pants doesn’t make me unworthy of serving the Lord. It’s just a coping mechanism. I have a friend who has found that an androgynous look works well for him. He is a counselor in his Elders Quorum, and is worthy of the post. I have another friend who is lovingly supporting his son through a transition, because he would rather see his son at Church in a dress than not in Church at all. He is a counselor in the Bishopric, and has the support of his Stake President.

Why do some people think I can’t or shouldn’t contribute to the world, serve in the church, and/or praise God as a woman?

I think no such thing, and nobody else should. The official position in the Church Handbook, as far as I’m aware, is that a post-operative may be baptized if otherwise worthy, but may not receive the Priesthood or Temple ordinances. So if, theoretically, you transitioned but continued to support the Church and those whom the Lord has chosen to be His servants, I personally see no reason you could not be baptized, take the Sacrament, attend Relief Society, and serve. But at what cost would you do it? You have been endowed, so you have already received higher ordinances than baptism. Did you marry in the Temple? If so, you have already received all the ordinances necessary for your exaltation. I can’t tell from your post if your wife actually has left you, or if you’re just going through a rocky period, but either way, the ordinance wouldn’t be dissolved unless and until she remarries. So that means that all that is left for you to do is endure to the end, that your ordinances may be sealed by the Holy Spirit of Promise, and if you do, your exaltation is guaranteed. There is no fuzziness about that. The Lord has told us what we must do to receive those blessings in very clear terms.

Are you prepared to sacrifice those covenants for the sake of transitioning, even if you can still hold to a lesser law and covenant? Are you prepared to concede that the least of the three heavens is “good enough” for you? Particularly because I believe that there is a way for those very feminine parts of you to find expression and embodiment themselves, but only if you are faithful and enter into your exaltation. I hesitate to say to much on that point, because it is revelation that is personal in nature. But I will say that what the Lord has revealed to me on the point is very comforting to me, because it means that internal feminine expression will not be eternally trapped if I am faithful. And what I have felt is absolutely consistent with what the Lord has revealed through His prophets. I have tested my theories against scripture both ancient and modern, and where any speculation has veered from revealed truth, I have revised it to fit with revealed truth. What I personally believe on the point does not require me to reject the Prophets or their teachings, nor does it make me a “special exception.” Indeed, it requires me to embrace the Gospel and its covenants and ordinances in their fullness, and requires me to endure faithful to the end that all of my covenants may be sealed up unto my exaltation.

And if what the Lord has revealed to me on this point is true, He can reveal it to you. But it must come by the Spirit. I cannot give it to you. If you want, I will tell you what led me to it, and you can try it yourself to see if the Lord teaches you.

Bottom line: Despite my continued yearnings, I have no intention of making myself into a poor facsimile of a woman in mortality.  The cost would be too high for me, and the  benefits too few.

With the exception of the funky right shift key, I am extremely pleased with this ultra-portable little wonder.  It’s just the right size to pull out and use on the short bus ride to work (the ride is short, not the bus).  Does that mean I will be posting more frequently, since now I can type up my posts while I pontificate on the bus?  Well, theoretically it does.  Even with the annoying right shift key, it’s certainly easier to use than the Blackberry.  Of course, even the two or three regular readers I had seem to have dropped off as my blogging became very irregular.  So I don’t know that anybody will read this.  But I’m fairly certain I still have some things to say.  In any case, I know that I still struggle with  gender issues, so my “journey” is not over yet.  So here we go…

And while I’m speaking of random things, am I the only person in North America who isn’t obsessed with 24?  All I’m saying is, Bishop, honest to goodness, you’re the awesomest bishop on the face of the planet, and I’m not criticizing you or anything, but I did have a couple of matters of actual Church-related business to discuss in PEC yesterday morning.  See, one of the counselors asked the Bishop, “Now that your boys are at college/on a mission, do you have anybody to watch 24 with?”  Innocent enough question.  But it turns out that Bishop’s wife, who is the quintessential conservative homemaker, is obsessed with 24, as is his daughter, whom Mrs. Sweet commented was a “really, really conservative dresser” (this from Mrs. Sweet, who just this year decided it wouldn’t be totally scandalous if she skipped wearing pantyhose to church in the summer despite the fact that she HATES wearing pantyhose).  This led to the Bishop discussing how his wife was obsessively checking and double-checking the VCR to make sure they got everything, and then we had a very deep discussion about the relative merits of a VCR vs. Tivo, and how some people present had no means of recording the 24 premier.  The ward mission leader commented that if you miss an episode, you can actually watch it online.  Then the other counselor commented that he watched the first season on DVD, and he and his wife were sleep deprived because they kept compulsively popping in the next episode because they had to see what happened.  The executive secretary said that he watched it on DVD too, but he started fast forwarding parts because the pacing was too slow for him (this is the guy who had a Ph.D. at 22 AFTER serving a mission).   The ward clerk commented that he did have a bit of a problem with the fact that Jack Bauer kills so many people (seems like a reasonable complaint to me).  And somehow Hooters got mixed in (with a couple of advocates of the “they have great wings” theory, and one dissenter who says his family used to get Hooters wings as takeout all the time when he was a kid, and they’re not that great).  Weirdest.  PEC.  Ever.   I did manage to slip in a comment about the less active sister who talked to my wife this week and wanted to know where the chapel was so she could start coming again, and asked if she could have the missionaries teach her and her son in our home because she would like for her son to get baptized.

Then people were buzzing about the big 4 hour 24 premier before Sacrament meeting.

Seriously, have I missed something?  I’ve seen 24 before, twice.   Both times were while I was in law school.  I was hanging out in the Law Review office, which had a TV, and somebody had it on 24.  My options were:
1.  Watch 24.
2.  Study and/or work on Law Review stuff.

Now, maybe I should have taken option 2. Maybe my grades would have been just a little better (but then, who cares—I got a job).  But I went ahead and watched 24.  There was a lot of shouting and shooting, and the son(?) of some lady that Jack Bauer was shackin’ up with(?) somehow got mixed up in it when he shouldn’t have, and there was a helicopter(?), and something about the President(?) on a plane that was going to crash(?) or something.  I just dont’ get it.  It’s a loud melodrama.  What’s’ the big deal? Though I have to admit, if there were an award for “Most Screaming and Firearms,” 24 would win hands down.

Now I know what you Manly Men are thinking.  “You don’t count, girlyboy!  You’re the guy who blogs about wanting to be a woman.  Of course you don’t watch 24!  You wouldn’t understand.  Now go play with a Barbie.”  I counter that (1) The BISHOP’S WIFE is obsessed with this show.  She’s about the most girly person I know, my own very non-butch wife not excepted.  Manliness is clearly orthogonal to the liking of 24.  (2) I don’t shy away from action.  I love Indiana Jones and Star Wars and Lord of the Rings.  24 just doesn’t do it for me.  And (3), no thanks.  I have two daughters, so I’m up to my ears in Barbies.

Maybe I’ll just read a good book.

Elder Bednar related how, in the midst of the great uncertainties and self doubts that flooded his mind as he prepared to address the Church for the first time, his troubled heart was calmed when the congregation sung his personal favorite hymn, “Redeemer of Israel,” just before he rose to speak.  Elder Bednar related:

Now, the music for the various conference sessions had been determined many weeks before—and obviously long before my new call to serve. If, however, I had been invited to suggest an intermediate hymn for that particular session of the conference—a hymn that would have been both edifying and spiritually soothing for me and for the congregation before my first address in this Conference Center—I would have selected my favorite hymn, “Redeemer of Israel.” Tears filled my eyes as I stood with you to sing that stirring hymn of the Restoration.

Elder Bednar then went on to testify that “the tender mercies of the Lord are real and that they do not occur randomly or merely by coincidence. Often, the Lord’s timing of His tender mercies helps us to both discern and acknowledge them.”  (Emphasis added).

I thought of this talk today because I had a really lousy day today.   It was one of those days my brain was just spiraling out of control.  I spent 10 hours at work and I don’t think I got 6 hours of useful work done.  I was seized by what I can only describe as a paralyzing panic attack related to my GID.  I spent two hours basically staring at a document and accomplishing absolutely nothing useful with it.  I did a sudoku puzzle to try to just unwind my brain, but when I turned back to my document, I couldn’t do anything with it.  I was useless.

I managed to scrape through to the end of the day, and while I was waiting for the bus, my mind was running wild with self-destructive thoughts I won’t describe here.

Did I mention I was scheduled for exchanges with the missionaries that evening?  I did not exactly feel up to it.  But I went.  And it was a wonderful experience.  After spending an hour and a half visiting with some less active friends, I felt so much better.  And then, just as we were wrapping up, my wife called and said that my parents had just stopped by.

I had no idea why my parents had stopped by, but I immediately thought, “Wow, I sure could use a blessing tonight.”  I figured my Dad would just be in street clothes, and normally he prefers to wear a tie to give a blessing, but this was an emergency.

Well, as it turns out, my parents had just been to a viewing for an old friend.  So my Dad was wearing a suit.  And I was wearing a suit, so it worked out nicely when my wife also requested that we give my daughter, who has recently been diagnosed with precocious puberty, a blessing.

When my father gave me a blessing, the words he spoke weren’t earth shattering.  He reminded me that I have been given many gifts and blessings, but as the Lord tells us in Ether 12:27, He also gives unto men weakness that they may be humble.  Apparently, I still need to learn how to rely on the Lord more.

So I’d like to quote a verse from Elder Bednar’s favorite hymn.  It’s the fifth verse, and unfortunately, it doesn’t get sung much because we tend to ignore the later verses dangling at the bottom of the page of our hymnbook (this made for some interesting problems when verses 4-5 of “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day” were at the bottom in the old hymn books).   But it’s my favorite verse in this hymn.

5. Restore, my dear Savior,
The light of thy face;
Thy soul-cheering comfort impart;
And let the sweet longing
For thy holy place
Bring hope to my desolate heart.

I testify that today I witnessed a tender mercy of the Lord.  My father’s unplanned visit to my house was not random or merely by coincidence.  The Lord knew that I was faltering and drowning.  As He did for His drowning disciple Peter, He reached out and, showing His tender mercy, saved me from the tumultuous storm.

There was some skit about James Joyce (off-topic aside: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is absolutely the worst “novel” ever written in the English language) and then their musical guest chimed in. It’s was a folksy group of women, and they sang one of the cutest, most delightful, cheerful, upbeat songs I have ever heard. It was “Crayola Doesn’t Make a Color for Your Eyes,” by Kristin Andreassen. And they’re doing a little pat-a-cake thing the whole time! How awesome is that?

Now, normally, I am a big advocate of letting people have their agency and not telling people what to do and all that good stuff. But YOU MUST CLICK THIS LINK AND DOWNLOAD THIS SONG IMMEDIATELY! Also, watch this YouTube video. It will make you smile

These are the lyrics:

Lyrics:
Crayola Doesn’t Make a Color For Your Eyes
by Kristin Andreasssen & Megan Downes / Yellowcar Music, ASCAP

I went to see the doctor. I’d come down with the blues.
She said “No, I can’t cure you, but I know something you can do.
Take out a piece of paper, and sit down for a while,
and draw a pretty picture of something that makes you smile.”
Well, I know what makes me happy. Didn’t have to think for long.
But when I tried to draw it, it always came out wrong.
I had a box of 12, 48 and 64,
but nowhere could I find that one shade I was looking for.
I guess I realized shoulda come as no surprise
Crayola doesn’t make a color for your eyes.
There is no way that I could possibly describe you.
Crayola doesn’t make a color to draw my love.
At first I thought of Green Blue, but then I saw Blue Green.
And then sometimes in bright light, they look Aquamarine.
I think at night they’re darker. I looked again for you.
Saw Grey and Black and went out walkin’ after Midnight Blue
But the hues of the deepest skies would be a compromise…
Chorus
Spring Green is much too yellow, Sea Green is far too pale.
Cornflower’s way too mellow, so I’ll try again and fail.
There’s no way I can capture the way you make me feel.
One look from you is rapture, whether Blue or Green or Teal.
No color qualifies. That crayon’s telling lies…
Crayola doesn’t make a color…
Hey look, it’s Periwinkle. So sure I got it now.
But you wink and there’s a twinkle in your eye and still, somehow,
I just can’t get that sparkle. Those glitter crayons won’t.
Maybe Glow-In-The-Dark’ll get it right. Aw, no they don’t.
Mr. Crayola tries, but I’m left to fantasize…
Crayola doesn’t make a color…
For your eyes, something darker let’s see what I can find.
Melted mahogany and got the depth not the shine.
Just about gave up and then I peeled the paper off a little end of…
Really thought it coulda been… ahh, not even Burnt Sienna!
Your passport says they’re brown, but I’m gonna keep lookin’ round…

1. Sweetisthepeace cannot wrap Christmas presents. At least not prettily.

When Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin died, the world lost a much-needed voice of love and compassion. I would like to quote from his penultimate General Conference address:

Some are lost because they are different. They feel as though they don’t belong. Perhaps because they are different, they find themselves slipping away from the flock. They may look, act, think, and speak differently than those around them and that sometimes causes them to assume they don’t fit in. They conclude that they are not needed.

Tied to this misconception is the erroneous belief that all members of the Church should look, talk, and be alike. The Lord did not people the earth with a vibrant orchestra of personalities only to value the piccolos of the world. Every instrument is precious and adds to the complex beauty of the symphony. All of Heavenly Father’s children are different in some degree, yet each has his own beautiful sound that adds depth and richness to the whole.

This variety of creation itself is a testament of how the Lord values all His children. He does not esteem one flesh above another, but He “inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness; and he denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; . . . all are alike unto God.”³

. . .Brothers and sisters, if only we had more compassion for those who are different from us, it would lighten many of the problems and sorrows in the world today. It would certainly make our families and the Church a more hallowed and heavenly place.

(emphasis added)

How different might have been the vitriolic debate over California’s Proposition 8 if both sides had lived this counsel? For myself, those were words of encouragement for one who feels very different in many respects from the majority of my fellow Latter-Day Saints. I recently came across the group North Star, which is a Gospel-centered LDS support group for same-gender attraction (they’re thinking of opening a section for TG/GID—if you’re interested, please contact them and show your support!) I found something on there very interesting. They invite community-contributed articles, and they encourage authors to use their real names as much as possible. The comment was, “ours is not a condition of shame.”

That made me think a little about my own situation. Though I’m not at all attracted to men, gender confusion suffers from many of the same stigmas as same-gender attraction, both in and out of the Church. I wondered, have I chosen to remain anonymous here because I’m ashamed? Honestly, I don’t know. There are some very practical reasons not to use my real name. I work in a conservative profession (liberal lawyers are plaintiffs’ attorneys, and I don’t do torts), and I know that it is very common now for employers to google prospective employees. Frankly, if I apply for a job, I don’t need the baggage. Is it right for employers to judge me on what I write here? Not at all.   It has no bearing on my ability to write a patent.  But it happens.

Even in the Church, however, I don’t go announcing that I have gender issues. Most of my FAMILY doesn’t know, much less my ward. And I think for now, I prefer to keep it that way. Again, it may not be right for people to judge me, after all, I didn’t ask for this trial.  But I don’t need the extra difficulties either.  My Church calling is challenging enough without adding artificial complications.  So I’m staying anonymous for now.

One thing I’m sure of though—if I had ever been privileged to meet Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, he would have loved me unconditionally.  Even if I am a violin instead of a piccolo, and one a little out of tune at that, Elder Wirthlin would have been my friend.

These are the moments that remind me that even when I struggle, it is well for me to hold fast to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  Though there are moments I despair, I must remember that my life no longer belongs only to me.  I have chosen to share that life with a beautiful wife, and she has brought me three beautiful children.  My life belongs to them also now.  The choices I make affect, and it is incumbent on me to use my agency for their benefit.

Then I am reminded that my life never truly belonged to me.  I have been purchased at a price too dear to measure.  The Savior taught many parables while on the Earth, but the one I think I like the best was one He taught nearly 2,000 years later (D&C 101:43 — 62):

43 And now, I will show unto you a parable, that you may know my will concerning the ^aredemption of Zion.

There are a lot of lessons to be gleaned from this parable.  But the part that touches my spirit every time is the Master’s poignant rebuke, “It is mine; I have bought it with money.”  I spoke once about what that purchase price was.  My testimony on that point is unchanged.  My life is not my own.  I have given it over wholly to others, and the Savior is first among them.