Happy

Today was supposed to be my graduation from BYU, but of course that's not happening. I was feeling pretty depressed about that this morning, together with Jan being gone and Lucy breaking up with me, so I did what I usually do when I'm feeling down: I went for a jog. I suppose that's one benefit of all those years of ex-mutant therapy I went through--I've developed some good coping strategies for when life feels overwhelming.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, just a little bit of wind to keep things cool, and Provo was full of happy people either graduating or taking off for summer vacation. I had a hard time getting going at first. Each step felt like I was lifting a ton, which is no surprise with all the emotional baggage I was carrying. I had to force myself to lift my foot off the ground each time. As minutes passed and I pushed myself forward, my steps grew lighter. It became easier and easier to push off the ground. My stride grew longer and longer. Eventually, I realized I wasn't even touching the ground anymore. My first impulse was to force myself back down, but I smiled as it dawned on me that I no longer have any reason to hold back. I waved goodbye to the sidewalk, looked up at the beautiful blue sky, and flew toward it.

Five months ago, it took all the courage I had to admit that I'm a mutant. Since then, I've been gathering up the courage to actually be a mutant. To be me. At first I insisted on calling myself Mormon X because the Mormon part of me was more important than the X, the mutant. Over time, I realized the Mormon part was obscuring who I really am, and gradually the X became more important. Perhaps, for a time, I was X-Mormon. That very quickly became ex-Mormon. But you know what? I don't really want to be defined by "Mormon" anymore. And honestly, "X" doesn't cover it either. I used to be Mormon, and that will probably always be part of who I am. I am a mutant, and that's also part of who I am. But that's not all of it. I'm Ben. I'm a guy who, among other things, can fly. I'm a college student and a writer. I'm a son, a brother, an ex-boyfriend, someone's future boyfriend, someone's future husband, someone's future father. There are facets of who I am that I haven't even begun to imagine.

As I've started this process of self-discovery, it's been helpful to sort it all out here on this blog. It's been great to meet others like me and see the different paths they've taken, to get a glimpse at the infinite number of possibilities available to me. But I'm at a point now where, for a while at least, I need to do this on my own. Maybe I'll blog again someday, but this will be the last post of Mormon X. That chapter of my life is over, and it's time for me to move on to something else.

As I soared through the air this morning, the song that I couldn't get out of my head was Pharrell Williams's "Happy." An odd choice, I know, for someone whose ex-girlfriend died, who got expelled from college, and whose girlfriend then dumped him, all within two weeks, but the truth is it's impossible to be up there, weightless and miles above any cares in the world, and not feel happy. After years of forcing myself to keep my feet on the ground, the thrill of finally cutting loose and enjoying the gift I was born with made me laugh with joy.

This, I thought as I sped through the air, the cold wind rushing by and the hot sun on my back, this is who I am.

Love One Another

Yes, Brother Simmons read my post last night, and yes, we talked about it today. But I don't want to talk about that right now. Right now I want to talk about Jan. It turns out Jan had one last lesson to teach me.

This evening Lucy and I attended an informal memorial service for Jan at Kiwanis Park in Provo. It wasn't her funeral. That will be held tomorrow morning at her family's ward chapel in Alabama. Greg let me know that for his part I'm welcome but that their dad knows who I am and has made it clear that he doesn't want me within fifty miles of the funeral. I considered going anyway--from what I know of Jan's dad, he doesn't deserve to be at her funeral--but finally I decided I don't want to make a scene. No matter how much of a jerk her dad is, I'm sure he loves her and I can't even imagine how terrible he must be feeling now. I don't want to make it worse. I can pay my respects to Jan in my own way. So that's what I did tonight.

First, let me get the crappy stuff out of the way: As you may have seen on the news, there were protesters at the memorial service. Protesters. At a memorial service. I can't even begin to understand these people. They were standing around the edges of the park, holding signs that said things like "The Wages of Sin is Death" and "God Hates Freaks." Lucy squeezed my hand when she saw me fuming as we passed the protesters. "Just ignore them," she said softly. I did, but it still makes me sick to think about it.

Okay, with that out of the way, we can get to the good stuff: There were probably a thousand people there at the park, gathered to celebrate Jan's life (compared to at most fifty protesters). People had come from every corner of Utah, from St. George to Logan. Some came from Idaho and Nevada and Arizona. I talked to one guy who flew in from New York after he read about Jan in the news and was touched by her story. For about two hours, people stood on a stage and talked about how Jan has touched their lives. Most were people she had healed, but some hadn't even met her--they were mutants who were inspired by her to come out of the closet and use their powers for good. It seemed like most of the people had some connection with the LDS church, ranging from active believers to angry apostates. But every one of them agreed on one thing: The world needs more people like Jan.

The service ended with everyone there joining hands and singing a Mormon hymn, "Love One Another." As we sang the simple words, "As I have loved you / Love one another," our voices drowning out the noise of the protesters behind us, my chest trembled. I couldn't even finish the song before I broke down in sobs. Lucy put her arms around me, and then suddenly random strangers were joining in, wrapping me in a group hug. The outpouring of love from people I've never met was almost as overwhelming as my grief for Jan.

I've heard people say that God is love. If that's true, then I believe in God.

Apology

I'm sorry I swore. As I've mentioned before, I'm really not one to swear. Take that as a sign of what a horrible week I've had.

I'm not sorry for what I said about Brother Simmons. I'm not taking the post down and I'm not taking back anything I've said. Even if it costs me my college degree, I don't care. All that matters to me is the truth. That's what Jan deserves. It's what I deserve. If I have to suffer the consequences of being honest, then so be it.

Lessons Learned

I'm blogging again because Brother Simmons at the Honor Code Office told me to. Yesterday at the daily check-in that we've been having since I was put on academic probation last week, I had to apologize for missing Monday's check-in because I'd been overwhelmed by Jan's death and not able to do much of anything at all. Brother Simmons already knew about Jan--he'd seen it in the news. "I'm really sorry for your loss," he said. "It's tragic to think what she could have done with her life if she hadn't thrown it away trying to push the mutant agenda."

My mouth dropped open. Was I actually hearing this? Putting the lives of others before your own is "trying to push the mutant agenda"? Really?

"Perhaps," he went on, "you can make the best of this tragic situation by learning from it and helping others do the same. Instead of using your blog to lead others away from the church, why don't you get back on there and tell people what you've learned from Jan's death?"

So here I am. I've spent the past day thinking about what I've learned from Jan's death, and this is what I've come up with:

1. I learned that Jan was an amazing, selfless human being--even more than I realized when she was alive.
2. I learned that life is short so we need to make the most of it now. If we wait for later, there might not be a later. Jan died younger than most but at least she made a positive impact on the world while she was here. I should do the same. 
3. I learned that my belief in an afterlife is not as solid as it used to be. Maybe if I were sure that I'd see Jan again someday, I'd be able to handle this better, but I can't lie to myself, even if the lie might be comforting. The truth is, I have no idea what happens after death and I don't believe anyone really knows. Which sucks right now, but in the long run I think it will help me do better with #2. If there's an afterlife, then great, but in the meantime I need to make the most of the life I know I have. 
4. I learned that sometimes really shitty things happen to really great people. But that's no reason not to do good. It's not about earning a reward; it's about doing good because you want to make the world a better place. 

And finally,

     5.  I learned that Brother Simmons at the Honor Code Office is a heartless prick.

I hope you're reading this, Brother Simmons. I assume this is what you had in mind? 

Update on Jan

Hi, everyone. This is "Lucy." Honestly, I'm not a fan of the blog name Ben gave me, but that's neither here nor there. I'm writing to give you all an update on Melanie Jensen, or as you know her, Jan. Unfortunately, she passed away yesterday afternoon. Apparently, all the healing she did in the past few months was just too much for her body. She had nothing left. I'm wiping away tears as I write this. Jan was such an extraordinary person and she touched so many lives, not least of all mine. I literally owe Jan my life. I wish I could have saved her like she saved me. At least she died while serving other people. I think she was happy with the choice she made, and I know that Heavenly Father will take her back into His loving arms and reward her for the good she did with her life.

Ben is not doing so well. He's really taking Jan's death hard. He was already dealing with a lot of pressure at school and struggling with his testimony, as you know, and I'm worried that this will be the thing that breaks him. I keep telling him to just take one day at a time. I know he'll be all right, and he'll see how this is all part of God's plan. But in the meantime, he can use any help he can get. Thank you to those of you who left kind comments in the past week--even though he hasn't been posting, he has seen your comments and he appreciates them. Most importantly, please pray for him. I really believe that your prayers will help him more than anything.

Power to Heal

As promised, Lucy and I visited Jan at the UofU Hospital last night. Even after Greg had described her looking like a ghost, I wasn't prepared to see her in the condition she's in. If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was an old lady. She's lost so much weight that her skin hangs loose off her bones. Her dark eyes get lost in the dark circles that surround them. Her hair is brittle and falling out. She can talk, but the effort seems to exhaust her.

As soon as we entered the room, Lucy sat on the bed next to Jan and took hold of her hand. I sat in the turquoise vinyl chair by the window.

"Thanks for coming," Jan said weakly.

"Are you kidding?" Lucy said. "How many hours did you and Ben spend sitting by me while I was in a bed just like this one?" She smiled at me. "I guess it's your turn next, Ben."

"How are you doing?" Jan asked Lucy.

Lucy beamed. "Never better, thanks to you." At first I thought that was a somewhat tactless reference to Jan dumping me, freeing me up to date Lucy, but then I realized it was nothing so me-centric. Lucy was referring to the healing, of course.

"I'm glad," said Jan. "I want to help more people, but they won't let me."

"You need to help yourself first," Lucy said.

Jan made a slight movement in her shoulders that might have been a shrug. "I don't care about myself."

"Well, we do." Lucy shut her eyes and squeezed Jan's hand. "I just wish I could do for you what you did for me. I wish more than anything I had that power. But I don't, so you need to..." Lucy opened her eyes and looked at me. "But Ben does!"

"What?" I sat up. "No, I don't have the power to heal. All I can do is fly."

Lucy laughed. "You dork. I'm not talking about mutant powers. Give her a priesthood blessing."

I froze. The thought hadn't occurred to me. It would have been the first thing I thought of six months ago, but last night it didn't even cross my mind until Lucy suggested it. I had consecrated oil on me--I keep a vial on my key chain--but was I worthy to give a blessing? I haven't even been sure lately that I believe in the church. Honestly, I didn't even believe that giving her a blessing would make any difference. It hadn't with Lucy.

Jan saved me. "Greg gave me a blessing last night. A male nurse helped him."

Lucy smiled. "Good. Then you'll be just fine."

I looked away. I wished I could believe that.

Life and Death

Longtime readers may remember that I met my now-ex-girlfriend Jan through her brother Greg, who happens to be one of my roommates. You probably won't be surprised that since Jan and I broke up, things have been a little awkward between Greg and me. It's not that he's angry at me for breaking up with his sister--she's the one who broke up with me, really, and it just wasn't that kind of break up--but rather... Well, I don't know. Things are weird. Even weirder after this morning.

I went to get breakfast and Greg was at the kitchen table, staring at the wall. His Colossal Berry Crunch looked like it had been soaking in milk for a while--there wasn't much crunch left. Things may be awkward between us, but I wasn't about to ignore his obvious distress while I ate my breakfast. "What's up?" I asked.

"Huh?" He looked like I'd jerked him out of a trance.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess. I've just been up all night. Worried about..." He looked to me tentatively.

"Jan?"

Greg nodded. "She's at the University of Utah Hospital. She woke up from her last healing a few days ago, but hasn't even been able to get out of bed. She asked the nurses to bring the next person waiting to be healed to her, but they refused. And after seeing her last night, I don't blame them. She's in no condition to be healing anyone. She looks like a ghost, Ben. So pale, and hardly anything but skin covering her bones."

I remembered how she looked the last time I saw her. With that in mind, what Greg was telling me didn't surprise me.

Greg pounded the table, knocking the spoon out of his bowl. "Why is she so hellbent on killing herself? Believe me, I'm as pro-mutant as anyone--I'm the one who encouraged her to accept that part of herself, years ago--but using a mutant power that's killing you is just stupid. I don't care how many other people she's helping. I wish she'd never..." He looked at me and seemed to reconsider saying he wished she'd never used her healing power in the first place.

Considering that the first time she used her power intentionally was to save the life of my current girlfriend, it was kind of Greg to hold back. But he'd already said enough to make me think. Is it really fair for Jan to die so that Lucy can live? I'm not even going to try to answer that question. But what if I had never convinced Jan to heal Lucy? She wouldn't have decided to become the Mother Theresa of mutants, devoting her life to healing others. She'd probably still be here at BYU. With me. And Lucy would be dead. The thought makes me shudder now, just as it did this morning. I wouldn't want, not in a million years, for Lucy to die. But I don't want that for Jan either.

"Do you think," I asked Greg, "she'd be okay with me visiting her?"

He shrugged. "I don't see why not. She'll probably try to convince you to bring her someone to heal."

So I guess I'm going to visit Jan tonight. Lucy's coming too. Not because she has to chaperone me while I visit my ex-girlfriend, but because she's worried about Jan too. Lucy owes Jan her life. Hopefully we can convince Jan to value her own.

Gray

Life used to be much simpler:

• Mutant powers=Bad. 
• Priesthood power=Good. 
• LDS Church=Right. 
• X-Men=Wrong. 
• Mutant marriage=Not An Option. 
• Lifelong celibacy=As Good As It Gets.

Then Jan came into my life, and now Lucy, and suddenly the lines are blurred. 

But you know what? The black-and-white picture I had of the world was always just an illusion. It's like old, pre-color TV shows. Everyone calls them "black and white," but in reality they're filled with grays. If you only use black and white to make a picture, the best you can do is a two-dimensional cartoon. It's the grays that give life depth. 

O Me of Little Faith

My mom's health has never been good, so it wasn't a complete shock when my sister called this afternoon to tell me Mom is in the hospital. She's had back problems before, leg issues, a weird circulatory condition, and chronic migraines, but this time it's her stomach giving her problems. Apparently some kind of blockage in her intestine. They're removing it surgically tonight.

"Don't worry," Marsha told me, "Mom's home teachers have already stopped by to give her a blessing. She'll be okay."

How horrible is it that my first thought was I wonder how quickly Jan could get to Arizona? Four months ago I had no doubt that real power lies in the priesthood and that mutant powers like Jan and I have are counterfeit. But how many blessings did Lucy receive? Yet she just got worse and worse until Jan healed her. Using her "counterfeit" power.

I know, I know. God answers prayers through his servants. Jan's power is the tool God used to fulfill the promises he made in all those priesthood blessings Lucy received. It's no less miraculous than if a doctor had found a cure as a result of a patient's faithful prayers. I'm the one who made that argument two months ago.

But still. I'd sleep better tonight if Jan were in Arizona with my mom.

Lunch Date

This morning I got a rare and unexpected phone call from Jan. She wanted to know if I'd join her for lunch at UVRMC before she did another healing this afternoon--a teenage boy in critical condition after being hit by a drunk driver. It meant missing a class, but this would be my first chance to see Jan in more than a month, and who knows when I'd get another chance?

I drove to the hospital with all sorts of mixed emotions--anxious to see her again, still angry at her for ditching me without even breaking up, worried that seeing her would make me fall in love all over again, nervous that we'd have nothing in common now that she's dropped out of BYU and is doing the mutant thing full-time. What I wasn't prepared for was that I'd hardly recognize her. I entered the hospital cafeteria and almost walked right past Jan. She was sitting at a table near the door, but she looked nothing like the Jan I knew. Her eyes were sunken into dark circles, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that looked brittle enough to break off if I touched it. She wore gray sweats two sizes too big for her now-frail body. And, to be blunt, she smelled like a homeless person. The Jan I knew was never one for dressing fancy and wearing perfume, but at least she showered regularly and took care of herself. She always smelled nice. I suppose this is what happens when you devote literally your entire life to helping others.

"Hey," I said once I recognized her.

She smiled feebly. "Hey."

I gave her a hug--more than that would have felt awkward after so much time--and offered to go get her some food. She didn't seem strong enough to stand up. Judging by her looks, I expected her to be starving, but once I set the tray down in front of her she just picked at it while we talked. When I asked, she explained that she'd eaten this morning when she woke up from the latest healing coma, and while she was out they had her on an IV so it's not like she was nutrient-deficient. I suspiciously eyed her bony cheeks, usually a healthy tan but now paler than my own pasty white, but said nothing.

Jan told me about the people she had healed--nine in the past month--and I gave her updates on mutual friends from UUPP, her brother, and Lucy. I was careful not to talk too much about Lucy or mention how much time we'd been spending together, but I'm not sure Jan would have cared anyway. She didn't seem especially interested in anything I had to say.

After watching her stare blankly into space for far too long, I finally said, "Jan, I don't think what you're doing is healthy. You look like crap."

For just a second I caught a glimpse of her familiar, sarcastic smile. "Always the charmer, X."

"That reminds me," I said, "I came out on my blog. With my real name and everything. Also in my creative writing class."

Jan nodded. "Cool."

Something about her tone made me feel kind of small and ridiculous--like here I was, proud of myself for telling people I'm a mutant, while she's spending every day of her life actually using her power to make the world a better place. I'm not sure that was her intent, but it was the message I got.

That's when I finally accepted what I've known for a month. "It's over between us, isn't it?"

Jan reached across the table and barely touched my hand. A brief spark of connection passed between us. Then she took her hand back. "I don't think I can be with anyone, X. That's not the purpose God has for me."

I could have argued that no matter the good she was accomplishing, no loving Heavenly Father would want this life for anyone--barely awake long enough between comas to have a meal, then on to the next healing and coma. I could have fought for our relationship. But you know what? I didn't care. For the first time since our relationship actually ended a month ago, I was ready for it to be done. Don't get me wrong--I don't hate Jan. I really do respect what she's trying to do. She has the noblest of intentions and she's more dedicated to her cause than anyone else I know. It's just that I've spent the past month mourning the loss of someone who no longer exists. Jan is gone. I don't think the blog name I gave her even fits anymore. For a brief time she was Jan and I was Mormon X, but now she's Melanie Jensen, the young woman you've seen all over the news as she goes from hospital to hospital healing people, and I'm Ben Christensen, that guy who has a blog that one person at BYU once recognized.

And that's okay. We're different people, going our separate ways. After lunch, we hugged. I went to my Friday afternoon class, and Melanie went to save a young man's life.

Frozen

It was with trepidation that I went with Lucy to watch Frozen on Saturday night. No, not because I was with Lucy--she's done a really good job of giving me space and not making me feel pressured to be anything more than friends since our DTR last Tuesday. Rather, the movie has gotten so much buzz about its supposed pro-mutant agenda that I felt like buying a ticket was equivalent to making a political statement. But Lucy really wanted me to see it with her (she'd already seen it twice since getting out of the hospital), so I went.

Now that I've seen it, I really don't know what to think. I mean, yes, the mutant parallels are obvious--Elsa has a power she's supposed to keep secret until (spoiler) she doesn't. In a heated moment she lets it go and comes to love and accept herself, mutant-like power and all. Note that the movie never uses the word "mutant"--it's supposed to be some kind of magic thing, I guess?--but c'mon, in today's world powers and mutants are pretty much synonymous. So the message is clear: let it go, embrace your power, be your mutant self, and be happy.

As soon as the credits started rolling, Lucy grabbed my arm. "Didn't you love that? Wasn't the pro-mutant message so uplifting?"

I didn't really have an answer for her. A few weeks ago I might have been more enthusiastic. But since then I've gotten back into my everyday routine, going to school and church, and I have a hard time seeing my power to fly as some kind of gift from God. Isn't it possible that Jan's power to heal is meant to bless humanity but my power really is just a test to see how obedient I'll be to the prophet's counsel to rely only on priesthood power? Don't get me wrong, I get the appeal of "letting go"--a big part of me wants to just let loose and leave the ground behind forever. But I don't feel like I can do that without leaving behind my faith. I mean, it's one thing to debate about whether or not it's okay to drink caffeinated soda, but it's another thing entirely to go against years of established church doctrine to live a mutant lifestyle.

Call it brainwashing if you want. Call it blind obedience. But I can't just give up being Mormon, any more than I could just give up being a mutant. So for now I'll just stay where I am, frozen between the two worlds.

DTR

Last night at UUPP, Lucy hardly looked at me. (But to her credit, she came anyway; she's sincerely dedicated to the cause and not just for my sake.) After the meeting she tried to slip away, but I ran to catch up with her. "Hey," I said, "what's going on?"

"Nothing." She laughed bitterly. "Absolutely nothing is going on."

I couldn't help chuckling at the stab she'd taken at me. "Boy, I walked right into that one."

She smiled a little more sincerely and shook her head. "I'm sorry, that's not fair of me. It's not like you owe me anything. If you're not interested, you're not interested. I should be happy just to be your friend." She shrugged. "I guess I feel dumb more than anything. I thought I was getting other signals from you--signals that maybe you'd want to spend Valentine's with me."

I let out a big sigh, which turned to fog and rose up to join the clouds above us. "Then it's me who needs to apologize, Lucy. I probably have been sending mixed signals." I explained that I really do like her--she's pretty and smart and super passionate about the things she believes in (and the fact that one of the things she now believes in is mutant rights is a definite plus)--but I'm not really over Jan yet. We haven't even broken up yet, as far as I know. I told Lucy I don't want to use her as my rebound, and I don't want to date her if half my heart is still with Jan. Lucy told me that she'd always thought I was cute, but she completely fell for me in those months that I was visiting her in the hospital. If she's been over-anxious to jump into a relationship with me, it's because she feels like she's been blessed with this new lease on life and she doesn't know how long it will last, so she wants to make the most of every moment. (Which, incidentally, is another thing I find attractive about her.)

Image source: http://skitguys.com/scripts/item/dtr

So we walked around campus and talked for a while. It was freezing cold, but neither of us cared. It was awesome that we could be completely honest with each other about how we feel. Eventually we decided that for now we should just be friends. She agreed that it wouldn't be a good idea to start something when I still have feelings for Jan. "But don't take too long," she said with a coy smile. "I'm not going to just sit around waiting." We ended the night with a good long hug. A very nice hug.

Today I'm feeling like I actually want to get over Jan. Which is a start, right?

It's Complicated

I think Lucy is upset with me. She avoided me at church yesterday. I get why she's not happy. She likes me, and I blew her off on Valentine's Day. The truth is, I kind of like her too and I could see something happening between us if not for the situation with Jan.

Okay, I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm angry at Jan. We only dated for a couple of months, but we had something real. We even talked about maybe getting married someday if the church changes its policy on mutant marriage. Then, out of nowhere, she decides she has this calling to heal everyone she can, and she runs off without even considering me. She left school behind, she left all her stuff behind, and she left me behind. She didn't even bother to think about what her leaving would mean to me. She didn't even bother to dump me. She just left. So here I am, feeling like I got dumped but because we never actually broke up I don't feel like I'm really single and free to move on with my life. I used to get annoyed at people who use the "It's Complicated" relationship status on Facebook, like they're trying to make their life more drama-filled than it needs to be. Either you're in a relationship or you're not. It should be simple. Turns out I was wrong.

This is probably insensitive of me to say, but I feel like a widower--like I'm still in a relationship with someone, but she's, as they say, no longer with us. Except I can't really grieve because that would be selfish. Jan is doing the selfless thing, completely giving up her own needs for the greater good. And here I am, the self-centered jerk complaining about not having her in my life. But you know what? It would have been nice if at some point while she's thinking of everyone else in the world, she stopped to think about me for just one second.

And, meanwhile, Lucy is here and Lucy is thinking about me, and I blew her off on Valentine's Day. What am I thinking?

Singles Awareness Day

Lucy asked if I wanted to hang out tonight. Nothing fancy--just watch a movie or play a board game or something. She was very casual in the way she asked, but I'm not stupid. I know what "hanging out" on Valentine's Day means. And it's not that I don't like her or I'm not attracted to her. I like her a lot, actually. But I just feel like spending tonight alone. Most likely thinking about Jan. So I told Lucy no.

How much of a jerk does that make me?

Putting the Pieces Back Together

Lucy and I saw the Lego Movie this morning. She called me at 10 to ask if I wanted to go and I didn't have anything else going on so we went. It's a clever movie, and I enjoyed watching it with her. Afterward we had lunch. Lucy is a lot of fun to hang out with, especially since Jan healed her. She says that nearly losing her life has made her appreciate it all that much more, and it really shows in the way she savors every moment. It's like every bite of cheeseburger she had at Five Guys was a gift from God. I don't think she'll ever take anything for granted again.

I guess Jan has that effect on people. She comes into your life, changes everything, then leaves. Thanks to Jan, Lucy has done a complete 180 on her feelings about mutants, and I have to admit the same is true of me. The way Lucy reacted when I told her I was a mutant a few months ago wasn't that far off from how I felt about myself at the time--like I was dirty, corrupt, broken. But Jan helped me realize that I'm perfect just the way God made me, that my powers are a gift. Just like she helped Lucy see that.

And now Jan is gone, no doubt doing the same for countless others. Healing people's souls at the same time she heals their bodies. In a way, I feel broken again, lost without Jan, but at the same time I feel like she left me with the instructions on how to put myself back together. Even my friendship with Lucy feels like a gift from Jan. Who better to help me deal with Jan's absence than someone else whose life she has touched so profoundly? Who better to help me pick up the pieces and move on?

Meet the Newest Missionary for Mutant Mormondom...

So. I went to UUPP on Tuesday night, like I said I would, and guess who was there? No, not Jan. She's still at Primary Children's in Salt Lake, healing sick children. I walked into the room full of my Latter-day Mutant friends, and there was Lucy. She was chatting with a guy who has water-breathing powers (he jokingly calls himself Fish Breath), but as soon as she noticed me she jumped up and gave me a hug. Apparently she's been going to UUPP meetings since she got out of the hospital and she was disappointed that I hadn't been attending.

During the meeting, Lucy was the most vocal member of the group. She teared up when she was telling a new member about how Jan healed her, and how Lucy now feels that it's her mission to help her fellow non-mutants understand and accept us. After the meeting Lucy and I hung around and talked for hours, and then we met for dinner last night and talked for hours again, and then again tonight. She wants to know everything about my power and about my experiences as a mutant growing up in the church. I don't think I've ever talked so much about myself in my life, but she just keeps asking questions.

I know what this looks like. My girlfriend ran off to save the world, so I rebound with the first girl who comes along (who just happens to be the last girl I went out with before meeting my girlfriend). That's not what's happening. Jan and I haven't even broken up, officially, and even if we had I'm not ready to move on yet. Lucy is a friend. That's all.

But it sure is nice to have a friend.

Gifts of the Spirit

I snorted. "You think it comes from God, then?"

"How do you know it don't?" I turned to her and I saw she was leaning forward, like she was excited. "Maybe it's one of the gifts of the Spirit, like Paul says in the Bible: to one is given the gift of healing, and to another the gift of miracles, or prophecy, and like that. Who's to say there ain't more that Paul didn't talk about?"

I raised my eyebrow. "'To some is given the gift of turning into a big scary rock monster?'"

"Well it sounds stupid when you say it like that, but why not?" 

 --Dan Wells, "The Mountain of the Lord"

Theric Jepson recommended a while back that I read Dan Wells's story "The Mountain of the Lord" and I finally got around to it this week. It's a great story, found in Jepson and Wm Morris's great anthology Monsters & Mormons. "Mountain" is about a kid who is presumably a mutant, about a hundred years before being a mutant was cool (or even heard of, for that matter). This kid is a Mormon pioneer in an early Utah settlement and has the power to turn into a big stone monster. He starts out hating his power, believing it's of the devil, but over the course of the story he comes to believe that his power just might come from God.

I've spent too much of my life feeling bad for myself because I'm a mutant, and now because Jan left. I love Jan and I miss her, but I can't live my life waiting for her once-a-week phone calls. Deep down, I know that she is doing something amazing--she's devoting her life to helping people, to using the gift God gave her to make the world a better place. Instead of moping around and feeling bad for myself, I should learn from her example. Just as God gave Jan her healing power for a reason, there's a reason why he gave me my power to fly. I just need to figure out what it is.

In the meantime, I'm going to focus on the day-to-day stuff--going to school, doing my home teaching, finding ways to serve the people around me. Maybe even dating. We'll see. For now, I'm going to stick to BYU standards, which means no using my power. I've got less than three months before I graduate, and there's no reason to throw my chance at a college degree down the drain. But after I graduate? I guess I'll see where God wants me to go from there.

Break

I'm going to take a break for a few days until I can wrap my head around the Jan situation. Life really isn't all that horrible, but it feels like it is right now, and I don't want this blog to become a perpetual gloomfest. I'll be back soon, I promise!

Phoning Home

During the twenty minutes or so that Jan was conscious today between healings, she called me to say hi. I guess that's something.

The Lottery

I don't even know where to start. I've tried writing this post about ten times in the past five days, and I just couldn't. So here goes try number eleven, I guess.

Jan is gone. Not dead. Gone. Gone from my life. I'm sad and lonely and angry, but I don't have anyone to be angry at. Except myself, maybe. And maybe if I weren't so selfish, I'd be happy--for Jan, and for the world.

It was Sunday morning when she woke up. She just opened her eyes, sat up, and said, "I'm hungry." I laughed, gave her a hug, and got the nurse to bring Jan some food. A few minutes later, she was scarfing down a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns, toast, and apple juice.

"Did you know that was going to knock you out for four days?" I asked.

"It happened the last two times I tried something this big." She took a big bite, then continued while chewing: "What, did you think I was just ignoring you for three days after I healed you at the Wilk?"

I shrugged. "Yeah."

Jan laughed. "No, it just wears me out. I guess that's the price, you know? Everything comes with a price."

"Another reason not to go around using your power all the time, then."

She nodded. "Yeah. Except..."

"Except?"

She turned to me, her face glowing. "X, I've never felt this good in my entire life. I mean, I feel like I haven't eaten in days because I guess I haven't, but spiritually, I feel like I just won the lottery. I saved Lucy's life. It's what God wanted me to do, I know it. You were right. God wants me to use my power to help people."

I couldn't help smiling. Her mood was contagious. "Everyone's going to want to be your friend. The best life insurance around."

Jan set her fork down and her smile faded. "You don't understand, X. My power isn't just for me, or even just for my friends and family. God gave me this power to bless the world. I can't go on living my life while people are dying. Life is a precious gift. Our Heavenly Father wants me to preserve it--every life I can."

"What are you saying?" My smile was gone now too. "You're just going to go around..."

"Finding people to heal? Yeah. How many people in this hospital are dying? How many can I save?"

"What about school? What about your life?" I didn't ask what about us because I didn't want to hear the answer.

"This is going to be my life, X. I'm dedicating my life to God, to serving his children."

Suddenly the chair I'd been sitting in all week felt oppressively confining. I jumped to my feet. "And you just decided this now, in the ten minutes since you woke up? You're not thinking clearly, Jan."

"No." She offered a loving smile in return for my anger. "I made the decision while I was unconscious. My body was here, but-- I don't want to say I had a vision, but it was definitely a spiritual experience. I know more than anything I've ever known in my life, this is what I'm supposed to do. This is my calling."

With that, she stood up, gave me a warm but annoyingly sisterly kiss on the cheek, and walked out of the room. I was left there reeling, unable to make sense of what had just happened. By the time I gathered my senses enough to go after her, she had found a coma patient down the hall. The patient was awake and healthy, and Jan was on the floor, unconscious. Again.

When Jan woke up again yesterday, news reporters were waiting. You've probably seen the reports. When she explained her new life purpose to them, someone got a helicopter to take her up to Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake, where she healed a kid with Leukemia. I guess there's a waiting list now, of people for her to cure each time she wakes up from the last one. I see people on Facebook and in the news talking about how her power is of the devil and it's unnatural and it's a perversion of the priesthood, but as far as I can tell none of the people she's cured or their families are complaining. People on the waiting list are happy to pay for Jan's stay at the hospital, for her food and whatever else she needs, just for the chance that she'll heal their loved one.

My attempts at anonymity are increasingly meaningless as Jan's real name is spread across the internet, but I'm going to keep calling her "Jan" here because... well, I guess because I can't let go of her. Her real name belongs to the world now, just as she does, but "Jan" will always be mine.

It's barely been a day since this all went public and already I saw an article saying that public opinion of mutants in Utah is on the upswing, all because of Jan. So not only is Jan dedicating her life to helping people who need it, but she's also indirectly helping all of mutantkind. She's a hero. I should be proud of her. And I am, really. But I also can't help feeling that I've been left behind. Maybe Jan won the lottery, but I definitely lost.