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.

Honor, Revisited

Today was the first day of finals. I was supposed to have a final for my 20th-century American literature class. I didn't take it.

"I want you to understand that this decision has nothing to do with what you said about me," Brother Simmons told me yesterday. "You can think or say whatever you want about me. What you can't do is violate the Honor Code that you signed and expect to have a BYU diploma hanging on your wall."

"I haven't used my mutant ability in months, and when I did, I confessed it to my bishop." I had little hope that anything I could say--or was willing to say--would change Brother Simmons's mind, but I thought this worth mentioning.

"You know that's not the issue, Brother Christensen. Tell me this: Do you sustain Thomas S. Monson as a prophet, seer, and revelator?"

I sighed. It would be so easy to just say "yes." One word, and a week later I'd have my college degree. Just one word. But I couldn't. "No. I once believed he was a prophet, and I wish I still believed it, but I don't."

Brother Simmons nodded. "I understand. And I hope you understand, a degree from BYU is not just a certificate of academic achievement. It's also a symbol of spiritual achievement. It's a sign telling the world that you represent Brigham Young University, that you are the type of person this university produces. When you go out into the world with a BYU degree in hand, you go as a representative of Jesus Christ."

"What about Muslims or Jews or other non-members who attend BYU?"

"They also have to abide by the Honor Code."

"Which I've done!" I insisted. "I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't have girls in my apartment after curfew, I even go to church every Sunday. I just don't believe in the church anymore. What's the difference between me and any other non-Mormon who goes to BYU?"

"The difference is that you had light and knowledge that they didn't, and you have rejected it."

I buried my face in my palms. "I can't choose what I believe. I just... do."

"I think," Brother Simmons said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "deep down, you still know the church is true. I understand where you're coming from--I'm sure it's difficult to resist the temptation of living a mutant lifestyle, so it's easier to believe there's no God. But I assure you, Brother Christensen, there is. And he never said it would be easy, but I promise you, it will be worth it."

I stood up, brushing his hand away. I was done. Take away my degree, tell me I'm violating the Honor Code because I don't believe what I used to, but I will not sit there and listen to you telling me what I do or do not know. "You understand nothing," I said on my way out the door. "If I wanted easy, we'd be having a very different conversation."

So that's that. I'm done. I'm no longer a BYU student, one week short of graduating. I considered taking my finals, just to say I did, but the official email I received later yesterday afternoon explained that my professors have been instructed not to let me participate in final exams. So where do I go from here? I don't know. I'll transfer to another school to finish my degree, if I can. Maybe go on to get a master's or a doctorate. I've heard horror stories about BYU not releasing transcripts of students kicked out for Honor Code issues, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Image source: https://www.flickr.com/photos/zcameron/5874719413/

I've talked before about the Karl G. Maeser quote that the Honor Code Office claims as its motto:

Place me behind prison walls—walls of stone ever so high, ever so thick, reaching ever so far into the ground—there is a possibility that in some way or another I might be able to escape; but stand me on the floor and draw a chalk line around me and have me give my word of honor never to cross it. Can I get out of that circle? No, never! I’d die first.

It would have been so easy for me to tell Brother Simmons what he wanted to hear yesterday. There were no walls between me and that diploma; just a chalk line. One little step, and I'm on the other side. One simple lie. One word. I may have been expelled from BYU for violating the Honor Code, but I like to think Karl G. Maeser would recognize me as a man of honor.

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, Revisited

Recently I joined a Facebook group for LDS mutants and allies (a few months ago I had no idea such a thing existed!). Today someone posted something making fun of Cypher, which is an organization that provides support for Latter-day Saints who deal with unnatural power proclivity (presumably named after the X-Man who is purportedly Mormon). The gist of the post, and the ensuing comments thread, was that this organization is the most horrible thing in the world because it encourages Mormon mutants to suppress their abilities rather than embracing them. And I'm just like, "Hey, at least they're talking about mutant issues in a Mormon context, which is something I would have loved to have a few years ago."

The conversation reminded me of yesterday's discussion with Shawn. I feel like some people recognize that they've been blinded by black-and-white thinking their entire life, only to embrace white-and-black thinking instead. Okay, so you've traded "mutant=bad/church=good" for "mutant=good/church=bad." Is that really any better? You're still missing an entire world of grays!

To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about the church right now, or about mutant stuff, or about anything. But I'd rather be unsure than be an arrogant jerk. Being unsure is just part of being human.

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. 

Flight Anxiety

Lucy wants me to take her flying. "Wouldn't it be lovely?" she says. "Like Superman and Lois Lane, soaring through the clouds above Metropolis. Except, you know, Provo. And there's no way I'm letting you hold me with just one hand. Because gravity."

I tell her I'm not ready to do that. She says I need to accept the gifts God gave me. I tell her I'd feel better about waiting to act on my power until the church officially changes its position on mutant behavior. She says personal revelation trumps church policy. I tell her I'd get kicked out of BYU. She says BYU doesn't need to know. ("You don't have to announce EVERYthing you do on your blog.")

So, yeah. I'm starting to feel like I'm being irrational, like I'm not being fair to Lucy. I mean, if my power really is a gift from God, shouldn't I be sharing it? But I'm just not ready yet.

Gravity

I went jogging tonight. I often go jogging when the urge to fly is so strong I can hardly breathe. It's a coping mechanism I learned from a therapist I saw for my "unnatural power proclivity" before my mission. Jogging clears my head, expels some of that pent up energy trying to escape, puts my focus somewhere else besides on the desire to act out, and forces me to breathe. Except tonight it was windy. As I ran between the MTC and the temple, scattered raindrops hitting my glasses and wind rushing past my ears, it felt like all I had to do was let go and the wind would carry me away. It took all my concentration to force each step I took to connect with the pavement. It was like gravity was pulling me up and I had to will myself down. Each step could easily have launched me up, up, and away.

Somehow, I managed to stay on solid ground. I jogged for half an hour, then came home and showered. I might even make it through the night without levitating above my bed. No matter how much I tell myself that mutant powers come from God just as much as any other gift, no matter how cynical I allow myself to be about things I've never thought to question before, I can't bring myself to give up and fly. Because that's what it would feel like--giving up. Gravity is pulling me upward and I'm clinging for my life to what I know. Is this the iron rod protecting me from the mists of darkness or is it an iron shackle keeping me from freedom?

Today's Inspirational Story

The surgery went well. My mom will likely take a few weeks to recover, but she'll be fine. No mutant powers were involved so the priesthood blessing must have worked.

Or, you know, the surgery just worked, the same as it does for the majority of people who have it done sans blessing.

Ugh. I'd make a horrible EFY speaker.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A New Beginning

I just noticed as I clicked the icon to write a new post that this will be my 51st post. That seems appropriate. I feel like I'm at a new beginning. Everything has changed. My entire world transformed with one single touch.

As I mentioned last night, Jan agreed to heal Lucy, but only if that's what Lucy wanted. On our way to the hospital, Jan reiterated over and over that she would do nothing without Lucy's consent. She was not about to be accused of shoving her mutant power down anyone's throat. So we got to Lucy's room and found her parents there. We chatted with them for a few minutes--they've gotten to know me well in the past two months--and then I asked if Jan and I could have just a moment alone with Lucy. Jan did not feel that Lucy's parents needed to be involved in the decision or in the healing itself; as far as Jan was concerned, the decision was between Lucy and God. Her parents said they needed to grab a bite to eat at the cafeteria anyway.

Jan sat down next to Lucy and took her hand. Lucy gave her a blank stare. Lately, it's hard to tell how much she even notices what's going on around her. Jan took a deep breath. "Lucy, I know X told you a while back that he has a special power." She actually used my real name this time, as Lucy wouldn't know who "X" is. "Well, I have a power too. I'm a mutant, just like X."

 No discernible reaction from Lucy.

"I want to assure you," Jan went on, "that both X and I have strong testimonies of the gospel and of the power of the priesthood. I know the church teaches that those of us with unnatural power proclivities should not use our powers. Generally, I follow that rule, just like I try to follow all the commandments. But X thinks we might have a special situation. Maybe an... exception to the rule."

Jan looked to me and I motioned for her to continue. Still no sign that Lucy was following along.

"See, the power I have is to heal. When people are hurt or sick, I can make them better. Some people... My dad says this is blasphemous. That my power makes a mockery of the priesthood because it mimics something the priesthood does, but comes from an unholy source. I used my power on him once, after he'd been in a bad car accident, and he hasn't forgiven me since." Jan sniffed, then continued. "But X thinks that maybe my power does come from God. That Heavenly Father made me this way for a reason. That maybe I can be a tool in his hands, to help you.

"What I'm saying, Lucy, is that I can heal you. I can make the cancer go away. I've never healed something this big, but I know I can do it. But I won't do it without your permission. If you believe it's wrong, I won't do it. Do you understand, Lucy? If you can hear me and you want me to do this, I just need you to let me know. Maybe squeeze my hand, or blink twice, or something."

We both stared in silence while Lucy stared back at us. I just about jumped out of my seat when Lucy's mouth moved. A nearly inaudible whisper came out, hardly more than a breath of air. Jan leaned in closer and I followed suit. Lucy's mouth moved again, and this time I heard it: "Please." A tear formed at the bottom corner of her left eye, then dripped onto the bed.

Jan nodded. She was crying now, too. She left one hand in Lucy's, then put the other on her forehead. She shut her eyes to concentrate. I expected some kind of glow or aura to come out of her hands, but there was no visible manifestation of her power. The healing itself, however, was quite visible. It started out slowly, with color returning to Lucy's cheeks. Then her cheeks slowly expanded, making her all-too-prominent cheekbones disappear. Her hair grew back--apparently Jan was healing not only the cancer, but also the effects of the chemotherapy. Her wrists filled out, returning to a healthy circumference. Finally, she took a deep breath, smiled, and sat up. It was like she was a brand new person.

That's when Jan collapsed onto the floor. "Jan!" I called as I crouched down beside her.

"Oh no," Lucy said. She hit the button on the side of her bed to call for a nurse.

The nurse was shocked, of course, to see that Lucy was sitting up and looking healthy as ever while a different person lay unconscious on the floor. But he recovered quickly, called in other nurses, and got Jan into a bed.

The next few hours are something of a blur. Lucy's parents came back and were so overwhelmed with joy to see their daughter healthy that they didn't care how it had happened. A doctor checked on Lucy to verify that she really is as healthy as she looks. They did tests and won't have results for a few days, but those results will just confirm what we already know. A doctor did a full check-up on Jan. I was worried the cancer had somehow transferred to her, but he said the symptoms suggest she is simply exhausted. He thinks that using her power wears her out just like running a marathon would any other person, and he says studies suggest this is common among mutants. She's still unconscious but seems to be otherwise healthy, and they have her hooked up to an IV to speed along her recovery.

I should be more concerned for Jan than I am, but the thing is I know we did the right thing. Jan performed a miracle, and even though she didn't use the priesthood, she did it in God's name. He'll take care of her. Lucy thanked me a million times, and apologized for freaking out when I came out to her in November. She remembers everything Jan said, and she says she felt the Spirit confirm to her that it was true--that God did give us our powers so that we could help people. She wants to go door to door and tell everyone what we did for her, to help people understand that mutants aren't bad people.

But that will come later. For now, she's celebrating with her family, as she should be. And I'm content to sit here next to Jan's hospital bed, watching the sun rise over the mountains.

Source: http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=396&sid=2990581&page=58#2

Jumping Off Cliffs

A text exchange between me and Jan just now:

Jan: how do u know she even wants me to heal her?

Me: Why wouldn't she?

Jan: she freaked out when u just siad the word mutant. she wont want me touching her w/ my dirty mutant hands

Me: There are no atheists in foxholes and no mutant haters on deathbeds.

Jan: u dont know that

Me: Then let's her decide. If she says yes, will you do it?

Me: *let's let her

Me: Jan?

Me: Are you still getting my texts?

Jan: fine

Jan: lets do it

So, I guess we're gonna do it. Jan's on her way to pick me up now. My fingers are trembling as I type this. Excitement, nervousness, fear, you name it I'm feeling it. I feel like we're on the edge of a cliff and getting ready to jump into a dark void. I hope we land on solid ground. Whatever the case, I'm glad Jan's jumping with me.

Image source: http://www.thornybleeder.com/index_files/the_diy_daily_pdocast_ep_487.html

Final Plea

I'm writing this from the hospital. I skipped class to visit Lucy. She lies on her side and stares at me with pleading eyes, sunken deep into the sockets. Her skin is stretched tight over the bones. I can't believe she looked so healthy just two months ago. She twitches occasionally. Sometimes she coughs and a little bit of yellowish, clear vomit comes out. Sometimes she closes her eyes and lets out a hoarse cry.

I can't even imagine the pain she's in. She's just waiting to die now.

Please, Jan. I know you're reading this. Please.

Power Outage

"No."

"No."

"No."

That's Jan, every time I even try to bring up the idea that maybe God wants her to use her mutant power to heal Lucy. To be fair, she reads my blog so she's already heard my argument. But she won't even discuss it with me.

"If it's God's will for her to live, she'll live. It's not my place to intervene."

And that's that.

Mysterious Ways

Think for a moment about sex. (If you're like most people, you were already thinking about sex, so I'm not asking much.) Sex can be a bad thing. If a man rapes a woman, it's bad. If a teenage girl who isn't ready to raise a child gets pregnant, it's bad. If a guy has a porn addiction, it's bad. If a woman uses sex to manipulate her lover, it's bad. But sex can also be a good thing. Sex can strengthen the intimacy between a married couple. Sex can create bodies to bring spirits into the world. And, I hear, sex can be a lot of fun.

The more I think about it, the more I think mutant powers are like sex. If you use them to hurt people, or to gain fame and glory for yourself, then they are bad. But if you use them to help people and you give the glory to God, maybe they can be good. I mean, God made me, mutant power and all, and God doesn't make bad things. If I hadn't used my power to fly myself, Chenry, and Tara out of that explosion on Christmas Eve, we'd all three be dead. And if Jan hadn't used her power to heal us, we could just as easily be dead, or crippled, or scarred for life. No matter how I look at it, I cannot see how using our powers that day was a bad thing. Our mortal existence is a precious gift from our Heavenly Father, and I believe he wants us to do whatever we can to make the most of it.

I've been thinking about the blessing I gave Lucy back in November, and the one her father gave her not long after that. We both promised her that she would be healed. On the one hand I could look at where Lucy is now, literally on her deathbed, and say, "Boy, were we wrong. I guess priesthood blessings don't work." Or, I could trust that God inspired us to make that promise, and ask how he plans to fulfill it. Sometimes a blessing promises that you'll be healed, and then bam, you're healed--as if by magic. Other times, a doctor is inspired to prescribe the right medication or do the right test, and that's how God heals you, through the "magic" of modern science. And maybe sometimes, God heals you through his sons or daughters who happen to have mutant powers--powers that he gave them. Maybe sometimes, through a random chain of events that involve your home teacher coming out to you as a mutant and later introducing you to his mutant girlfriend, God puts the one person in your life who has the power to fulfill his promise to heal you.

Now I just need to convince Jan that she is that person.

Last Days

Greg and I visited Lucy this afternoon. She's worse than ever. The doctors expect her to pass any day now. She doesn't even have the strength to speak. She just lies on her side and stares at you while you talk to her. Still, her mom said she's sure Lucy knows we're there, and appreciates it. Greg shared a brief message about eternal families. Lucy's mom cried. A whispered grunt escaped Lucy's mouth, like she was trying to say something.

All I could think was, Jan could heal her.

 

Honor

I arrived early at the Honor Code Office, temporarily set up in the administration building while the Wilk is being rebuilt. I wanted to make it clear that I was happy to meet with them, that I had nothing to hide. Maybe it's not usually like this when they have their own office, but the poor lighting of the small room, with one single bulb shining down on me from behind a man who refused to sit down, made me feel like I was in some cheesy interrogation scene in a cop show. The man, who introduced himself as Brother Simmons, was unusually tall, had a fading blond comb-over, and wore a white shirt and tie. The tie was decorated with little blue BYU logos.

"I understand you struggle with unnatural power proclivity," Brother Simmons said.

"Yes," I said. "I'm a mutant." Members of UUPP have assured me that it's not technically against the rules to say this.

"I see." He scribbled on his notepad. "And have you used your 'power' recently?" He didn't actually make air-quotes with his fingers, but his tone made them for him.

"Yes. I was caught in the explosion in the Wilkinson Center on Christmas Eve, and I instinctively used my power to fly myself and two of my friends to safety."

"Is that the only time?"

"Yes," I said, because I had already repented of the bell tower incident and if that's good enough for God, then it should be good enough for Brother Simmons.

"Can you tell me what you were doing in the Wilkinson Center on Christmas Eve?"

"I was meeting with my writing group. One of the members of the group has an office in the Wilk." I didn't offer Tara's name in case letting her friends into her office during off-hours would get her in trouble, but the truth is he probably already knew all of that.

"I find it interesting that three self-proclaimed homosuperiors all happened to be on campus on a holiday, at the time of a homosuperior terrorist attack." He spat the word "homosuperior" like an insult. And in reality, no one really uses the term anymore unless they mean it as an insult. "Are the other two also members of  your 'writing group'?" Again with the intoned air-quotes.

I took a deep breath, doing my best to remain calm in the face of his attack, of what he was insinuating. "No. One was my girlfriend, but we're no longer dating." I wondered if that wasn't part of the purpose of calling me in today--to check on Jan's promise not to see me anymore. "If the other mutant you're referring to is Stan Kirby, I didn't know at the time that he was there. I didn't know him well at all, but I know he was not a terrorist." My hands were trembling now, probably more than anything out of fear that my bold defense of Stan would cost me the college degree I'm supposed to be getting in April.

"Mm hm." Brother Simmons nodded and jotted down a couple of notes. He peered down at me for what seemed like an eternity, then seemed to make a decision. "Well, I would encourage you to talk to your bishop about the flying incident, if you haven't already. Thank you for coming in."

"What?" I had been prepared for the worst. This was almost disappointing. "Are you going to put me on probation, like Jan?"

"No. You made a mistake, but as you said it was an instinctive response. You acted out of self-preservation. Contrary to popular belief, we are not heartless here. I understand why you did what you did, and I trust that you will not do it again."

I stood up. "What about Jan? She was trying to help other people. All I cared about was saving my own butt!"

Brother Simmons gave me a tight-lipped frown. "Jan is not your concern. You should worry about, as you say, your 'own butt.' Thank you again for coming in." He pointed to the door.

POST-SCRIPT: In searching for an image to go with this post, I came across the above on the Honor Code Office's homepage. As BYU students, we become intimately familiar with this quote from Karl G. Maeser. I find it ironic that the quote is associated with the Honor Code Office. The HCO, in my opinion, is all about building walls and trying to prevent students from escaping. They don't give us a chance to prove our honor by choosing on our own to stay within the chalk circle. Jan is one of the most honorable people I know.