Keith's Story

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand…
Lyrics by Bob Dylan, The Times They Are A-Chang'in

When I was a senior in high school these lyrics were part of a four-minute speech I delivered at a state forensics meet in Wisconsin.  I surprised myself by getting an A.  Times were changing in the late sixties and early seventies.  The war in Vietnam was coming to an end. Young people were becoming activists and love was free.  Except for me.

I knew at a young age I was different from my other playmates.  They would look at pictures of women in bras and panties in the JC Penny catalogue.  I'd look at the men's underwear pictures.  As I grew older I finally figured out I was gay, or to use the term of the day, queer.  I knew being queer was wrong, that queers were picked on, bullied and often beat up.  I wanted none of that.  But I couldn't help it.

My parents took me to church on Sundays.  I went to Sunday school and confirmation.  It was here when I first heard that being queer is a sin and queer people will be damned.  Heaven was not for me.  I heard it over and over in church.  I heard it at home.  I heard it from friends who did not know I was one of "those" people.  I felt my only hope was to keep my feelings to myself and just get on with my life.  My secret life.

My parents, God love them, had no clue about homosexuality.  They didn't know any gay people and being the good Christians they were, no doubt my parents would have felt it their duty to change homosexuals, to pray the gay away.   I wondered for a long time if I could be fixed somehow.   Maybe God would make my feelings go away.  It never happened.  I concluded God didn't exist.  I still went to church with my family when I was a kid.  I would sit there during the service hoping God would keep my secret and make sure my parents would never find out I am gay.   I could not imagine how disappointed they would be if they knew their "little boy" was queer.  I decided to just keep my homosexuality to myself. 

At age 29 I moved to St. Paul, Minnesota.  I had a great job in a very conservative organization. I needed to keep my secret in the workplace for sure.  There were no laws protecting LGBT people from discrimination in jobs and housing.  No big deal, I thought.  I was getting good at living in and organizing my life in the closet.

One day after answering phones for a telethon in Minneapolis, I decided to walk down the street and go into the Gay 90's bar.  I had never been there before.  I knew it as the biggest gay bar in The Cities.  I was scared to death, but went in anyway.  I sat at one of the bars and ordered a drink.  A diverse crowd filled the bar.  Men of all ages and sizes.  When I emptied my glass, the bartender brought me another drink and said, "It's on that guy over there." He pointed across the bar.  Oh, no.  Now what?  Who sent the drink?  I didn't know what to do.  I remembered my manners and called the bartender over. I asked him to send a drink back to the person who bought one for me.  The bartender made a drink, walked to the other side of the bar, and put it down in front of a young, incredibly handsome man.   I about fell off of my stool.  The rest, as they say, is history.

Paul and I spent the evening together.  I never believed in love at first sight, but it happened to us that night.  He was 21.  I was 31.  For the very first time, I felt love.  Real love.  It felt great.  We were incredibly happy. 

We moved in together about a month after we met.  Life was good.  What am I going to do about my family?   I told myself I would never come out to my family unless or until I met someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  I knew they would go crazy.  I would be kicked out of the family, taken out of the will, and would never see them again.  But I was prepared for it.  I met the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

Mom and dad came to visit in St. Paul fairly often.  Paul was introduced as my "roommate."  They bought it for a while.  The first New Year's Eve they spent with us, we put a cot in the master bedroom so Mom and Dad could stay in Paul's room.  When dinner was finished Paul started clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen.  Mom offered to help, but Paul said no. He just wanted her to relax and enjoy the evening.  Over the next year, we visited mom and dad up north at the cottage.  It was fine.  We had separate beds.

The next New Year's Eve, mom and dad were back in St. Paul.  We had a great dinner.  When we finished, Paul started doing his thing, his thing being the kitchen.  He hated it when someone offered to help clean the kitchen because no one could do it as well as he could.  Mom again offered to help, he said, "No, thank you."  She picked up some dishes and headed to the kitchen.  He thanked her and escorted her to the family room.  They went home the next day.  Whew, we thought.  We pulled it off again.

A few days later my sister Barb called.  She told me mom and dad asked her if we were gay.  Nobody else would be so fussy about his kitchen.  Paul must be gay!  Barb wanted to know what to tell them.  My sister had known for years I was gay, but she always kept my secret.  I told her to go ahead and tell them. 

The next morning the call came. 

"Are you gay?" 

Long pause. 

"Yes," I said. 

As expected, all of the horrible things I thought would happen, or be said, happened and were said.  "The devil was in my house," my mom said. 

I was in my car driving to a meeting, so I pulled off the freeway into a parking lot and listened to them rant and rave for fifteen minutes. 

We finally said "good-bye."  I knew it would be for life.  I cried my eyes out and went home to my partner, my rock.   He had experienced a horrible coming out experience with his family a few years earlier so he knew what I was feeling and what I was going though. 

"We will get through this," he said. 

And we did.

About six months later Mom and Dad finally called and asked if they could come up for the weekend. Their words stunned me. We hadn't spoken a word since that fateful phone call.   We all spent the evening together having dinner and watching TV.  The first night they slept in their camper in the driveway. The next day the four of us went sightseeing and hit the sample tables in the grocery store which my dad loved. That evening mom asked if they could spend the night in the newly named guest room.  It was the beginning of a new relationship for our family. 

Over the years Paul and I always felt they liked him more than me.  Mom loved how he took such good care of me.  In fact the whole conservative, God fearing family became quite fond of Paul. They loved him and loved that the two of us were together.

This book is about helping LGBTQ people know they remain beloved children of God.  I struggled with such a notion for a long time.   I could not get the words of my childhood pastor out of my head, him preaching heaven was not for me nor for us.  But how could that be?  I did not believe in God, yet thought God must exist because how else could I explain my great fortune to have such a wonderful man as Paul in my life?  I thought it might be a good idea to start working on exploring our spiritual life together.  We tried a couple of churches.   One was too gay for us.  The others we tried felt unwelcoming.  We gave up.

About five years after we met, Paul started having some health issues so we finally decided to get the AIDS test.  We would go together.  No one wanted to get tested because in those days you could lose your job, housing, insurance, nearly everything.  But I said we needed to do it. 

Paul's test came back positive.  I was negative.  For the next four years we rode the medical rollercoaster of living with AIDS.  Paul was in and out of the hospital.  We lived by the numbers.  T cell counts.  Blood counts.  There was only one drug available at the time.  AZT became our greatest hope.  AIDS finally obliterated Paul's immune system and he developed liver and throat cancer.  On the 3^rd of March, 1993 at 12:45 a.m., Paul's battle came to an end. 

Paul passed away at home, his mom and I by his side.  There was no sound.  He simply stopped breathing.  I knew this day would come and thought I would be ready for it.  I was not.  My heart was broken.  My life partner was gone.  I was scared to think what would happen next.  Would we ever be together again?  Does God exist?  Is heaven real?  How could God let this happen?

We sat there in silence.  I could hear the words of my confirmation pastor in my head.  I felt sick to my stomach.  That's when it happened.  There were no words spoken.  No vision, or beam of light.  A feeling came over me unlike anything I had ever felt before.  I suddenly felt warm inside.  I felt like I had invisible arms around me holding me close.  I felt safe.  I felt love unlike any love I ever felt before.  I'll never forget it as long as I live.  The feeling was indescribable.  Then it was gone.  Later that day, I asked Paul's mother if she felt anything shortly after Paul passed.  She described exactly the same feeling.  It happened to her too.

That happened the night I became a believer.  God touched my soul and my heart.  God let me know Paul was with Him and that we would be together again.  He let me know Paul was loved.  He let me know I was loved.  And that His love was unconditional!  I had received an amazing gift.   God's love is for everyone. It doesn't make any difference if you are gay, straight, transgender or anything on the spectrum. My fear of death was taken from me that night.  When my time comes I will not be afraid, but will look forward to meeting God and being reunited with my partner and family and friends who have gone before me.  They are waiting for me.  I know it.

A couple months after Paul passed, I spent the weekend in Madison with my parents.  As we drove to the grocery store, Mom asked me how I was doing.  Then she said, "There will never be anyone like Paul.  Nobody will ever take care of you like he did."  These were words coming from the woman who called him, the "Devil" years earlier. 

She went into the store leaving Dad and me in the car.  Dad started to cry. 

"What is wrong?" I asked. 

Dad said, "I am so very sorry I wasn't there for you and made you hide your life from us."   

I was stunned hearing these words from my parents.  God performed a miracle with my family.  It's what God does. God can perform one for you too.

It has been quite a ride.  I am now 64 years old.  After Paul passed, I dated from time to time.  I met lots of interesting people, but none came close to him.  I am still single, although Pastor Nancy keeps trying to set me up. Life is good!  I moved to Washburn, Wisconsin and joined Messiah Lutheran Church. I was a little worried about being out in such a small community. As it turned out, I didn't need to worry at all.

When the church considered adopting a policy allowing the Pastor to marry same gender couples, even before gay marriage became the law of the land, one member of our committee didn't exactly like the idea.  He knew me from church, but did not know I was gay.  During the course of discussion, I decided it was time to let the committee know how important this policy was to me and to the other LGBT members of the community.  It was important for our church to welcome everyone and for LGBT people to feel safe in our church and community.

At first, my friend Clayton referred to gays as "those people" during the meetings.  He did not intend to be derogatory.  I wondered if perhaps I was the first gay person he knew. The recommendation to approve a gay marriage policy passed unanimously largely because of Clayton's support.  One Sunday after church, my new friend Clayton asked me if I would give him a ride downtown.  Before he got out of the car, he asked me if I liked country music and if I liked a drink at happy hour.  I told him I liked both.  He told me I should stop over sometime.  "Keith, you will always be welcome in my home."  It was an amazing moment.  I am so glad we shared it together.

"Come mothers and fathers all over the land…Don't criticize what you can't understand, your sons and your daughters are beyond your command…For the times they are a changing."  As I think back on these Dylan lyrics and reflect on my personal growth as a gay man and my personal growth with God, I would have to agree that the times, they are a-changing. 

When I was young, no support groups, hot lines, or LGBTQ organizations existed. No PFLAG. No gay friendly congregations.  We have come a long way. But we have a long way to go.  There are battles yet to be fought.   If you are a young person struggling with your identity, don't give up.  My story and countless others prove how much goodness endures in the world and how people can change.  You deserve to live your life as you, and to love whom you want to love.  You will run into people who won't like you very much.  You will hear people who have "SBI" (Selective Biblical Interpretationitis). They will tell you being gay is a sin. Pay no attention to them. God's love is for everyone. Dylan's words still ring true.  People are changing.  People are becoming more and more understanding and accepting.   I can say without hesitation or reservation that God loves me and that God loves you. Be strong! 

By Keith Holm, 2016-2017 Messiah Lutheran Church Council President, Washburn, Wisconsin. After a thirty year career as the executive director of the St. Paul Realtor's Association, Keith retired in Washburn.