"OK MUM, I'M GAY"
Two mothers share their stories

Maggie's Story

One morning a letter arrived for Nick, my 17 year old son. Rightly or wrongly, I felt a strong compulsion to open it; the writing looked familiar - from someone who had recently hurt Nick very much. But it was from someone else, one of his friends, and parts of it were suggesting that my son was homosexual.

When he came home from work that night, I apologised for opening the letter, but challenged him about being gay. He strongly denied it, but I continued to put pressure on him. Eventually he turned to me and brought my world crashing down around me. "Ok, Mum," he said, "I'm gay."

I felt my legs go weak, and I had to sit down, still clutching the edge of the table. My stomach felt as if it was being squeezed in a giant vice; I was so confused and scared.

This probably sounds very dramatic - I had, after all, known enough gay people in my lifetime to accept them quite easily. But it had always been someone else's son or daughter, not mine. Nick had been very unsettled for a couple of months, and I'd tackled him about it: I asked him if it was drugs, fruit machines, drink... I never dreamed it might be this. Now I knew the truth, and I didn't know what to do about it.

Nick said that he would go away for a few days to give us both time to adjust, and I spent most of the time clutching at straws: phoning the Samaritans, talking to the Gay Switchboard, and contacting the Gay Rights organisations - but nobody could give me the help I wanted. I wanted to be told it wasn't true. How could it have happened to my son? After all, he was a Christian, he knew what the Bible said about homosexuality. I couldn't believe that God would allow such a cruel thing to happen.

After three days of this, I realised how selfish I was being. All I had thought about was how I was going to live with a gay son; but now all I wanted to do was find him, tell him everything would be alright, that I loved him dearly, and that between us we would work things out.

But Nick didn't want to come home. He wasn't sure of my feelings for him. I shall never forget those four months he was away. He would phone now and again and ask me to meet him: I can still see the haunted look in his eyes as we sat talking. At one time he shouted, "It's all your fault, Mum, you should never have given birth to me!" I longed to reach out and hold him, but he was hurting so much and I would have to wait until he trusted me again.

I confided in my Pastor and some of my close friends in the church and they all started praying for Nick every day. Their prayers were answered, and eventually Nick came home. It wasn't easy for either of us. It was like walking a tightrope, but gradually Nick came to trust me, and started talking about the feelings he'd been having over the past years, and how he had tried to have lots of girlfriends in the hope he would have sexual feelings for them. It never happened, and many times he had thought of taking his own life, but he didn't want to hurt me. He said that he'd have to spend the rest of his life hiding from society, as he was looked on as something disgusting that should be put in front of a firing squad and shot. He'd heard someone say that only the day before, and the sad thing is until then I would probably have agreed.

So much has happened since then: I went with Nick to a succession of gay bars and discos. It was his way of seeing how much I loved him, as I'd said many wrong things to him during those months; but the Lord has been very much in control and we have come through it together.

Some people say, "But your son is still gay." How can you accept that? The answer is that I've given Nick to the Lord to protect. The Lord accepts Nick as he is today - gay - and I must do the same. Nick is the same son I gave birth to seventeen years ago: his love for me has never changed, and my love for him is greater now than at any time in my life.

We must make sure that we never let our children down when they need us most. If we are hurt and scared, think how much more hurt and scared they are. They look to us for help just as we look to our Father in Heaven, who never forsakes us.

Many of Nick's friends come to see me, and my heart goes out to them. Some of their parents cannot handle their feelings, and their children stay in their rooms when all they want is assurance and love of a father and mother. Parents need to tell their children that they are not 'disgusting', that they did not choose to be gay, and that they still love them.

Nick's Father and I divorced just weeks before that letter arrived. He's never been able to accept his son's homosexuality, and this still hurts Nick very deeply. That will take a long time to heal. I pray that in time, society will understand that it's love, understanding, and acceptance that their children need - not abuse and rejection.


A Thankful Mum Writes...

My world crumbled around me one evening when, after a long hard struggle my son eventually told my husband and I that he was gay. It did not come as a complete surprise, as for sometime he had let us know he wanted to tell us something that was obviously causing him a lot of worry. He was just eighteen. We had gone over and over what the problem could be. He had seemed troubled for many months; we prayed that we would be given wisdom to handle the situation when we knew the truth and we hoped that our feelings of foreboding would be proved groundless. Now the moment of truth was here. Although we had discussed the possibility of him being gay it still came as a shock. One thing was certain - as we listened to his struggles and saw his distress we knew that this had been unwanted and unasked for. Our hearts were overwhelmed with love for him and we tried, calmly, to convey that to him. A few minutes later it was all over, he left to go and stay the night with a friend in the next town.

The house seemed strangely silent when he had gone. I was heart-broken and devastated. Adding to my distress was the fact that his room was empty except for boxes filled with his belongings. He had thought we might turn him out. I couldn't imagine the pain he must be going through; the thought of it was almost too much to bear. I cried and cried. That night the questions and fears came thick and fast, torturing my tired brain. "Would he come back the next day as he had promised?" "Had he really forgiven us for any mistakes we may have made in the past; after all we were not perfect?" "Was it my fault? "What about Aids?" "That strange illness he had not too long ago - why didn't the doctors know what it was?" On and on the thoughts went.

He did come home the next day and a barrier had gone from between us. He had always been so easy to love but now, somehow there was a greater love between us. We talked and talked and I discovered more and more of the trial he was going through. He did not want any professional help, but just badly needed to know that we loved him and accepted him as he was.

For myself it was as though a dark cloud had gone over the sun. Where could we turn for help? A well trusted friend put her arm around my shoulders and wept with me. A letter arrived from a support group in answer to my plea; it brought comfort and the assurance of prayer backing. These things greatly helped, but we knew that many of our friends and acquaintances suffered from homophobia so in order to prevent more pain to ourselves, and our son, we needed to keep things quiet. He loved his Granddad and we usually shared everything with him, but we knew he would not understand. I found the secrecy hard to cope with. To continue to act as though "all was well" when inside I felt crushed, was hard indeed.

In our marriage my husband and I had been through many dark experiences; long term illness, bereavement, financial difficulties and others, but we had never felt the need to question God as to why. We had always been confident that He knew best. Now my anguish was intensified as I watched my husband struggle with "Why had God allowed this to happen?" Then, one Sunday morning as I arrived at church for worship, the struggle suddenly gripped me. "How could I worship God after what He had allowed?" This was my darkest moment. I hesitated, then I remembered how faithful God had been to us in the past. I could not, and dare not, turn from Him now I needed Him so much. Later, as I took the bread and the wine at the communion service I realised afresh that the dear, suffering Saviour understood all my distress and was there to meet my need, if I turned to Him.

My husband and I had always prayed regularly together, and now we began to have special times when we particularly brought the whole situation to our Heavenly Father. Very gradually our fears were calmed, and a quiet assurance, that God had everything in control, filled our hearts. Not all our questions were answered, but we were comforted by the thought that one day they would be. The words of the poet consoled us:

Not till the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will GOD unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why
The dark threads are as needful
In the WEAVER'S skilful hands
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern HE has planned.

The sunshine began to break through and shine again as we trusted all to Him.

One of my favourite prayers is "Prepare me for all that you have prepared for me." As I looked back I began to see ways in which this prayer had been answered. When our son was only a boy I was so concerned, as he seemed to spend so much time alone. One day, as I was praying for him, it was as though God said, "Go and tell him how precious he is to Me." I shall always remember the look of joy that covered his face as I related those words to him.

Then, on another occasion during a very difficult period of concern over him, in prayer, I asked to be shown what was wrong and what could I do to help? Quietly it was impressed on my heart, that one day I would know, and I should leave it in His hands until that time came. God had known all the time about our Son. He was very precious to us, but even more so to God, and He cared deeply about what happened to him. We could afford to leave him in His hands...