Just Because He Breathes

Just Because He Breathes

June 1, 2009 – 2nd Day of 17 Days in Harborview

On the night of November 20, 2001, a conversation held over Instant Messenger changed our lives forever. Our twelve year old son messaged me in my office from the computer in his bedroom.

Ryan says: can i tell u something
Mom says: Yes I am listening
Ryan says: well i don’t know how to say this really but, well……, i can’t keep lying to you about myself. I have been hiding this for too long and i sorta have to tell u now. By now u probably have an idea of what i am about to say.
Ryan says: I am gay
Ryan says: i can’t believe i just told you
Mom says: Are you joking?
Ryan says: no
Ryan says: i thought you would understand because of uncle don
Mom says: of course I would
Mom says: but what makes you think you are?
Ryan says: i know i am
Ryan says: i don’t like hannah
Ryan says: it’s just a cover-up
Mom says: but that doesn’t make you gay…
Ryan says: i know
Ryan says: but u don’t understand
Ryan says: i am gay
Mom says: tell me more
Ryan says: it’s just the way i am and it’s something i know
Ryan says: u r not a lesbian and u know that. it is the same thing
Mom says: what do you mean?
Ryan says: i am just gay
Ryan says: i am that
Mom says: I love you no matter what
Ryan says: i am white not black
Ryan says: i know
Ryan says: i am a boy not a girl
Ryan says: i am attracted to boys not girls
Ryan says: u know that about yourself and i know this
Mom says: what about what God thinks about acting on these desires?
Ryan says: i know
Mom says: thank you for telling me
Ryan says: and i am very confused about that right now
Mom says: I love you more for being honest
Ryan says: i know
Ryan says: thanx

We were completely shocked. Not that we didn’t know and love gay people – my only brother had come out to us several years before, and we adored him. But Ryan? He was unafraid of anything, tough as nails, and ALL boy. We had not seen this coming, and the emotion that overwhelmed us, kept us awake at night and, sadly, influenced all of our reactions over the next six years, was FEAR.

We said all the things that we thought loving Christian parents who believed the Bible – the Word of God – should say:

We love you. We will ALWAYS love you. And this is hard. REALLY hard. But we know what God says about this, and so you are going to have to make some really difficult choices.

We love you. We couldn’t love you more. But there are other men who have faced this same struggle, and God has worked in them to change their desires. We’ll get you their books…you can listen to their testimonies. And we will trust God with this.

We love you. We are so glad you are our son. But you are young, and your sexual orientation is still developing. The feelings you’ve had for other guys don’t make you gay. So please don’t tell anyone that you ARE gay. You don’t know who you are yet. Your identity is not that you are gay – it is that you are a child of God.

We love you. Nothing will change that. But if you are going to follow Jesus, holiness is your only option. You are going to have to choose to follow Jesus, no matter what. And since you know what the Bible says, and since you want to follow God, embracing your sexuality is NOT an option.

We thought we understood the magnitude of the sacrifice that we – and God – were asking for. And this sacrifice, we knew, would lead to the abundant life, perfect peace and eternal rewards. Ryan had always felt intensely drawn to spiritual things; He desired to please God above all else. So, for the first six years, he tried to choose Jesus. Like so many others before him, he pleaded with God to help him be attracted to girls. He memorized Scripture, met with his youth pastor weekly, enthusiastically participated in all the church youth group events and Bible Studies and got baptized. He read all the books that claimed to know where his gay feelings came from, dove into counseling to further discover the “why’s” of his unwanted attraction to other guys, worked through painful conflict resolution with my husband and I, and built strong friendships with other guys – straight guys – just like the reparative therapy experts advised. He even came out to his entire youth group, giving his testimony of how God had rescued him from the traps of the enemy, and sharing – by memory – verse after verse that God had used to draw Ryan to Himself.

But nothing changed. God didn’t answer his prayer – or ours – though we were all believing with faith that the God of the Universe – the God for whom NOTHING is impossible – could easily make Ryan straight. But He did not.

Though our hearts may have been good (we truly thought what we were doing was loving), we did not even give Ryan a chance to wrestle with God, to figure out what HE believed God was telling him through scripture about his sexuality. We had believed firmly in giving each of our four children the space to question Christianity, to decide for themselves if they wanted to follow Jesus, to truly OWN their own faith. But we were too afraid to give Ryan that room when it came to his sexuality, for fear that he’d make the wrong choice.

Basically, we told our son that he had to choose between Jesus and his sexuality. We forced him to make a choice between God and being a sexual person. Choosing God, practically, meant living a lifetime condemned to being alone. He would never have the chance to fall in love, have his first kiss, hold hands, share intimacy and companionship or experience romance.

And so, just before his 18th birthday, Ryan, depressed, suicidal, disillusioned and convinced that he would never be able to be loved by God, made a new choice. He decided to throw out his Bible and his faith at the same time, and to try searching for what he desperately wanted – peace – another way. And the way he chose to try first was drugs.

We had – unintentionally – taught Ryan to hate his sexuality. And since sexuality cannot be separated from the self, we had taught Ryan to hate himself. So as he began to use drugs, he did so with a recklessness and a lack of caution for his own safety that was alarming to everyone who knew him.

Suddenly our fear of Ryan someday having a boyfriend (a possibility that honestly terrified me) seemed trivial in contrast to our fear of Ryan’s death, especially in light of his recent rejection of Christianity, and his mounting anger at God.

Ryan started with weed and beer…but in six short months was using cocaine, crack and heroin. He was hooked from the beginning, and his self-loathing and rage at God only fueled his addiction. Shortly after, we lost contact with him. For the next year and a half we didn’t know where he was, or even if he was dead or alive. And during that horrific time, God had our full attention. We stopped praying for Ryan to become straight. We started praying for him to know that God loved him. We stopped praying for him never to have a boyfriend. We started praying that someday we might actually get to know his boyfriend. We even stopped praying for him to come home to us; we only wanted him to come home to God.

By the time our son called us, after 18 long months of silence, God had completely changed our perspective. Because Ryan had done some pretty terrible things while using drugs, the first thing he asked me was this:

Do you think you can ever forgive me? (I told him of course, he was already forgiven. He had ALWAYS been forgiven.)

Do you think you could ever love me again? (I told him that we had never stopped loving him, not for one second. We loved him then more than we had ever loved him.)

Do you think you could ever love me with a boyfriend? (Crying, I told him that we could love him with fifteen boyfriends. We just wanted him back in our lives. We just wanted to have a relationship with him again…AND with his boyfriend.)

And a new journey was begun. One of healing, restoration, open communication and grace. LOTS of grace. And God was present every step of the way, leading and guiding us, gently reminding us simply to love our son, and leave the rest up to Him.

Over the next ten months, we learned to truly love our son. Period. No buts. No conditions. Just because he breathes. We learned to love whoever our son loved. And it was easy. What I had been so afraid of became a blessing. The journey wasn’t without mistakes, but we had grace for each other, and the language of apology and forgiveness became a natural part of our relationship. As our son pursued recovery from drug and alcohol addiction, we pursued him. God taught us how to love him, to rejoice over him, to be proud of the man he was becoming. We were all healing…and most importantly, Ryan began to think that if WE could forgive him and love him, then maybe God could, too.

And then Ryan made the classic mistake of a recovering addict…he got back together with his old friends…his using friends. And one evening that was supposed to simply be a night at the movies turned out to be the first time he had shot up in ten months…and the last time. We got a phone call from a social worker at Harborview Medical Center in Seattle asking us to come identify our son – that he had arrived there in a coma, in critical condition. We spent 17 days at Harborview, during which time our whole family was able to surround and love on Ryan. We experienced miracle after miracle during that time, things that no doctor had any medical explanation for. God’s presence was TANGIBLE in Ryan’s room. But that is a long, sacred story that I’ll have to tell another time.

Though Ryan had suffered such severe brain damage that he had almost complete paralysis, the doctors told us that he could very well outlive us. But, unexpectedly, Ryan died on July 16, 2009. And we lost the ability to love our gay son…because we no longer had a gay son. What we had wished for…prayed for…hoped for…that we would NOT have a gay son, came true. But not at all in the way we used to envision.

Now, when I think back on the fear that governed all my reactions during those first six years after Ryan told us he was gay, I cringe as I realize how foolish I was. I was afraid of all the wrong things. And I grieve, not only for my oldest son, who I will miss every day for the rest of my life, but for the mistakes I made. I grieve for what could have been, had we been walking by FAITH instead of by FEAR. Now, whenever Rob and I join our gay friends for an evening, I think about how much I would love to be visiting with Ryan and his partner over dinner. But instead, we visit Ryan’s gravestone. We celebrate anniversaries: the would-have-been birthdays and the unforgettable day of his death. We wear orange – his color. We hoard memories: pictures, clothing he wore, handwritten notes, lists of things he loved, tokens of his passions, recollections of the funny songs he invented, his Curious George and baseball blankey, anything, really, that reminds us of our beautiful boy…for that is all we have left, and there will be no new memories.  We rejoice in our adult children, and in our growing family as they marry…but ache for the one of our “gang of four” who is missing. We mark life by the days BC (before coma) and AD (after death), because we are different people now; our life was irrevocably changed – in a million ways – by his death. We treasure friendships with others who “get it”…because they, too, have lost a child.

We weep. We seek Heaven for grace and mercy and redemption as we try – not to get better but to be better. And we pray that God can somehow use our story to help other parents learn to truly love their children. Just because they breathe.

Linda Diane Robertson
Originally posted on FaceBook on January 14, 2013 – Ryan’s would-have-been-24 birthday
An expanded, live version of this story, presented at the June 2013 Exodus International Conference can be seen here.

Note: If you’d like to see an example of the beautiful, gracious, loving soul who was the person of Ryan David Robertson, read the letter that he wrote to my husband, Ryan’s dad, on Father’s Day 2009, just 9 days before his accidental overdose. We’ve included a picture of the original letter, blown up into poster-size, which hangs in our bathroom to remind us of GRACE.

1,593 thoughts on “Just Because He Breathes

  1. jjjustforcommenting

    I’d like to start by saying I am deeply sorry for your loss. I am not the kind of person to post on blogs but I came across your touching story on the HuffPost. I was Catholic and from South America, and I always knew there was something different about me. These feelings weren’t “normal” and I used to go to church alone a lot. I even considered becoming a priest. My parents were suspicious of me from an early age. A serious of events happened that showed how scared my father was of me “turning gay”, he once pulled me into the kitchen and mocked the way I talked, he said he would kill me if I turn out gay. He would make comments about how he saw two men kissing once and he nearly threw up. I learned to forgive him, because I knew it was fear. My father has been a loving as well, which has always confused me but made me understand him. I treasure our countless nights talking about science, books and physics. However, I loathed myself. I was becoming something that made my father sick to his stomach.

    I spent years hating myself and even considered suicide as an option. When I turned 21, and we have moved to the US, I came out to my parents. It was difficult, to say the least. My father threatened to move back to Venezuela. My mother was the only voice that consoled me. God only knows the amount of times I wanted to drink that bottle of Clorox under the kitchen sink. I spent years crying alone, trying to understand why I was made so defective. No one cared to ask me how I felt, I was only asked to change. My relationship with my father got bearable slowly, he said on the table once: “You already made a decision about your life, and I don’t want to talk about it ever again.” I remember thinking, “I don’t recall ever deciding to be a second-class citizen.” I was destroyed, because I felt like my father selected the sections of my life he wanted to participate in.

    I was my family’s financial support for 5 years until I decided to move to NYC to go to college by myself. After years of still hating who I was, and involving myself in cheap sex and empty relationships, I met someone who changed my life. Before, I asked him to marry me, I took him to Florida to visit my parents. My mother and my grandmother absolutely adore him and my brother liked him a lot as well. My father was quiet and rather distant. He knew I was going to marry him. I tried. I proposed to my boyfriend the following day while at a friend’s house in Miami. God, I was happy! :)

    Two months later, I humbly married him at City Hall in New York City where we both currently live. Only my mother, my grandmother, my sister and a couple of cousins sent their love to us. My father never called me. See, my father is a hardcore Republican, and he’s allowed his political view skew his understanding of what’s best for me. My husband and I did not get married to get a fancy party or to get a chance to wear a tuxedo. I married him because I want to protect him. I want to make sure he’s able to see me if I am sick. I think we are all afraid to die alone, and I want my husband to be that person next to me whenever I have to leave. You know how people get married and get all that moral, financial and love support? Well, we didn’t get that. We are struggling financially and making the best of it.

    I stopped talking to my father after he never called me. I cannot change my father’s mentality but he can’t change mine. I find myself bargaining the situation in my head; if he would’ve called me and said, “I don’t agree with what you’re doing but I wish you the best,” maybe just that wouldn’t have thrown me in the depression in which I’ve been struggling with for the past 4 months. I love him so dearly. He was not only my father, he was my best friend. I sometimes keep hope that he will call and say something, but I know he is too proud to do that. I think I’ve heard him say “sorry” a handful of times.

    Sorry for this very very very long comment, but I am writing this to you and all of the people reading here so we can all see another side, which is religion and politics. I am very proud to call myself an American, and I thank the Supreme Court of the United States of America for allowing me and my husband to lead a normal married life. Hopefully, one day my father can understand this.

    Thanks,

    C

    Reply
    1. Gwennaëlle

      Dear jjjustforcommenting,
      Thank you for writing this. Just like Linda you helped me become a more understanding human. I hope someday I can reach the level of kindness I am aiming at. If I should succeed you’d be part of the means for me to progress.

      Reply
    2. Celia Lopez McCormack

      Dear C,
      My husband and I are also hard core republican Hispanic family but we do not hate you or your community. Our son came out last year with the fear that we would reject him and cut him from our life. We accepted him and his partner and plan to support and attend the day they tie the knot. Hopefully your father will come around.
      I wrote a song and made a You Tube video capturing my son’s journey which apparently is very similar to yours. I would like to share with you and would love if you forward it to your dad. Maybe it will change his mind. Las Cosas del Amor:http://youtu.be/K8NMG_MzdgQ
      Good luck and congratulations of finding your soul mate.

      Reply
  2. Eric White

    Linda,
    Forgive yourself. You are so brave to put Ryan’s story out there, leaving you exposed to being judged and scrutinized for doing what you thought was right. Your story is changing opinions and getting others thinking. I wish you the very best and I truly hope that you have peace of mind. Ryan clearly had excellent parents that loved him. It’s clear. I wish you all the best.

    Reply
  3. Lindee

    Hey Linda – I tried to find a way to unsubscribe to all the new comments and posts coming through – but could only find a way to unsubscribe from the subscription. I think you are wonderful and this site is a blessing to many. It’s also wonderful how the site is now getting such an enormous amount of activity through posts. I will still check in from time to time – but I needed to unsubscribe from the original subscription. I will re-subscribe here, without checking the boxes that send notification of every post and comment. God bless you!

    Reply
    1. Linda Robertson Post author

      Lindee…Sorry for overwhelming your email with so many notifications! Thanks for figuring out how to “tell” WordPress that you need a little LESS email!! Much love to you!

      Reply
  4. Elizabeth Glass

    I read this story and my heart goes out to you and your family. I am a strong Christian who believes that God loves each of us! Your son sounds like an amazing person!! I am so sorry for this tragic loss and for the hate that some people are expressing. We are only called to love everyone. We should never judge- Please know there are people who never met you or your son but we too share your pain and offer our comfort and prayers. God Bless You

    Reply

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