Tuesday, April 11, 2023.
The four of us filed into the small office. We sat in a parallelogram shape:
Bishop at his desk, me across from him, the two counselors each taking a seat
on the side walls of the office. They were perfectly triangulated; I felt perfectly trapped.
The bishop asked me, “How are you, Sister Facer?”
I cheerfully, maybe a bit nervously, responded, “Fine! How
are you?”
“I’m good! I’m good.” Slow nodding.
A pause. Nobody spoke. Then the bishop, again:
“How are you, really?”
And right then, a knowing from my gut rode a lightning
bolt of recognition straight up to my head: this is about Melody.
See, the back story goes like this.
Mel was soon to come out publicly, and I was busy informing everyone that we regularly interacted with that she is trans. As Relief Society secretary, I had told the RS presidency in one of our meetings already. We were friends, and they were supportive and loving and, I believe, discreet. It wasn’t a secret, but they knew not to treat this news as gossip.
On Easter Sunday, April 9, I learned that we, the presidency, would
soon be released from our callings. Though I wouldn't have shared this with anyone, I
was honestly glad to hear it. Brooks and I were sitting on the curb of our
corner lot after church when I read that text, and my happy hands started
waving at passing church traffic with a bit more enthusiasm: “Hello ward members,
driving by! I am getting released, hello! I will no longer feel an obligation
to connect with you and can therefore do so genuinely, hello! Happy Easter!
Hello!”
Our neighbor asked if I could come over and take a picture
of their little family in their Easter garb. I thought, “So cute, I am in a
happy hello mood, of course, hand me your phone!” And I took advantage of the
moment to also let them know Melody’s name and pronouns. They expressed support
and love, and I felt relieved, plus an extra measure of gladness. The circle of
who knew our biggest news had grown a bit more, and with good results. So far,
so good!
The next day, Monday, I received a text message from the
bishop. Something like this: “Sister Facer, would you be available to meet with
Brother XXX and I tomorrow evening at 8:00?” I replied with something like
this: “Sure! See you then.” And again, I felt glad to know that this releasing
would be made official very soon.
I realized immediately that the bishop might extend to me a
new calling invitation. Would I accept a music calling in this ward? Would I
accept a primary calling? A teaching calling? Any calling? I certainly had much
to consider. I got straight to work on the mental and emotional load of
boundary finding, reciting, and holding before our meeting. I had
never declined a calling, but I would be ready.
A quick note: I found it a little weird that I was requested to meet with both the bishop and Brother XXX for a simple calling release meeting. I also thought it strange that the bishop had texted me directly, rather than going through his executive secretary. (Honestly, if you're allowed to text me directly, release me over text, please, I beg you.)
I did not see either of these things as strange
enough for me to be concerned. I knew some women in the church dislike meeting
one-on-one with men in the church. I knew some bishops monitor bits of their
own schedules. Okay, whatever, it’ll be five minutes, see you then.
On Tuesday, prior to my appointment with the Bishop and Brother XXX, we ran to Target for a few things. Mel, Brooks, and I raced through the checkout line as 8:00 approached, and I knew I’d need to be dropped off at the church on our way home. I was planning to do bedtime at 7:45 but had missed my window. Before they left the church parking lot, I assured Brooks I’d be home soon to give a bedtime hug.
The second installment will be posted tomorrow.
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