Adam and I

I had a dream.

I dreamt that I married Adam at City Hall. It was the happiest day of my life, for I had married the man I loved.

I dreamt that I woke up beside him the next morning, his warm, brown eyes looking into mine, and we smiled.

I dreamt that on Sunday we sat in the pews at Church. Adam and I shared a hymn book while we sang “Come, come ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear, but with joy wend your way.”

I dreamt that we sat on a bus on our way to Ward Temple Night. The members went inside, some carrying names of my ancestors I had found through genealogy work. Adam and I sat on a bench outside, feeling the Spirit on the grounds, reading our scriptures, and praying together.

I dreamt that Adam and I would save up enough money to pay for the adoption process (for the Lord blesses those who pay their tithing) and find children who don’t have any parents to look after them. Ginny and Andrew had waited for 4 years in foster care for someone to take them home, but they were already 6 and 8, and most parents only want to adopt infants. But now they had two fathers to feed them, clothe them, educate them, and teach them the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I dreamt that we would ask Sister Robinson, who lives next door, if our children could come over to her house often and play with her children. For Adam insisted that they have a mother figure in their lives, which we could not provide. We babysat for Sister Robinson and she for us, and Ginny and Andrew knew they could always trust her.

I dreamt that we would call my brother and ask him to baptize Andrew. My brother has a wife and kids of his own, a temple marriage and full rights to exercise his priesthood. Adam and I are grateful that we can depend on him. Once Ginny turns 8, he’ll come back to baptize her.

I dreamt that Ginny was sick with a fever of 101. Adam called the home teachers, and they were over here quickly. They anointed her head with oil and gave her a blessing. The fever abated, and Ginny could go to school the next day.

I dreamt that the kids came home and asked why we weren’t sealed like the other families at Church were. Adam and I had long prayed and fasted to know how to answer this question. We tell them that by our doctrine, only a mother and a father can be sealed in the eternities. We had to make a difficult decision that meant we wouldn’t be able to go to the Celestial Kingdom. But we still wanted to give our children an excellent home and teach them the Gospel so that they could reach Exaltation. What parent doesn’t want the best for his child?

I dreamt that Andrew turned 12. Adam’s father, close to 70 now, places his hands on Andrew’s head and gives him the Aaronic priesthood. Adam and I couldn’t be happier. We have the priesthood in our home again.

I dreamt that Ginny is 16. She’s getting ready for her first date. Adam is much better at fashion than I am, and he has her looking modestly gorgeous. We sit her down and review the dating standards in For The Strength of Youth. She’s not paying much attention, since her date will be here in 10 minutes, but we want to impress her one last time with these important standards. We trust both her and the boy, but you can never be too careful. Andrew sits in the kitchen and smirks. He got the same treatment two years ago.

I dreamt that Andrew was getting ready for a mission, which we’ve prepared him well for. He’s already intimately familiar with Preach my Gospel. But he’s not sure he can go. He tells us that for a while now he’s suspected that he’s gay, and doesn’t know if he can serve for that reason. I give him a hug. Adam explains that there’s no reason he can’t serve a mission, that both his fathers did. All missionaries are so focused on the work that sexuality isn’t really an issue anyway. When he gets back, he’ll have a difficult choice to make. We go through all the options and explain the consequences of each, the mortal as well as the eternal ones. We tell him that he’ll learn to listen to the Spirit while on his mission, and that God will direct him in the right path, whatever that may look like. Andrew is calmer now. The Spirit is already reassuring him that he’ll be alright. Next month we drop him off at the MTC.

I dreamt that Ginny was getting married. She’d met a boy at BYU, and now she couldn’t be happier. I reach over a grab Adam’s hand. It reminds me of how we first met in our New Testament class at BYU 15 years ago. Andrew will be back from his mission just in time for the wedding. Adam and I wait outside the doors of the Manti temple, imagining the ceremony and talking about how fast our kids have grown. The temple doors open and the whole party comes out. Ginny’s found a good man, someone who will respect her and treat her as the equal partner she is. We couldn’t be prouder.

I dreamt that Andrew eventually decides to tread the path his fathers trod. He doesn’t want to leave the Church, but he doesn’t want to be alone for life either. He’s starts dating men, and Adam and I assure him that we’ll love him no matter what he chooses. But in the end, Andrew decides that he doesn’t want to give up his priesthood or covenants. He starts dating women again and falls consummately in love with Christine (Adam won the bet. He was pretty sure Andrew was bisexual, but I didn’t think so. Guess I’ll be doing the dishes for the next week.) It’s another beautiful temple wedding.

I dreamt that Adam was sick. We’re old now, with many grandchildren. The ward members bring us food and make sure we get to church alright. I know that there’s no sealing to keep us together after this life. We knew that from the beginning, and we accepted the consequences. We had a sweet life together, and one lifetime was enough. I kiss Adam one last time before he breaths his last, smiling.

I had a dream. But mortals dream foolish things.

I dreamt that I was a child of Israel.

I awoke as a Canaanite dog.    

I lick the bread crumbs that have fallen from the table. My masters ignore me.

My puppies are cold and hungry by the dying fire. I don’t have any milk for them. Neither does Adam. I regurgitate the bread crumbs and they lap it up. Adam and I curl up beside them to keep them warm. Faith and Hope flicker on the hearth, sink to embers

and are gone.