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Nearly a year ago my counselor received a flyer inviting him to attend a
workshop dealing with helping those struggling with homosexuality. He passed
the flyer on to me, and I was able to arrange my affairs to make the trip
from Portland, Oregon to Salt Lake City. Alone in the car, on the way over,
I prayed fervently that there might be something in this conference that
would help.
It is difficult to describe the feelings I had as I met with you in formal
meetings and also in more intimate groups. I felt things I didn't know it
was possible to feel. I felt loved and accepted for who I am, warts and all.
I saw in many of your eyes the same pain that I have felt for most of my
life, and for the first time, I felt hope that there was a way to ease that
pain. I felt that here was a work that desperately needed to be done.
As it came time for me to return home, I was struck by the overwhelming
feeling that it must not end here. For me to return home and go back to
being who I was, and feeling what I felt would make me more miserable than I
had been before. Having tasted hope, my only choices were to act on that
hope, or give up all hope.
I longed for the same fellowship with others that I had had only a sampling
of in Salt Lake City. I spoke to my counselor about setting up a group in
Portland, and within a few months it was a reality. Late in August of last
year, three rather nervous men met with our counselor in his office. Since
that time, one has discontinued, and two others have joined, making a total
of four, for now.
We started out reading the Moberly and Konrad books, as well as the article
by Thomas Pritt. We have tried to act on the principles we have learned, and
to find strength in each other. Each of us has struggled and have failed as
well as succeeded. Yet we feel that we are on the path that is going
somewhere we want to go. We continue to hope for what many people feel is
the impossible -- freedom from homosexuality, not only in the way we act,
but in the way we think and feel.
Having struggled alone for so many years, it is a great relief to find
strength and fellowship in others fighting the same fight. I honor you who
have given time, money and effort to do this work. I admire you for your
courage in risking censure and exposure to bring hope and chances for
healing to others.
I am sure that for every one of us who are now involved in the recovery
work, there are hundreds who should be. Most of the time, they just don't
know where to go. I urge all of us to keep this important work going.
Originally published in Journey, Volume 1, Number
3, 1991, pg. 1
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