I apologize in advance: this is not an uplifting or cheerful post. Please read only at your discretion.

In our daily lives, we have grown accustomed to burying ourselves in superficial matters: work issues, homework assignments, that dentist appointment next Tuesday, the strange rattling sound in the car, buying snacks for the upcoming soccer game, etc. But every once in a long while, the dust seems to settle, and in that moment, we either hear a song or a story, or maybe witness an action that stirs us, and connects us to something primal. Emotion.

Now, I’m not talking about the kind of emotion you feel when your kid scores a goal at that soccer game (pride, hopefully), or learning that the rattling in your car means a new car would be cheaper than fixing all the problems (crushing disappointment)… not that those emotions aren’t important. No, I’m talking about the kind of feeling that reaches to the deepest center of your core as a human being, that lets you know you’re alive, that more often than not wrenches your heart painfully in some direction (sadness or longing, etc.). In this moment, when the confusion and the chaos of our daily lives settle, and we allow ourselves to truly listen or see, when the deepest parts of us are stirred to feel profound emotion, it is that moment that I believe we communicate with our souls. A whisper to the soul, so to speak.

These moments, while rare, often resonate so powerfully within us, that we’re inspired to do great things as a consequence. Sometimes it resonates within us on a personal level, and moves us to do something like forgive someone for who we thought had done something unforgivable at one time. Other times it stirs in us emotion so powerful it resonates with us on a large scale (community, country or even sometimes the world) and it moves us to make a difference. And not just any difference, but the kind of difference that matters. The kind of difference that changes people’s lives. The kind of difference that permanently alters the course of history.

Bobby Griffith. At 20 years old, he was traveling on his own, he was someone who loved the outdoors, and he was an aspiring writer. He aimed to write novels one day. Does that sound familiar? At 20 years old, about 2 months after his birthday, he killed himself. Why? Because he was gay. And the one thing that he wanted most in the world, that he wanted so much more than anything else, was the one thing he would never be able to achieve while alive. He wanted his mother to love him, and accept him for who he was.

I first heard this story October of my freshman year in college. I just recently learned the other day that one of my closest friends at Redlands was actually the one responsible for showing that movie to the PRIDE club, which I am sure is a moment that changed the course of my life forever. It is also the first movie ever (and maybe the only one ever) to move me to shed tears. As I like to tell my friends, when it comes to movies, I have a heart of stone. It’s always just a movie to me, I don’t care enough about fictional characters to cry for them. But this movie… maybe because it’s about a real teenage boy, maybe it’s because I see so much of myself in him, but somehow it gets past that stone wall surrounding my heart. The movie is called Prayers for Bobby, and you can find it for free on Youtube. If you have a thick emotional skin for movies, I highly recommend it. What makes it so moving is not that it’s a story about a 20 year old boy killing himself, but that it’s a story about a mom, who was a Presbyterian conservative, learning to love and accept that which she couldn’t before her son’s death, and becoming a national figure to support those who are in the same situation that her son was in: being gay with an unaccepting family or parents.

I watched this movie for a second time Sunday night, after I got back from the San Francisco PRIDE celebrations. I watched it, because I wanted to re-live as much as I could about Bobby’s life. Monday, I went to Oakmont Memorial Park. Up in the highest part of the park, in the Garden of Peace, I finally found Bobby’s tombstone. I have attached one of the pictures that I took of it. As you can see, someone recently visited leaving fresh flowers for him, perhaps on his birthday about a week before, and the actual stone has a scene of the wilderness decorated on it. At the bottom, it reads “See You Later.”

Being able to sit down for about 15 minutes, and just know that someone so similar to me was right there, someone who had had so many of the same kinds of feelings was right there. It was a poignant moment to be sure. As strange as it sounds, I even had a conversation with him while I sat there in front of his marker, but what we talked about will stay between us.

That night was perhaps one of the hardest I’ve ever had to fight through. Still battling a bout of homesickness from the day before, learning that there had been several shootings at the PRIDE celebration within two hours after leaving it and now facing these emotional upheavals… I read articles about the Supreme Court’s conservative rulings regarding corporations and religion, and about GOP 2016 Presidential candidates looking to reach out towards Evangelical Christians as an “increasingly vilified group” in America (which I have to admit, is definitely true) it felt like I was up against an insurmountable wall of hatred. And I wondered, to what depth did Bobby’s despair reach at the moment he decided to take his own life. What was the last thing he thought of as he fell onto the highway in front of that semi-truck? Was it that his mother had told him that she would rather have no son than a gay one?

Anyway, as I lay there wondering how hopeless he had felt, what kind of future the world had in store for us, and whether or not I was over staying my welcome by that point at my friend’s house, I realized that anyone who identifies with this group of people… yes, it helps to have family and friends who support you, even if they don’t understand what it is you go through, but ultimately, they can’t understand. We are on our own, as is every other group (races, etc.) that faces any sort of oppression and hatred in this country. It is in the very air that we breathe.

To wrap this up, I don’t want to leave on a downer note. Like I said at the beginning, sometimes we hear a story, or we hear a song that seems to reach to our inner cores, and it inspires us to act. I have wondered, if I maybe have a little bit of Bobby’s spirit in me, and that’s why it feels like a part of me is trying to rip itself out whenever I watch the movie or see the story: it’s a part that’s trying to go back to its original home, but can’t. I know I won’t get the chance to meet or get to know Bobby. But as his own mother said, there must be other Bobbys out there. I know there are others out there. I want to change the world for them; I want to make it a better place.

I also want to comment, this kind of opportunity, where I give other people a glimpse into my soul does not come often at all. I am perhaps one of the most carefully guarded people that I know, mostly because I don’t like to talk about myself with others. This jokingly came up several times at Philmont last summer, but it’s very true. Somehow, either through luck or through skill (most likely a little of both), I am quite adept at avoiding answering questions. The take home message of this comment is, read this post, but don’t bug me about it. I won’t talk. Not to friends, not to family. I am offering a free glimpse into my hopes and dreams, the worries that keep me up at night, and what inspires me to move forward. Please, do not ask for more than that.

Anyway, every day I think about the future, and making it better, and I hope that whether it’s sitting around a campfire, or hiking together up to a peak that maybe in one such moment I might get to whisper to other kids’ souls, and give them their own magical moment… that I might get to make a profound, positive difference BEFORE it’s too late, and continue to keep Bobby’s memory alive, so that other kids won’t have to make the same choice he did.

See You Later.

Joe