The Blue-Shirts have seen me trade my uniform for a tie-dyed shirt that read, “Love One Another.”

They watched that change to a neutral white.

They saw me fall on shoulders that were wearing rainbow leis, beg forgiveness of them, and weep with them.  Over and over.

They watched me spend more time with the rainbow leis than the Blue Shirts.

Then on Monday (over a week ago now), I spoke to the legislators moving my position from opponent to “comment only.”  In that moment, with those 2 minutes in front of the camera, I was not going to tell them what to do.  My message at that moment was different.  Besides, I had already delivered an “oppose this bill” testimony, as proxy for someone else.  “Vote no” had rung loud and clear for hour after hour by at least 85% of those addressing them.

My message this time was repentance, tolerance and love, and think outside the box to solve this problem.  In 2 minutes you can’t say much.  If I’d had three, I could’ve gotten to the “and I think know you should not push this bill through” part. The priority, far and away!, was to show unconditional love to the persecuted.

The rainbow lei team loved it. They heard me loud and clear.  They recognized honesty, they understood compassion, and they saw a change of heart — not a change of mind.  They pounced on me afterward, embraced me, and claimed me as their friend.  I was ready to prove it in a dozen different ways, but it wasn’t necessary.  A friend is a friend, and friends don’t need to prove anything on that side.

The Blue Shirts… Whoooo-ey, what I said went clean over their heads.  At least a lot of Mormon heads.  The Christians wearing blue also recognized a change of heart when they saw one; they still welcomed me into their circles, and I now understand why they stubbornly cling to the “Mormons aren’t Christians” idea.  Mormon Blue Shirts treated me differently, and not in a good way.  They are indeed a slightly different breed.  Enough so that I coined the phrase “Blue Shirt” to describe (to myself, mostly) the kind of person who cares more about the uniform than the person in it.

Once you “betray” them, you have to earn your way back I guess.  

It’s kind of a crying shame, but it is what it is.

I’m all done playing those kinds of games, so I was letting it blow over.   My heart changed – not my religion.  They’d figure it out eventually.  

My best friends here knew without my saying and they loved me anyway.  In fact, they said things like, “You finally get it!” and I was like, “What?  You knew all along?!” and they were like, “Would you have listened?”  … and then crickets chirped.  Good point.  Blue Shirts have issues with listening.

Love ’em.

Anyway,

as the battle went on at the capitol, I continued to bounce back and forth between circles and groups, learning more than I could possibly keep up with.

It was fun, and I almost got to the point where I started conversations with “What life-changing epiphany am I about to have because of you?”

Then I got all inspired to write a letter to a representative who was really more a friend that week.  Not like we had  a lot of contact with each other, but I knew she knew me and I knew we were friends.  That was enough.

I wrote a letter, but it wasn’t enough to just write it.  I had to hand-deliver it.  The 2-hour drive didn’t matter.  The stress of trying to find this needle in a haystack didn’t matter.  It was urgent that I get her my letter BEFORE she went into that session to vote on it.

Sure enough, the Lord provided a few miracles – my letter and my hug found her in time.  Whew!  It was nice to feel finished with the capitol.  Now, at last, the lioness could return to her den.

Several hours later I got a call from my Sweetheart, ecstatically saying, “She read your letter word for word on the House floor!  … I didn’t hear everything she had to say, and it looks like she only got through the first page, but still!  Amazing!”

And the Spirit hit me hard.  I knew things were working out the way they were supposed to.

And then I found out from an angry friend that -yes- the rep read my letter — and cited it as the reason she was voting FOR the bill.

That’s when I felt like I was punched in the gut. I was grateful for the confirmation from the Holy Ghost that I could then cling to, knowing I actually hadn’t done anything wrong.  

Now the Blue Shirts are *really* suspicious.  They’re afraid they might need to (figuratively) cross the street to walk past me.

I know I’m being hard on the Blue Shirts, but I’m doing it for their own good.  I was one of them just a few weeks ago.  I had no idea how judgmental I was being. None.  I would have needed a blog post like this to shake me up.  So here it is.

I was going to keep my letter private.  I wasn’t even telling very many people about it, but now that half has been read publicly, the other half must be shared as well.

So here you go, Blue Shirts.  This is what I had to say to my friend who also happens to be a Hawaii State Rep who voted yes on the same-sex marriage bill last Friday.  I even left the typos, of which there are several:

Aloha,

I’m writing you as a friend with as much aloha as I can send, and I know you’ll hear me as a friend.   I know you are up against a lot here.  There’s a typhoon going on in the capitol right now as well as the Philippines.  My hope is that this letter can be, for you in this moment, and eye of calm in the middle of the storm.

I would like to share with you “the pivotal moment” for me this last week.

On Halloween I arrived at the capitol near sundown and saw a man from a distance.  He was wearing one arm in a sling, walking down the sidewalk with a friend.  As he walked past some “let the people vote” sign-holders, he turned to his friend and although I couldn’t hear it, it was obvious from the deep sadness on his face he was saying something to the effect of, “This contention is so wrong.”

When someone is in pain, is it not our nature as women, to be compassionate?  To reach out to them and try to help?  I felt drawn to him and wanted to help him, to find out why there was such sadness in his eyes.

I ran in to him again later.

My desire to relieve his suffering overcame any shyness as I interrupted meekly (and probably awkwardly!) asking if he was okay, and if he’d share with me what happened.  He told me hesitantly that his arm had been broken in five places and that, yes, this happened at the hands of people who didn’t like what he had to say.

And then he backed off, went to do something else.

I stuck around.  I could move from that place.  I wanted to know more.  I was far more than curious.  I needed to know how this sort of thing could happen.  A few minutes later, he came back to talk with me some more.

Jessica, it was awful.  His eye was still a painful deep purple.  His nose, bent and broken.  This soft-spoken, honest, intelligent young man (between 20 and 25, maybe?), had been pretty brutally beaten and badly injured for sharing his opinion. In America.  Here in Hawaii.  That week!

Granted, this kind of thing happened among the blue-shirts, too.  Just a few days earlier I met a woman who had been was rammed by a truck.  On purpose.  Just for holding a picket-sign.  Terrible.

If I had felt the first stirrings of feelings for the “other” side on Monday at the rally, here on Wednesday, it hit me: overwhelming compassion and understanding.  I could not hold back the tears, and then we were both hugging and crying.  I felt the same way – the exact same way – as I would feel if he were my son.  The outpouring of love was almost tangible, and the connection between us was the most powerful I’ve ever felt outside my family.

I walked away from that experience a different person.  How could I not?

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Did it mean I approved of same-sex marriage?
No.

But I found out that compassion and true love – good old fashioned charity for those around us – is more important than who is right and who is wrong.  I also found out that I had been starkly lacking in charity before.  I thought I loved the opposition.  I would have told you I did.  I would have even believed I was telling the truth.

It simply wasn’t true until I felt what they felt, wept with them, and put down my shields – literally and figuratively.  The scripture, “Inasmuch as you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me,” rang in my ears when I related the experience to my husband later.

So now I have a deeper appreciation for what you’re up against.  How can you stand to make a decision like this?  You have an overwhelming majority clearly wanting to preserve the sheltering tree that is traditional marriage.  It keeps us all safe – both sides of the issue.

But there is still a minority group here in pain.  What they need, however, they will not find in changing the word “marriage.”

There are many people wearing navy blue shirts right now who are simply afraid.  I was one of them.  My heart was touched and changed profoundly and the ripples extend out much farther than I can see. Those who oppose same-sex marriage need time to change their hearts. We need to understand that our brothers and sisters who experience same-sex attraction are not trying to destroy what we hold dear, they only want to be understood, respected, and accepted for who they are.

But the way to acceptance is not to become the same as those from whom acceptance is sought. The way to acceptance is to overcome fear with mutual love and understanding.

I cannot tell you what to do, my friend.  I see more storms ahead no matter how this gets handled, as I’m sure you do.  But I want you to know that I love you – and even if I don’t know you very well (yet?) – and that I hope we continue getting to know each other in the future.

Mahalo for your courage and your desire to do the right thing.

My prayers will be with you,

 Mrs.Smith

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