Your deepest ministry will be to those who are walking the same road you walked: the teenager who hasn’t yet found the words for what he feels, the returned missionary trying to reconcile his heart with his faith, the parent who loves their child fiercely but doesn’t know how to say so without conditions. Your calling is to every one of them. It was authored by your Savior, sealed by your suffering, and confirmed by the life you continue to live.
”Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.”
Restitution is the step where inner work meets outer action. You have been honest. You have hoped. You have trusted. You have inventoried. You have confessed. You have opened your heart to change. Now comes the difficult, beautiful, terrifying work of going to the people your journey has affected and saying: I see you. I acknowledge what happened. And I want to rebuild what can be rebuilt.
For many gay Latter-day Saint men who were in mixed-orientation marriages, the most important restitution is with a former spouse. This relationship may be the most complex of your life. Your former spouse was also a victim of the system—someone who entered a marriage in good faith, believing the institution’s promises that righteousness would be sufficient. She did not deserve to be lied to, even if the lie was one you were telling yourself as much as you were telling her. Restitution does not require you to accept all the blame. It requires you to accept your part honestly and to honor the pain she experienced without minimizing it or deflecting it.
Restitution with children may be the most tender work you ever do. Children deserve age-appropriate honesty about who you are and why the family structure changed. They do not need every detail. They need to know that they are loved, that they are not to blame, and that their father is becoming more honest—which means becoming more trustworthy, not less. Children are remarkably resilient, and they are also remarkably perceptive. Many of them already sense that something was not right. Giving them the truth—carefully, lovingly, at the right time—strengthens the foundation of your relationship rather than threatening it.
There is also a form of restitution that is directed inward: making amends to yourself. You owe yourself a life lived in truth. You owe yourself the experiences you were denied—not recklessly, not selfishly, but with the same intentionality and care you would bring to any sacred endeavor. You owe yourself the right to love and be loved without apology. This inward restitution is not selfishness. It is the fulfillment of a debt that the system created when it stole your authenticity.
For each person on your list from the previous chapter, write specifically what amends would look like. Be realistic. Some amends may be a conversation. Some may be ongoing.
What amends do you owe yourself? What experiences or forms of self-expression have been stolen from you? How might you begin to reclaim them?
I am willing to make amends where amends are possible. I honor the people my journey has affected, and I trust that honesty is the only foundation on which lasting love can be built.
Your children are, in many ways, the most important audience for your restitution. They did not choose to be born into a mixed-orientation marriage. They did not choose the divorce, the tension, the confusion, the questions from friends, the shifting family dynamics. They were participants in a story they did not write. And they deserve—when they are ready, when the timing is right—to understand that story.
Age-appropriate honesty is the key. For young children, this may mean nothing more than: Daddy loves you, and the changes in our family are not your fault. For older children and teenagers, it may mean a more complete explanation: I am gay, and I have always been gay, and I married your mother because I was told it was the right thing to do, and it was not fair to her or to me. For adult children, it may mean a fully honest accounting of what happened and why—including your responsibility, the system’s responsibility, and the complexity of the choices you faced.
Do not force the conversation. Your readiness to tell the truth does not obligate your children to be ready to hear it. Some children will receive your honesty with grace and even relief. Others will need time. Others may be angry, and that anger is legitimate and deserves space. Your job is not to control their reaction. Your job is to be available, to be honest when asked, to be patient, and to demonstrate through consistent, loving presence that your identity does not diminish your love for them.
In my experience, children are far more resilient than we expect, and far more perceptive than we realize. Many children of gay parents report that they knew something was different long before the conversation happened—and that the conversation, when it finally came, was a relief rather than a shock. Your honesty is not a burden you are placing on your children. It is a gift you are giving them: the gift of a father who tells the truth, who trusts them with the truth, and who demonstrates that love and honesty can live in the same house.
Some amends are impossible. People die. Relationships sever beyond repair. Some harms cannot be undone, only acknowledged. When direct amends are not possible, indirect amends become important. You can honor a person you have harmed by treating someone else the way you wish you had treated them. You can honor a relationship you lost by building healthier ones going forward. You can honor the years you lost to the closet by living the years you have left with integrity and purpose.
There is also a form of living amends that is particularly relevant for gay Latter-day Saint men: the amends of visibility. Every time you live openly and authentically, you are making amends—not for a wrong you committed, but for a system that required you to hide. Your visibility is restitution to every gay Latter-day Saint who is still in the closet, still suffering, still believing the lie that they are alone. By living in the light, you are saying: it is possible. I survived. And so can you.