#mormon!kurt

A few weeks later, Kurt and Burt and Carole drive up to Toledo to where the patriarch lives. Kurt's never met him before. His house is large, practically a mansion, and overlooking Maumee Bay. The patriarch's wife is in a pink rayon dress with front pleats. She wears pearls around her neck. She guides them to the home office and sets glasses of ice water on coasters that line the edge of the patriarch's desk.

The patriarch himself has white hair, white skin, and a dark suit with an understated gray silk tie. He's exactly what Kurt expected.

They talk for a few minutes about school and Kurt's longing to go on a mission. Kurt doesn't mention fashion or Glee club or the fact that he finds so much beauty in other boys. He keeps the talk safe, to things one wouldn't be ashamed to mention at a fast and testimony meeting. He can't bring himself to let go of Carole's hand, even though his own is raining sweat.

Then the patriarch says a short prayer as they sit on opposite sides of the desk, inviting the Holy Ghost to be with them. He asks Kurt to pray, too. Kurt's so nervous, he has no idea what he says. Something rote, he's certain, but that's okay. Heavenly Father hears those prayers just as clearly as the spontaneous ones. Just because it follows a pattern doesn't mean it's not heartfelt.

Then it's time. Burt and Carole scoot their chairs back a little to give the patriarch room. The patriarch's wife sets a digital recorder on top of the desk and makes sure it's on so the blessing can be typed up later for Kurt to keep with his Scriptures. Kurt takes deep breath after deep breath, preparing himself for the moment the patriarch is going to lay his hands on him. Even after all these years in the church, he can't get used to strangers touching him. His body wasn't wired that way, to be eager for human touch. Not unless it's someone who knows him inside and out, like his mom and Dad and Carole, and sometimes Mercedes.

But the sacredness of this moment overrides Kurt's inhibitions. He closes his eyes and bows his head, feels the warmth of the patriarch's hands radiating near him before they actually make contact. They're so warm, Kurt thinks of fire, and then The Spirit of God like a fire is burning! It's the first line of a hymn Kurt's been singing before he even knew how to read, and when the next lines follow--The latter-day glory begins to come forth; The visions and blessings of old are returning--he knows the Holy Ghost is already there with them in the room, in Kurt's heart, witnessing that this blessing is from God.

Kurt feels the words more then hears them. He has flashes of his past and his future: the safety of the preexistence, living beside his Heavenly Parents without fear or desire; the comfort of sitting in his mother's lap when she was still alive, him so small and her so large and all-encompassing; a solid hug from his father; the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement as he walks alongside his missionary companion, an indescribable warmth in his heart; pink sunlight bathing the interior walls of temple rooms he's only imagined but never seen; the squirming solidity of children in his arms, his children, when they come home for the first time; a hand holding his, firm and loving and the same size as his, its pads fitting perfectly into the grooves of his own palm; a man's voice--not his father's, not the patriarch's--a voice Kurt can't place and yet feels like home to him, saying, "God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him."