Wednesday, August 8, 2012

If your parents don't love you, someone else's will

One week ago today, folks went out in droves to show their support of Chick-fil-A.  It was a sad day for me and my gay & lesbian friends.  Occasions like that have a tendency to take the wind right of one's rainbow flag.  In the week that has passed, I've spent a lot of time reflecting on my life, my relationships, and God/religion.

The day following the outpouring of support for Chick-fil-A, one of my best friends, Jay - a straight man, mind you - sent me a text disparaging Chick-fil-A and reminding me that his 2 year old daughter loves me and my wife (her 'god-dykes') and that's all that matters.  Later in the day, he sent another text stating that he had talked to his mother - a Christian - and she agreed that real Christians don't behave the way Chick-fil-A supporters did.  As an atheist, I don't really care whether some is a good/bad, real/pretend Christian; I'm just concerned with how folks treat other people.  Still, I appreciated his reminder that not everyone if full of hate.

This evening when I checked my mail, I noticed two greeting cards - one addressed to me and one to my wife.  I did not recognize the hand writing or notice a return address.  I opened the card and found that it was from Jay's parents, Joann & Jerry.  There was a hand-written message inside, basically apologizing for the behavior of Chick-fil-A-type Christians.  More importantly, the note included a reminder that I am, in fact, loved.

Having been rejected by my biological/immediate family - for reasons including but certainly not limited to my sexuality - I never take acceptance and love for granted in my life.  I do not believe that God is love, but I do believe in love, and the capacity for love that's deeply rooted in each of us.

Today - as with most days - my heart is full.  I wish only love to each of you, known and unknown.

“Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid.”
- Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body


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