Author: Gina Marie

Humanness…..and Judgment

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

Life is……complicated.  Too often I (and perhaps we) are very quick to decide how things are based on limited knowledge or even limited scenarios.  Sometimes scenarios help us to avoid things in the future, but sometimes they could create prejudices or even judgments in our hearts.

Let me give you some examples of what I am talking about.

I was raised to trust authority, to believe they may not always be right, but more often than not, those in authority knew the best and wanted to do the best for me.  About 15 years ago, I was driving in my super sexy Dodge Grand Caravan with my then husband and Kenny, who was about 6 years old.  We were driving through an intersection, had the green light, when suddenly a truck that had a red light to our right entered the intersection to turn right and ultimately t-boned us.  Thankfully, no one was injured by the damage to my sexy mini-van was bad.  We pulled over, I called the police, while the older couple in the truck remained in their vehicles.  They did not ask if we were alright, the woman/passenger in fact continued to read her newspaper as if nothing had happened.  As our son was on the side that was hit, his father became very upset at the lack of concern on their part, though I encouraged him to wait for the police and see what happens.

The police came, took our story, and then spoke to the male driver of the truck.  We still had not interacted with the other driver.  The policeman came back to me (I was the driver) and told me the other driver was a retired police officer, his account matched mine, and therefore recommended no police report be filed as “then the other driver would not have to be fined”.  I trusted the police officer, and despite the lack of concern shown by the other driver, trusted his account and word due to the fact he was also a police officer albeit retired.

Big mistake.  When all was said and done, the other drive told his insurance I ran the red light and it was 100% my fault.  I, of course, told my insurance what really happened.  Since we had no witnesses and no police report, we were each charged as 50% responsible.  The truth, however, was that he was 100% responsible.  He lied to his insurance, he lied to the police officer implying he would not dispute what happened (though he DID tell the truth to him about the events), and he changed my view of SOME police officers – more on that later.

Flash forward to last year; Deana was driving to work in downtown Atlanta and an off duty police officer driving to work decided, in his personal car, that he needed two lanes to turn into his work’s parking lot.  From the left lane, with no signal, he turned right and didn’t bother to look to see if he was clear to do so.  He wasn’t – Deana was driving to the right and just behind him and he ended up turning into her left door just inches from where she sat.  This happened right in front of the police station, so when she called someone walked out almost immediately.  Very quickly in, both the off duty officer and the officer taking the report tried to convince Deana that no police report was necessary – “I agree with what happened, it was totally my fault.” Off Duty told Deana.  “I have already called my insurance company and they will take care of this.”  His co-worker backed him up, stating he would get a ticket or points on his record if a report was filed and that there really was no need for a report.  Knowing my history, Deana called me to get my opinion, and I told her to absolutely get a report because “you never know who you’re dealing with.  Just because the guy is a police officer doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy.  Humans are humans and some humans are not honest.”  So, she insisted on a report and one was filed.

It was GOOD that the report was filed, because Off Duty never called his insurance.  Our insurance, since it was not Deana’s fault, didn’t really get involved and just said “contact the driver’s insurance.”  That insurance company didn’t dispute Deana’s claims per se, but they refused to proceed without speaking to their client.  They left him over 10 messages, but he never returned their calls.  Finally, after about a month of this, we tried to call the department he said he worked for in the police unit.  That too was a lie.  I finally got hold of someone who was kind enough in the police department who looked up where Off Duty worked and sent me to his supervisor; I left a message there and explained how this employee of the City of Atlanta was not being honorable.  In the mean time, Deana had to pay for a copy of the police report, send it to his insurance, and pretty much brow beat them to fix our car.  I am not sure which path was the fix – his boss or Deana’s Latina attitude – but we finally got the car fixed and they accepted it was 100% his fault.  But bottom line, if we had “just trusted his word” we probably would have been screwed.

So, first of all, some police officers are dishonest.  They are human and bring forward weakness and selfishness and bad decisions and perhaps even lack honor. We ALL have those attributes at times, so I have realized just because they have a badge and gun does not mean they’re above board across the board.  Fortunately for me, these two situations did not involve guns or violence.

But……..

Just like with everything else in life, these two police officers do not represent all officers.  And even though many of us SAY things like that, there is this reality that we are impacted by negative experiences more so than positive ones.  At least, that’s what I seem to see in our society.  So, when so many police shootings against blacks or aggressiveness or whatever else, my first reaction in my heart was “there is another bad cop…..so many lack honor”.  And when I put that through MY experience filter, it makes sense.  I mean, TWO TIMES I dealt with dishonorable men and that made me feel that there might be more in the force than I realized.  Pretty soon, without me realizing it, my heart was really processing it like this:  “All cops are dishonorable, and only a few truly can be trusted.”……even though I said and I thought I believed “most police are honorable”.

The increase of fear and division and violence and rhetoric in our daily lives the past year has made me so………I lack the word.  It is like I wanted to sit in a small room like a bunker and wait it out with no windows for a decade and see what might be left.  Then the shootings on police started and I was sickened.  I was in shock and cried out to God, asking why violence was so prevalent in this world – why we thought murder would make things better.  I considered some comments a friend of mine made – an officer and an honorable one – and I had no place to go but prayer.  I wanted to run, but instead the very filter I didn’t know existed was exposed.  I was ALSO a human, and I was judging.

All to say, there’s nothing wrong for “being smart”.  If you are in an accident, get a police report.  Always.  People are people.  If you have been abused, avoid the situation in the future if possible.  If you are a majority, be a force for the minority.  If you’re white in a community that has institutional racism – by citizens or officers, be vocal.  If you are straight and you witness someone in the LGBTQ community being harassed, be vocal.  If individual officers violate the law, hold them accountable.  If citizens in the community violate the law, hold them accountable.  If you are oppressed and treated differently, don’t give up, stay vocal, but avoid allowing your anger to become violent (and hear me, the shooters of police are NOT associated with Black Lives Matter just as the bad cops don’t represent the rest).  But let’s ALL take stock of our filters – let’s admit we probably all have them and possibly don’t even realize they exist, and determine to try not to apply them broadly.  Let each individual be measured on their own actions and not the actions of a few (or their skin color…..or their religion…….).  Let’s not lump all – black, white, or purple – into behaviors that are not fair.  And, if someone does that to you or you realize you have a filter that has been doing that……don’t become violent.  Don’t let hatred dwell in your heart.  Acknowledge it, change it, and move on.

Peace and thanks for reading.

Happy Birthday, Mom

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

June 17, 2016  would have been my mom’s 81st birthday – 1 month and 1 day after she flew to heaven.  I miss her, but I am so glad my memories are with me and I carry her in my heart. I DO hear her voice sometimes say to me “I still think you’re the best” when I mess up or whatever. I also know she definitely loved me even when I hid the “true Gina” so many years ago, and continued to love me when I began my journey of authenticity.  I love you Mom, and I know someday I will see you again! Thanks for loving ME, all of me. Enjoy your day celebrating in Paradise.

Silence Hurts

/ Gina Marie / 1 Comment

This is a post I made on Facebook today, and I am sharing here as well.

Warning: This is a hurtful video that I do not support, but link to substantiates my statements here, and this is a somewhat politicized post. I apologize for both, but silence does not stop the hate that is put out there. I will not be silent.

Note:  The link to Pastor Steve L. Anderson’s comments has been deleted from YouTube for violating their policy on hate speech.  I am very glad for that, because it was definitely filled with hate.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUOBFjRGvPI

Yesterday, a few comments I read and interacted with said that Christians cannot or do not hate. That there is not an agenda against homosexuals and that this was not a hate crime, but a Muslim Terrorist Attack. I personally have not heard the investigators on the Orlando mass murder state they have determined if this was a terrorist attack or a hate crime, so I cannot argue one way or another. But, this Pastor is sure it was not a hate crime against gays. He is sure the murderer was Muslim and a terrorist. But beyond that, this man who has taken the sacred place of preaching the Word of God said the murders in Orlando brought some good news – “50 sodomite pedophiles are now dead”. This man says this in the name of MY GOD. I stopped watching the video at that point, because finding good in what happened alone is egregious, hateful, and shameful.

Friends who are Christians, if you truly believe murder is something that brings “good news”, you grieve me.

Friends who are Christians, if you truly believe there is not at least a minority of Christians who hate me for no other reason but the fact I am a lesbian, and use the Word of God to justify that hate, you grieve me. This man hates me and wants me dead, or at least would be happy if I were killed, only because I am gay.

Friends who are Christians, if you can on one hand admit that you have sin in your life or at times make or have made immoral decisions, but have been saved by the Grace of Jesus Christ, and on the other hand can ALSO believe that someone else’s “moral failings” such as being homosexual opens up risk or created a situation where it makes sense that innocent people were murdered (aka, well they were at a gay bar, so if they were not gay/not in that place, they would not have been killed), you grieve me. ALL have sin and fall short of the glory of God, but any boasting I can make is because of my Lord, Jesus Christ. He does not want me murdered for any failings in my life, because He already died for them.

Friends who are Christians, if you are not upset that a man, for WHATEVER REASON, walked into a public place and murdered 50 people and injured over 50 more…….if you don’t even have a brief moment of sadness for the lives lost and all the families that lost a son, a daughter, a brother, a whatever…….you grieve me.

Friends who are Christians, if your argument is “well, MOST Christians don’t feel the same as this Pastor” and stop there, you grieve me. If you don’t stand up against this hate, you allow it to continue.

Friends who are Christians, if your FIRST thought was to worry about gun control, blame all Muslims, point to Obama as if this was his fault, you grieve me.

Friends who are Americans of any faith, our fellow Americans were murdered today. Lives were stolen and those who were killed, to my knowledge, did not break any laws to justify their death. They were not given the opportunity to be convicted of any crimes, they were deemed guilty without any review, and were sentenced to death. That is not the Aemrican way where we are innocent until proven guilty without a reasonable doubt. Those lives that were ended tragically deserve more than a quick sweep away due to the fact that they were homosexuals.

Finally, I try not to live as a victim, but the fact remains that I am condemned, ridiculed, tormented, and judged more often than you know. Sometimes it is in my FB feed through posts made by YOU. Sometimes, it is in internet posts that I come across. Sometimes it is from friends in PM. Sometimes it is from strangers in person in public places. I try to take the high road often and give others room for their own beliefs and their rights as Americans to free speech. But I will NOT, ever, accept that hate doesn’t exist. I will not sit back and say overt and articulated hate in the name of Jesus Christ is right. We are better than that. I am better than that. This hate is real, and it does nothing for us as a faith community nor as a nation.

I will be praying for Pastor Steven. And I will be praying for those who have been killed. And I will be praying for my family.

Loyalty

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

I have been in my “reconstruction” place as I navigate so many emotions and changes and memories, and what nots.  As I’ve slowly come back to “the swing of things”, I have noticed that life and struggles and emotions of others have continued without me.  I don’t mean that in “they went on without me”, I mean it in the sense of “wow, some hard stuff has been going on with people I love.”  So today, I’d like to ruminate on one of those issues.

Everyone wants and perhaps even expects loyalty from those who are in their lives.  Family, friends, even co-workers; the expectation is that they will have your back.  I know in my own walk I try to be loyal, but I am sure there are times when my definition of loyalty has not aligned with the definition of someone else.  But, I think we can all agree that there is a tacit understanding that you should be able to trust, at a certain level, people that exist in your daily life.  That expectation is much bigger for those closest to us, especially the one we love and plan to spend the rest of our life with.  And, I guess that is the basis of this post.

Being LGBT, Deana and I often deal with people who do not accept our relationship – I’ve written about this topic a few times on this blog.  There are several classes of people in this area; those that support us to our faces, but cannot be “out” to allow others to see their support, those who are very direct with their opinions but still hang with us in group settings, those who were direct with their opinions and have chosen to not be our friends, and those who are direct with their opinions and refuse to accept or allow themselves to be around the one we love.  It is the last group I will address today – this group is especially tricky when it involves family.

I have a small but powerful number of older people in my family who do not accept my marriage to Deana.  To cut to the chase, they love me and have sort of accepted the fact I am a lesbian, but they refuse to accept Deana and in fact will not accept her in their homes.  If there is a family gathering and they can control the guest list, she would not be invited.  If there is a family gathering and they cannot control the guest list, they will either not attend if Deana is there or avoid her like the plague.  For my part, this is a tough situation, because I LOVE these family members and I want to be able to fellowship with them, I want to interact with them, and I want to be loved by them.  AND I want them to love Deana.  It is TOUGH and anyone in this sort of situation I have huge sympathy for because it isn’t pleasant.

But here is the deal – I have chosen Deana.  I love her with all my heart.  I have pledged my life to her, in sickness and in health, and we have married each other (aka “become one”). She is so important to me, I have been legally and spiritually linked to her.  I esteem her so much that I live with her, I dream with her, I plan with her, and I will grow old with her.  She is my WIFE.  The Bible says that we leave our parents and cleave to the one we marry.  And I will add, whether or not you agree with same-sex marriage or accept the spiritual or even the legal link involved, I have raised Deana to a level that in all acceptable circles (especially if this was a heterosexual relationship), she is the #1 person in my life.  NUMBER ONE!

So, if I am in a situation where I am invited to a family gathering and Deana is not invited, that is an affront not only to Deana, but to ME!  We have become ONE, and yet a piece of me has been relegated to not even be esteemed enough to be invited, no matter what pretense is offered as a reason for the exclusion.  Because of that, I do not entertain the idea of going without her, because doing so adds credence to the fact that our relationship is somehow shameful.  That are relationship is deficient.  That our relationship is inferior.  And that is not fair.  Further, I love Deana so much that I would NEVER, EVER choose ANYONE over Deana, because my loyalty is to her first.  I have been invited to Christmas gatherings that I have not attended because Deana was not invited.  And believe me, that was hard, it was painful, but it was right.  Because, Deana is my family, and to leave her behind would be leaving a piece of me behind and it would be a dagger to her heart.  I would be just as guilty as my family that have overtly rejected her if I went along and played in that game.  I would reject her as well by going.

That’s not to say that visiting said family is wrong.  I love my family and I also respect their choices.  Deana understands that too and gives me room to have them in my life, and understands the importance of their place in my life and the need to interact with them.  I absolutely enjoy spending time with them, loving on them, and being with them.  But, unfortunately, there is a true line that has been drawn that I will not cross, and clearly articulated to my family members that if they do not include my wife (a piece of me) to family gatherings, I will not attend.  I absolutely respect their stance, but there is cost to them if they keep it.  Because, as much as I want to be loyal to my family, being loyal to my wife trumps that.  And I believe it should be that way.

There is a piece of me that resents this is even an issue, because 100% of the exclusion stances are related to our sexuality.  I resent that other people can be jerks and treat said family horribly, but they are welcome because they are straight.  But even in admitting that, I will always stick to being loyal to my wife first.  I pray for others who find themselves in this situation, and I truly pray that they make the right decision when dealing with it.  I have seen too many relationships torn apart because loyalty gets sideways.  And I understand the pain and struggle when you’re caught in the middle.  But try to remember, LOVE should not make you choose.  But if you have to choose, choose the one you will grow old with.  At least, that’s the way I have chosen to lead my life.  And know this, I also believe that SOMEDAY, through the Grace of God, there will be restoration to this situation.  Maybe I will write more on that later!  🙂

Rest

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

This week I received a long overdue massage, a 90 minute one in fact!  Myriad stresses have done their toll on my body, so I practically apologized to my therapist knowing he was sure to find my muscles a mess.  I had prepared mentally for the massage all day – cleaning my mind to enter into as close to relaxation as I could, focusing on the stress and knots of my muscles being released as I planned to control my breathing.  In……out…….easy…….feel the stress being released…….clear all thoughts but the feeling of my therapist’s hands press out the tension from my body.

Focus.  Relax.  Breathe.  Repeat.

It was about 45 minutes into this process, and I was feeling pretty good I might add, a thought hit me.  It seemed to come out of nowhere.  The thought was loosely based on the following verses:

Matt 11:28-30 ESV  “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

When I get a massage, I do not focus on the knots, the aches and pains, nor the stress that has wound me up.  No.  I focus instead on relaxing.  On the releasing power the therapist’s hands and the impact they have on my body.  The feeling of the cleansing breaths that I take, the feeling of the air exiting my lungs as I envisions every cell of my body getting loose and relaxed.  Of how healthy I feel.  How strong I am in the relaxed state.  Of how slowly my heart is beating as the blood begins to flow at a more effective rate throughout my body.  And as I realized that, I also realized that maybe God doesn’t want us to be these uptight followers that focus only on “being this” or “doing that”, but instead “resting in Him”!

I think we Christians focus way too much on creating a mechanism of our own efforts to make ourselves holy.  We go to church multiple times a week.  We present ourselves in such a way that we cannot be pointed at as sinners.  In fact, we separate ourselves from “sinners”, maybe avoid places like movie theaters or bars, and then we decide at some point that we are suddenly holy.  Or maybe we never feel holy and then get sad or mad or frustrated.  Maybe we get a little arrogant or self-righteous.  But through it all, the efforts are all ours.  I am NOT saying any of the efforts are bad – hear me – I just think perhaps they are the wrong things to focus on.

Instead, I think Jesus was trying to explain a few things.  I don’t know, I mean He said He fulfilled the law and covered our sins and, because of that, we are saved.  He said above that His yolk is EASY, His burden is LIGHT.  We get so busy trying to be what we think we need to be to seem acceptable to Him (or maybe the others struggling within our churches, let’s be real), that we forget to even SIT next to Jesus, let alone REST in Him!  And, as the massage and this idea rumbled quietly in my head I realized that this Truth is bigger than I anticipated.  We don’t necessarily always need to DO anything!  Sometimes we just need to  rest, and when we do we actually LEARN from Jesus.

And, when that lightbulb turned on, I thought of the last 4 visits/days I had with my Mom. Usually I am the project manager in all things; I talk to doctors, I get nurses to care for her better/faster/more diligently, I update family members and buy groceries and arrange for this and for that and whatever.  I was a bit irked with myself the last 4 visits though, because I was out of character and just stood or sat right next to my mom.  I didn’t really get ANYTHING done.  I didn’t even work remotely on my computer.  I felt WEIRD and I felt unproductive.  I almost felt worthless.  My character was so out of place.  And yet, those 4 days with my mom I will cherish FOREVER.  I said more to her in those days than I have in years.  I learned tidbits I had never heard before.  And I told her the most important things I could about how I felt for her.  When I just rested beside her, everything fell into place.  And now, weeks later, I know I will never have that time again, and it makes it all the more powerful to realize…….thank GOD I was out of character!  Action and doing are not the devil, by any means, but they are not a deity either that needs to be adored.  Take time to rest in Jesus, and to rest with those you love.  And maybe even rest when getting a 90 minute massage.  The Lord said it, not me!  🙂

Ode to my Mother

/ Gina Marie / 9 Comments

As you already know, my mother passes away on May 16th.  That transition brought her out of suffering and into the arms of Jesus – I believe that with all my heart.  And yet, I find that this process on MY side of the peace is a bit harder.  I am way more retrospective, I am sad, and of course very thankful that I was able to say what I needed to say before she went onto Glory.

Having said that, I must share without hesitation a truth about my mom, one that I have known for over 20 years, which something I didn’t hold in such regard until recently.  She was someone with tons of flaws (aren’t we all?), but in one area she was always consistent and that was in the area of unconditional love.  She never turned away a person from her home, she never added criteria to extend love to people, and she was someone who found good in everyone.  And, she saved my life.

In my mid-twenties I came to realize that no amount of prayer was going to change the fact I was attracted to women.  By this point I had been married around 5 years and Kirstie was about 3.  I had spent agonizing hours crying out to God to heal me, to change me, and nothing had happened.  I went to seminars at my church to “build my faith”, I attended women’s conferences to become more “A woman of God”, I constantly asked for prayer coverage and I certainly laid this before the Lord in all transparency and supplication.  I even saw a special “spiritual” person who was famous for their ministry of cleansing the “sins of the fathers” so that it would not carry forward into our own lives.  And yet, I felt as though I was so steeped in some sort of sin or lacked faith or was not important enough because of some failure in my life for God to heal me.

And I wanted to die.  I honestly thought being on the earth was damaging those around me the most, especially my daughter.  I felt I was doomed to hell anyway, so what would the final straw of suicide matter?

So I ran away from my life, not sure I could go through with suicide, but determined to rid the filth that my very existence from the presence of those I loved the most.  Because, at that time all I wanted was to be love by God, be whole for Him (aka, be straight), and I knew I was failing.  So I ran from my life and somehow ended up at my mom’s house.  Without saying much, other than some story about dealing with “marital issues”, my mom knew something was hugely wrong.  And she didn’t pry.  She didn’t corner me.  She just loved me.  She made me coffee.  She cooked for me.  She sat and talked to me as she smoked her Marlboro 100’s and showed me the stray cats that ended up staying with her and her roommate.  Even as I existed with these pieces of comfort, I was not peaceful – I still struggled and determined in my mind that I had to do something drastic, and all roads lacked any sort of hope.

Then one day, I remember sitting on the curb outside her house, contemplating just walking until I could not walk one step further………and she came out and sat next to me.  She didn’t say a word, she just sat there.  She smiled, I think she even touched me.  But she didn’t speak.  And before I could realize what I was doing, I said to her “Mom, I think I am gay.  No, I don’t think it, I know it.  I am gay.”

It felt good to get it out, to say the words, because at that moment what I was looking for was to have someone outside of myself validate the fact that I was this horrible, shameful thing that needed to disappear.  I needed that one push to get me from this stagnant uncertainty of despair and get me to action.

I remember Mom not reacting.  Her fact didn’t change.  She looked at me and said, “Okay.”  I waited, I am not sure how long, and then she said, “You are Gina.  When you were just a small baby, you hated dresses with ruffles and frills.  You would cry until I changed you.  You were so different from your sister in that way, you wanted plain and functional dresses to wear.  So I dressed you differently.  You always loves playing outside and were so athletic, you still are, and you even taught yourself to ride a bike without anyone’s help.  You have always stood up for the underdog, even if the bully was twice as big as you were – remember that time that boy punched you in the mouth when you were protecting your brother? –  and you always like to sit and talk to Grandma and other people who are older than you are.  Not many young people like that.  You are a wonderful mother and a wonderful daughter and I am so proud of you.  I can understand that you might think it is bad that you’re gay, that it changes you somehow.  But I don’t think that is the case.  You are Gina.  You are my daughter.  You are so many things that are wonderful.  Nothing you can say will change any of those things.  I love you.  I will always love you.”

I remember staring out to the street, replaying those words through my head for several minutes, trying to calibrate what had just happened.  I was a bit mad at first, thinking even in my expectation of her reaction, I was way off base.  But as the words replayed over and over, I understood what my mom was trying to say.  That it was okay.  That I was okay.  That maybe I was not an abomination.  That even if I was gay, I was still something that could be loved.  That should be loved.  That there were pieces of me that brought value to the world, that not everything was measured against my sexuality.  That she wasn’t going anywhere, even after I told her the horrible truth, and that in itself made me thunderstruck.

I honestly don’t remember what I said back to her.  The days after that moment are somewhat of a blur to me.  My life was still kind of a mess and it still took me almost 10 years to tell others I was gay and 15 for me to come out and accept it truly for myself.  But in that moment, for the first time since I was about 13, I stopped hating myself.  I stopped wanting to end or damage myself.  I stopped feeling as though God hated me.  I still prayed that He would heal me, but I didn’t picture His angry face and pointed fist directed at me.  And it all started with my mom, who I knew LOVED ME, period.  I am so thankful that she gave me life, twice, and taught me in not only word but in deed how to love unconditionally.  I am sorry that it took me so long to share this memory with others, though I am glad she knew what a huge impact it has had on my life.  I love you, Mom.

Jan

/ Gina Marie / 4 Comments

My mom.  She was many things.  She hated the name “Janice”.  She loved her kids and grandkids so much – we are her legacy.  She was an artist, and now I appreciate her paintings more than I can explain.  She used to blot her lipstick on envelopes, pieces of paper, junk mail……her lip imprints could be found anywhere.  She used to drive like Mario Andretti, though I was never scared.  She was an amazing dancer back in the day.  Some songs would make her cry even if she wasn’t sad.  She always had long fingernails, and they were super strong.  My Dad never called her by her name, at least where I could hear, but instead called her “babe”, “honey”, etc.  She had friends from all walks of life, from tons of different races, and made equality a way of life not a byword.  Okay, so she met my Dad in a bar when he was in the Navy, and may have been nine years older than he was, but hey she was smoking hot and had pull.  She was a real estate agent for over 20 years and her clients became family; most were repeat customers multiple times.  She was not afraid to stand up to anyone, especially when someone was being a bully to someone weaker/smaller.

IMG_7687

She had an amazing laugh.  One look would shut up 100% of her kids – no yelling needed.  She loved to play the slots in Las Vegas or Laughlin.  She was an amazing cook, and as an Italian always made way too much food.  She was generous to a fault.  She was 5′ 3 1/2″ most of her life – and yes she always said the “and a half” part.  She was pretty witty for most of her life.  She could be awfully scary too (remember, she was Italian)!  She was an imperfect soul that I loved immensly.

Janice “Jan” Lorraine Gates Fakelmann Minard.  You will be missed and will remain forever in our hearts.

Reflection of Life

/ Gina Marie / 1 Comment

Those who have known me for a while know I had some rough times relating to my mom over the course of my youth.  Her being bipolar has had a lot to do with that, and reality is – we all have some form of dysfunction in our lives.  None of us are perfect.  Yet, if you’ve known me more than a week, you also know I often tell people I’ve had a pretty amazing life, my childhood was pretty legit, and I am pretty proud of the person I have grown up to be.  (Okay, so I am still pretty immature, but that’s besides the point.)

I am currently in the ICU ward of a Southern California hospital, my mother having been moved back here a few hours ago.  Right now she’s resting well, is under wonderful care, though due to that care it is difficult for her to communicate with us.  She has a face mask on and it’s pretty much impossible to hear anything she has to say.  Add that her voice is still recovering from the breathing tube that was only removed a few days ago, and well……the only real thing we can understand is her nodding yes or no.  Yet her eyes are so expressive, I could sit hours just gazing into them, reassuring her of my love, that she’s been a wonderful mother, that she’s doing a great job, and the like.  But, as she rests I thought I’d write some thoughts, as that is my therapy as I fight to stay strong but would rather fall in a messy heap and sob my heart out.

So, whether or not I struggled with my mom, no matter if there were times when I was not sure I could deal with her…….every negative thing I might have easily conjured up in the past lays silent as my mind and heart are overwhelmed with love and appreciation for her.

When I was about 6, my mom and I went grocery shopping.  I am not sure but I think we had guests; maybe my Grandma Minard was visiting or maybe it was someone else.  But we were there and we were buying items.  At the checkout I asked for a candy bar, which I usually didn’t do and by the way…..we hardly EVER had candy on the regular.  That was for special occasions.  Anyway, my mom said yes and I was shocked, EXCITED even!  But then I remember her getting really upset (not at me) and things being moved around and my mom acting weird.  But I didn’t understand it at all though I sure did enjoy that Snickers!  Come to find out later, as my Dad pulled me aside, and asked me to not ask for candy again.  He explained that my mom didn’t have enough cash for all the things we had to buy and that it was hard when she had to put things back.  I didn’t appreciate that as much when I was six, but as an adult who once upon a time had similar situations occur, I have to give my mom props for saying YES to the candy, and then letting me keep it even though she had to put back groceries.  I am sure the candy bar was not the tipping point, but you get what I am saying.

I was in a musical in kindergarten – I played the triangle BOOM – and my mother told me she would not be able to attend.  I was sad, because even back then I was extroverted and wanted nothing more than for my mom to see me rock the triangle.  I will always, ALWAYS remember the moment I hit the side of the instrument, looked up, and there was my mom standing in the back row!!!!!!  That filled my heart with happiness..

I have more to share, and I expect to do so in the coming days, but the truth of the matter is this – my mom did the very best she could.  While she may have made mistakes or regretting doing (or not doing) some things, that doesn’t matter.  And when I sat with her yesterday, all she could do was struggle to get the words formed in her mind and tell me what was heavy on her heart.  She didn’t let her confusion or her recovering vocal cords or her health get in her way.

Mom:  you are well liked

Gina:  thanks mom

Mom:  no, no (pause as she thought of the words) you are well loved

Gina:  awwww mom, thank you I love you too

Mom:  that’s it.  I love you.  I love you.  I love you.

And that, my friends, is all that really matters.  Love, and knowing when to share it.  And really, it should be shared always.

 

 

 

 

lgbT

/ Gina Marie / Leave a comment

The latest hot topic regarding transgenders and bathrooms has created a lot of political and media fodder.  It is NOT my intention to discuss this topic nor debate it, but the fact remains – because of this new focus by many, new questions have been raised with me and Deana.  These have NOT been mean natured, judgmental, or within the “bathroom” realm of questioning.  Instead, people who have never really considered the “T” in LGBT have begun to seek to understand.  This is always a good thing and we welcome and applaud the idea.  However, it also opens up the need to clarify a few things – and that is the basis of this post.

First, let me get the harder part out of the way, and this is not so much because people have asked us this, but because it seems to be a prevalent correlation when the topic of LGBT comes up in general; just because someone is LGBT, does NOT mean they are a pedophile.  While I am sure there HAVE been occasions where a pedophile is gay, I believe statistically there are more straight pedophiles abusing children, based on the fact there are more heterosexuals in our population.  So pedophilia is NOT a lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgendered issue – it is a societal issue.  (See this medical research for info on that, so you know I am not just spouting my views).

Now, for more interesting questions.  We have been pleased that many of our friends have been researching transgender information and trying to understand people who identify as transgender.  I will be the first to tell you, I have walked down the same path of inquisition.  We have a few very close friends who are transgender, some we only knew as the gender they identify with, and some as they transferred to their identified gender.  In both cases, I can’t tell you honestly that I wasn’t just as confused as you may be.  I mean, just because I am a lesbian doesn’t mean I totally understand what these children of God are going through.  And that is the first question I’d like to address in detail – Deana and I are NOT Transgender; we both identify as women and we both feel attraction towards women.  Of the two of us, I am definitely more androgynous and am more drawn to things that society has deemed more “male” in nature.  I like baseball caps, sports, cargo shorts, etc.  Sometimes, the clothes I wear were made for men, but not because I want to be a MAN, but because the style fits me better.  However, the majority of my clothes were made for women.  When my kids were younger and Mother’s Day was approaching, I’d get so irritated that the mothers were given a “tea” at school while the dads got to play in a tennis match.  I am not much of a “tea” person EXCEPT when I am in England and then look out, I am totally down for finger sandwiches, crumpets, and the like.  I really don’t like to shop nor do I prefer to wear frilly clothes that flow and swish.  But really, there are MANY women, even straight women, who are similar to me.  Deana, well she fits the more feminine mold for sure, likes to wear platform shoes and long necklaces, but can play basketball with the best of them and can intimidate others with her hispanic attitude…..and that’s okay too.  But neither of us wants to be male.  I enjoy many things that society has labeled as “female”, and pretty much I have always felt female.  Neither of us have any desire to change that.  That’s NOT to say we’ve not had those theoretical conversations where we’d say “it would have been SO MUCH easier if one of us was a man”.  But that’s a different topic.

So, that leads to the “B” in LGBT, signifying bisexual.  While it is not my intent to get too graphic on this site, nor do I want to expose details that should remain private, I often get asked if I am bisexual given I was married for 16 years to a man.  I feel it would be unfair to ignore this question.  I loved my husband and never felt an aversion to being a wife to him.  My goal, when we were married, was to be straight and to be healed of my attraction to women – it was never my intention to allow my attraction to women to develop further than the secret pull that was within me.  Other posts have shared some of the struggle I went through during this period of my life, so I won’t go too deep here.  But, I want to be clear – my heterosexual marriage was not torture for me.  HOWEVER,  I was conforming to what I felt society, my church, my family, my everything was demanding I be – a heterosexual woman.  After spending my entire post-puberty life (and 16 years with my husband), I knew I was lying.  That began my present journey that ultimately lead to meeting and marrying Deana, whom I’ve been with for 13 years.  So, despite my marriage to my ex-husband, I do not identify as bisexual.  I identify as a lesbian; I am attracted to women and feel completely fulfilled within my marriage with Deana.

Now to “G”, signifying gay.  In general terms, gay is associated with homosexual males, whereas “L” is associated with homosexual females (or lesbians).  You will see I sometimes use “gay” to describe myself.  I have shared the technical definitions, though in my own life, lesbian and gay are used interchangeably.

Now to “T”, transgender.  This is someone who identifies with a gender that does not correspond to their biological gender.  And, let me start by saying……..that’s hard for me to understand.  As someone who has always felt and liked being a female, it is hard for me to truly absorb feeling differently.  (Wait…..disclaimer…..I resented that I could not go topless on a hot day when I was about 8.  My brothers were allowed to “because they were boys” and that did tick me off.  Ha.)  It seems “weird” for me to consider feeling like a man when I was born a woman.  But, in a small way, I can see aspects of it in my life.  I mean, when I was little I resonated more with my male friends, wanting to play with hot wheels and throw a football.  I NEVER wanted to play dress up, put on makeup, etc.  And I knew, without anyone telling me anything, that I was “weird” and shouldn’t probably act that way.  How much more would the pressure be if my very MIND told me day in and day out that my body was totally wrong?  What if, as I began going through puberty, the breasts that began to develop was a significant affront to the fact I felt like a man?  (Which, side note, had I been born transgender this would not have been an issue since I was Olive Oil until after I had Kirstie!  🙂 )  In any regard, I don’t understand why people are transgender, really I don’t.  I have just as many questions as you probably do.  But I do know this – those I know and love are honorable people.  They struggle and pray and cry out to God, and they are humans and have feelings.  Not one of the transgender people I know have changed their mind, thinking “Oh shoot, I am really female (or male) after all!”.  Every one of them truly wishes they were born with the correct biological bodies so they didn’t have to struggle to align what they feel inside with what shows outside.  And every one of them feel whole now that they have started or completed their transition.  And, every single one of them are Christian.  That’s not to say ALL are Christian in the transgender community, but neither are those in the heterosexual community.  And I feel compelled to share – for those of you who are Christian, Christ calls you to love EVERYONE, even your enemies……even transgender people.  And many times, you may not even realize the person you are interacting with IS transgendered!  And that is the truth.

So, all that to say, Deana and I are not experts on transgenders.  We probably have more acceptance for them than many do.  We still shop at Target, and again……I don’t really like to shop so I guess I am stepping outside of my comfort zone to “take a stand” for those who were thrown into the limelight and I am not even sure WHY they are there.  I encourage you ALL to “seek to understand”, as Mr. Covey tried to teach us with his “7 Habits of Highly Successful People”.  Sometimes, seeking is the most important part of this thing called life.