The Day I Met Grace

Many of you may not know this, but my family and I moved to North Carolina in late May.  While the move has been a positive one, it took place when – for lack of better words – this country has been in a mess of turmoil.  Racism, political polarization, social media bullying, and religious noise seemed to be the norm……and for me, it meant my personal life and attitude was being hugely impacted negatively.  Day in and day out it was becoming harder to find something positive to focus on, and for me that meant despondency was my first and strongest thought on most days.

de·spond·en·cy
dəˈspändənsē/
noun
  1. a state of low spirits caused by loss of hope or courage.

I pretty much had lost hope and did not demonstrate much courage in my life.  Day in and day out.  It sucked.

While this was happening, something else was occurring as well.  For, on each drive from my new home to work, on the corner of Midway School Road and Thomas School Road, a black woman stood each morning waving to passing cars.  As she waved, her face was alive with the brightest and most sincere smile I had seen in quite some time.  At first, my reaction was to think, “gah, that woman is crazy.  Doesn’t she know how screwed up we humans are?  Her mornings would be better spent somewhere else.”  But as each day passed, and no matter if I passed at 7am or 8:45am, she’d be out there waving and smiling brightly to each and every vehicle that passed.  Her arm would be raised high and with confidence, as if attempting to throw out the joy that was so evident on her face.

This daily event was “no big deal” to me, at least I convinced myself of that fact at first.  She was just doing something that made no sense, and while my attitude moved from the idea of her being crazy to more like apathy towards her actions, I could not shake her beaming, smiling face.  The only time I would not see it would be on rainy days, and when that would happen I realized I would actually feel disappointment.  Maybe even concern……I wondered if she was okay……until I realized she never came out if it rained.  And slowly, with each passing day, I realized I was trying to smile at others more as the residue of her smile seemed often to be reverberating in my own mind.  “Gosh, that smile is contagious…….maybe I should wear one once in a while, too……”

The truth is, my friends, after weeks and weeks of passing this person, I had to acknowledge something – she was changing my life.  Day after day, she was sending love to me in a world where hate seemed to reign.  No matter her religion, her social standing, her race, her gender, her sexuality, or her political affiliation, she waved and smiled and connected with strangers all morning long.  She connected with ME.  Sincerely.  Physically.  Consistently.  She seemed to care SO MUCH about this, she invested hours each non-rain morning spreading this message with no expectation of return.  And it was working out a miracle in my heart and thoughts.

When I finally formed these realizations in my own mind, I was shocked.  And, in that shock, a flicker of hope sparked in the depths of my soul……and it felt good.  Courage began to spread deep in my gut and I could not contain it.  I felt energized for the first time in months in a way that reminded me of the Gina that used to exist; one that knew it was okay to believe in a future that was not all bad.

So, the next day I decided I had to meet this person “for real”.  When I got to that corner, I pulled over, shut my car off, and began to walk toward the woman that initiated this change in me.  As I got closer, almost feeling the power of her smile as cars passed by, I was surprised to see she was much older than I had expected.  Her raised arm was so feeble and aged, I was surprised it could sustain the hours of waving it accomplished everyday.  She was also tiny, MUCH smaller than she appeared as I flew by her day after day.  I started to feel a bit nervous as I took each step, something my extroverted personality rarely feels, and also careful not to scare her.  I quickly introduced myself and as she turned her gaze to me, she shook my hand and said, “Hello, I am Grace.”

grace
ɡrās/
noun
          1.
          simple elegance or refinement of movement.
         2.
         (in Christian belief) the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings.

 

To be continued……….

Processing the Hurt

Deana and I laugh sometimes – we have, I don’t know, four thousand anniversaries.  No joke.  The day we “got together” (aka, professed our love), the day I asked her to marry me, the day we became domestic partners, the day we reunited after a small break, the day she asked me to marry her, the day we held a Commitment Ceremony, and the day we legally married.  Well, I wrote that but I am sure I am missing at least 10 more…..but you get the drift.  Some of these dates we absolutely celebrate, others we mention and maybe stop to hug one another, and some we sometimes miss entirely and laugh when we realize it.

Ah, but I digress…….

In November 2009, after years of being “in the closet” as a couple, we stood in front of family and friends and committed our lives to each other.  Our children were in the ceremony, Deana’s Mother and most of her siblings attended, as well as tons more family and friends.  It was an amazing day and an amazing night, it was foundational to so many aspects of our relationship just as a wedding would have been, and it warms my heart just thinking about it.  As a side note, we legally married in a courthouse in New York in December 2011 as well.  Boom!

But here is the thing – in the past, when I’d think of our Commitment Ceremony, there was always a residue because of those who were not there.  Not people who couldn’t make it due to distance, health, or other issues, no……the residue was related to those who chose not to be there.  Those who said they loved us, but didn’t believe in our lifestyle choice.  Those who said – in love and in whatever other adjective you can insert – that they believed we were walking in sin or at least outside of the will of God.  And, in all transparency, THIS residue covered everything for me.  I could look at videos or pictures, reminisce about some great times……but always this piece would touch every inch of happiness like an oil slick on the ocean.  It hurt me, and even with the super jolt of joy I would feel and when I’d consider how grand my life has been because of my wife……I would be this hurt person that always – always – ended up hurt.

Some people like being a victim, actually get energized by processing negative emotions.  I suppose I can be a drama queen, I am Italian after all, but I can’t say I am energized by it.  In fact, I prefer to find resolution, to implement peace and solutions and change and love and……..hurt messes that up.  Yet, I was the one who seemed to live there in key areas of my life, especially my very important relationship with Deana.

So, today I was reading an open letter a gay man posted online to his parents.  His parents had refused to attend his wedding three years ago.  I only read the beginning, because it was so filled with hurt and feelings of rejection that I reacted strongly to it.  I know you must imagine I resonated with it, and if you do I don’t blame you.  Actually, I stopped reading and immediately prayed that this man’s hurt be covered, washed away, so that he can feel the peace that Deana and I felt.  As I was doing that, I seriously stopped dead in my tracks (picture a cartoon character shaking their head violently as if to say “what the heck?!?!!?!”), and said out loud “What are you talking about?  PEACE???”

But it’s true, I have felt peace towards those close friends and family who overtly or nicely rejected our relationship.  And I hadn’t even realized it until today.  That’s not to say there is reconciliation; oh no, there are still some who refuse to see Deana or who will not add us to FB or send veiled “we are praying for you” notes that we are sure imply they are praying we each somehow find a good man to love and marry.  But I do mean that, more often than not, when I think of these people my heart melts with love for them.  I find reasons to extend empathy to them…..maybe they are too old to understand the whole LGBT thing, or maybe they don’t mean to reject us per se but they sincerely believe we are doing wrong, or whatever.  And, truly the shock of all shocks, I enjoy seeing them when I can and love interacting with them EVEN THOUGH they are missing out being around some pretty amazing people in my life.  As a byproduct, those who HAVE decided to be part of our life and all the many related memories of our interactions BLESS ME and no longer have the residual hurt that once was everywhere.  The old memories and new memories are free and clear and bring amazing joy to our hearts.  Today, realizing all of this, I was just amazed and needed to share with you, my 2.78 readers.

You see, Deana and I are not activists, though we realize some assume we are just because we are lesbians.  But we truly don’t live to convince anyone to believe what we believe.  Everyone wants to be accepted I suppose, or at least not rejected by the ones they love, but Deana and I don’t really have axes to grind.  However, today’s revelation made me see with my heart that all things DO work together for good for those who love God (my bad paraphrase of Romans 8:28).  And, I’m reminded that – had I or Deana gotten in the faces of those who we saw as rejecting us – I am pretty sure we would not have any relationship with them at all.  And these are people that we love and want a relationship with, not random people who leave anonymous packages of condemnation in our mailboxes.  But, most importantly, I thank the Good Lord that he has removed the hurt that I held so long towards those I love and pray that others can find this peace in their own lives.

For those in the LGBT Community who have been rejected by family and friends, please don’t lose heart.  I GET IT.  I KNOW how it feels!  “It gets better” is not just a catch phrase.  Feel free to reach out to me if you need to vent, have questions, or need to know more about how God truly loves you.  There IS a way to process the hurt, I promise.

Oh and Deana, Happy Anniversary Babe!  🙂