When the underdog triumphs

There are times in everyone’s life when things don’t go the way we plan or it feels like an unfair hand has been dealt to us.  I firmly believe that what you choose to do with that hand defines you as a person.  Not forever, but certainly for that hand.  If you lose a bad hand, or a thousand bad hands, you will most likely get another bad hand with which you can make something good happen.  Then there are people that can make bad things happen with really good hands.  This is why you won’t ever see me play poker.  But that’s for another day.

A couple years ago, a friend came into my life who had been dealt more bad hands than usual.  Sometimes she couldn’t make anything good out of the situation, and sometimes she could.  When I first met her, some really bad shit had gone down and I would guess she was at one of her lowest points.  I have had the amazingly fortunate luck of watching her take that shit hand and start to turn it into something awesome.

One of the ways she has learned to make something good out of life, is by playing the guitar.  This is how she keeps moving forward and how she builds herself up in order to no longer be the underdog.

I am very proud of her.

Using religion to judge

We will start with some background information.  I am Lutheran, ELCA to be exact. Most of my family is Lutheran.  If you are not sure what ELCA means, it is the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America.  We are sometimes called the liberal Lutherans, although every member of my extended family is Republican.  We have allowed women to be pastors for quite some time, and a few years ago, the church did a study and decided to allow openly gay and lesbian individuals to be pastors also.

After the “sexuality study”, as it was called, was finished and the decision to allow openly gay and lesbian pastors was passed, many congregations left the ELCA.  Although many of them probably have clothing cut from different material (a complete assumption on my part since I am in no way familiar with all the people who left the ELCA), they felt that accepting gays and lesbians was going too far.  My mother’s cousin actually belonged to one congregation who left.  Another congregation was strongly urged by one member to leave.  The person was a close family friend and someone I looked up my whole life.  Upon hearing about her judgment in the name of religion and her call to action, I felt compelled to write her a letter.

Two years later, I still had not written that letter.  The rejection I felt from this friend was intense.  I didn’t understand how someone who believes that God sent his son to sit and eat with the prostitutes, to show compassion and mercy to everyone he met, could use that same God to exile people like me. Last Sunday, the word finally came to me.  For the hour I sat in the pew, I thought of little else than my life-long friend.  I even shed a few tears.  After the service I bolted (skipping the food, which is very important to Lutherans in these parts), and started writing the following letter; it was mailed the same day.  (Please note my friend’s name has been removed and the name of the town has been changed.)

Dear friend,

I sat in church this morning and shed tears thinking about and missing you.  Do you remember giving me a hug on the day of your father’s funeral?  I had been married only a few months and you asked me how things were.  I said “okay”.  You jumped back from me, threw your arms in the air and said, “only okay, you should be saying great”.  I have thought about that moment a lot over the past eight years.  How could you, while saying goodbye to your father, tell me, with such joy on your face, that marriage should be great?

I have always looked up to you.  When going to a gathering, I would always want to know if you were going to be there.  I would search for you when attending church in Tinytown; just for a chance to get one of your amazing hugs.  Long before my grandma married your dad, you were a part of my family.  That is saying a lot from a person who never really felt like they belonged anywhere.  But now I feel that you have exited my life and I miss you.

I have been thinking about writing this letter for well over a year, and sitting in church this morning I knew I had to go directly home to start writing it.  I have found that love you alluded to on the day of your father’s funeral.  Each day I wake up more in love than the day before.  I know that I am respected and cherished and not taken for granted.  I did not know that being in love and marriage could fill my heart so full that it feels like it will burst.  And knowing the whole time that if it does burst, it’s okay because she will pick up the pieces.  Friend, at the same time I was finding this wonderful love, you were leaving my life.  I am hurt that you would try to turn an entire church against me.  A church that has housed the faith of my family for decades.

For you see, Friend, I am gay.  I always have been.  It was not a choice by me, but by God.  I did not want to be this way and spent many years trying not to be.  I tried to have a “traditional” marriage.  It wasn’t right.  I did not want to put myself, and especially my family, through the ostracism and judgment that comes from people who know nothing about being gay.  However, through my journey of accepting myself and being accepted by my family, I have developed a closer relationship to God.  I am able to see the side of Him that sent His son to be with the beggars.

I am not writing this letter as an end to our friendship.  I hope it will be a beginning to a renewed friendship.  One in which the line of communication is open for us to learn from each other.  You will always be a part of my family.

Love always,

Natalie