The past days have continued to be filled with the gifts of people I never imagined would be "ok" with my coming out being "ok." Not only "ok," but thoroughly loving.
We had large numbers in church on Sunday (for us), numbers approaching our holiday numbers. And no one, evidently, was there to throw tomatoes, because I emerged entirely tomato-free. My children were there (their blog-names on my other blog are Larry and Petra, so I'll start referring to them that way here). They were, in a way, loaded for bear-- as in, "Just let someone try to say something awful, Mom--- we will SO take care of this." I advised them that our job, in the face of the appalling, was to rise above it, and their job, in particular, was to say, gently, "I know my mom would like to talk to you about it."
Turns out none of us needed to do any of that.
Worship, which started out awkward in some respects, soon gained its footing. Our opening hymn:
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for them singing, praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing fresh from the Word.
I find myself this morning musing about how odd it is that suddenly what has been utterly private, even sacredly so, is now the content of very matter-of-fact discussion with, for instance, my church board. We had a wonderful consultant on policy matters join us last night for our meeting. I tried to take it all in as the conversation ranged everywhere from things like, What is our highest calling as church leaders?, to, What is a marriage?, to, What "practices" are we talking about, precisely? All was done with great delicacy, and yet, for the first time in all this, I had a "Where is my rock, that I may crawl under it?" kind of feeling.
But best talk about it. Because, it helps with clarity. And it shows that we are ready. I appreciated one member of the body saying, really, it is our job to do what we think is right. And if anything challenging happens, then we deal with it. Amen to that, I say.
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall on the first grass.
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass.
This morning I'm struggling with profound tiredness. I don't seem to be able to get to sleep early enough, my brain won't shut down. Tonight after work Beloved and I are planning a long walk by the river. I hope that will help me to settle in.
And yet, even in the fatigue there is a peace... there is a freedom that's hard to describe. I'd thought the freedom would come at the end. My mistake. The freedom is the first thing to arrive. Thanks be to God!
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day.