I looked at Jed and spoke quietly. “What do you think?”
He smiled at me. “I think you don’t have to decide right now. I won’t think less of you or blame you if you decide not to do it, not after what we have already been through.” He rested his palm on my cheek. “But, if you do decide to see it through, I will support you every step of the way, and you will not have to go through any of it alone.”
I searched his eyes, trying to find the answer, soaking in the love and confidence I found there.
After a few moments, I looked away from him and found Tyler. “I’ll do it.”
Twenty-Seven
Wednesdaywas one of the most nerve-wracking days of my life. Jed left for Nevada early that morning for his first day teaching at Cottey College. Donnie had to work at Iris’s shop most of the day. Apparently, the front door wasn’t locking to her liking. Maudra was out visiting some friends at the nursing home before taking flowers to Sister Heinz’s grave. I wasn’t ready to see Rose again, especially not today.
By the time six o’clock rolled around, I had taken three baths, both to help me calm down and because I couldn’t quit sweating. Donnie told me to dress casual, so I put on my faithful blue jeans and black T-shirt.
I sat in the back of the youth room while Donnie started the youth service and the praise band led the students in worship.
Tyler, Donnie, and I had talked the day before about how the service should go. I didn’t want to do any more than meet the kids and let them know I would be helping Donnie out. Both Tyler and Donnie felt I needed to lay everything out on the table and give the kids my testimony. Their logic was sound. If I didn’t address all the facts up front, it would lead to more gossip. It wasn’t as if many of them wouldn’t know who I was or would be ignorant of the fact I had moved back home with myhusband. According to Donnie, however, there were many kids who attended the youth group who were not connected to the church. He said the youth group had a strong core of youth leaders, one of which was Darwin, who had made outreach and getting their friends to attend youth group one oftheir main goals. They had been successful. Those kids whose families didn’t go to church wouldn’t know who I was, at least until their friends told them after the service.
The youth building was fairly spectacular. The group met in a refurbished barn that was out on Airport Road, several miles out of town. One of the wealthy families had donated the barn on their land and renovated it. There was a room with old arcade games, a pool table, and a lounge room with beanbags and a wide-screen TV. The kids had decorated the entire building, a wild mix between neon colors and gothic tagging. It was a teenager’s dream hangout. When Donnie had shown it to me the first time, I was jealous we hadn’t had anything like this when we were in high school.
After a few announcements of what the youth group team was planning for the upcoming year, Donnie announced there was going to be a new leader helping him out. He bragged me up to a ridiculous degree, playing up the fact that I was his cousin and that we had grown up together, and making a bigger deal than it really was of my time working in the residential treatment center. This did seem to impress the kids, especially the boys. I could hear several comments and admiring sounds coming from the room.
All too soon, I was in front of the kids, the roots of my hair damp with sweat. I’m not sure how I started. I wouldn’t even bet I spoke English for the first couple of minutes. I’m sure I blabbered about how excited I was to be back in my hometown (some lies need to be said) and how I was looking forward to meeting all the kids, but most of the first part of my talk was a blur.
I had decided to make my testimony section succinct and open it up for questions at the end. I looked around atthe seventy or eighty kids filling the room and took a breath and said a silent prayer for strength. As soon as I started speaking again, it felt like my prayer had been answered. I was calmer, and I just spoke. It felt natural to be in front of kids again.
“I thought we would keep things brief this evening. Donnie just wanted us to have a chance to get to know each other. So, there is no lesson tonight. I am going to give my testimony so you can know who I am, and then we will just hang out for the rest of the night.” I glanced over at the arcade room. “I’m looking forward to playing Ms. Pac-Man. I’m blown away at what an amazing youth building you guys have. I’m jealous. I might have to move in here.” Thankfully, they were nice enough to know I was trying to be funny and laughed supportively.
“Let me start with this. Growing up is hard. For everyone, no matter what family you come from, no matter what situations or struggles you have. I don’t know what all of your circumstances are and what things are hard for you, but I would love a chance to listen to each of your stories in the next few weeks. That will be the focus of my testimony tonight, struggle.
“I believe that is where we learn who God truly is, in our struggles, in our hurt. Sometimes, life causes us to turn to Him because we are hurting so much. Sometimes, it is our belief in God that causes us to hurt. For me, I think that is more my story.”
I took another deep breath and looked around the room. My eyes fell on Donnie, and he smiled his bright, encouraging smile and gave me a cheesy thumbs-up. “I’m sure some of you know, and some of you may be surprised by what I am about to talk about next. I want to give a disclaimer before I start. This will not be what I focus onwhen Donnie and I prepare talks for our youth nights. I don’t intend to bring it up, actually, unless some of you have questions or concerns. The reason I tell you now is so we can build our relationship together on honesty and so you have an idea of where I am coming from.”
I could tell from some of the looks on the kids’ faces that they knew exactly what I was going to say next, as they looked at each other with expressions of, “I can’t believe he’s actually going to say it.” Others leaned forward, probably expecting to hear how I got into a gang when I moved to the big city or became addicted to drugs and alcohol. “I’m gay. In fact, my husband moved back here with me. He’s a professor at Cottey College.” I paused. Most eyes were wide, as if they couldn’t believe they were hearing this in their youth service. A few eyes were narrowed in distrust or judgment.
“That has been my struggle. At first to not let anyone find out and try to overcome it and be straight. Then the struggle became accepting that I was gay and trying to discover if God still loved me, and whether I was going to go to Heaven or Hell.
“Like some of you, my mother didn’t go to church, but Donnie’s family always took me, so I grew up learning the Bible and being taught what was right and wrong. One of the things everyone said was wrong was homosexuality. It was a sin. A sin that would separate you from God. A sin that made you unnatural, vile, evil. I believed that through my early twenties. In turn, I believed I was unnatural, vile, evil, wrong.
“I am willing to bet nearly all of you know that feeling, at least to some degree.” I saw a few of the boys jerk their heads back in a shake of defiance. I rushed ahead. “I don’t mean you know the feeling of being gay,but that you know the feeling of not feeling good enough, that you are somehow broken. That God doesn’t really love you, that He can’t because something in your life is wrong.
“I could go on for hours and hours about different things I have tried to do to earn God’s love, to prove I was good enough for His forgiveness. I could tell you how I came to believe that this specific struggle is not a sin like I was taught. I could try to justify my life to you. I’m not going to. That’s not why I am here.
“The reason I tell you this, and the one thing I want to impart to you through our time working together, is this: God is bigger than you have been told, bigger than I can imagine. God wants you, desperately. He wants your imperfection, or insecurities, the things you want to change about yourself or make you feel you’re not worthy of His love. He wants all of you. Things aren’t as black-and-white in this life as we sometimes wish they would be. A simple yes and no are always easier to understand. God isn’t a yes or no God. He isn’t a paint-by-number picture you can hang on your wall. The truly wonderful news? Neither are you, and He doesn’t want you to be.”
I paused again and looked around the room, meeting as many eyes as I could. “Thanks for listening to me and sharing your time with me. If you have any questions, you may ask them now. If you aren’t comfortable speaking up, you can ask me after the service or anytime during the week. Donnie and I are hoping to be able to spend a lot more time with you all outside of the church walls. Or the barn walls, as the case may be.” I found Donnie again. “Would you close us in prayer, please?”
He joined me in the front. “Before we do that, are there any questions you would like to ask in front of everyone else before we move on? As my teachers always said, if you have a question, there are probably at least five more people with the same question.”
We waited for an eternity. From the squirming that was going on, I wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable. Finally, a heavyset girl with long blond hair raised her hand.
“Yes, Alyson?” Donnie pointed to her.
Her voice was so soft I barely made out her words. “So, you don’t think you’re going to Hell even though you’re gay?”
I could tell from her expression she wasn’t being hostile; she was genuinely asking. “No, Alyson, I don’t. I am surer of my relationship with God than I ever was before. I’m not perfect, and there are things I am still working on to be more Christlike, but I am confident in my relationship with Him.”
She started to say more, but then just nodded.
