She does not respond. Teddy continues.
“True love is the way John reached for my hand every night before he fell asleep and said, ‘Time for beddy, Teddy. I love you to the moon and back.’ True love is how I’d smooth his cowlick even after he’d styled his hair. True love is the way he held doors open for people who would likely let them shut in his own face. I know true love because I had never received it in my life before John. I wish I had his capacity to forgive, but I do not and cannot. That’s what I mean by true love, Trudy. I loved every single thing about that man, but it wasn’t enough to save him, and I will live with that—and without that love—for the rest of my life, so do not talk to me about hell, because I’m already there.”
Teddy takes one unsteady step to the left, pulls his spine straight and walks away.
This time, I can feel my heart shatter in my chest, as if a stained glass window has been dropped from the heavens.
“I will not allow you to speak to my family this way, Trudy,” I say. “I invited you into our home, and with that invitation comes a requirement to respect those I love most in this world. That was below my family’s standard of respect. Do you understand?”
Trudy casts her eyes my way.
“Your family?” she asks.
“Myfamily,” I say. “That man you call your brother is more mine than yours. All of these men are my family, maybe not in blood, but in blood spilled.”
Trudy thrusts a finger at the napkin, the table, the house and, finally, me.
“You are making a mockery of God,” she says, “with this... this lifestyle, this so-called church, your lack of morals.”
“No,youare making a mockery of God with your judgment,” I say. “And this is not a lifestyle. Our sexuality was never a choice. If you believe in God, why would He create us to be imperfect? Why would He make us this way?”
“To reject it.”
I smile.
“Ah, the old playbook and double standard. Why have you not rejected a lifestyle of cruelty? Do you not think you will be judged for your lack of compassion?”
She shakes her head at me.
“Let me explain something to you. Most of my friends, including myself, tried to kill ourselves at one point in our lives because of the shame we felt, the rejection from family, the desire to love and be loved but believing we didn’t deserve it. Most importantly, we were secret keepers, Trudy, unable to share our true selves and light with the world. I cannot imagine a world—or a heaven—without these men in it. Not only would it be wrong, it would be horribly boring.”
“But—” Trudy interrupts.
“No, I want to finish.” I continue. “You believe that we desecrate God by not attending church when we have been the target of hate from organized religion for centuries. Just a blink ago, our own country dehumanized us, refused to give us equal rights, literally made it impossible for a gay man to walk into a church with our heads held high, and you thinkweare making a mockery of our faith? We should be lauded for gathering and believing in not only a higher power but also in each other. That, Trudy, is a real miracle considering all we’ve been through. That, Trudy, is true faith.”
Trudy pushes her chair back.
“Faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead,”I say. “Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by my deeds.”
“James 2:18?”
“Yes,” I say. “I listened to my father, and I listen to myFather.”
Trudy remains seated.
“One more,” I say. I spread my arms like the wings of a raven circling the mountain. “‘The righteous will flourish like a palm tree... planted in the house of the Lord.’ It is easy to have faith when life has not challenged you. But when you have been outcast, when you have nothing and no one, that is when true faith materializes.” I reach out and touch Trudy’s arm. “Why are you really here, Trudy? I’ve never seen you. I’ve never spoken to you. You’ve never called or sent a holiday card. Even after John’s death.”
Trudy looks away.
“I know why you’re here, Trudy.”
She looks back quickly, her face conveying a million emotions.
“It’s why we’re all here. It’s why we created this sanctuary for one another,” I say. “You are filled with shame, you have been rejected by family, and you doubt if you’ve ever been loved in your life and whether you’re even worthy of love, including God’s. But most importantly, Trudy, I believe your brother is right: You are a secret keeper, unable to share your true self and light with the world.”
My voice reverberates in the still of the desert, and in those vibrations I can hear the voice of my father, my mother, my shame, my pride, my faith, my family and God.
I see Trudy’s mask finally slide for a moment.
