Most people who know me know that I will live and die by my faith. I would never call myself a “religious” person, but I would definitely say I am spiritual. I know that there is a higher power at work in my life and He doesn’t mess around. If I question or test Him, rest assured, He will show me who’s boss.
These days, I have several people looking for a “boss” promotion of sorts in my orbit.
I say this because I am been inundated by my Christian “friends” offering everthing from their opinion on my life to saving my eternal soul. From their view on politics (I am quite the Liberal) to their view on my life…
oh, did I mention they offer their opinion on my life? didn’t mean to be redundant. actually I did.
Folks, I am gay. Gay.Gay.Gay. Get it?
Folks, I am fluffy. Have been for twenty years…and I am ok with it.
Folks, I am divorced, I have two mouthy kids. I love them. Most.days.
No, you aren’t going to convince me I am wrong, I am broken, I need fixing or I need the Lord. Simply because:
(1) I have been wrong before, it’s marked on a calendar and I am SURE Kris (Just Kris) will never let me forget the day I was wrong.
(2) I am not broken. I am fluffy. Fluffy and broken are not the same thing. As a human, I am damaged. We all are. It’s part of the Human Experience. If you say you aren’t damaged, then you are a cyborg and well, now I’m scared.
(3) I don’t need to be fixed. I like me. Flaws and all. It makes me who I am, my history. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been there.
(4) I would GUARANTEE you that I have the Lord in my life. That I have my faith, securely next to me, on me, within me. I walk WITH Him, IN His shadow and FOR Him. Rest assured, any time I NEED Him, I call on Him and He is right there. My faith cup runneth over and that is truly the best explanation I have.
What I need from these “friends” is to lighten up. To have a sense of humor about this Human Condition. Life is meant to be lived, to be experienced, not fought over. Not something you can look at and say “it would only be better if that person would join the circus/Army/Republican Party.
Folks….my friends are my friends unconditionally. You don’t have to like all my friends, it makes parties easier, but you truly don’t have to be friends with Bob or MaryBeth. But at my house, you should really try to be pleasant. You don’t care to socialize with them outside of a pool party at mi casa…great…but leave me out of the middle of your drama. Cause I will be friends with who I choose to. Not who you choose for me. mmmkay?
Folks, you don’t have to like my politics. They are mine. I don’t post my political leanings on my Facebook status update (that’s what this here blog is for!) and I am really sorry if you don’t like the President…I didn’t really like the last one.
Folks, gay. Me. Again, we will go over the “Stephanie is Gay Lesson.” No, I don’t believe I was born this way. I CHOSE to be this way. Shock!!!! It’s no more shocking to be born gay than straight. I prefer when asked “Were you born gay?” To answer with “No, I was born a girl. The gay came later.”
Yes, I chose to love a girl. I had tried the boy route and well, it just didn’t work for me. My Girl, she fits. She works in my life and I work in hers. She gets me. I choose to love her with all my might. I choose to be WITH her.
So, in the end, God gave me free choice, right? Then I guess that means my free choice is to love her. Guess it’s my free choice to let my kids make their own decisions (as long as I agree with them!!!) and I guess it’s my free choice to eat ice cream for dinner.
My mom came out when I was 11. I remember the night she told me. It was Christmas Eve, 1981; I wanted to go to Christmas Eve Services. I had gone for as long as I could remember. I asked if we were going and was told “no.” I asked why and I was told “I go to a different kind of church now.” My look must have said something, because my mom looked me in the eye, stopped what she was doing and said “Stephanie, I am gay. Do you know what that means?” I replied “Nope.” She further said, “I choose to love a girl instead of a boy. That’s all. Understand?” I looked at my mom, I looked at “Mo” and I asked “Are you nice to each other?” And Mo looked at my mom and said “Yes, we love each other and are nice to each other.” And my final words on the subject….”Then OKAY….can we please go to church??!?!”
It was my first experience at Metropolitan Community Churches and anything remotely gay. What I remember are these people were happy to see each other, to laugh with each other, there was lots of hugging, lots of smiles and lots of hand holding. What is NOT to embrace about that?
I have found unconditional love and acceptance from people that find it with no others. And looking back, it reminds me of the unconditional love and acceptance of another group of people…
Remember when you were a kid, it didn’t matter what color, nationality, sexual orientation or social class you were in. If you had a bike or a Barbie, you were my friend.
We could play allllll day and not once have any economic, politcal or social situations come up. I loved, loved, loved my friends. I shared everything from dolls and koolaid to gum and chicken pox. We were so blissfully unaware of any differences in each of us. Other than the fact that boys had cooties, which, now, plays into my lifestyle, but I digress.
If you had a red Radio Flyer wagon, I didn’t care if you were blue or had four heads…you had a damn wagon…that rocked. I didn’t care if Scotty wanted to play with my Barbies, because damnit, I had someone to laugh with, to enjoy my youth with. Those days, now seem magical.
I wouldn’t trade a moment of it.
So, I saw this today and decided to finish this entry and thanks to my friend Ronnie, I found the PERFECT video…
(editor’s note: they have since marked the original video private, so a YouTube member put this up instead, however LISTEN to the child’s logic.)