I have hesitated in sharing the following writing for almost two years. One reason is respecting the privacy of my child and protecting the safe space to let him grow and mature. Another reason being I didn’t want to give a tiny handful of people the satisfaction of getting a glimpse into our lives. For now, that pride has been worked through and has been replaced by a healthier pride. A mother’s pride.
When Mason told me that he was gay, somewhere inside of me already knew. We had never spoken about it, but the night he asked to talk to me, I already knew what was going to be said. The most surreal moment of my life happened right before he spoke, I heard a voice clearly say, “Just love him.” I believe I was stunned into silence so I could listen and truly hear my son.
That evening God gifted me a peace that all would be okay. I had many questions and anxiety, yet when I cried out, I was reminded who was in control and the big picture view that was held in His hands. I’ve learned to be okay with having unanswered questions. This peace has also allowed me to respect other’s beliefs on being gay. My stance was, and remains, I will 100% respect your right to your opinion and belief – as long as you are kind to my son.
“Just love him, don’t try to ‘fix’ him.” I simply focused on the job I was given as his mother, to love, protect, and guide him. I’ve called it a bottom line peace, as there was a lot of uncertainty floating around in the air, but bottom line – Mason is His, and all will be okay.
I would be lying if I told you that it didn’t bother or worry me. I was never-ever-ever ashamed of him, as he is nearly as perfect as his hair. I was completely terrified about how he would potentially be treated by others. It was a new territory and I felt like Nemo’s dad. By coming out, he had gone into the deep waters and I couldn’t protect him from the potential pain of judgement.
My son became Dory – carefree and lighter. He just kept swimming, smiling and swimming. It has been healing to watch him live life lighter, what Momma wouldn’t want that? I’ve heard it said that no one has searched God, the Word of God, or themselves more than the gay Christian or their mother. And that is correct.
I struggled hard through the first six months. When I was alone, I sobbed. When I was in front of Mason, I smiled. When I was out in public, I held my head high, believing that it was my job to teach others how we would handle this. Our community of family and friends were, and are, absolute rock stars, I could cry all the grateful tears in Texas just thinking about how amazing our people are. I wish all gay children and adults were as loved and supported as our son has been. Which is why I share our story.
For the parents on a similar journey, it will be okay. There is a grieving process, be gentle with yourself and your child while you process that. You have to grieve the life you imagined for them so you can truly accept the life they will live. It’s a different journey….Just love them.
Below was written 6 months into our journey.
October 31, 2016
Since finding out earlier this year that my son is gay, people ask me a lot, “How are you doing? How is everything?” This sentence is always said with a concerned face, some even tilt their head. Most asking are friends, knowing that know this journey has been difficult, while others are simply reporters, wanting to find out the story. To the curious reporters, I smile, point to my rainbow t-shirt and say, “Great! Everything is great!” To our friends who know my heart, I tell them that we are doing good in our current pasture.
When we arrived in this pasture, it was overflowing with thorns, the grass had been choked out by the weeds, and the soil was dry and hard. Upon finding out that our life journey was different than we had planned, our family was pushed through the gate to our new pasture. Through my fear of the unknown, all I saw was wasteland. I kept turning around and looking back at the well manicured pasture that we just left, the soft lush grass, the flowers, the neat edges, and yearned to go back. Even by just a day. To pretend a little while longer. There is nothing wrong with pretending when you don’t even realize that you are pretending. Or is there? Pretending prolongs the truth. And the truth sets us free.
Everywhere I traveled in our new pasture was rocky ground. Conversations were strained as we figured out our new normal. We all walked around, faked our way through our days, and ignored the elephant in the middle of the living room. I cried a lot, sobbed actually, when no one was looking. From a distance, most people didn’t see the tears running down my face from behind my sunglasses. The tears didn’t come from shame, let me be clear – there was and is NO shame in my mothering game, actually there was admiration and pride for him. To be BRAVE and honest enough at 16 to live his truth, what mother wouldn’t be proud? The tears came from fear. Fear of not completely understanding, of my unanswered questions, fear of how people would treat him, simply fear of the unknown. After all, this was a brand-new pasture for everyone. Everyone, but my darling son. He had been here for a while, trying to navigate it all on his own, while his mom worked to keep the “home pasture” next door perfectly beautiful. That truth alone crushed my heart. I should have been over here with him, walking in front of him, weed whacking the brush away.
Day by day, our family accepted that this new pasture was our home. We sometimes grieved for the life we planned to live in our old pasture, which was necessary to fully accept our new one. My love for him far outweighed our lack of knowledge. We got to work on clearing the waste together, facing the thorns, and watering the soil. We loved him enough to move here with him, and set up shop. We started laughing for real again. We kept walking through our days, loving each other and putting our roots down into our newly treated soil.
When I remembered to look up, I saw that the sky remained the same no matter where our feet were planted. The sun came out to shine everyday. Even when the clouds prevented me from seeing the sun, it was there, loving us enough to shed light upon our faces. If we only look up. Look up to see that different isn’t as scary as we think. Look up to see that love doesn’t have boundaries. Look up to understand that judgement separates us from love. If we aren’t loving, then we aren’t obeying the most important law that Jesus taught, “Love God with all your heart, mind, and soul, and love others as yourself.” Only love is real. I doubt we will be on our death bed wishing we would have judged more.
This isn’t our last pasture to live in, I see the gate ahead. The gate to our next pasture. Only, I don’t plan on being shoved into this one. I want to organize our walk through it, as much as one can. I’m preparing for it. When my family isn’t looking, I sometimes sneak over there and work on the weed killing to give us a head start on the move. That pasture is when our son finds someone he likes, starts dating, and wants to bring him home to meet his family. Later, when he finds someone he loves and plans to create a life with that person. It’s a whole new frontier to learn, fertilize, water, and care for. A new pasture doesn’t come without work for the one leasing it. It doesn’t come with all the tools to help you navigate. You bring them along from the last pasture. Sometimes when at a loss, you simple google things like, like, “how to parent a gay child”, or “how to protect the hearts you love”, or “what neutrals go best with rainbows”. And that’s okay too.
Home is wherever your family is. Home is whatever pasture you are currently occupying.
Home is always under the Son….pun intended.
*For any parent going through pasture changes, I strongly recommend reading Brett Trapp’s (B.T. Harmon) “Blue Babies Pink“, or listen to his podcast. If nothing else, at least read this one chapter below.
http://www.bluebabiespink.com/home/ep-29-lifeboats
Love and Light,
Brooke
