My Spiritual Journey to Washington

It’s been three years since I packed everything; husband, cat and car, into a 38 foot Motorhome for a journey West. So much had brought me to that moment. In the prior three years (most documented on this blog): I witnessed my life crumble into ruin, old demons creep in stealthily and depression crashing along with major anxiety as icing…

I stood before the congregation of the Battle Ground Community UMC on Sunday, my new spiritual home. I was there to tell the story of my Spiritual Journey. I had five minutes, a lot had to be omitted. Here I elaborate that Witness unabridged. Let’s begin at the start!

I was conceived Catholic. From Birth to College, Catholicism was my faith. I was baptized surrounded by the family my parents brought together, Irish Catholics & Slavic Catholics. As soon as I received my First Holy Communion I became an altar-boy. I served proudly and proficiently way past Confirmation. I was on my way to becoming a priest. My mother was instrumental in more than my Catholic upbringing. She was also responsible for my love of books, reading and nature, along with the importance of love and family. She continually reminded me that “God does not make Junk!” We spent summers in the woods and the winters in Scouts. I loved being with nature.

Everything changed for me at puberty, when strange feelings started to happen. While living in Riverview, Florida when I was 16, I overheard a discussion my parents were having with a Seminarian. Like I said, Very Catholic. He was trying to come to terms with the amount of sexual activity that took place between the guys in Seminary. I was shocked! If this activity was a sin, as preached in church, then why did God let it happen to priests learning The Way? I struggled greatly with this.

The priesthood was immediately out! I fell back on my desire to study Theatre Arts. After graduation (the day I came out to myself), I relocated to Winter Park, Florida for College. I started my life as an openly gay man, as open as one could be in 1981. I came out to my parents via letter the following Spring. My mother’s instinct kicked in as she and my father immediately drove to Rollins College to take me to the Seminary. They were open mouthed when I reminded them of how rampant homosexuality was in the Seminary! “Why” Mom anguished in tears? I replied – “because God doesn’t make junk!”

The years between college and meeting Ezra were another life, in another time and not relevant here. So let’s fast forward to 1998. The year everything changed…

To be continued

3/3 – a valley rainbow in three parts

The Opening Night Excitation

To say my parents loved “The Big Bang Theory” isn’t the factor. The anomaly is, my husband and I had never watched an entire episode during its First Run. For eight years with every visit to our home Mom and Dad came with a new comparison of us to Leonard & Sheldon. Then they would plead with us to watch the show with them. And for eight years we never took them up.

Dad’s favorite drinking cup

During COVID lockdown, we finally decided to binge The Big Bang Theory. Thanks to HBOMax, we’ve watched 276 shows so far. I calculated the last show Mom & Dad most likely watched was the episode when Amy & Sheldon had their first Coital encounter. They missed out on the last 3 seasons, which included the Big wedding. My dad would have found Hamill officiating the wedding, fascinating and delighted in Shatner’s D&D stint in the final season.

Watching and laughing this past year, has been like having my parents here with us, sharing the laughs all over again! We have truly felt them every step of the way. I want these last three episodes to last forever. What was I thinking?! I can reset the universe and start all over again, with a Big Bang💥!

See Me!

“Don’t shove your gay down my throat”, I’ve heard some form of this disparage all my life. For decades, it appears, my very existence has been a “shove down” somebody’s throat. How can being my “true self” be that abhorrent to another person?

On the outside I have the appearance of a middle-aged white man of privilege. And while I have ridden the wave of advantage, like most who look similar, it stops as soon as my true self is known. I am instantaneously ostracized the moment my husband escorts me to the company picnic, marginalized and tossed to the bottom of the minority ladder. My own parents did too, initially.

So recently, when two of my cousins posted the same Facebook meme with similar words (heading above) as the first line, I was stunned! I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. I hope they did not realize how hurtful reading those words would be for me when they decided to Share that post.

It gets me to thinking, do they truly see me at all?

Of a Dull Somber Color

I have been dancing between depression and despair all year. The financial drain of one income had already added to the daily stress of life before the delightful season of Federal Income Tax reporting hit at work. Then mother went into the hospital, later to be diagnosed with stage 3 liver cirrhosis and Hep C. That began a journey for my entire family that lasted until her passing in late April.  From that I am still mending.

I just finished my first week back to work. What was I thinking after taking a month and a half to mourn and recover? My co-workers did do an amazing job with my duties while I was a way. They made my return to the busiest week of our monthly work cycle seem as if I hadn’t been gone a day. The work returned just as I had left it and each day I smiled and stayed positive as the duties and stress kept rising. Most days were good ones, today wasn’t one of them. It seemed no matter what I did, it was wrong. Do I really have 884 more work weeks before retirement?

Sadness comes in all colors, this week mine has been “Inky Blue” (SW 9149). Waves of emotion ebbing and flowing as I hover between despair and depression. Life will get better, I know that. Yet there are some days no matter what you do, it feels like the entire world and everyone in it are out to foil you. Let’s hope the weekend brings with it a respite.