from one unwelcome

i didn't sleep much last night, but i had a really bittersweet dream. i was back at the church of my youth, a conquering hero of sorts. it was still july, but for some reason it was a christmas in july service. all the old cast of characters were there, the ones who moved away and passed away and drifted away, all perfectly healthy and all charicatures of themselves to some degree. it was great, though. they let me me help with the service (based on the dream i can only conclude that you shouldn't let me plan the music at your christmas in july service unless you think what christmas in july really needs is a lot of solos from the dolly parton/kenny rogers christmas album). they all knew about me, i think, and they all loved me as me. my orientation didn't define me, but they accepted it as an important part of my life experience. it was perfect, and the perfect-ending movie that was my dream closed with a freeze frame of those of us who worked on the service sharing a toast.

last week, in new orleans, our school of mission theme (and the theme for all the conference schools of mission) is "together at the table." our first plenary (worship/announcements/business) was about coming together at the table. one part of the plenary was a time of naming aloud all the groups of people whose welcome at the table is not guaranteed. tears spilled down my face as my gut (my source of intuition and information) silently screamed "MEEEEEE!" i've never felt ostracized before within the church, especially my home church/home conference. i've never felt obligated to choose an inauthentic way of being just to be accepted...not in the church, not with these women. a brave woman eventually called out "GAYS!" and you could hear a pin drop in that chapel--not a fan moving to cool our sticky bodies, not a thing. i wanted to kiss her, to bless her, to thank her for speaking a truth i couldn't say because it was too close to home. instead i sat in that overheated chapel and sweated and cried through the entire two hour plenary, feel ostracized and, perhaps more importantly, alone in my grief. could it be true that these women who i've grown up admiring, who have encouraged and pushed me to grow, who have opened doors to alternate vocations for me, would think me unfit, would think their investments rendered null and void by knowing all of me? my tears sanctified the bread and the cup, raining down, hoping for grace in the sacrament. grace to stay, grace to find ways for my glbt friends and me to be authentic and true to our senses of vocation, even within the umc.

it had been ages, perhaps close to a year, since i can remember taking the sacrament of communion, especially in the context of the southern umc. since then, much has happened. i've had my first lesbian relationship, i've begun to find ways to merge my sense of sexual orientation and my sense of call. i can now envision a life for myself that before i could not see. communion, the meal of connection, has always had a special place in my spirituality. for the first time, i understood a friend of mine with whom i have had countless debates about the merits and meanings of communion. he once told me that he didn't like taking communion not because of what it meant to him but because of what it meant to others. that didn't make any sense to me at the time; after all, communion is both intensely personal and inherently communal. it's about how we each view it. no one else's opinions matter. au contraire. it was hard for me to share this meal, made only slightly better by the woman who named my pain. it was extremely difficult to share communion with people i knew would deny me membership, communion, all of it if they could. and here's the upshot: this was never about me or my self-worth. it was entirely about the others' potential perceptions of me should they know that part of my socio-cultural identity is my lesbianism. i think i'm fine, and i think if god/ess there be, god/ess is infinitely more interested in both my authenticity and my life's work--how i treated people, how committed i was to bettering the world or at least my little corner of it. i've never questioned my self worth, never thought twice about whether or not i was worthy of a place in any of my communities, least of all the umc.

this post has no real ending. it's the struggle ongoing, the dance between authenticity and alienation. and while i don't want to ever be that angry lesbian leading the charge, fighting the Fight with the Church, i want my authentic self to engage in the struggle. i want to give these women a different picture of glbt persons. we're not all out there screaming about equality--not because we don't want equality but because we have other passions we choose to pursue. we leave the screaming, the Fight, to those called to fight it. we work with you, sing in your choirs, lead vacation bible school with your children, get righteous anger on your behalf when you've been wronged b/c we love you and want to be in solidarity with you. we are united methodist women, united methodist men, united methodist youth. we serve on church councils and help out at spaghetti dinners. we enjoy potlucks right alongside you. we are not so one-dimensional that we need only be defined by our sexualities...anymore than you heteros out there. i never even wanted to engage the struggle until i felt personally ostracized. please, if you are a hetero ally, don't be like me. love and encourage your openly glbt friends and community members. in words or actions, let them know that you see them for all of who they are. appreciate their authenticity and the courage it takes for them to offer their authentic selves everyday. i guess that is all.