I believe in Angels

I do believe in Angels. I do, I do, I do, believe in Angels. Let me tell you a story. When I was 12 years old, my 7 year old nephew and I were hiking in a state park and like kids can do, we got off onto the wrong path. In our defense, the trail wasn’t marked well and we easily got diverted onto another trail. After walking for a while, the realization hit me that we were seeing new sights that we didn’t see on the way up.

That first feeling? Sheer panic would best describe it. We were lost and alone and I just knew we would be in trouble for not being were we were supposed to be. I can remember feeling like I was going to suffocate from the fear. There I was a 12 year old kid not only responsible for myself but also my 7 year old nephew. I remember feeling like my heart would explode and just as I was about to run off screaming in terror at the thought of spending the night out on the side of a mountain, I felt this calmness fill me.

I can almost remember the feel of a hand in mine, although that may be wishful thinking or a flight of fancy on my part. But just as soon as the calmness filled me, my nephew looked up at me and calmly said, “I know we are lost, but this trail leads somewhere.” So we set off to find out where we would end up. Needless to say, it all turned out right. We finally ended up on a lake about 3 or 4 miles from where we should have been. We got a ride across the lake with a nice fisherman (another Angel? He is in my mind), and called the sheriff who gave us a ride back to the car and safety. (Not to mention two extremely worried parents).

Some may argue that this experience doesn’t prove the existence of Angels, but that calm and peace I believe was a message from God that all would be well. Isn’t that what Angels are? Messengers from God? A friend of mine once told me the story of when her youngest son was very ill. It was a cold and snowy day in March and her husband was out at work with their only car. The roads were icy and the baby’s fever spiked at 104. She was alone and scared and worried about her son. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she heard a voice say, “All will be well.” Within the hour, her sons fever went down to 102 and her husband made it home from work and they took him to the emergency room where he was treated for pneumonia.

As a child, I thought all Angels were winged creatures with halos that sat around all day talking to God. While I do not doubt their existence, I believe that definition is too limiting. Angels are everywhere around us and yes, sometimes they take the form of our fellow humans. An Angel may be the person who lends a hand to an elderly neighbor, the one who calls a friend who needs someone to talk to, or even the one who stops and lets another driver out in rush hour traffic. An Angel is the one who prays for you, even when they may not know you personally. All these actions show God’s love. All of these people are messengers from God saying that he is here and he loves us.

I have seen daily proof of the existence of Angels. Sometimes it is in the form of a friend calling to say that she felt the need to pray for me last night without knowing I was in a rough spot. Sometimes it is the prayers being said on my behalf by people I have never met. Sometimes they can be seen in the actions of others.

Yesterday while I was in town finishing up some last minute items, I noticed an elderly woman waiting to cross a busy intersection. As I sat in line at McDonald’s, I felt helpless to help her. Every time she started to cross the street, cars would be flying by. One man in a sports car even yelled some not so nice things at her. I watched as three young teenage boys approached her. They wore their pants down to their knees, were smoking cigarettes, and all in all looked like thugs. I was amazed to watch as they surrounded the woman and slowly walked across the street with her. Some rude people honked their horns but the kids paid them no mind. They slowed their steps to match the lady’s pace and got her safely delivered to the other side. I saw her reach into her purse as if to pay them for their kindness but I saw each one of those boys shake his heads no. She grabbed onto the closest boy and gave him a hug. Although he looked embarrassed at first, it warmed my heart to see him hug her back.

As I watched them swagger (you know the walk I mean) on down the sidewalk, I was filled with a mixture of shame and gratitude. I was ashamed because I was guilty of judging their character by their style, but I was filled with gratitude because I was blessed to witness that lovely exchange between God’s children. I can almost guarantee that lady thought of those boys as her Angels. And you know what? They were. They were fine examples of God’s message.

And that thought is exciting to me. We, each and everyone of us can be a messenger of God, or an Angels if you prefer. It doesn’t matter what we look like on the outside, or if people judge us by whom we love, or if we aren’t the smartest or the strongest. All that matters is if we can and will show others the love of God. It doesn’t matter if you are home bound, then pray. It doesn’t matter if you are busy, take a few seconds to let another driver ahead of you. It doesn’t matter if people question us because of our orientation, show love and mercy. The greatest gift we can give to each other is compassion. We don’t have to agree, but we are called to treat all of God’s children with common courtesy and respect.

To all of the Angels in my life, A big heart felt “Thank You!” Thank you for showing me God’s love and helping me to be an Angel to someone else. And to my special Angel friend, Thank you. You know who you are. And to all of my internet Angels; Anita, my buddy E, my little Steph, Eliz, Jo, Jones, bridgeout, Ceara, Lindsey, Lizzie,Jade, Meg, Bon, and all of the lovely ladies at sisterfriends, Thank you for being my Angels. And to all I wish a Blessed Christmas and a new year filled with love and laughter.

Santa’s little elf

Contrary to popular belief, I haven’t fallen off the face of the Earth.  Santa’s little elf has been busy in the bear department the last couple of months.   The two little bears are for my 2nd grader’s teacher, the medium bear wearing the head band and dream catcher is for my 5th grader’s teacher.  The little naked bear in the back row will be dressed and wrapped for my little one by Christmas morning.  The big bear in the blue and red, has yet to find a permanent home.

Two things have slowed down my sewing adventure, 1.  Looking for employment, and 2. every stitch was done by hand.   Not that I am complaining, the sewing machine and I  really aren’t  on good speaking terms.   Oh sure for sewing curtains or big items, it is great, but the little bears are only about 8 inches tall and I am not nimble enough to sew those small seams without sewing my fingers into the mix.

And besides, I enjoy the ability to sit on my bed late at night when the house is quiet and watch television and sew.  It is almost a mindless repetitive motion that is both relaxing and challenging.  I like to say that every stitch is full of love and thoughts of the one it is being made for.  Well that is my excuse for not writing much lately.

But I also had a great 11 day visit with my Darling JB around Thanksgiving.  And my computer took a fit and refused to work for a while.  But I think everything is slowly getting back to normal.  So either it is a blessing or a curse, but I am back.  Good to see you all again.

Winter

This time of year is always hard on me.  The leaves have fallen off the trees, the air is getting that winter bite, and the days are growing shorter.  The work outside is done or at least put on hold till next Spring.  The lawn mower has been cleaned and put away and all the animals are finishing their winter coats.

The shorter days lend themselves to lower moods.  The cold wind lends itself to thoughts of ice and snow and dangerous driving off the side of my hill to get to town or anywhere else I may need to go.  But the worst part of all, is losing the days of working outside in the warm sun.  Of course winter lends itself to plenty of back breaking snow removal, but it isn’t the same as working in the warm sunlight.

Every other season has it’s benefits.  Spring brings about the promise of new growth and rebirth.  Summer days are filled with enjoyable work and plenty of play.  Fall brings the harvest and beautiful colors of the leaves and those clear blue skies.  But what is Winter’s claim to fame?  When I was a kid it meant snow days and sleeping in for two hour delays.  Snow meant snowmen and sled riding and hot chocolate.  But now it means my fingers hurt every time they get cold, I am shoveling the snow, not playing in it, and I am the one wiping up puddles of dripping snow off the kitchen floor while heating up hot chocolate.

Not that I am complaining, I am glad my boys find the same fun in Winter that I used to.  I hope they can look for the fun for a long time to come.  And I don’t even mind the puddles or the endless cups of hot chocolate, it’s just harder now than it used to be.  It is harder to stay interested in the other areas of life.  I know the lower lighting affects my mood and the colder temps make my bones ache after 10 minutes outside.  I find myself wanting to stay curled up in bed longer and less likely to start new projects.

But this time of year also has some redeeming qualities.  My favorite holiday is fast approaching and I mean Thanksgiving.  What other holiday was formed strictly for feeling thankful and for naming all of your blessings?  Thanksgiving is the time to gather with family, tell the old stories once again, and eat until the buttons threaten to pop.  Thanksgiving is the time to slow down and look at all the faces around your table and be grateful that each of them are there.  It is a time of seeing the blessings of the last year and even mourning the faces that are absent for the first time this year.

But for me, Thanksgiving is also a time to reflect on the last year and note the growth of myself in more ways than one.  Yes it is true that my jeans size has grown over the years, but so has my compassion and understanding.  My self worth has grown and my ability to love others as myself.  My circle of friends have grown, even though I may never meet some of them face to face.  My children have grown and matured.  My family has grown with the addition of my ex’s new girlfriend (who is a welcome addition).  And I have grown in my understanding of what it means to be truly thankful.

It is easy to be thankful when you are on the mountain top looking around and seeing all the beauty that surrounds you.  It is hard to be thankful when you are in the dark dank valley looking up at the cliffs that surround you.  It is hard to be thankful when you are enveloped by the stale stagnant air and there is no end to the valley in sight.  But I think that is the lesson I am to learn this Fall and Winter.  I am to be thankful on the mountain top but also in the valley.

That doesn’t mean that this season will be any easier on me, just that I need to find thankfulness no matter where I am at.  It will still be a chore to get my lazy butt out of bed, but I need to be thankful that my feet hit the floor and I move on.  It will still be a chore to shovel the snow and freeze my fingers, but I must be thankful that I am able to do it.  It will still be an irritation to wipe up melting snow for the 10th time in one morning, but I will be grateful and thankful that I have my children to track it in.

So while I see the valley looming before me, I also am taking with me supplies, the thoughts and prayers of friends, my family, my health, my children, and my willingness to try to be thankful in all things.  Notice I said to try, I know there will be days that I fail, and days where God will just shake his head and say, “can’t you see all I have done for you?”  But I pray everyday that God will open my eyes to all of the blessings that surround me and I pray that I will remember to say, “Thank you.”

Because isn’t that what Thanksgiving is about?

The Cab Ride

I got this today in my email.  The timing is wonderful since I have been thinking about the situation many of our elderly face everyday.  I pray there are more people like this out there who shows God’s love in such a way.

So I walked to the door and knocked. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She

Was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated’.

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy’, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly.

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice’.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued. ‘The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired. Let’s go now’

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ she asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID,  BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

The face of discrimination

Cute kid huh?  Looking at her you can’t help but look into her bright future and wonder where she will go.  Unfortunately for her, she lives in a country where she will be persecuted for her beliefs.  Unfortunately, she lives in a country where it is a legal and accepted practice to discriminate.  In this picture she isn’t thinking about the future things she will face.

She isn’t aware of the jobs she may lose or the housing that won’t be available to her.  She isn’t aware that her very life may be in danger from street thugs and hate mongrels.  She isn’t aware of the personal property that may be destroyed.  She isn’t thinking of the derogatory remarks that will be shouted at her as she walks along the streets of town.  She doesn’t know that her fellow countrymen will have the right to vote her rights away.

You may be wondering about what backward, horrible country she lives in.  She lives in the United States of America.  And yesterday  her fellow countrymen took away her rights.  You see, that cute little girl grows up and just happens to be gay.  That kid will grow up and be a law abiding citizen.  She never steals or murders or even cheats on her taxes.  She will be employed and pay taxes.  She will be a loving neighbor and friend who loves and cares about her fellow man.  She will never beat her partner or her children and she will never willingly hurt another person.  She will in no way be a threat to society, she won’t be involved in domestic violence or drug running or any of the other things that truly tears down societies.  She won’t be a slum lord or line her pockets while her neighbor starves.  And yet, she is not guaranteed equal rights.

She will not be able to put her partner on her insurance, she won’t be able to adopt or foster children who needs homes, she will not be able to protect her partner because she will not be allowed to marry her partner.  And when she grows old and sick, her partner of 20-30 years will not be allowed to stay at her bedside.  She may not be allowed to hold this woman’s hand as she draws her last breath.  And she will not be entitled to inherit all of the things they spent a lifetime together obtaining.  That cracked plate from their trip out west, the gold necklace bought on their 15th anniversary, their collection of glass bells.

Their home that was shared for those many years.  The car not in the survivor’s name.  And after a lifetime of following the rules and not breaking the law, everything may be stripped away from her survivor.  Of course there will be no survivor benefits, no social security, just the same amount of bills with half the income.  Is this separate but equal?  Is this fair and acceptable to you?  Is it okay for the majority to take away rights from a minority?

Would you agree with me if the example was of any other minority group?  What if the picture was a little Latino girl or an African American?  Would you vote the right for equal marriage away from them?  Would you vote to not allow white couples to adopt children of different races?  Would you vote to not allow Jewish couples to adopt?  Are you willing to vote that inter-racial couples not be allowed to foster children?  Are you willing to vote away anyone else’s rights?

A dangerous precedence was set yesterday.  Any person who is in a minority group, now faces the possibility that the majority may vote against their rights too.  Today it is the gays, who will it be tomorrow?  God help us all.

Prop 8

I live in West Virginia, always have.  I have never been to California and probably never will, but this election season, the vote that has my attention is prop 8.  Some may wonder how that vote could possibly affect my life in anyway.  But it will.  It will affect my life on a lot of levels.

If it is voted down, it will validate my love and my life.  It will say that although I don’t have those rights in my own state, my gay sisters and brothers in Ca. do.  It will say that I am human, not sub-human, but a full fledged person that has the right to love and live as a married couple.  It will say that I matter.  I matter because I was born with the same rights as others.

I am not guaranteed happiness, but I too am guarenteed the right to pursue it.  I am one of those that are included in the statement that all men are created equal.  I am a normal part of society.  And you know what?  I am more than ready for that to happen.

And for all of you who have that ick factor and religious reasons behind voting yes, don’t forget seperation of church and state.  Allowing gay people to enter into marriage will not affect your church or funding.  No minister or preacher will be forced to marry gay couples.  And you can hold onto your hate and anger, because we live in a country where we are free to be as hateful as we want.  We live in a country where we are created equal.  All I want is equal rights under the law.

You know I just had a thought, it made me giggle, but it may strike fear into your heart.  What if the gay population increases and we can vote on your right to have a heterosexual marriage?  Can you picture it?  The popular vote would be for marriage to equal two men and two women.  I bet people would be screaming that the majority doesn’t have the right to take away the rights of a minority.  Hmmmm.  Isn’t that what prop 8 is doing?  Allowing the majority to take away rights of a minority?  Dangerous precedence if you ask me.

So if it is okay to strip rights away from gays and queers, who’s next?  So if I lived in a town that was predominately white, could popular vote make African Americans (and anyone else that wasn’t 100% white) ride in the back of the bus again?  The majority spoke.  If I lived in a very gay neighborhood, could they vote to not allow heterosexuals the right to show any public displays of affection?  It doesn’t seem to me that the majority vote is the best solution.

So let’s go back to all are created equal.  I like that.  It sounds good and no one wants to be treated unfairly.  If all are created equal, then why is prop 8 even on the ballot?  Its crazy, it is just plain crazy to be voting to discriminate.  And I don’t care what the discrimination is.  It would be as crazy to vote to not allow inter-racial marriages or to not allow a certain group of people to vote.  All it boils down to is the right to discriminate.  I thought we as a country were past that.

Happy Halloween

I love Halloween,  not for the candy or for the trick or treating, but for the chance to dress up.  As a kid, this one night a year I could be anything.  I could be a pirate or a monster or even a princess.  Although I never wanted to be a princess, the opportunity was there.  I could be anyone or anything.

I could leave my stale life and become something exciting.  I could be a sailor on a ship that left Spain for the Americas.  I could swab the deck or walk the plank.  I could do it all.  I could be the world’s scariest monster or be a swordsman and fight the dragon.  The possibilities were endless.

Trick or treating was different when I was a kid.  We walked along the country road to our neighbor’s house.  We maybe hit a dozen houses in the entire night and we always had to stop at Ceicil’s and Janies house.  They were an elderly couple who loved to pretend they didn’t know who we were.  We always saved them for last because we knew it would be twenty minutes of playing guess who.  And while it cut into our candy time, we always went there.  I think maybe it was because they pretended to buy into our costumes and for that brief time, we really were who we dressed up to be.

I wasn’t Kelli from a mile down the road, I was the cowgirl or the ghost standing in their door.  I was someone special.  That is why I like Halloween.  Not for the candy or the tricks, but for the chance to try on new and exciting roles.  For the chance to be someone different than I was in everyday life.  For that time to be special.  Long live Halloween!

Gay Marriage

With Nov. fast approaching, I can’t help but think of all of my friends that may be, no will be, greatly affected by the vote on prop 8 in California. There are countless lives out there that will either have their marriages upheld, or once again be told that they are second class citizens. Or once again be told that, ” Your life, your love, and your commitment isn’t the same as mine and therefore wrong.”

What is a “real” marriage? That is hard to say. Not because I don’t know the legal definition, but because marriages come in all shapes and sizes. Marriage has been a financial arrangement between two families. “Let’s talk, drink some wine, and in the end, I’ll give you my daughter, 100 head of cattle, and 200 head of sheep. In return, I want your loyalty to my tribe or family.” Marriage has also been ” mail order brides”, no that is not just a saying. There really was a time men could order a wife (unfortunately it stills happens today). Marriage has also been two people forced together by family because birth control wasn’t used or even rape had occurred.

Marriage has been an escape for young women to get out of abusive homes. Marriage has been a punishment for virginity lost. Marriage has been “child (and yes I mean child) brides” being forced to marry much older men. Yes this still happens around the world today and even here in the U.S. Don’t be so naive that you think that happened only in years gone by.

Marriages have been performed where there was no love. Marriage has been used to defend a man’s right to rape his wife. It may not be legal anymore, but just try being a wife and “proving” your husband raped you. Marriage has been used to give man dominion over woman. Marriage has been used to trap a wealthy husband. Marriage has been bastardized for generations. And this is all considered heterosexual marriage and therefore good and right in the sight of God.

It may sound like I am against marriage. I’m not. I think it is a beautiful covenant between two people and God. It is the public statement that this is the person that I love and I promise to work beside them and carry them and be carried by them. It is a promise of a future together and a pact of faith in each other and in God. It is a commitment that shouldn’t be entered into lightly. But how many spur of the moment marriages are performed in Vegas?

The funny thing is, I could meet a man tomorrow, decide that I am just tired of being alone, or poor, or just too scared to remain single and be “legally” married in a few days. And not a soul would question it. There would be no Bible thumpers standing outside the courtroom. No one would blink an eye. No one would be shouting that this “marriage” was against God’s law or Biblical teaching.

Of course it isn’t. Biblical marriages were contracts between families. Biblical marriages included multiple wives. Biblical marriages were set up, not for love, but political gain or social standing. People didn’t start to marry for love until the colonies. It just wasn’t done. A woman was lucky if she grew to love her husband and the husband was lucky if he was fond of his wife. Getting married just because you love someone goes against the normal Biblical marriage, and yet no one complains.

I know a lady was has been married 4 times, is in the process of getting divorced, and is working on #5. Where are the protesters? Where are the screaming crowds? The fact is, they don’t care. They don’t care because divorce affects them or their loved ones personally. Where are the Bible thumpers when a 17 year old girl is forced by her family to marry her boyfriend who got drunk one night and forced himself on her? Where are the Bible thumpers when a 12 or 13 year old girl is illegally brought into this country to become a plaything for a 40 year old man? They are busy screaming at homosexual adults for being so bold as to want a piece of the marriage pie.

Yes, I agree that marriage is in trouble. Many people everyday enter into it and make a mockery of what mainstream America believes is moral and right. Many heterosexual marriages fall way short of this mythical, ideal, state of union that is being held up as the “only” union. So my question is this, why aren’t they out there fighting as hard to fix heterosexual marriage as they are to prevent homosexual marriage?

The truth is, your marriage and your family is in no way dependant on mine. Your marriage isn’t being affected by your neighbor’s (unless he wants your wife because he is unhappy with his own). Your marriage is in no way strengthened or weakened by the marriage of the man who lives two blocks from you. If your marriage is so weak that it can be torn apart by what someone does behind closed doors, then I am so sorry for you. If your marriage is so weak that my orientation can destroy it, then I pity you. If your marriage is dependent on keeping me from marriage, then I will pray for your union. Maybe couples counseling would help. Or maybe paying as much attention to your own marriage and forgetting about mine would help to strengthen it.

If my getting legally married affects your morals and values…, then wow, that is just a really sad thought. Does the fact that your neighbor beats his wife affect your values? Does the fact that the cashier at the local store helps herself to a little out of the tin everyday affect your values? Your values are yours. My values are mine. You don’t have an effect on mine so why should I have an effect on yours? But if your value system is so weak that I can tear it down, then maybe you should spend the time you are using to protest and taking away my civil rights to work on yourself and your value system.

I have an idea, I hope you like it. If you believe that government should dictate who can and who can’t get married, then let us allow everyone that same right. By this I mean, if you feel that the government should be able to tell me who I can marry, then you deserve that same right. The government should be able to tell YOU who you can and can not marry. I think the same rules should apply to you as to me. So what should the guidelines to marriage be?

People should marry only people of their same social-economic class. The differences between classes would only weaken the union. There should be a limit on age differences, too many years and it just won’t work. Of course in keeping marriage pure, different races and religions shouldn’t be allowed to marry. I think that if you screw up your first marriage then you shouldn’t get another try. Or maybe two strikes and you are out of the wedding scene forever? How about you can only marry someone within a certain distance, because you know, kids need to know their grandparents. Or how about if you have children you HAVE to stay married until the youngest is 18, it doesn’t matter what the circumstances are. Or you can’t marry someone because there is mental illness in her family? Wow, this could be fun figuring out who has the right to marriage and who doesn’t. I know this is an unrealistic example, but I still think if the government has the right to choose who I enter into that legal contract with, it should be for everyone living in this country.

Yes there are a lot of problems in our country, both with marriages and families. If everyone would spend as much time and energy on searching for solutions as they do creating problems, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. But it boils down to personal choices. I may not agree with yours and you may not agree with mine, but because we are free citizens, we have the right to make our own choices. And that includes who I decide to marry.

Coming out

Coming out. Such innocent little words until you are faced with doing it. Of course I mean coming out of the closet. How did that tiny little boxy area filled with clothing come to represent being gay? I find it fascinating the way we think about and describe things in our lives. But I do have to admit, it is very accurate.

Think of the average closet. It is pretty small in there and stuffed full of things. It is dark when the door is shut and the air can be stale if not enough ventilation is present. It reminds me of a time my brother and I were playing hide and go seek as kids. I ran and hid in my bedroom closet. It was so dark and cramped in there. I wasn’t comfortable at all. I was really wanting to find a new place to hide but I could hear him out there already looking for me. I was scared and I was alone.

The funny thing is, the longer I stayed hidden, the more comfortable I became. My eyes adjusted to the darkness and it wasn’t so scary. It was tight and there was little room to move, but I was surrounded and somewhat protected by my things. In fact, it started to feel safe. It was like the world (or my brother) couldn’t find me. Sure my feet went to sleep after a while and I was starting to get tired, but it was comfortable all the same.

Then he opens the door and finds me. It hurt my eyes and I had to blink a few times because they were watering from the sudden intensity of light that flowed into my dark little haven. I had to slowly untangle myself from all the junk on the floor. I had to adjust to the sudden feeling of being found and therefore vulnerable to losing the game.

And that is exactly how my journey has been. I remember the day I had the thought, and I quote, “Damn, I’m gay.” I ran and jumped into that closet so fast and it was a terrifying place to be. It was dark, I was lost and alone, and I was terrified. It was so very cramped in there being surrounded by years of being “churched”, family beliefs, community beliefs, and my own fears and concerns. No one needed to know I was gay and I could keep all of my things with me.

And it started to become comfortable, hiding away pretending to be what everyone else wanted. Of course I had to deny basic truths about myself and staying in that dark place, I quit growing. I became stagnant and stale. I was trying to keep who I was so tightly hidden that it pinched and it hurt. But it is better to stick with what you know right? As uncomfortable as it was being in the closet, it was safer than the great unknown. If I opened that door, what would I lose? Would my family, friends,community, and church disown me? Would I lose my security and everything I have known if I opened that door even just a crack?

To this day, I am not completely sure how I found the courage to open that door up. But somehow I managed it. I opened it up enough to sneak out under the cover of darkness and find Anita’s web site. (Sisterfriends link on the side) And through that site, the light started to come in. Oh it hurt, and I was very uncomfortable admitting to another person that I was gay. I stepped out in faith that she was who she said she was, and in turn, I was richly rewarded.

I found out that I didn’t have to stay hidden from everyone. And once I became accepting of myself and my orientation, that closet wasn’t comfortable anymore. I am in no way saying that everyone should jump out of the closet tomorrow, it is a personal decision that should be given time. I am only speaking to my own journey. But I couldn’t hide myself anymore.

That is not to say that every single person who knows me, knows I am gay. I am out to my family and close friends, it is sort of on a need to know basis. A lot of people really have no reason to know. But I am not hiding. Coming out was a hard journey and it is still one that I am on. But in no way do I regret coming out of the dark cramped place to a room full of light.

In honor of national coming out day, I came out to my girl friend. I told her I was gay and the funny thing is, she already knew. The great thing is that she is gay too. So we have another thing in common….

The last 48 hours

Let me tell you about the last 48 hours I have spent.  Okay, let me vent and complain about the last 48 hours. 

A few posts back (quite a few actually) I mentioned that I have some weird hobbies.  One of my hobbies is brain tanning hides.  (yes that isn’t a typo.  I tan hides using brains and smoke)  But one of the key ingredients in that hobby is the hide itself.  I have found the best way to store the deer hides is in the freezer.

Well it was a great idea until the freezer dies while I was away visiting my darling JB.  I get home weds. night and smelled a strange odor.  I fearfully walked into the room and looked at the huge freezer that I knew was filled to the brim with hides and brains.  In dreading anticipation, I lift the lid ever so slightly……And slam it down again.  Yes that strange odor was indeed 50 hides and 12 pints of brains decomposing in a freezer that wasn’t freezing.

Now what am I to do with that mess?  I can’t just take it outside and dump it, my dogs would be dragging that gross stuff up for months, the garbage man would rightfully refuse to take that stinking mess and it was way too much to throw out at one time anyway.  So that left me with incineration.  But that takes some planning on my part. 

So I get into town the next day and buy 4 cans of lighter fluid and vicks.  The lighter fluid is to get a hot fire going and vicks to keep me from dying from the smell.  I have dust masks I wear at work and I took one and smeared the inside with the vicks.  It helped alot but didn’t completely kill the smell.  Thank you C.S.I. for that good idea. 

Fortunately for me and unfortunately for my brother, he got home from work in time to help.  My mom came out and she cleaned out the freezer while I played fire bug.  It was not a pretty sight.  Today I went out to the fire and noticed some hides were still left so once again I was burning stinking rotten hides.  Not a pleasant way to spend a day.

So tonight I am tired, half sick from the smell, and just plain frustrated.  But at least I found it before it got too bad.  And at least it is done and gone.  I think maybe my next hobbie will be flowers or perfumes, or a sweet smelling anything.