Last week, I reached out to a very important person in my life. Mary was the pastor who performed the wedding ceremony when Rebecca and I got married back in 1994. More than that, she had been my pastor for the previous decade - during my late teens and early twenties. Together, we had chaperoned a group of teenagers on a mission trip to help folks in Florida after a devastating hurricane. As she was also married to my first boss after college, it's fair to say that we were close to one another.
She was another in a long list of people I should have contacted after Rebecca's passing, but never did because it just hurt too f*cking much. Slowly, I have begun reaching out to all the people on this list and, I am happy to say, been very successful in re-establishing long dormant relationships. Of course what makes all this extra interesting is the whole "Nora" thing. It's kinda like: "Remember when Rebecca died, and, oh yeah, I'm a trans woman now! What's up with you?"
Facetiousness aside, my contacting Mary got me thinking about something else. In the last year or so, I have had a handful of interactions with different pastors that have all been incredibly affirming and wonderful. A few of them are Presbyterians, a few are Methodists, and one came from the United Church of Christ. They are, everyone of them, wonderful. The other thing they have in common is that they are all women.
Last spring, I sat down with Erica. She coordinates a community breakfast at her church. Six days a week they provide a free, hot morning meal for anyone in the community - no questions asked. I was looking for a way to volunteer my time, but wanted to be sure that I would be welcomed. I wasn't yet entirely comfortable being out in the world as "Nora," so I needed to know that "Holy Grounds" was an inclusive place. She was tremendously open and welcoming, and she assured me that I would be accepted as my authentic self. Even so, she understood my nervousness, and was there on my first day to help me feel more at ease. She was right. I was instantly accepted by the other volunteers and the guests.
Erica has a co-pastor named Michelle. The first thing I noticed about Michelle was her amazing fashion sense. I was instantly jealous of every outfit she wore! The next thing I learned about her was her depth of empathy and compassion. She reached out almost immediately and made me feel welcome. As it turned out, she and I had a lot in common and we have had many meaningful conversations. There have been times when I have felt particularly vulnerable and she has been there with a kind word and a hug. She recently preached an impassioned sermon that left NO doubt, that regardless of what the national Methodist Church policy might be, I - a trans woman - belonged in her church.
J.C. is a pastor in New Haven, CT. She is the current pastor at Mary's old church (remember Mary?). When I made the decision to spread Rebecca's ashes at various, important locations, the church where we were wed was an instant choice. From a far distance and a computer keyboard, I reached out to J.C. to make sure it would be OK to do this. She assured me that it would. That was the easy part, though. I still had to walk into that church one Sunday morning to greet people I hadn't seen in over a decade. For them, they would be meeting Nora for the first time. J.C. was the first person to greet me, and though I immediately started weeping, she immediately put me at ease, and let me know I was welcomed there. She was, of course, right.
The church Emma found during her time at Iowa State University became especially important to her after her mother died. Pastor Eileen is the lead pastor there, and I knew from many different conversations with Emma, that Eileen meant a great deal to her. Last November I visited Ames to spoil Emma one last time before she graduated. I also wanted to meet Eileen and thank her for looking after my kiddo.
Now, as it turns out (and by complete coincidence, I promise!), Eileen had dedicated the service on that particular Sunday to be a "Trans Gender Day of Remembrance." How many of you are surprised that I wept through the entire service? Anyone? When I greeted her after the service, she took my arm, looked me dead in the eye and said "You are honoring God by becoming the person you were meant to be."
What Eileen didn't know when she welcomed me with those words was how tattered my relationship with God had become over the four previous years. Starting with Rebecca's passing, and for a few other reasons, I had put a great deal of distance between God and myself. I had recently been struggling with vague wonderments of how to heal this rift. With her words to me, Eileen gave me a clarity of focus that had been eluding me. What a powerful gift.
One of the "few other reasons" I mentioned above dealt with my "divorce" from a Presbyterian Church here in Mankato. Briefly, during a time of great upheaval in the church, a situation occurred that left my daughter Grace feeling personally attacked by church leadership. I couldn't abide the situation, so I left the church. There were others involved on both sides, and the only thing everyone agreed on was that it had been an ugly situation.
I had grown up Presbyterian and been an active church member most of my life, wherever I lived. Perhaps the denomination name on the front of the church shouldn't matter as much as it does, but that's a topic for another day. In any event, I began to ruminate on the whole situation, and felt very strongly that I didn't want the way things ended at the church to be the last chapter written in the book, My Life As a Presbyterian. The problem was, I didn't know how to fix it by myself.
Lindsay is the current pastor at this church. She was called to be the pastor a year or two after the ugliness. I felt a strong need to tell her my story of what had happened. I didn't know quite why, and I didn't know if she would even be open to meeting with me, but when I reached out to her, she quickly agreed to sit down with me. It was an extraordinary meeting. It didn't really 'solve' anything, but I felt listened to, and she validated the pain I felt. She left me with the feeling that healing was possible. As it stands right now, I am planning on attending services there for the first time since I left. I would never have reached this point without Lindsay's help, and I am grateful to her.
But now, here's the rub. The link below takes you to a You tube video in which male pastors read aloud comments that their female colleagues have had to endure. It's both jaw-dropping and infuriating. It makes you realize that our culture still has a long way to go when it comes to creating a society that values the gifts of its women as much as its men. These women have each touched my life in very meaningful ways. I honestly don't know if their "femaleness" is the only common denominator, or if it is something else. Frankly it doesn't matter. That they are women, and that all women are still working to overcome barriers, both large and small, is what's important. What an incredible tragedy it will be if other people miss out on the extraordinary gifts that Mary, Erica, Michelle, J.C., Eileen, and Lindsay have to offer for a reason as picayune as their gender.
No comments:
Post a Comment