I grew up in the church
My mother a pastor
My father one too
The pews became home to my tiny, toddler feet
My faith fostered by the congregation X2
My family and friends meshed together
all fellow Christians
Until I grew slightly older and saw a new world
Where being the pastors’ kid doesn’t hold such a weight
It didn’t define me or my faith.
In real life
No one assumes you are this way or that because of a profession your parents come from.
And suddenly my world became a little confusing
I found that each question I asked about
myself
and my life
And my sexuality
And my faith
could pull me apart from each prayer I would say
Until one day I came out to the pastors
of a faith that would ridicule me until my skeleton was all that remained
as gay.
I went into that conversation with a quivering voice
Fully prepared to say
good bye to all the support I had known
But
I was met with two smiles and three little words that could never lose their weight:
“We love you”
Suddenly it didn’t matter what they did for a living
or previously believed
I am their daughter so they made room for me.
They took a quick moment to readjust their lives for this reality of love I would find. They sit in prayer and stand up when it matters and their kids feel the love of our God all the same.
My faith was tested by a world of confusing narratives.
This is my story.
Mine.
And I’d say it’s a story full of
Faith lost
And faith found
And pain
And triumph
And love
And acceptance
And people who feel all the same stuff.
My mother a pastor
My father one too
My sister becomes my brother
And we live our love together.
Out in the open. Far from the shadows of shame.
My family is beautiful.
Engulfed by a faith
where we stand our ground as we say,
“God’s love is love
and so is ours
to all of mankind.
each beating heart is a precious creation of our Lord and Savior nothing can change that-
It’s the simplest of fact.”
—
Submitted by Sarah W.
