Her.

There is no greater earthly love, than the love that I posses for her. Her, the one whom the sun rises for, only to grace our dying world with her astounding beauty.

Her name rolls off of my tongue with grace and ease. Many do not find much meaning behind someone’s name. It is simply a word used to address the person you are speaking about or to. Hers is much more than that. Her name is a word that gives her character; it is not a definition of her. You can never give that girl a definition, because there is no one way to define her. Her name, however, gives her fullness. It tastes sweet when I hold it inside of my cheeks. Her name brings my mouth to life as I speak it and it stings when it wisps from between my lips. If I could only speak one word for the rest of time, let it be her sweet, bold name.

She is an idea that many wordsmiths attempt to put in writing. However, you simply cannot find the words. No words can amount to the idea that is her. She can make the most effortlessly beautiful writers write as if they know no such rules for language. She can make the most eloquent speakers speak as if they are newborn children, babbling, attempting to make their mouths create the words. However, it is all impossible. I can try to find the right things to say in honor of her and who she is, but I am merely a failure.

I adore the girl with the name of wonders and the power to baffle the intellectual. I love her more any concept could grasp. I love her in ways most humans think are impossible. My life was formed and given to me as a gift. My gift is that I have been chosen to meet her, and fall in love so deeply with her that I spend my life chasing after her and all of her beauty. My gift is that she will choose me, every day. See is not mine to keep, because nothing so wonderful could ever be a possession. Instead, she chooses to stay next to me. Me, someone who in anyone else’s opinion, could never amount to enough for her. Those people are right. I will never match her splendor, or her magnitude, I can only try. But, I will always match her in step, because wherever she may be, I will be next to her. I will never leave her side or stray away from the creation God ever so lovingly took his precious time on. She may never be “mine,” no. Oh but I will always be hers.

 

 

Erasing Words-Not the Truth

Confession: I haven’t written in awhile. Previously I wrote a blog called “Preacher’s Gay Granddaughter”, and it was one of my most prized possessions. In this blog, I admitted being gay and how hard it was to be a closeted lesbian when your family is full (literally) of Pentecostal pastors. I explained the depth of hurt it caused me. I also explained how my family had no clue about me–that fact, however, changed quickly.

Soon after I posted this blog, I received over 15 frantic texts from my grandma (the pastor). Where I was told:

“How could you do this to me?”

“Your granddaddy already wanted to move, you just made his decision easier.”

“You are reprimanding us as pastors, and the church as a whole.”

“You are a confused little girl who is making a big mistake.”

“You aren’t gay. Is she pressuring you?”

“I can’t look at your facebook anymore as it makes me sick, I am blocking you. So is your grandfather.”

“How dare you? Do you just enjoy hurting me?”

“Are you doing this to hurt me purposefully?”

All of these were sent to me back-to-back, during a very important dinner I was having with a fellow coach. When I read these, it was such a punch in my stomach that the wind was knocked out of me. I didn’t entertain her with responses, I just let her continue. She found out about me, and hated me. As a grandma, and as a pastor, she hated me.

Weeks later, she called me to her house and I reluctantly went. When I walked in she had bible verses printed out and scattered across the couch. She sat me down and told me I was confused and that I didn’t know what I was doing. She told me I was going to hell if I didn’t “change my ways.” She told me “let me pray for you, it will help.” In which my response was I’ve prayed for years not to be gay, not because I am afraid to go to hell or think I will, but because I knew I would be the biggest disappointment of your life. She didn’t disagree. She told me “I never should have allowed you to go to that liberal college. (Side note: I went to a private baptist university…liberal? I think not.) She then pulled out a blown up version of my blog post “Preachers Gay Granddaughter” and I thought she was going to slap me she was so mad. She said she was having chest pains, she told me she would rather die than this.

Following this conversation, I deleted my blog post. I was in such a dark place that I just deleted it. It is one of my only regrets that I have. “Preachers Gay Granddaughter” was a huge step in the right drection for me. It is the first time I had publicly said the words “I’m gay.” It was refreshing, and I let someone push me to the edge of deleting it.

This is my rubbutle to my own stupidity. I am still, and always will be the writer of “Preacher’s Gay Granddaughter”. And I am proud of that fact.

I am excited to get to writting again. I have a few things in mind. Please follow me on this journey, and enjoy.