Mistake or Miracle?

Coming up on three years...most of life is pretty smooth. Good job, great wife, nice place to live, decent support system. But something that's still broken (although I will admit it was broken LONG before my transition): my family. My dad still refuses to use my chosen pronouns. He's the only one who holds out. Even his parents refer to me by my chosen name and pronoun. My mom is working hard to embrace me and has courageously so, especially since she and my dad are still married and she's sort of stuck in the middle. I am considering calling him by his name, or perhaps by "Mr. [sirname]". Not sure he's really my dad in any way other than biology at this point. This saddens me, of course. But after writing and sending the letter below, I feel I have done all there is to do. April 7, 2012 Easter Weekend Dear Dad, I woke up this morning, anxious stomach churning. Today I get to see my family. And for the most part, that is a good thing. But among the positives, there glares a lingering negative: How many times today will Dad jab at me? Which lead me to the question: Why do I care what he says or what he thinks? My mind raced with questions, searching for some sort of emotional armor, a sense of preparation and grounding. And then it occurred to me that I care about you, what you think, how you feel about me, being visible to you because we as humans are wired for connection. God has created us so that we long for connection with Him, some of which is by seeing Him and His glory in those around us. I believe that He gave us families to provide a built-in connection, to give us a safe place, a guarantee that we will never be alone. The Bible refers to him as Father and uses the analogy of family to describe the inherent connection between all believers, if not all mankind. You, as my earthly father, were supposed to be my sure thing. Your love, protection, devotion, emotional attention and acceptance were to be the foundation of a deep sense of belonging and security. Sadly, there are very few times in my life that I felt any of those things at all. Instead, there was a distance, always a stoic sense of separateness, of judgment, and only if and when I was perfect was there a “reward” of conditional and oh-so-fleeting love. As if loving me (or mom or anyone else for that matter) who didn’t live up to your self-imposed ideals of perfection, discipline and dogma might taint you and contaminate your hard fought righteousness. And as we sit here today, you still feel the need to be right. Being right, sterilized from the imperfections (or as you may see it, “sins”) of those around you is priority over love. You consider it your calling, your moral duty to “hold the line”. You would rather be right, than show me kindness if I “don’t deserve it”. You would rather be right than give me respect if I “haven’t earned it”. You would rather be right, than accidentally love me if I am “wrong”. As for me, my gender, my sexuality, the things about me that fill you with grief and rage and fear, I cannot explain why things are the way they are. It does not make sense. My being a man born into a female body doesn’t make sense. And for a long time, I thought of it as God making a mistake. Of course, we know that God doesn’t make mistakes, so there must be some other explanation. As I lay in bed this morning, thinking about you, Easter dinner, why things are the way they are a memory surfaced. I have just a few individual memories of your sermons, you preaching from the pulpit. And I remember this one evening service and I think you and I went alone. I don’t remember Mom or Amy being there at all. I remember you saying that there are laws of the universe in place- like gravity or inertia. And sometimes God, in his infinite wisdom and for his purposes, “suspends the rules”. You said this is what we call “miracles”. Miracles have no explanation; they must be taken on faith. The Israelites could have said that Moses was just a crazy old man (and no doubt some of them did) but when it came time to cross the river, they just had to believe or die. They could not fulfill their calling, their purpose as the chosen people of God without faith in God and faith in Moses and faith in the miracle. The Bible is full of examples people whose journey lead them smack dab, headlong into a situation that required them take actions and take on roles that made no sense to anyone else. We read about how people reacted to Noah, Sarah, Mary, John the Baptist… the list goes on and on. And we read about how people thought they were crazy, possessed or just wrong. But these people had a purpose. They sought God’s face and through faith lived as they felt called. What they did, how they lived made no sense- because God suspended the rules. There are examples all around us of things that don’t make sense, but we have to somehow take on faith. What if my life, who I am isn’t a mistake? What if it’s a miracle? What if I have been infinitely blessed to have the ability to understand the struggles of both men and women? What if I can now show compassion and bring people together in a way that most people can’t? What if this life I am living right here and now is exactly what was meant for me? All I can do is press forward, seeking my call, living each day with purpose and surrender. That’s all any of us can do and we are called to do it, no matter what resistance, judgment or disapproval we face as a result. God embraces us, protects us, provides for us and never fails to show loving kindness. He loves us so much that he humbled himself to walk among us. He created us, let us fall so that we could choose our own path, sent his son, died for us and then showed us the power we have through him to overcome fear and hate and death to be whole again. He loves us so much, he even sets aside the rules sometimes…and just asks us to believe that he loves us and all things work for our good, even when we don’t understand. Especially when we don’t understand. And his example as a father is to love us and be kind to us not because we are doing right, deserve it, or have earned it but just because. As for us, I believe God’s intent in providing family was to give us a sure thing, a safe place to get that need for connection met. And as I become increasingly more aware of my own mortality and the mortality of others (like Chop Chop) I don’t want us to find ourselves at a place where when we have to say goodbye we realize we have wasted the hellos. I want to know I have a father who loves me enough to welcome me, just as I am. I want to know that our differences can be set aside and I can love you while you live your life and you can love me while I live mine. I want to know that you care about my heart, my dreams and those I love. I want to know that when I struggle, you see it and feel it and struggle too. I want to know that when I celebrate, you celebrate too. I want to know that when I set aside time, to come share a meal or a game of 42 I don’t have to pack my armor because I am not going into hostile territory, I am going to a place of unbridled compassion and acceptance. Because to me, that is love. That is family. Your son, Drew