by Mia Kerick
“Who’s that little Asian man up there that you painted, bro? He looks kinda like you.” Mary actually left her paperback book in the living room for this event.
Resa, who rarely says a word, pipes up with, “Why’s he in an airplane?”
I glance at the tiny airplane carrying the miniature Anthony Duck-Young Del Vecchio that I painted high above the rainbow. “That is me, Mary. Good call! And Resa, I’m through with flying low under the radar, I mean, the rainbow, for me!” I mean that, although the very concept of being visible nauseates me. For years, I’ve flown low so nobody would notice me. And although I still don’t relish the idea of being in the spotlight, I think maybe the time is approaching when I should stand up for the things I believe in, and if that means flying high, then so be it.
“What I’m doing up there in that airplane is searching for the rainbow’s pot of gold. And if I find it, the Del Vecchio’s will be rich!” We all laugh as if I’m being silly, but deep inside I know that I’ve already found the pot of gold.
Carrying My Cross
That night, I leave the little lamp that’s attached to my headboard on, and I aim it at my bedroom wall—it looks like the still-wet-hand-painted rainbow is in a spotlight. I don’t put any music on to help me relax and fall asleep because the memories of my family’s happy chatter as they decorated my bedroom are still ringing in my head.
Things are much better in my life than they have been for a long time, and I’m thankful. I focus my prayers on thankfulness. And once again, as I drift off to sleep, my heart peaceful and certain of God’s love and acceptance, I experience a moment of a different kind of awareness. It’s hard to describe, other than to say that I feel like my heart and soul are both wide open to Jesus’s intentions for my life.
And suddenly it hits me—I know what it is!
“Anthony, my son, you must discover your true cross. And then you must carry it.”
I know what my true cross is…
It seems I’ve been mistaken about what my true cross is. I’d thought it was the burden of my homosexuality, but it’s actually nowhere near that simple. My true cross is my obligation to step up and speak out, to act where I would normally react, to be seen when I would prefer to hide—all to help other gay Christians find their way back to God, like I had to do.
Carrying this cross will probably require me to go public with my sexual orientation. I’ll need to share my story under my true name—to tell of my convictions, of my love relationship, of my deep passion for God—none of which has changed, but instead has truly deepened as I’ve learned of His acceptance.
This is what I’m called to do.
Beneath cloudy skies and a perfectly imperfect rainbow, I fall asleep.
Epilogue: In The Fall…
“The meeting went awesome with the coaches.” Public speaking is still far from my favorite thing to do, but I stand up in front of my new youth group, His Way, that meets twice weekly at my place of worship, Journeys Worship Center. “It was tough to find a time where they could all get together because of practice and game schedules, but most of them figured out a way to make it last Friday at four. Three of them actually cut practice short in order to be there.”
“What did you say to ‘em?” Rinaldo, one of the newest members of His Way, blurts out his question. “You must have been nervous as he…as heck.”
Everybody laughs and it is the relaxed sort of laughter that feels as good as it sounds.
“Yeah, I was sweating bullets. But I got it done. I talked to them about my experiences in the locker room with bullying, and I reported stuff other kids have told me happened to them in sports situations. The coaches were all very attentive and appreciative of the inside information.” I’d reported my personal experience with bullying to the coaches without naming names, since Laz and I are still trying to sort out our friendship.
Twelve eager faces suggest that the teens sitting in the circle around me are ready to contribute to the youth group discussion.
I ask, “Have any of you guys gone to the coaches at your schools yet?” Our youth group has spent much of our meeting time in the month of September designing a presentation that we plan to offer to the all of the coaches and PE teachers at our various high schools. Unlike Our Way, where the kids live almost exclusively in Wedgewood, the members of His Way come from a variety of local towns, allowing us the capacity to reach a lot of adults who work with kids. I’ve been placed in charge of this project.
One teen member after another reports their progress in presenting the speech His Way has created, titled, “The status of locker room and playing field bullying: suggestions on how to create bully-free zones in our schools’ athletics departments” to the Physical Education departments and coaches of their respective schools. It’s a long title for a short presentation, but we voted and that name won.
After the updates, David, who is the leader of His Way, stands up and thanks us for volunteering to speak to our coaches and PE teachers. “And now I’d like to announce something real cool. Our next project is gonna be to make Christmas stockings for every resident of The New Horizons Elderly Center. We’re gonna give those grampas and grandmas big fuzzy red socks full of candy canes and lip balm and decks of cards and tea bags and, well, you name it, it’s gonna be in that stocking.” There’s a definite buzz of excitement in the room. “Another real exciting part of this project is that we’re gonna join forces with this other local youth group. Our Way, St. Mark’s Church in Wedgewood’s youth group, is gonna partner up with us to get this job done.”
Most of the kids look sort of surprised and then it grows very quiet.
“Hey—it’s not super shocking—we all love and serve the same God, don’t we? Anyway, Rinaldo, Anthony, and I have already met a couple times with Pastor Sutton and Father Joseph from St. Mark’s, who’s super cool.” The smile falls off David’s face, and he clears his throat. “But there is a… a slight complication. You see, Father J and Pastor S look incredibly alike. I’m afraid you guys will not be able to tell them apart. Same blue eyes, same blond hair, same height and weight. We suspect that maybe they are identical twins who were separated at birth.”
Cam stands up. “Tell me another one, Gandy.”
Melodramatically, David turns to stare at Cam, as if he’s shocked and appalled by Cam’s suggestion. “Whatever do you mean, Cameron?”
The members of His Way start to giggle and chatter.
“I mean, admit it, you’re yanking our chains.”
“Me? Yank your chains?” David pretends to fan himself as if he’s terribly offended. “Why, I never!!”
I speak up. “David is yanking your chains, but these two men of God seriously do share a resemblance.”
David easily reverts back to his usual calm, cool leader persona. “You guys all into this project?”
As the other kids voice their approval, Rinaldo, David, and I exchange satisfied glances. Father Joseph’s idea to have the two youth groups team up had been a great one, and I have a feeling it’s going to be successful, and a lot of fun. In addition, hopefully it will be an eye-opening experience for all of the kids involved. Sure, we have some differences, but we all worship the same God.
After the meeting, David and I sit down on one of the couches in the corner across from Rinaldo and another new member of His Way. Rinaldo, while still a practicing Catholic, has switched youth groups, as Journeys Worship Center allows teens from any denomination, or no denomination at all, to participate in its youth program. The other person who stays after the meeting is a new girl named Stella, who experienced intense bullying at the Christian high school she’d attended the previous year. The other kids at school had discovered through social media, that she was a lesbian. A concerned teacher from her school, who witnessed the hard time Stella was experiencing, had called the girl’s parents and suggested that they check out His Way youth group. She told Stella’s family that His Way is a positive, welcoming Christian organization for all di
fferent kinds of teens.
“It’s just, I know I can’t be straight—believe me I tried really hard—but I can’t give up on Jesus, either. This is so hard.” Stella has managed to contain her tears to this point. “I didn’t choose to be this way. Who in their right mind would choose this?”
My gaze meets David’s. We’ve both been exactly where Stella is. Exactly.
“Last spring before school got out, the other kids wrote all of these notes—like maybe a hundred of them—that said God hates homos and they folded them up and stuffed them into my locker and then—”
“Do you think you know Jesus, Stella?” David interrupts her story. “I mean, do you think you know Him at all?”
Stella sniffs and then wipes her nose with her sleeve. “I’ve read the New Testament, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did you listen to what Jesus said in it? Did you get a sense of what he’s all about?”
She looks confused. “I think so.”
David pulls his chair toward Stella’s, and Rinaldo and I lean toward them in order to hear what he’s going to tell her. David’s talented at this sort of thing and we both know he’s going to say something important that we don’t want to miss. “Would the Jesus you know—the Jesus who spent far more of his time with the outcasts in society than with the religious righteous—well, would that Jesus hate you because of who you love?”
Stella’s eyes widen.
“You’re loved, Stella. Our Father in heaven loves us all passionately.” He stops for a second to let it sink into Stella’s head. “You. Are. Loved.” When he repeats it for the second time, he does so very slowly as if to brand every word into her mind. Even my spine tingles with the effect of his words.
“There are always going to be people who hate. But we don’t have to listen to what they say.” I try to speak with a level of conviction that will match David’s, but I’m not sure I pull it off. “And we don’t have to hate them back. We can forgive them, and look to God with trust that he loves us just as we are.”
“It might take time for you to buy what we’re telling you, Stella. But believe me, I’ve been there and done that. Tony has, too. And me and Tony can help you to understand that God loves you. We can go through certain Bible passages with you—it’ll make everything clear.”
David and I have continued to get together to study the topic of homosexuality in regard to Christianity, and at every meeting I gain a deeper understanding of what God expects of me. And I value our enlightening private Bible studies—they comprise an important part of our relationship. I decide to tell Stella some stuff I learned from Anthony and have come to fully embrace. “Jesus never spoke on the topic of same-sex relationships directly, but we can show you the way we see it. There are purposes behind God’s rules for Christians, and we can find no purpose behind a rule against same-sex relationships—as long as the relationship is loving, monogamous, and Christ-centered.”
Rinaldo chooses that moment to add, “My dad left my mom for a man and divorced her, married him, and broke his vows to her. I think that’s big time wrong, but now I know he must have led a very confused and messed-up life trying not to be gay, when he actually was, and there was no changing that. But he also turned his back on our family, which is what hurts me, and pisses me off.” He glances at me for a second and I smile and nod, so he’ll finish what he’s saying. “I’ve forgiven him, and I know now that I’m not pissed at him for being gay—but I’m disappointed in him for hurting Mom and forgetting about me.”
We all nod at him. Even Stella.
“I’d like to look at the Bible with you guys,” Stella says quietly. “If you don’t mind.…”
“Course we don’t mind, Stella. Let’s meet here an hour before the next His Way meeting and we can get started.” David is always happy to help, and that’s only one of the countless things I love about him.
“Don’t forget to bring your trusty red marker. ” I nudge the side of his hand with the side of mine.
David nudges me back. “I’m nothing without that marker.”
As we head for David’s truck, he asks me, “Any progress with Laz’s parents?”
I shake my head. “Nah. Laz told me that Father Joseph has spoken to them several times, and they still won’t let him hang around with me.”
David takes my hand as we walk and I feel connected to him. “Well, that sucks.”
“But he says they do ‘forgive me’ for being gay.”
“Lucky you—forgiven for being how God made you.”
“Yeah, I guess. I feel bad for Laz, though. He seems different at school lately—he stays sort of separate from everybody else. And he’s not going to be allowed to do the Stockings Project because I’ll be there.”
“That so sucks. He’s probably disillusioned…and confused.” David squeezes my hand a couple of times in a row. “Plus he lost his wingman at the mall arcade—it’s much harder to pick up babes alone.” He winks at me again and then continues. “Um…at least from what I hear.” At that, we both laugh. “Any word from Father J since we met with him last week for planning of the Stockings Project?”
“He called my house a couple of nights ago. Father Joseph still wants our family to know that we can return to St. Mark’s at any time. And, you know, every once in a while I miss going to Mass. I always loved it—it was really peaceful to me.”
David opens the truck’s passenger door for me, and I watch him trot around the front of the truck and hop in beside me. I experience the rush of attraction that I’ve grown quite accustomed to, and that I now am totally okay with. Because I know my feelings for him are not sinful, and that if David one day becomes my husband, our intimacy will be incredibly special and meaningful. Not that it isn’t difficult for us to wait to be close every now and then, because it totally is.
“But I’m happy with how everything turned out,” I add. Our gazes meet.
Every second of the wait will be well worth it and we both know it.
As soon as David starts the truck, music fills the cab. He’d managed to slip a disc in the CD player before we got out of the truck without me noticing. It’s “Amazing Grace”, which doesn’t shock me—but it’s an arrangement I’ve never heard before. Ever since last spring when we listened to Josh Groban singing it upstairs in David’s bedroom, we’ve periodically surprised each other with different musical versions of this classic hymn. It’s a strange choice, but it’s definitely our song.
Maybe, though, “Amazing Grace” isn’t such a strange choice.
A few nights ago, I had the urge to conduct one of those late night Google searching adventures that had brought me intolerable stress at this time last year. I searched for “definition of grace” and I focused on what came up in terms of Christian belief. The best answer, in my opinion, was found in About.com Christianity, which stated: “Grace is God's unmerited favor. It is kindness from God we don't deserve. There is nothing we have done, nor can ever do to earn this favor. It is a gift from God.”
There’s no doubt I’ve received abundant grace.
Plus, I’ve been gifted with the ability to coherently use the word abundant in a sentence, which isn’t a bad thing, seeing as the October SAT date is fast approaching.
As David starts to drive, I lean back, close my eyes, and listen to the familiar melody, silently rejoicing in the confidence that, gay or straight, as long as I live His way I will someday celebrate eternal life with Jesus.
Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease;
I shall profess, within the vail,
A life of joy and peace.
Interview With Mia Kerick
1. What gave you the idea for your latest book?
It might seem that the answer to this question would pop easily into my head, but I actually had to think quite a bit to identify the true source of my idea. I will preface my answer by saying that I am a Catholic who was raised very strictly in the Faith, but who hasn’t practic
ed in about ten years. I still hold a strong belief in God, feel that there are intrinsic moral rights and wrongs that our consciences keep us informed of—not that we always listen—and continue to pray every day and night.
Much like Anthony, I am a rules-follower. Things are black and white to me. And I couldn’t manage to follow all of the rules of the Catholic Church. For many years, I tried. And I failed. When I was a child, I worried incessantly over things such as talking back to my mother or using God’s name in vain. As a teen, I compulsively went to confession the way Anthony does in Inclination, for fear my soul would be blackened by sin and I might accidentally get hit by a car, and die in that state, plummeting to hell. As a young adult, I struggled with sexuality issues involving the rules of the Catholic Church. I just kept on sinning, confessing, and suffering over what “kind of girl” I was.
And I was a good girl—a kind girl. But I really couldn’t see that. All I could see is that I sometimes broke the rules. I worried continuously over how I was disappointing God.
As a new mother who had married outside my Faith, I struggled to bring my children up in the Catholic Church. At one point, I had an eight, six, four, and two-year-old. And we missed Mass sometimes. Some mornings it was just too difficult to get there.
Again, I couldn’t follow the rules, and truthfully, I never had been able to do so as perfectly as I wanted, and so I just gave up. But no one who has faith ever really gives up on God altogether. I knew Jesus—I KNOW Jesus—and he is always with me. But I felt like I wasn’t a real Christian because I had no formal religion, and I was no longer passing a formal religion on to my children.
