For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. - 1 Corinthians 13: 12-13
She saw the same thing every night for the last 18 years aFs she closed her eyes,
her beautiful tow-headed boy with his bright blue eyes looking so afraid as he told his father that he was gay.
“I’ve known since I was nine. I’ve been so afraid to tell you. But I need you to know. I’m gay.”
Her heart started beating in her ears so that she didn’t hear what he said next. How could he say such a thing?. Tom was raised in church. He had accepted Christ at eleven and been baptized. This couldn’t be happening. Tom was a good boy.
Michael didn’t hesitate. “What do you mean, you’re gay! You’re a Christian.”
“I still am. But I’m also gay,” he whispered.
Tom’s eyes looked at Michael so beseechingly.
“No! You’re not. We did not raise you up to be a homosexual! My SON is not a homosexual!” Michael sputtered.
She watched as Tom’s worry turned to anger.
“You’re wrong, Daddy. Your son IS gay; he’s a queer, a FAGGOT!” Tom shouted, his voice quivering.
Michael’s face, red with rage, told their son to get out.
“Get out of my house. Do you hear me? And don’t you ever come back. I never want to see you again. Do you get that? I don’t want anything to do with you. You want to live like a HOMO sexual you can do it without any help from me.
Don’t expect another dime from us. If you want to live that way, you’ll not do it as my son.”
Tom’s face was unforgettable, his own anger quickly replaced with shock. He visibly crumpled. How could Michael say that? Michael had always been a loving, affectionate father. This was not a man either of them knew.
As her husband pushed him out the door, she saw Tom stumble. Tom cowered as if he expected his daddy to hit him, something Michael had never done. Michael just stood there seething.
Tom slowly walked away.
She never saw him again.
The loud thunderclap of the slammed door was followed by her husband’s fists pounding the wood. Soon both the door and his fists were covered in blood. He pressed his head to the door as he slid down to his knees with gasping sobs. In their forty-two years of marriage, she had never seen Michael cry.
Grace had not moved during the entire exchange, still holding two glasses of iced tea she brought them from the kitchen. Michael was on his knees before she thought to set them aside.
As her husband wept, she could not take in what had just happened. Surely it was a joke. A bad one, but still only a joke. Tom would come back with his silly smile and say “You didn’t think I was serious, did ya?” She looked out the window wanting to see him return.
As she put her arms around Michael, she felt shame begin to burn within her. What would they tell their friends. What would they tell his grandparents? What had they done to make Tom gay? What could they do to set this right!
She didn’t have the answers to any of those questions.
To forgive is to set the prisoner free and discover the prisoner was you
- Lewis B. Smedes
Michael never recovered. He blamed himself. He thought he must have done something to turn Tom into a homosexual. He’d been too demonstrative with Tom. He hadn’t been man enough. It was all his fault.
He retreated to a dark place and never came out.
She knew that Tom tried to call. She would hear Michael answer, pause in silence, and place the phone back on the hook. The anger had passed, Michael’s face a mask of deep sorrow. For him, Tom was gone.
She just let the phone go to voice mail. There was never a message from her son.
The worst part for her was that she had noone to talk to. Michael refused to even mention Tom’s name. She felt like she was simmering with emotions that needed release, but she had no one to tell. No one could know. What would they say?
She felt so alone.
Grace wondered, too, what had she done. Wasn’t it always the mother’s fault? She had not been loving enough. She had been too loving. She had done something to make him hate women. Had their relationship been a farce? He was always closer to his daddy, but wasn’t that normal? Didn’t all boys like their father the best?
She worried with so many whys that didn’t have an answer.
People at her church asked about Tom. They wondered what was wrong with Michael. Grace just told them she had an unspoken request.” They kept asking, of course, telling her that they would pray for her, sometimes hinting that if they knew more, they could pray better. Grace would simply thank them. Eventually, they asked less often, and then, not at all. It was what she wanted.
At least that’s what she told herself.
Tom was an only child. It was such a surprise when she discovered she was pregnant three days before her fortieth birthday. She married Michael when they were teenagers. All those years they waited for the children to come. They never did. They had resigned themselves to being childless. Grace was crushed with that loss and felt that she had failed Michael with her infertility.
And then, there was Tom. A son. She could not have given Michael a greater gift.
They were so proud of their son. Last year Tom won a tuition scholarship at the local college. He worked part-time as a barista at a nearby coffee shop and took out a loan for the rest of his expenses. He studied hard and made good grades. He was very conscientious about his work.
Grace worried about what would happen to him now without their financial support. Little as it was, she knew he depended on their help. She wasn’t sure he could make it through college without it. They paid his car insurance and taxes, they took him out to eat at least once a week, and she would often take him groceries. Not too much. She respected that he wanted to be independent, but could he do it without any support at all?
He would certainly be without health insurance. Michael removed him from their insurance the first week after Tom left. She never understood that. Perhaps Michael thought Tom would come back and things would go back to normal. Was that the point of cutting him out of their lives?
She worried most about the insurance. Tom had asthma. Not bad, but he always carried an inhaler with him. Without insurance, inhalers were expensive. And what if he got hurt? She just hoped Tom would come to his senses before it was too late. She knew Michael would forgive him if he promised to change.
Tom didn’t return; and eventually, he stopped calling.
The internet was in its infancy when Tom left, but by 2005, Grace had both a computer and access to the worldwide web. She used it to research Tom’s homosexuality. She was encouraged by the conversion therapy promoted by Anita Bryant. Perhaps Tom, too, could be cured.
When she tentatively mentioned it to Michael, he confessed that he once had another man approach him in the army. “ I thought he was a friend. He thought I was like him. It was disgusting. Men like that don’t change, and certainly not with the kind of treatment in those places.”
She was surprised by both his admission of his army experience and that he had done his own research, obviously more extensively than she had. When she looked in greater depth, she discovered the painful, and what she thought abusive, techniques they used. And Michael was right. It never seemed to stick.
Knowing that Micheal had checked it out first made her disappointment even greater, and the army experience went a long way to explaining his horror at Tom’s confession.
Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done
Bryan Stephenson
It was a Saturday afternoon when they got the knock on the door. Her first thought was always that it was Tom.
“What’s a black priest doing at our door,” Michael wondered aloud. “See what he wants, and don’t take any religious pamphlets.”
When she opened the door, the young man introduced himself as Luke and asked if he could come in and speak to them. She knew instinctively that something was wrong and that it must be to do with Tom.
“I’m the hospital chaplain at Spring Street Memorial. Your son has asked me to come talk to you. He would like to see you.”
“What has happened?” Michael whispered.
“Tom is dying.”
“Has he been in a car wreck?” It was the only thing Grace could think of that would mean a 25 year old could be dying.
“Tom has AIDS, doesn’t he?” Michael said harshly.
“Yes, sir. I’m afraid he does.”
It was like flipping a switch.
“You’ve wasted your time,” was Michael’s bitter reply. “Our son has chosen his path, and this is what it has led to… AIDS, God’s judgement on queers.”
The priest was shocked by Michael’s words but recovered enough to say, “I wish you would reconsider. Your son needs you. He wants you by his side.”
Michael just turned and walked away.
The priest looked her way, his question unspoken. Grace covered her mouth with her hand to hold back the sobs choking her throat, and she shook her head. She had never opposed Micheal in anything. She wanted to follow this priest out the door. Everything in her screamed to go with him, but she knew she couldn’t. Michael would consider it a betrayal.
She saw the look of sorrow on the priest’s face, the tears in his eyes as he left.
She would regret her choice for the rest of her life.
Two years later, Michael collapsed at the office. The doctor told her he was dead before he hit the floor.
“He didn’t suffer.”
Nothing could be further from the truth. Michael never recovered from his decision to let Tom die alone. Michael died of a bitterly broken heart.
She had to live with hers.
But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.
- Matthew 5:45
At first, it was just something going on out in California, the China virus. She knew there were a lot of Chinese people in California. It didn’t seem like anything that would affect her.
When the news said it was worse, her friends at church said it was just a hoax. It was like the flu. The Democrats were always out to get Trump.
Grace didn’t vote, but that seemed a bit silly to her.
By March, the governor of New York was having daily press conferences about what he was calling the coronavirus. It seems that so many people were getting it that they were locking people in their houses. People in Italy were doing the same.
What a thing to happen!
By the time the president called a state of emergency, she was hearing that it was a worldwide pandemic. People were dying by the thousands. Is this the end of the world? Was the rapture coming?
Her heart ached as it always did when she thought about Tom’s soul. He had made his profession of faith. God wouldn’t take away his salvation. Her desire to see Tom again made anything else unthinkable. In heaven, all would be forgiven. Michael and his son would be reunited. They would be a family again. It was her greatest solace.
She thought about dying so much in the years after Michael died. It was unfair for him to go and leave her in such desolation. She couldn’t help but think if Michael had died first, she could have been there for Tom. It was a terrible thought, and one she could not stop having. Why didn’t she go?
When the president said it would probably be over by Easter, her church made plans for their Easter service. But then it didn’t end; it just kept going on and on.
She didn’t have any family left. Her parents died not long after Tom’s revelation, and Michael’s parents died when Tom was four. Her sister died of breast cancer at thirty and Michael’s brother died in Vietnam.
She was alone.
Grace worried about what she would do when she was told not to leave the house because she was high risk. It was mostly old people who were dying. Grace was well over 60 which according to the news put her in greater danger.
Grocery stores were only letting so many people shop at a time. Some places started delivery and pick up services, but not in her small town.
But then once a week, beginning after Easter, she would find three bags of groceries on her doorstep with milk and other perishables in a styrofoam ice chest. She never saw who delivered it. It was just there in the morning.
It must be someone from the church, she decided. Grace asked around because she wanted to thank them, but no one ever admitted to doing it.
By mid- May, she ventured out to buy her own groceries and the deliveries stopped. She was thrilled to get out again but still wondered about her mystery shopper.
She didn’t have a mask and didn’t try to get one. They said so many different things about the virus. At first, you didn’t need one, and now they said to wear one. The president said it was voluntary. He wasn’t going to; and anyway, it was going away in the summer, just like the flu. May was practically summer where she lived. It was certainly hot by then.
For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
- Matthew 25: 35-36
Her symptoms developed quickly. In the morning, she felt fine. By late afternoon, she had aches and fever. Did she have the virus? When she started vomiting, she thought no, it was just a stomach flu.
When the vomiting finally stopped, she still felt weak and there was a heaviness in her chest. She was so tired. She found it too hard to go to the kitchen for a can of bouillon.
It was once again a Saturday when she heard a knock on the door. As always, she thought of Tom. She seldom had visitors, and a knock always brought back the trauma of that day.
When she saw that it was the black priest once again, hope leapt within her that Tom might still be alive. She was trembling when she opened the door.
“ You haven’t left the house this week. I was worried that you might not be well,” he said.
“How would you know that?”
“Tom made me promise before he died that I would look out for both of you. I’ve never contacted you before, but I’ve always made a point of knowing how you were. I was so sorry when your husband passed. I wasn’t at the church service, but I was in the back at the graveside ceremony.”
All Grace heard was “when he died.” It was like losing Tom all over again.
“ Ma’am, you don’t look well to me. That’s why I decided to come see you.”
“I’ve had a stomach flu. It’s left me quite weak.”
As she answered, she realized that Luke must have been her mystery shopper.
“Do you feel like you have a fever?” he asked.
“ I don’t know.” She said distractedly. “ I think Michael may have put the thermometer somewhere. He never puts anything back in the right place.”
She turned back to Luke.“You’re the one who brought me groceries?”
“ Yes, ma’am. Tom wanted me to keep an eye out for you,”
“He’s such a good boy, my Tom. Did you know him?”
Luke looked disturbed. He took her hand. “Tom wants you to come to the hospital with me,”
“I can’t.”
She knew Tom was dying. “I can’t defy his daddy. I want to see him so much.” She began to cry.
“ He was a homosexual, you see. Michael couldn’t condone that.”
“Michael isn’t here anymore,” Luke reminded her gently. “He had a heart attack.”
“Oh yes, I do remember. I can go see Tom now. I need to get my purse.”
“I think it would be best if we call a ride for you,” Luke said as he got out his phone. “You don’t need to drive when you’re feeling sick.”
“Well, I think I might go sit down then.”
Luke took her elbow and set her down in the nearest chair. The ambulance was there in ten minutes.
There is peace even in a storm
-Vincent Van Gogh
Grace had no idea how long she was in the hospital bed with an oxygen tube in her nostrils and the constant beeping of her heartbeat on the monitor beside her bed. Coughs racked her body and she struggled to breathe. Her chest felt as if it was on fire. At one point, they turned her over on her stomach. It helped to take the weight off her chest.
She did remember the priest coming to see her. She recognized him through his mask. She would feel his hand holding hers, cool through the plastic glove, but comforting. Sometimes she imagined it was Tom, sometimes Michael, but when her vision cleared, it was always Luke.
There was a turning point she couldn’t quite define where she knew she was getting better. Slowly her body was starting to heal. She still needed oxygen and her chest was still painful, but her mind started to clear.
On one of Luke’s visit, she asked him, “ Are you like my son?”
He knew immediately what she meant. “I am.”
“You are good like my son.” She hesitated. “I suspected he might be that way. He never had a girlfriend.”
Luke just nodded.
She hesitated again. “ Were you his… friend?
“I was his priest.”
“He became Catholic? How odd?”
“I’m an Episcopalian priest.”
“Oh.”
“He attended my church for a year before he died.”
“Did they know he was homosexual? Do they know about you?”
He smiled. “They do.”
“And that doesn’t matter?”
“All of us are welcome in God’s house.”
She began to weep then, her chest heaving with the effort to contain her coughs. Luke immediately summoned the nurse who put something in her IV that sent her back to sleep.
“ God, we ask for the sending of your healing Spirit, who came to us through Jesus, as he breathed upon his disciples. This Spirit gathered your people to be warmed by the fire of divine presence…”
Grace heard Luke’s deep voice as she struggled to wake from her deep sleep. Luke stopped and held her hand.
“Are you feeling a little better?”
‘Please,” she told him. “Don’t stop.”
He continued his prayer.
“By this warmth, may Grace be healed and taken into your care. Like the blind man whom Jesus healed, may Grace become a sign of your glory, calling you the Anointed One, the one who also anoints us and points us to the love of God. Grant us your healing peace. Amen.”
“ Thank you.” She patted the hand beside her bed.
“It’s from the Book of Common Prayer. It is what we pray for those who are ill. It’s part of our liturgy.”
Grace offered a small smile. “We don’t do liturgy in my church.”
Luke said nothing. His hand was warm in hers and she realized that her fever must have subsided. Neither said anything in the quiet as both felt the presence of God. Grace was calmed by a sense of peace emanating from Luke. His presence by her side was more comforting than any words.
After a period of time, Grace asked him. “What was it like?”
Again, Luke knew immediately what she meant.
“He wasn’t alone. He had many friends by his side. Tom was much loved.”
Tears slowly trickled down her face.
“ I read to him from the Book of Common Prayer. I held his hand. We sang hymns.”
“He loved hymns. He had a beautiful voice. Tom sang such a sweet tenor.”
“What did you sing to him?”
“Most of his favorites, Amazing Grace, Great is Thy Faithfulness, Peace Like a River, even some Christmas songs.”
“At the end. What did you sing then?”
Luke choked up with the memory. “It is Well.”
“Will you sing it to me now.”
Luke’s soft baritone filled the room.
When peace like a river, attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well, with my soul
It is well
With my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul
