Harvesting Kindness

     As Halloween approaches, I fondly remember my cousin.  She had dark curly hair cropped short,very close to her head, in a feeble attempt to style her hair like her favorite movie star.  While I had pictures of Elvis Presley in every nook and corner of my bedroom, Doris Day adorned her walls.

     Her prominent features were far too large for anyone to describe her as being pretty.  Tall and big boned, she felt more comfortable wearing dungarees and a shirt than she did in a frilly dress.  On Sundays, it was a Cardinal Rule that she dress up for church.  She'd tug awkwardly on the ribbons of her hat until they looked worn and frayed.  Ineveitably, she'd somehow manage to get a stain on her white dress or dirt on her gloves.  Her mother would take a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh while trying to repair the damages her daughter had incurred before entering the church.  My cousin usually walked fast and I'd have a diffucult time catching up with her long strides.  But, on Sundays, I watched her wobble in her heels taking small baby steps.  I feared for her safety as her ankles twisted and turned walking down the aisle.

     On this particular Halloween night, I was crying because all my friends had gone Trick or Treating and my mother wouldn't allow me to go unsupervised. She was sick and couldn't go with me.  When my cousin found out I was crying, she volunteered to take me.  I can't describe the gratitude I felt toward my cousin at that moment. I was thrilled. I put on my costume and she decorated a brown grocery bag with my crayons, punched holes in it for her eyes and mouth and placed it over her head.  I clicked my ruby red shoes together and we were off to see the Wizard.

     Once I became a teenager our paths occasionally crossed, but the visits became less frequent.  One day, two of my relatives were sitting at our kitchen table and I overheard them talking to my mother in hushed whispers.
      "She's disgraced the family." One of the aunts said.
      "We will never forgive her."  The other one vowed, while vehemently shaking her head.
      "Please don't say that."  My mother pleaded.  "I don't understand it either, but it's not for us to judge."

       Later, I discovered that the reason the family was so angry was because my cousin had fallen madly in-love.  Not with a man, but with a woman.

     I must confess that I didn't understand it then any more than I do now.  I can't envision myself or anyone else of the same gender being physically attracted to one another. I tried  placing  myself in her situation and asked myself:  What if society shunned a relationship between a man and a woman?  What if I would be considered abnormal if I weren't attracted to another woman?  What if I were afraid to disclose my attraction to a man?  What if by choosing to come out I would be ridiculed and humiliated?  How would I feel if I were shunned and condemned by my church? How brave would I be if I were the one confronted with this kind of hatred?

     I can't honestly call myself a gay advocate because I seem to teeter on the fence.  I don't belong on one side or the other.  I balance myself in the center so I don't fall from grace.  I can't condone, but neither can I condemn.

     I had an exemplary role model in my mother who never placed any conditions on showing another person basic human kindness.  I have done my best to follow in her footsteps.

     As more teenagers continue to commit sucide as a result of bullying, I feel  like we have tragically failed them.  Whether you feel they are right or wrong, the bullying needs to stop  This kind of viscious cruelty should not be tolerated and I stand firm in passing a law to prohibit this kind of behavior.

     Ask yourselves:  How do you feel Jesus would treat a homosexual or a lesbian?  What do you believe Jesus would do?  How would He react to them?  What would He say?  Would He be cruel or unkind?  Would He make them feel unworthy of His love?  Would He forgive or cast them all into Hell? You may answer these questions differently than I would. You have the right and I respect it, but I feel  that we should all  harvest a little kindness. We may need it one day ourselves.

     I have personally found consolation in the belief that when my cousin reached Heaven's Door, Jesus was there to greet her with outstretched arms and welcomed her into Paradise.

Dancing With A Star

I've heard people say that the best years of their lives were in high school.  I cringe at my own memories during most of that time.

Maybe it was fun for THEM because they were the jocks and cheerleaders; the popular kids; the ones who wore designer clothes and drove convertible sports cars.  I was never one of them.  My mother drove me to school in an outdated monstrous Buick.  It actually had wings and I wanted to fly away into oblivion.  I remember hiding in the back seat on the floor so one one would see me in it.  Oh, how I would appreciate and love driving around in it now.

If you remember the movie Never Been Kissed, you may be able to relate to this kind of peer pressure.  I made myself as invisible as possible to ensure I'd be spared any possible ridicule.  So, I chose not to date anyone from my own high school.  There were a few boys I had crushes on, but I would never dream of letting anyone know about it. I was happy with my own group of friends, many of which I still have today.  It's just that I felt more comfortable in being their "buddy" than on their list as their "latest flame".

One night, I spotted a boy at one of the school dances held at the gym.  He was tall with Elvis hair and blue eyes.  He had all the right moves. I had never seen anyone dance with such natural rhythm.  Oh, how I wanted to dance like that. So, I just admired him from afar.  Then I saw him walking toward me.  I thought he was looking for the punch bowl, so I looked behind me and saw nothing but my own shadow.  Would you believe he asked ME to dance? I merely shrugged my shoulders in defeat,
     "Sorry, but I don't know how to fast dance."
     "I'll teach you right now."  He offered.
     "I can't dance with you in front of all these people. Everyone will laugh at me."
     "Who cares? We're not hurting anybody. Do you like music?"
     "Oh, I love music."  I practically swooned.
     "Well, just follow me.  Feel the beat.  Don't think about anything else.  Don't care about anyone watching."

For some unexplainable reason, I believed him.  He took me to a far corner of the gym and he danced with me for the rest of the night.  There wasn't a song too fast or too slow for us. I was floating on a cloud dancing with a star.  As I spread my wings, I discovered I could fly by just moving to the rhythm of my own heart.  It was a delirious experience.  Did anyone else care or notice us?  Did anyone laugh at me struggling to keep up with him? For the first time in my life, it didn't matter and I realized that I had wasted precious time because I was too afraid to be my own person.

It taught me an invaluable lesson.  I don't give anyone the power to take away my spirit.