Dear One —
This weekend San Francisco was lit up with Pride festivities. Parades, dance parties, marches. Every Lyft I took had glitter in the back seat.
I went to church yesterday, and the Communion elements were draped in rainbow-colored cloths. The rector’s robes were tied-dyed pink.
After the service, as we always do, we put our hands on the shoulder of the person in front of us and danced to the Communion table.
At yesterday’s service, the person in front of me happened to be a strikingly handsome man who is openly gay.
As we began to sing, my hand was on his shoulder and I felt his lungs — and his being — reverberate with breath and notes and joy.
That moment was high and holy.
I have had several friends come out to me. And I have sat with them in their terror and anticipation and freedom and joy. I’ve hugged them and held them. I have brushed away their tears (and my own.)
I’m not gay, but I know it isn’t easy. It isn’t pain-free. It isn’t without its conflicts and chaos.
But it’s worth it.
It’s worth it to be you.
So if that’s you — if you’re struggling to own your truth, to claim your identity, to be who you are, I just wanted to tell you that I’m here.
I’ll hug you.
I’ll cry with you.
I’ll create a safe space with and for you.
With as much love as you can imagine,