Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Thank you Jesus, for my transgender son

     So there's been  a lot of controversy with the recent passage of the Religious Freedom Act in Indiana, and it's given me a lot to think about. It's made me angry, it's made me sad, but mostly it's made me grateful that I have a beautiful relationship with my transgender son, and I still have a beautiful relationship with my God.

I grew up in a very strict Roman Catholic family, I attended church every Sunday and holiday, I sang in the choir, I even went to Catholic school. The kind with Nuns. I loved the nuns who cooked our lunch, especially, but I also loved Jesus, and from what I learned he was a very loving guy. Not the "fire and brimstone" kind of stuff that self proclaimed "Christians" spew these days, but a gentle, understanding man who yearned to bring ultimate peace and love to our world.

I won't go into all the reasons I believe that Jesus doesn't "hate" certain groups, because I know that there's plenty of folks out there with false interpretations of the bible who can argue with me. It's just MY belief. Oh, and I also happen to be a practicing Pagan, with the Stregherian tradition running long in my Italian heritage, and the ancient Celtic and Druidic traditions on the Irish side.

I guess you could say I represent a little bit of America, the great melting pot of all ethnicities and faiths. My children are also representative of the great diversity in this country, especially my transgender son.

He was my beautiful but sad daughter for nearly 16 years. I never could truly work out what was wrong but I knew it was something pretty powerful. I knew that prayer wouldn't fix it, I knew that punishment wouldn't do it either. I figured it was a period of typical teen angst and it would go away. I'm so glad it didn't. And I'm so glad that I was taught to love unconditionally.

He "came out" as transgender several months after he saved my life. During a brutal domestic violence assault, I had been beaten nearly to unconsciousness, and he jumped between me and my assailant and covered my head and my body with his. I could feel the blows of fists vibrate through  his ribs and into my back.  I also felt his strength and love and it's what helped me survive. He was only a 15 year old girl then. He saved my life that day.

So how, then could I give anything but love and support to him when he finally felt ready to reveal his true self to me? "This is my child", I've said. "You don't just throw them away because they're different." is the explanation I've tried to give to my doubtful family members. I know they don't get it, I understand that my 93 year old mother was brought up in a very different time with a very different set of ideals. But she's also the one who taught me that Jesus is LOVE. I just wish she could remember that now.  I wish all those self proclaimed Christians, who use the bible to spread their bigotry and hatred,  would remember that, too.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving me the most perfect son, who was born exactly as he should be.


Lee





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