Ten Months and Counting

It has been five months since my last post to this blog. And that has been largely because I have been busy living, and not doing quite as much reflecting. My early posts were primarily aimed at helping my lifelong friends and family understand my process of divorcing my wife of 27 years, rethinking and ultimately rejecting my former theology, and deciding to "come out" of the closet and live openly as a gay man. I hope to transition to looking back less, and looking forward more through my essays in the future.

I count my "coming out" date from the day that I wrote a good-bye letter to my long-time friend and pastor (at that time), retiring from 29 years of music ministry, and leaving my conservative pentecostal church. I plan to post a copy of that email here on my one-year anniversary. That was on May 16, 2009, nearly ten months ago. Wow, that seems like a lifetime to me in many ways! During that time, I have changed in some aspects, and remained the same in others. Here are some reflections on where I see myself at this point in my journey.

I have now been in three dating relationships with some very nice guys. And the man I'm currently seeing is, in my opinion, simply awesome! I have discovered that dating men can be complicated in ways that I wasn't expecting, but is also extremely rewarding! I have fallen hard for a man, and suffered loss. I've discovered that, among gay men, the lines between being acquaintances, friends, competitors, and lovers are somewhat blurrier than in the straight world. Here is where, as a "newbie" to the community, I am like an adolescent, with much learning and growing to do.

I am still playing tennis in the gay tennis league, and my game is slowly improving. I can hardly wait until spring arrives when we can play outdoors once again!

I am also still volunteering on the board of an LGBT non-profit organization in Ann Arbor, and am grateful for that ongoing opportunity.

I am also still on break from music and religion, as decided when I first came out, though I miss them both. I am now thinking that I will begin exploring religion again after my one year anniversary of being out. I don't yet know what direction I'll take for musical expression, secular or sacred, but that too will be back on my radar soon.

Just this week, I found myself mourning the loss of my former church family, and my special relationship to them as music minister. My mother called me at work with news that one of my favorite aunts, now living in Alabama, had complications after surgery and was not expected to live. She had been a member of my former congregation in Ypsilanti, and a generous supporter and encourager of my ministry in music. Truth be told, she is one of my favorite people in the world, for reasons I won't go into here.

Suddenly, when I realized that she might pass away, it occurred to me that -- due to the strict ethical code of the pentecostal movement from which I came -- I would never be allowed to participate musically in her funeral. Or in any funerals for my other friends and family that would be conducted in one of that organization's churches. As an "unrepentant" gay "backslider," church leaders are required to prohibit me from even casual involvement in church music. When I was music minister, I dutifully enforced this code myself.

All the way home from work that day, I wept bitterly at the realization of this loss. I would be unable to be there for my aunt in her final tribute. My days as music minister for that entire group of people were over. These were people for whom I arranged and conducted music to dedicate their children, marry them, encourage them through hard times and sickness, and ultimately lay them to rest. Now that I have walked away from that life, I will never again feel the fulfillment of serving these precious people. It was a sad and bitter realization.

Thankfully, I received a call several days later with news that my aunt's prognosis had reversed. She pulled through the critical phase and is now doing much better.

I also am keenly aware of the absence of being part of a church community. A place where children, young people, singles, married folks, and seniors all come together every week as a body of believers. Outside of church, that phenomenon just doesn't exist, and I miss it badly. Though I have a new circle of friends, that network does not match the dedication, purpose and affection found within a congregation united by common faith. It is a benefit I once took for granted, but hope to regain when I find a new church home and family.

On the other side of the coin, much about me remains unchanged. I still live in the same house, and work on the same job. However, I now have a number of (straight) co-workers with whom I have bonded through my coming out process. There is nothing like taking the risk to come out to someone and feeling their acceptance and love! I have been blessed with a number of such friendships at work, and they are awesome!

I still consider myself to be pretty conservative. Though my social and political views have moved considerably to the left, I still live in moderation. I've still never been drunk or taken drugs. I don't gamble or have multiple sexual partners. Yes, I'm still me, but I'm careful not to judge others who may do all of those things. "To each, his (or her) own."

I have learned much over the past ten months, but also still have so much ahead of me to learn! It's exciting! Gratefully, I still unequivocally and unashamedly say that I don't regret for a moment my decision to leave the faith of my upbringing and to live authentically! The freedom to be myself is SO much better than the benefits of living closeted in a world of inner turmoil and conflict! There'll be no looking back for me!