I have this thing I want to tell you.
I’ve wrestled words for an hour and deleted paragraphs because what I want to say isn’t really as complicated as it feels in my gut.
I want to tell you the story of the time she moved from my “friends and nifty people” list to my “be cautious” list and then back again. We sat up in a hotel lobby until 4am and told our stories, and all of it – her ideas, my stance – made sense.
I want to tell you of the time I didn’t know she was Catholic until we had been friends for a while and I already knew that she loved the same Jesus I love. I was flabbergasted to discover that perhaps these Catholics didn’t need “converting” after all.
I want to tell you of that time my friend told me he was gay and the day I met his fiance. And how much I love both of them.
I want to tell you of how I panicked before I went to that gathering, where I knew I wouldn’t fit and I knew they had probably already labeled me as rebellious and backslidden and liberal and an outcast. And I want to tell you about the moment they saw me and hugged me and love filled the gaps I knew were there.
Did you know that
it is so much more difficult to be bigoted toward a person when you are looking at his face?
it is nearly impossible to hate someone once you’ve heard her story?