Category: Family

November 13, 2014: I had one of those nostalgic days, where you glimpse your now-grown child and long for simpler days. Those little scratches and cuts that could be made better by a band aid and a kiss. Or an “I love you, a bushel and a peck”. Disagreements with teachers seemed ominous and life changing. How will I get him through middle school? Never mind high school. College? Didn’t even cross my mind.

Ah, if I only knew then what I know now. My boy’s rebellion would morph in to a beautiful compassion for the marginalized. His independent spirit converted to an admirable work ethic. He’d take responsibility. He’d love well. He’d be kind, and he’d be generous.

I was a mom at 20. What a risk that is! You are young, uninformed. But sometimes we get lucky. The kids that led us through the unfamiliar, obscured, often violent paths occasionally lead us to a much brighter side of that dark forest.

I will love this boy until I take my last breath.

July 16, 2014: Forty-two minutes. A simple phone call. And my boy is growing up. He called me and wanted to talk. This is ………. rare. We talked about his new relationship, some of his long-term friendships … how he felt about how much we had to move around when he was an adolescent. Politics. How he felt about his father. This is a kid I fought for. Who I would have given my life for. Through an ADHD / bipolar diagnosis. A near-fatal car accident, which will impact his life forever. Desperate measures to make sure he was okay. Forty-two minutes. A simple phone call … life is good.

September 5, 2013: Amy, sometimes I think we get messages just exactly when we need them. I was thinking about you when I got home, and moved a notebook from the counter. There was a scrap of paper that floated out from a magazine I cut out during a particularly challenging time in my life. There was a paragraph that had prompted me to save the page, and it’s every bit as meaningful today. “Your dark days. If you find yourself in a crisis, remember. Nothing focuses the mind, mobilizes the resources, and highlights your support system like a truly difficult situation. You will meet your strongest self at such times.”

I told you this today, and I want to shout it from the rooftop. You have shown such astounding grace and kindness in the last couple of days. You set your own grief aside to do everything in your power to make this transition “right” for everyone, from Stuart’s new partner, to his children, beloved granddaughter, and his far-away family. You were so gentle in communicating this terrible news to our darling Isabelle, and you have worked to honor Stuart’s wishes in every way.

You are the most beautiful person I know, and it comes from your very core. I am so blessed to call you my sister. I am thinking about you, and love you so very much.

August 22, 2013: Twenty-nine. How can it be that 29 years have come and gone since I held this squishy, pink, squalling bundle and thought … I have NO idea what I’m doing. Nearly three decades later, I still don’t. Skinned knees and first girlfriends … new school clothes and the principal’s office. The goth period. The silhouette of a boy flying through the air, doing the perfect cannonball, back lit by a breathtaking sunset. First steps. Sitting in a hospital waiting room … breathless. He has to be okay. First birthday … diving in, fists of cake. Celebrating many more birthdays by jumping out of airplanes, tumbling down class five rapids, parasailing high above Seattle, and tomorrow … paragliding! Being this boy’s mom has not been for the faint of heart, and I would not have wanted to miss a minute. Happy birthday, my beautiful boy. I love you bigger than the universe.

February 7, 2014: The Jefferson Awards were founded in 1972 by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Senator Robert Taft, Jr. and Sam Beard. The Awards were designed to celebrate “change-makers” and promote volunteerism. I have nominated my dad. Whether he wins or not, I am so proud of him. I love you, dad.
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My father has been President of the Snohomish County chapter of PFLAG for nearly sixteen years, beginning in 1998. When he started this journey, he didn’t technically have any skin in the game. A heterosexual man in his “winter” years (his words) with three heterosexual daughters, he simply saw an injustice that he couldn’t let stand. In addition to his work with PFLAG, he was instrumental in advancing the mission of his church to formally adopt an open and affirming position of inclusion for all. He has encouraged, advocated for, and loved countless GLBTQ friends as they struggled for acceptance and fought for their identities. He has been the calming voice on the end of many desperate phone calls … day or night. In celebration, he has been the best man at three weddings. He will continue to fight for equality and revel in the diversity that makes our communities so rich and bright.

In 1998, the same year he accepted his position with PFLAG, Matthew Shepard was murdered … the victim of an anti-gay hate crime. Today, the tide is changing. Today, same-sex marriage is legal in 17 states.

My father is now 76 years old. A retired financial planner. The silver hair and wise eyes … the stable career. He is smart, and he is mainstream. And I think that is a part of the reason why he has been able to effect so much change within his circle of influence. A beautiful, intricate fabric is woven when the conventional meets the fringe.

Many of us feel outrage at the presence of injustice. Some of us even feel called to action. Fewer still actually show up. My father has … day after day, month after month, year after year. And every day, he lives the example of his beliefs.