Don't Wait Until It's Personal
What I Learned After My Child Came Out
It’s imperfect and incomplete, but here is a conversation I’m glad to have with you.
Most of our decision fatigue comes from the daily decisions of regular life: our schedules, commitments, relationship dynamics, stuff management, and financial stress. We all could add to this list with a million more things. But there are other moments in life that reach beyond the daily, ones that require us to call upon and articulate discernment from somewhere deeper in and further down until we find the bedrock of our belief that goes beyond creeds: about ourselves, about God, and about the nature of things in the world. It’s in these moments when we learn with the most clarity who we are and what we really believe.
Last weekend I was caught up in one of those daily-life kind of decision making processes when I realized it had been a while since I had deep cleaned our floors. I finally learned how to use my Bissell vacuum (designed to address your home’s unique pet cleaning needs! #notanad). My intention was to only do the kitchen floor but of course an hour and four thousand steps later I was finishing up the main bathroom and watching a YouTube video about how to clean the (now filthy) brushes.
Whilst cleaning my floors my brain worked for free (see also: shower brain, driving brain, and right-before-you-fall-asleep brain) ruminating on an article I read in The New York Times last week about a father who wrestled for years to reconcile what he knew about God with what he knew about his son who, as it turns out, was gay.
I know that story well. As I mopped my floors, I realized I’ve never talked much about it here on Substack. So here we go.1
About five years ago I had a life-altering conversation with one of our kids. I tell more of what is mine to tell in my latest book, How to Walk into a Room, including this: everything you think you know about an “issue,” all the theology you’ve been told and tried to make sense of, all the clean lines and straight edges you pointed to, none of that matters when your teenager tells you they’re questioning their sexuality. What matters is the face of this beautiful soul whom you have loved into being, eyes filled with question marks, carrying the pain of anticipated rejection, wondering if they will be okay, accepted, and loved. What matters is this young life, living in secret up until now, not knowing if their very own mom would draw near or far if she knew the truth.
This essay is a partial reflection about what happened leading up to and after that day. It’s also about one of my biggest regrets.
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