Finding the Impossible

In her statement for this year's Equality Ride, Haven Herrin says,

I wish everyone could experience the feeling of going where everyone told you it was not possible and finding nothing but hope and potential once you get there.

As she often does, Haven takes the words right out of my mouth. My time on the Equality Ride was one filled with tremendous hope and change. In the year since, I'm finding hope and potential all the time.

My parents, who in 2006 told me they weren't sure if they would come to my wedding are interested, ask, and even offer advice about who I'm dating (or not dating). Someone close to me who went to Trinity International for undergrad is finally able to love himself and come out to those around him. California takes its place in US history as the second state to open marriage to all individuals, regardless of gender or sexual orientation. My home state Maryland moves closer to marriage equality and my home county has put in place non-discrimination legislation that protects gender identity. And there's a gay couple on daytime soaps! We are blossoming.

I've been blessed with the friendship of another young man from my church who despite being homeless is always joyful and is working towards a full-time job and hopefully soon an apartment of his own.

I have seen my own faith--once starved by legalistic evangelicalism which held out daily Bible readings, church attendance, and alcohol consumption as the barometer of faith--flourish as I continue to discover what it means to follow Christ.

My friends have modeled how to have hope for themselves and to be hope for others. The news predicts doom, the nations plot war, the elders tell us we are naive but I've never been more certain of the power of good, of God, to rise in this world. And as I read and search, explore and discover, I find that I'm not alone in this feeling. The Simple Way and the Potter Street Community in Philadelphia, PA also journey to where others will not and also finding hope and possibility there. Take a look:



To support the Equality Ride, go here. To support The Simple Way, go here.

Want to do more than just give money? Email info@sfnyc.org to get involved with Soulforce locally here in New York (or to get connected with Soulforce in your area). Check out the "Practical Section" of the Simple Way site for things you can start doing yourself or visit Relational Tithe.

And then hurry back here to share your stories of where you're finding hope and possibility in unlikely places and what you're doing to foster that. I'm in serious fact-finding mode right now and am drinking up any stories you've got to share!

"How do I feel about the gays?"

At the Middle Church street fair, she spoke to the lady next to me who was passing out information about a theatre company. Their conversation was casual and ordinary. As she walked over to me, she surveyed the materials on the table, information about Soulforce NYC and various publications from national. Then she looked up at me,

"How do I feel about the gays?"

She asked as if it mattered, that her assessment of my humanity would mean something.

"I like you all."

It sounded a bit off, I wondered if she might have a mental or emotional disability which effected her interactions. But still, I heard it as if I should be grateful for approval. But that is not what she was saying.

"I used to be homeless. When I was pregnant and living on the street, three gay guys came up to me one day and said "You are coming with us." They picked me up and took me with them. "You need to be eating for two now," and they took care of me until I gave birth.

She grabbed my hand to shake and pulled me in to kiss my cheek. "Gay people took care of me when I needed it, there will always be a special place in my heart for you." She collected one of each publication we had on the table. "They didn't forget me and I won't forget you. I'm going to do everything I can for you."

She scribbled her name, number, and address down in case I ever want to talk. And then she hugged me and walked away. I hope I get to see her again.

And to the three gay men who took care of Lucille all those years ago, thank you. By touching her life, you touched mine as well.