Creating Space at My Table - Pt. 1
Part 1 of the 'Space At My Table Blog Series'
“Mom, I need your words.”
So many times, my conversations with my son begin with this sentence. Five simple words that are treasures to my heart, not because I’m the wisest momma in the world (I have many women in my life that I would consider far wiser than I), but because of what they mean to me.
Conner is our first-born and only son. He will always say that he’s loved the most because he demands the most attention, but he’s forced to share the love of his parents with his two sisters (and now, their hubbies). Truth is, he IS a big personality, but we love our children equally, and that sassy boy knows it.
So, about those words he needs. They’re a treasure to me, because when Conner uses them, he’s saying “I need your encouragement. I could use some advice. I trust your wisdom, and I know you will pray.” What good mom denies their children these essentials?
What’s particular about our circumstance is that Conner once thought we would turn our backs on him, and even permanently kick him out of our home and our lives. He thought that we would hold up our scepter of judgment, declare him repulsive and vile, demand that he leave, and never have contact with him again. He experienced a very real fear of complete rejection by a family he deeply loved.
You see, our son is gay.
After Conner shared his ‘secret’ with me (which, by the way, was more like a train wreck than a conversation), I asked him with tears in my eyes if he really thought we would respond that way. I thought that we loved our kids well and created security around them with how deeply we treasured them.
We raised our kids with Christian values, taught them the stories of the Bible, applied Christian principles to their upbringing, built a Biblical foundation, took them to church, prayed with them, and for them. I was even on church staff when our kids were little, for cryin’ out loud. I thought we were doing a pretty okay job at teaching our kids all the things. Until Conner said that.
He told us that he was 99.9% sure that we would continue to love him as our son, but that he’d had other friends raised in Christian homes who were confident in their family relationships; yet ended up with their belongings strewn across the front yard and without a bed to sleep in the very day they told their families they were gay. He said he hadn’t told us for a long time, because he couldn’t wrap his head around what it would actually be like to be separated from his family forever.
I honestly can’t even wrap my own head around what that felt like for him to face that as his perceived reality. That pain nearly destroyed him, and caused him to keep a very personal secret...for several years...in order to preserve a relationship with the family he treasured.
My heart literally felt like it broke in a million pieces.
It wasn’t shattered because my son just revealed to me that he was gay. What ripped me apart was the very real fear that battered him for so long in questioning where he stood with his family–actually believing there was even a possibility that we would reject him as our treasured family member. It was a fear so deep that it drove him to several suicide attempts - a decision he felt trapped into making, rather than tell his Christian family that he was gay. He contemplated death over a conversation, taking a secret to a gravesite over feeling secure enough in our relationship to even utter the scary words “I’m gay.” Sit with that for a minute.
Death.
I can’t even…
I’m still devastated to type the words, and I wonder if I’ll ever escape the regrets I have as a parent over trying to digest the thought of nearly losing my son over a struggle and a secret, with him feeling as though he had no safe outlet to share the reality of his world.
I knew we had some things ahead of us that I didn't contemplate when I was raising a young family. Flashes of questions peppered my mind:
I don't know how to do this, Lord. What do I say?
What will our family, people, church and others think of Conner and our family?
Will we be judged? Or should I ask HOW will we be judged? How will he be judged?
What about when Conner meets someone or wants to get married? I’ve never even contemplated this.
He accepted Jesus as his Savior when he was young. What now, Lord?
How come NO ONE at my church talked about, taught us, or offered help to families like mine?
More than anything, I was crushed because my son had to contemplate that his parents might kick him to the curb in denial, because his struggles didn’t align with the values we had taught him. I felt a weight so heavy that I wondered if I was that Christian—the one that projected I would only love you if you didn’t commit that sin, or unless you fit into my box. Was I that Christian who declared that you are in or out of deserving to be loved based on your beliefs, your attractions, or your lifestyle? What kind of Jesus do people see when they see me?
Would I want the Jesus I display?
In that moment, the Lord impressed upon me to simply remind Conner how much he is valued and loved, and I felt a peace that assured my heart that our God would walk this road with us. "Right now, and forever, you just keep loving him."
I may have said too many nervous words, but the ones I just kept repeating were, "Conner. I. love. you. I may not understand everything, but I love you, period."
Hey!
