journey unexpected . . .

When I reflect upon the transformation that has occurred as the mother of a gay son, I realize that Presbyterian Parents of Gays and Lesbians (PPGL) has played a significant role in my passage to acceptance. I often recall those first agonizing months before I found this support group as I grasped for understanding and consolation.

Although PPGL brings comfort, healing, and hope ­­ not sorrow, and despair ­­ my personal journey began in despondency, and it was from this place I was rescued.

Enduring the pain ­­

From a mother's perspective, when my 20-year-old son told me he is gay, his admission meant I would begin a long process of burying all my dreams and expectations. In a sense, I buried him, too. Suddenly he no longer seemed like the son I knew. He is an only child for my husband and me, and like most parents we stored up delightful memories of his childhood and built castles for his future. Now all our memories seemed to be illusions. And all our castles came tumbling down in a tidal wave of tears ­­ amid a tempest of hurt and confusion.

When most parents bury a child, they are comforted by the ritual of a funeral and the support of family and friends. I would be offered none of that. Yet, the impact of the loss seemed the same.

This would have to be our very own burden. Never had I felt so alone. Even God seemed distant. And so, my grieving began . . .

Concealing the sadness ­­

Plodding through my workday, I mourned my son and all I had lost. My sensitivity was heightened each time I heard homosexuality discussed. The pain was piercing as I overheard slurs about gays and lesbians. I cringed each time a colleague would begin yet another 'humorous anecdote' about AIDS and its victims. Often I would simply leave the group to seek refuge in the ladies room or my office ­­ recoiling in pain as the storyteller reached the punch line and the raucous laughter would begin. There was no one who could share my pain.

Even from my church ­­ the very place I longed to find comfort ­­ I heard only deafening silence. And to me, the silence meant I couldn't ask for help.

After more than ten distressing months of isolation, I discovered a group being formed by Jane Loflin, the mother of a gay son, and former administrator of Grace Presbytery. The group, officially organized in 1994, began meeting at Westminster Presbyterian Church, Dallas, not far from my home. At a time when I felt most abandoned by my life-long relationship with the Presbyterian Church, the significance of a church within my denomination whose doors were open and welcoming to parents of gay and lesbian children was comforting and affirming.

I both dreaded and anticipated that first meeting, for it was to be my first step on a long journey.

A journey begun ­­

Neither my husband or I had ever been involved in a support group of any kind. We had never needed one. Until now, our lives seemed storybook-perfect. If there had been prizes given for 'storybook families', we were always certain our family could qualify. But on May 22, 1993, Matt shattered that illusion. On that day, we discovered our storybook life was a facade concealing the deep pain and internal torture Matt had undergone for much of his young life. All without our help and guidance. How much we still regret our lack of awareness. How often we wish we could start over again ­­ if only to share some of his pain.

But in those first few weeks, I became intensely aware that I needed around me other mothers and fathers ­­ especially within my own denomination ­­ who were parents of gay children. I needed their comfort. I needed their understanding. I needed their warm, loving embrace. I received all those things and more from PPGL.The warm, safe environment my husband and I encountered each time we joined other parents in Westminster's parlor began a healing process that continues even today.

Even the meeting room radiated a warm glow of sincerity, quietness, and safety. Privacy and confidentiality was stressed at every meeting.

Why was the first support group meeting ­­ and those following over the next few months ­­ so dreaded, and yet so anticipated? For me, each gathering meant I would have to let go of all those castles I had built, all the dreams that would never happen ­­ all the hopes that would never come. And yet, PPGL allowed me to do that. To mourn and to let go. All within a setting of unconditional love.

Sharing the pain ­­

Such unconditional love was rarely displayed elsewhere. As I slowly ventured into a close circle of friends with my secret, I faced having to defend my son and his sexual orientation. I encountered those who responded to my pain with all the myths about the causes of homosexuality and why he must have "chosen" this lifestyle. While some railed against the homosexual agenda, others chose to compare homosexuality with the perverse lifestyles of a few. But in the end, no one could see any relationship between all the old myths and stereotypes and the young man they knew my son to be.

The daily struggle continues, and it is never easy. But still, I've chosen to persist. Why? Because I know fear and lack of knowledge are the root causes of most misunderstanding. Most people I encounter are much too intelligent and much too rational to continue to perpetuate such misinformation once they have come to know and understand the facts. Surely, most of the people I know don't intentionally seek to hurt others.

I often remind myself how, I, too, was once unaware of the facts about homosexuality. And while I never felt hatred toward gay persons, I did not think I knew anyone who was gay or lesbian ­­ simply because those I knew didn't fit the description I had learned.

Moving beyond the hurt ­­

I work each day at becoming less defensive, more loving­­ even in the throes of attacking critics. It is at these times I draw strength from the parents in PPGL. One parent summed it up quite well when she said she initially entered the group to receive support but has now gained empowerment. And so it is with me.

No two parents enter PPGL groups at the same stage of acceptance or understanding. Each brings their own experiences, their own sense of discernment, and their own pace for growth.

In my own case, I 've always known my son to be responsible, caring, and intelligent. He continues to display an innate sensitivity to others ­­ a character trait I have always admired in him. I know if there had been any way possible, he would never have wanted to cause me any of the pain and anguish I have endured. But he trusted and loved me enough to share with me who he is.

PPGL and the parents who walk beside me demonstrate what unconditional love really means. They accepted my grief with understanding, compassion, and concern. There was no criticism, no blame, and no debate. They have taught me I can still embrace those cherished childhood memories of my son while I learn a new appreciation for and affirmation of who he is. And perhaps just as important, they have shown me I can build even grander castles ­­ not only for his future ­­ but for the futures of other gay sons and lesbian daughters as well.

I am humbled by the courageous pastor and by the Session who unanimously approved the PPGL meetings being held at Westminster. I am proud of my Presbyterian heritage and am grateful to be part of a denomination that is reformed and ever-reforming. I am indebted to those men and women who serve as the Board of Directors for PPGL, for they have truly cared enough to support mothers like me ­­ when we were still too fragile to stand alone.

My journey is far from over. My path will always be more uneven and more challenging than the one most mothers are able to take.

But it is a path I have decided to travel with intense pride and quiet dignity.

My son deserves nothing less of me.