Tomorrow is my meeting with Joey. Today has been such a see-saw of anxiety and prayer, of flesh and Spirit, that finally, I grew weary. I needed to jump off for a moment and see the rest of the world.
On the kitchen counter sat some peaches, fresh and luscious from my parents’ tree. I scooped up several and headed to my neighbors’ place. You remember Mike and Lee, don’t you? They’re my gay neighbors, my gay friends.
Mike, who now has full-blown AIDS, was home alone. He invited me in. He didn’t look right.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, alarmed.
“Lee might be moving out. I think we’re breaking up.” He choked out these last few words:
“I don’t want to be alone!”
I simply listened as he poured out his heart. As he spoke, he dragged his hand through his graying hair, over and over.
I was dumbstruck, bewildered. Silently, almost automatically, I prayed that this wouldn’t happen, that God would somehow intervene. And then I berated myself for praying that. And then I berated myself for berating myself.
The Lord does not condone his lifestyle; that I knew. But I also knew that seated before me was a man fighting tears because of this one thing:
The going away of love.
And how do any of us stand when faced with the going away of love? Surely, we could all fall to our knees, quailing, and howl together:
“I don’t want to be alone!”
“Be the person you used to be. Be the one who still loves me. Be the one I always trusted. Be the one who holds my heart …. and still deserves to.”
Finally, from somewhere deep and primal, comes the plea, to a love, perhaps a best friend:
“Just …… don’t go away.”
Ah, but we are so fragile and fickle and mutable. Earthly loves do change and leave and die, dragging our keening, grieving hearts away with them. Sometimes we can stop the going away of love; many times we can’t. And for our wounded hearts’ lament, “I don’t want to be alone,” the only balm is Jesus, the only One whose love endures forever.
The only One.
As I looked at Mike, he seemed more gaunt than ever. For a brief moment, there in his living room, I soaked up the evidence of him: the clutter, the knick-knacks, the collections of anything and everything. All these things, proof, he says, of being “Appalachia gay.” And I considered that day, perhaps not far off, when Lee might go, taking love away with him. And I considered another day, perhaps not far off, too, when this man Mike, who has a piece of my heart — my “Appalachia gay” friend — will succumb to his illness, taking love with him forever.
I considered those days and my heart cried, “Jesus. Jesus.”
Tomorrow, I meet with my friend to try to stop the going away of love.
But, today, my heart just cries, “Jesus. Jesus.”
so sad…
i am thinking about you, and have started to comment a couple of times before but never found the words i wanted.
i just want to let you know that i will be praying for you (and have been).
in what ever form it takes, I hope that you will sense God’s presence leading you. Be it a still small voice, or prompting, or a loud trumpet blast into your heart –
warmly, jaymarie
Thank you so much, JM. That means the world to me.
*You HEATHEN! You know this man is destined for HAY-ELL! I can’t believe you even speak to him! HOW COULD YOU?! HE’S a — **splutter** — **splurt** a SINNER!!!*
*super wink*
This is such a tough issue to tackle. Hard to wrap one’s brain around more times than not. I sometimes want to believe that homosexuality might not be *so* bad, simply because I have seen firsthand the exact situation you describe. It’s only that my heart wants them to be “happy”.
But it’s God’s law that says, very clearly, NO. He knows health and happiness better than we. Just as I may feel empathy for the woman in the failed marriage who is cheating on her jerk husband; God still says, very clearly, NO.
What many people fail to understand about homosexuals is that more times than not, they are products of a broken, chaotic and abusive past. Something happens in their psychology to bend them towards the same sex. (The Bible would call him Satan, the demon diguised as blinding and beautiful light…) We should not endorse their lifestyle any more than we should endorse the adulterer’s.
But we cannot turn a blind eye to suffering, sickness and pain. I think God blesses it when we hold their hands, comfort them and maybe (when the time is right) tell them Who He is and how He can help.
How awful for Mike. He’s on my prayer list now.
And props to you for being his “Jesus” in blue jeans. Many would have turned away out of fear or self-righteousness, not Sweet-T!
*Okay, I’m punching you in the arm now, too much sugary syrup for one post*
that is so sad. i hate the helpless feeling that comes from just having to listen, and not having the answers.
and you know mike doesn’t want to hear you preach, so you sit silently in support, grieving for his grief.
sorry Tracey. on top of everything else going on in your life, i am sorry for this.
How awful for Mike. This happened to my brother, too, when he went full-blown, although his then b/f was not a “super long standing” relationship.
The saddest part is that for people with AIDS, they are often (not always, but often) abandoned as they get sicker. It is not a nice thing to be around, people get scared. They’re afraid of the intensity and drama of the illness, and of what might be expected of him.
You are right, of course, that Jesus – while hating the sin – loves the sinner. Perhaps the best balm for Mike right now would be to know (through your friendship and through the prayers of strangers) that “while mother and father may abandon thee, I will never abandon thee…”
I will add Mike to my prayerlist. And you, too, kid.