Unexpected Blessings
After the Goodbye: Faith, Identity, and the Courage to Begin Again
“Always in confession, when these situations come, homosexual people, remarried people, I always pray and bless. Blessing should not be denied to anyone.”
— Pope Francis, as quoted by Christopher Lamb, CNN, when asked about marriage and blessings.
(Source: CNN, February 2024)
I went for a walk this morning, my face to the wind, walking in the opposite direction I generally take. I’ve tried not to check my email until after I shower each morning—something about losing time to seemingly endless rabbit holes of information that I do and don’t need, which I check throughout the day or in the evening before dinner. Today, with no school on Easter Monday, I lazily decided to scroll and let out a sigh of sadness, but with an understanding of the Pope’s passing - not entirely unexpected, but a moment that was still sigh-worthy. I’m not Catholic, but I do teach in a Catholic school. We attend Mass each week, and I pray, sometimes fumbling through the distinctive rituals between Catholicism and my faith, just trying to get it right and set a good example for my kids. When I think of Pope Francis, I think of his willingness to reach out to voices of believers who differ from his own. Has he blessed same-sex marriage? No. He has blessed two people who love each other. Responding to a question back in 2013, Pope Francis made headlines when he was asked about gay priests and simply said, “Who am I to judge?” (Lann, CNN).
I couldn’t be married under Catholic doctrine if I were blessed with a new love again, but I could seek grace from a spiritual leader. In Pope Francis’s church, there might be a place to bless someone like me. That is important. As I walk against the wind, I think about how I will use my voice in this next life chapter where I was recently called a gay slur: faggot. To reassure myself that my new chapter will still be important, I know I have to mingle with the same social channels where hate can be spread explicitly or implicitly. Going one step further, with lazy scrolling also comes sadness. It’s easy to empathize with sad quotes or poems, or angry quotes or poems, because we feel the connection in these works. I do, too. I feel less alone on the darker nights, knowing someone else out there is in the same boat. But through art or an outpouring of emotions, our buckets become a bit fuller, and the load becomes simultaneously lighter, though we have shared the weight of someone else’s story. There’s a delicate dance for me to sprinkle positivity amidst the ugly we know is out there on the dance floor. Illness isn’t a pretty montage, but this morning's walk, with unexpected blessings like a blue door on a white house or a red porch swing swaying in the breeze while I walk, becomes a thing of beauty to highlight. To share. To unfold before you. That 27-minute wobbly walk is the little moment I sometimes forget that brings me joy.
Trust me, the tears fall (usually while I’m doing my scrolling), and I know I’m not going to see my kids’ faces each day next year because my body ran out of gas just short of my destination—one more year. I wanted to teach one more year until my kids graduated eighth grade. Those are the tears.
What am I looking forward to?
I’m looking forward to visiting them at their Christmas pageant, which I usually direct. I’m looking forward to them sending me an email asking for advice. I get to be that cool uncle that they tell the difficult stuff to, without worrying that I’ll incorporate a mini-lesson on executive functioning skills and time management. If I end up tutoring them, I get to hear about the silly stuff they did over the weekend without putting on my teacher face. I can just be me.
I’m looking forward to reading each day without having to update my gradebook. I can have dinner with my mom without thinking about the stack of essays I’ve assigned that need feedback in the morning.
I’m looking forward to returning to my artistic roots, full-time as a writer, performer, and adjunct instructor (fingers-crossed and good vibes, please).
I’m looking forward to a literary agent saying, “Yes” to my book. Again, fingers crossed and good vibes, please.
I’m looking forward to finding a position where I don't have to worry about which mobility aid I’ll need, if any, to get through the next month. I’m ready to find a new stability. Money struggles begin to float before me, but I’ve made it this far. Something will unfold. Maybe not in the time I want, but something will.
I don’t get a lot of say in my illness, but I do get to express my wishes. Today, I wish for time.
Time with my cat, curled up as I write my blog, with the hope that it eases someone else’s daily burdens and reminds them that we can mingle with what we don’t like and learn how to respond to it. Today, I am grateful for the time to watch an old episode of Seinfeld and scroll through Indeed for jobs that allow me to use my creativity to foster something positive, something good, something new. Maybe I’m already doing some of that, I don’t know. I hope so.
Of course, I am sad, but I’m just glad I’m still here, walking, even when my left leg buckles as it did this morning, because when I recover from those stumbles and keep walking, who knows what’s just around the corner?
For me, these are blessings.
Works Cited
Lamb, Christopher. “Pope Francis Defends Same-Sex Blessings amid Conservative Backlash.” CNN, 7 Feb. 2024. https://www.cnn.com/2024/02/07/europe/pope-francis-defends-same-sex-blessings-intl/index.html
Lann, Olivia. “Pope Francis Formally Approves Blessings for Same-Sex Couples.” CNN, 19 Dec. 2023. https://www.cnn.com/2023/12/19/europe/popes-aproval-of-same-sex-blessings-intl/index.html
