Nell woke this morning early, excited, her baby girl was home. She rushed to the room next door to make sure she made it in from hanging out the night before. There she was, spooned on her twin bed with her college roommate.

Nell froze.

One foot in midair about to cross the threshold of her baby girl’s room, she froze, grasping the frames of the door to keep from falling. This could be totally innocent, she thought. Maybe they had a little too much to drink and just passed out while talking, maybe her guest was uncomfortable sleeping in the guest room alone.

Nell couldn’t understand what was frightening her, what was causing her to rage on the inside and back step away from that doorway swiftly before the rage spilled out onto the floor and exploded onto the two bodies lying there in her baby girl’s bed.

She returned to her room, trembling, heart racing, both hands covering her eyes, her fingers firmly pressing her temples on both sides to suppress the impending ache in her head. She wanted to sit down, now feeling weak in the knees, she doubled over, then quickly straightening up, she walked back to that room to verify what she had seen. She thought she would wake them up and ask what the hell was going on?

Once again, she froze.

Stagnated by her own fears, crippled by the assumptions that raced through her mind, conflicted by her beliefs, and anxious, yet unwilling to know the truth. She groped along the wall with her eyes shut tight, wishing she would wake up, steadying herself making her way to the kitchen, hoping that a hot cup of coffee would evaporate the image of her daughter in the arms of a woman.

When homosexuality hit home it crept in through the cracks like termites silently burrowing behind the walls eating at the foundation. You don’t hear the creaks in the floor or see the dusty piles of wood in the corners of your room. You sweep them away like dust. Then the piles get bigger coming from a hole you can see through and when touched the hole gets bigger and the wall crumbles.

There were signs - low self-esteem, struggles fitting in, sudden infatuation with boys’ shoes, refusing sweet girly fragrances, and disdain for the bouquets of flowers she received on birthdays. Little things, swept under the rug or vacuumed up in the busyness of the day.

Strict indoctrination of holiness deemed everything from wearing earrings to red lipstick a sin, so this, homosexuality thing was an abomination, an unacceptable stain, intrusion, infestation, and a manifestation of the devil that had to be exterminated. After all, doesn’t the devil come to steal, kill and destroy?

But this story will bypass the sleepless tear-filled nights, angry tirades of a hurting, angry mother, the explosive confrontational battles, the wailing and laying on of oil sanctified hands, and the temporary brick walls built between two people who loved each other far too much and way too long to split the two hearts that once pumped the same blood and beat as one.

Instead, this is reconciliation for two people who stumbled upon an opportunity to invoke light into darkness, “to live peaceably, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere” for that is the wisdom that is needed. It is an assurance that when we invoke the fruit of the Spirit like our elders - love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, things become clearer.

Nell finished her cup of coffee and proceeded to the cabinet for the well-worn waffle iron, scrambled six eggs, dropped some chicken wings and placed the thick-sliced bacon and sausage in the pan. The comforting aromas of home wafted down the hall luring the two sleeping bodies to the table that was set for them.

Our children are gifts we give back to God. So, when life circumstances come to steal, kill or destroy our dreams concerning them, the wisdom of our family and faith kicks in. There really is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fears. And love, as they say, does conquer everything. So, we begin at the beginning keeping the doors to our rooms and our hearts open.

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Joanna Chavis Johnson

Joanna Chavis Johnson is a preacher’s kid born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. She currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia where she earned her doctorate degree in Educational Leadership. She is an educator, consultant, grant writer, and peer reviewer.

She is a devoted wife, mother, and Nana. She finds comfort in the kitchen on holidays and special occasions invoking the spirit of her mother preparing and serving delicious meals for her family, but her true passion is the spiritual renewal, release from tension, and joy that writing brings. She hopes that her gift will inspire, and bring light, love and laughter to all who happen to read it.

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