I used to believe there was such a thing as the “last straw.” You know, that thing that gets on your last nerve. That moment when you’ve had enough and you declare you won’t take it anymore. When you start thinking about how great it would be to run away (or at least get admitted to the hospital for a few days of sleep) and just have time alone.
The last straw used to come when the schedule got so full I couldn’t keep up, or when yet one more person was mad at something petty that had happened. Or when one more piece of equipment or an appliance broke down at home. Or the car wouldn’t start on a day that was already stressful.
Guess what? Until 2017, I was a “last straw” novice, and a naïve one at that. The true last straw hits at the core of your being.
There’s no deeper core to your being than something that involves your child and family. I have a whole new list of “last straws.”
The last straw is…
…finding out that your newly “out” child repeatedly can’t get seated at a certain Jackson restaurant. If she goes ahead and seats herself, she does not get served until a straight or straight-passing friend comes to the table and flags down the wait staff.
…hearing how someone yelled at her and called her a f!#*ing dyke when she was merely walking down the street to her job.
…finding out she was told that “God hates lesbians!” by a total stranger.
…having your child’s school at every point let her know that she can’t have God if she’s gay.
These are last straws…
…having a doctor suggest that “there’s help for lgbt people if they want it,” and you assume he’s referring to conversion therapy that was disproved years ago.
…having people let you know that they want to remain your friend but they want the privilege of pretending your new reality doesn’t exist. In this way, they never have to acknowledge or discuss what you and your family have gone through.
…having your town put up non-discrimination protections for lgbt citizens and knowing that other Christians fought against it with all they had.
…and the list goes on and on…
As I contemplate all this, I suddenly realize something.
There is no last straw! This will not end.
I will never get the chance to say, “I won’t take this anymore!” Cause you know what? She’s my child and I’ll take it until my dying day for the privilege of walking alongside her. And she’ll take it until her dying day for the honesty of not hiding who she is as she follows God’s plan for her life.
So, for all these “last straws,” I guess I’ll say, “Bring’em on!” God and I will figure out what to create from them.