I don't remember what she said really, except one line: "There are people who like to tell you that the love of God has limits. We are here to tell otherwise."
and then I started crying, horribly, almost sobbing, right there in the damn church pew, with no tissues to wipe my face off. I couldn't stop. It just sort of all hit me how old my fight was and how important it had been. I picked everything up and walked out of the sanctuary without a word to anyone, went to the restroom, grabbed kleenexes, came back and sat in the back row so I could cry my way through the rest of everything without drawing too much attention. And that's basically what I did for an hour, and then service let out and I just sat there. A couple people from my sunday school class asked if I was okay and I told them I was fine, just felt like sitting here, you know how traffic gets so congested after service. They wouldn't understand. Even if they would, I didn't want to talk to anyone anyway, I just wanted to sit there and secretly hope that God would just pick today to visit... show up in the sanctuary and tell me, "I've seen enough, it's time for that second coming we've all been waiting for, you won't have to fight injustice and intolerance anymore because I know you're tired and I'll just handle it from here. It's time to feed the hungry, cancel the wars, hold hands and sing songs and be perfect."
But that's not what happened. Possibly because He knows I'm not too tired, I'm definitely not the most tired person in the world. My personal issues with the nation's political climate are nothing extraordinary, it's just me over-reacting. (Ironically, the sermon today was about not taking everything so personally. Looks like I blew that one.)
I stood up and walked around and ran into none other than our pastor. I told her I was hiding from people. She said, "Well here, hide this way, because I'm walking this way." I told her I felt silly because there are so many issues that are so much more important that just whether some gay people get to visit each other in the hospital and she said there really wasn't a bigger issue. civil rights is big. the fact that some people just can't survive without having someone else to hate... that's big. and then I felt better. I thanked her and left.
I really do feel better. it's not inside anymore.