John showed up on Saturday, after going out to do a bunch of errands on his own, with a new microwave oven. It was just sixty bucks, had all the features of our 18-year-old clunker, was half the size, and had about two-thirds the interior room. It's just as powerful and I don't have to worry what waves might be leaking from the old housing. Kinda neat.
The dust is bad from the dug-up yard. Today they're actually planting some things, not just digging old stuff up and cleaning out the weeds. I'm hoping the dust will get better.
Sunday, Pastor Michael talked about how relatively easy it was being one of two pastors that championed gay rights. Going up again against the politics and theology of his peers was easy compared to how difficult it had been to go through the whole Open and Affirming process with his own congregation. How much harder the personal conflict and the hurt feelings of people he had gotten to really know personally had been. But that both had been worth the effort.
He had first been taught about the problem when, in his own family, a member had come out of the closet and two weeks later had killed himself. He'd gone to the guy's mom and said, "While I don't understand why anyone would be gay, I know that no one should die of it. I'll do what I can, as a pastor, to do what's right." So it had gone on with the Christian duty to address injustice and to do what's right. That while one may want to hide from the inequities of the world, one has to come out and do what's right.
There was a trans-gendered lady who was at the church for the first time, yesterday, and she was crying through much of the sermon. She'd gotten enough courage up to wear a satin skirt and shoes to the service. She's a care-giver at some of the hospices in the area, and it was fun to talk to her and welcome her. Jet gave her a steady look, studied her, and then smiled at her. She was delighted.
It's odd for me, in some ways. I really dislike being female. I hate the slenderness, weakness, and fat shaping bits of my body. I hate the hormones, and the attitudes I've faced through much of my life. I despise most 'pretty' things, other than for some elegant aspect of their design. I like being tall, strong, and smart, which doesn't preclude being female, but it sure gets weird looks sometimes. I don't, however, feel that I'm intrinsically male enough to go the rough path of changing what I was born with, and I've been lucky enough that society, now, will live with me dressing the way I do and acting the way I do and doing the job that I do. Plus, yes, I acknowledge the gift that got me my Jet. I still don't get why anyone would *want* to be female, but then, I guess, with some trans-gendered folks, it's not a case of 'want' so much as 'this is what is and I'm trying to make myself right'.
Watching this lady, though, I did get the sense that she probably disliked her musculature and solidity as much as I disliked my physical properties. It amazes me, sometimes, that they'd have the courage to try that and would want to go into the teeth of what I hate about being female. It is, however, an odd feeling to dislike, so intensely, what others want so much. They're both valid feelings, but so it is, I guess, with feelings.