I follow a blog called Closeted Pastor about, believe it or not, a pastor in a small town who is a a lesbian and is closeted. She has had much angst over several years wether to come out to her congregation in a church organisation that is against using the gifts of gay people in leadership. She loves them wants to share her life with them but has waited all her life to find love with another woman, and rightly or wrongly, feels she has to choose between coming out and continuing to serve God as a pastor in her church organisation. This is changing - she feels God's proding - is less and less comfortable to keep a secret about the one she loves from the ones she loves.
And where am I ? I am not all that closeted - infact without curtains or blinds downstairs due to redecoration - I am far from closeted - but I have uncertainities, rightly or wrongly, I feel there is a cost I must count and I am not sure what it is or will be. I am not uncertain about Hebe - although she is habitually uncertain about me, about ending a 16 year marriage, about doing the wrong thing either way " Should I stay or should I go? If I go there will be trouble, if I stay it will be double!"
I didn't realise until yesterday, when the reality hit that her husband was looking at getting a new job elsewhere, that she considered going back. That infact the sand on which I stood was quick sand. I know that morally this is a very grey area, but I have discussed elsewhere the ins and outs; the failure of marriages badly - for myself foolishly- chosen; the relationships broken down beyond repair before we met. But children put a different slant on things - a greater fear of getting it wrong - of consequence. But I, from a "family" that stayed together "for the children", know that to grow up in a home of unhappiness and dysfunctional relationships is a poisonous pill for a child to swallow. But even straight uncomplicated parents will get it wrong on a ginormous scale -we are human - we are fallible - we are limited, tired and weighed down with expectations. Perfection is what a child expects of a parent - they settle for so much less, forgive so much - but subconsciously when younger and then glaringly consciously when teenage - they want infallibility, no embarrassment, no disappointments. And we do and will disappoint; embarrass; fall short; get it wrong.
This Be The Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
I, unlike Phillip Larkin, do not think the defacto that we are fucked up by our parents and in turn will fuck up our own, means that the joy and love and fun and bizarre that comes from having children is pointless. The great plus side that Larkin never experienced, is that when in turn our children become parents, they will realise, as have we, that it is a hard job and making mistakes is part of the journey, but most are not deliberate and we like them are just trying to do our best for the children we love to an inexplicable depth.
So back to the uncertainties, but knowing somethings are certain and that those uncertainites... ( as mathematical science puts it) "these uncertainties are important".