And Acceptance is the Key

As an adult, I’ve had an odd attraction to Christians. The most fundamentalist kind.

My wife Mare says if I’m at a party and there’s a Christian in the room, we will be drawn to each other like a moth to flame and spend the entire evening in a deep, meaningful spiritual conversation.

She’s right. I've always been drawn to anyone who lives a spiritual life.

My best friend at a publishing company I used to work for is an Assemblies of God member. Coworkers would see us bop off to lunch on a near-daily basis and shake their heads. I was an out lesbian then, and everyone knew my coworker’s beliefs.

“How does that even work?” a coworker asked me one day. “You’re gay and she’s…”

“I don’t know,” I said. “And I don’t care.”

My most profound martial arts influence remains a Buddhist-turned-born-again Christian. Today he’s a pastor. Years ago, after coming out to him, I was hurt and angry because I didn’t feel accepted. I sat in Alcoholics Anonymous/Al-Anon meetings for months, crying my eyes out because I loved him so deeply and felt rejected. I eventually moved to Austin, stopped commuting to classes, and time took care of the pain. We never discussed the matter again.

It took me years to realize that the only acceptance that really counted was mine—and that of my Higher Power. At that point, I decided to agree to disagree with my beloved mentor.

When I opened my martial arts studio, guess who was the first to be invited to teach a guest seminar? Yep. My students absolutely loved him, just like I always did. And today, though in my 24 years on the mat I only trained with this man for about three years, I pass on more of his essence and knowledge to my students than all my many instructors over the years combined.

I don’t know how all this stuff works. I’m spiritual, I pray, and I’ve been known to break into tears upon crossing the threshold of a Catholic church. Mare calls me a freak because I have coincidental interactions with strangers that turn out to be powerful God moments. I’m friends with people who society might say I shouldn’t be. Whatever. Today, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I continue the hard work of acceptance—of accepting myself and others as they are, not as I would have them be.

I suspect it will be a lifelong exercise.