I Do

When Ann and I got married in Portland (when it was still a legal possibility), we stood, hands joined in the night club the Basic Rights folks of Oregon had set up for the rush of wedding ceremonies. We could choose from a variety of religious and non-religious officials, so we walked through the nightclub searching for just the right person.

We didn't choose the Buddhist nun with her incense and flowing skirts or the Catholic priestess (or so she said) with her stiff white color and her clutched leather bible. We didn't choose the young man dressed in gothic attire, his eyes and clothes equally black. We didn't choose the Methodist minister, bland and milky.

But we did choose a tall red-head who sat quietly at her station reading a book of Mary Oliver poems. That was the clincher for me. If I could have lunch with anyone in the world, I'd choose Mary Oliver...as well as Lily Tomlin, Desmond Tutu, Terry Tempest Williams, and Emma Thompson.

Shay was the woman's name and she asked us questions about the kind of ceremony we'd like to have. Simple, without mention of God, about commitment and patience, we said. I chose a Mary Oliver poem for her to read out loud and Ann and I held our vows in our sweaty hands and exchanged rings while Shay said words I can't even remember.

I was the first to say "I do" and then Shay repeated the phrases again and turned to Ann for her "I do"...but it never came. I looked at Ann who was looking at me with a smile exuding from her body, our friends who served as witnesses stared at Ann, their mouths a bit ajar, and the air filled with a suspensful tension. I leaned over to Ann and cleared my throat until she said, "Oh, yeah, I do!"

We all laughed and I let out a sigh of relief. From there we took ourselves out to dinner, gathering together with two other friends who'd married earlier in the week.

Yesterday, the Washington State Supreme Court ruled to uphold the Defense of Marriage Act making it difficult if not impossible for Washington State to legalize gay marriages.

I am both disappointed and resigned. I know Ann and I are married, committed, and life partners and that we don't need sanction from the state to validate our partnership.

Still.

I also know that I never thought I'd be so close to gay marriage as a possibility in my life time. 20 years ago, 10 year ago it never even crossed my mind. And now, the debate is raging, the battle continuing. That's more than I ever thought would happen.

Still.

I'm not angry, though I do find myself using words like ignorant and narrow-minded when I talk about the decision.

Still.

I am happy, though, that Ann and I have the funny "I do" moment in the nightclub filled with light and spiritual diversity. Someday, I hope, someday it will be a possibility. I never dreamed that that would be a hope of mine for the future.

And then, the other night, we had dinner with our dear neighbor, Dely, who invited two young people to the party -- Joseph and Kirby, both theology majors at Seattle University. Joseph, a beautiful Samoan gay man and his roommate, Kirby, and equally beautiful bi-racial young woman shared their visions of the future, their definition of "faith" and it's inclusiveness, and their view of the current political struggles. I had hope after listening to them. They were articulate, compassionate, and questioning. They were clearly forging a path for themselves that was anything but ignorant and narrow-minded.

I asked Joseph, late into the evening, if he believed gay marriage would be realized in his lifetime. His response seemed only fitting and one I recalled yesterday after reading the Supreme Court disappointment in the newspaper..."I do," he said with the greatest of confidence.

And I believed him.