My Love is an old-fashioned girl. She needed to ask my parents’ blessing before proposing to me.
When we came out to my mother, my mother told us that, if we married, she would not bless or attend our wedding. She could bless our love, but not a marriage. She firmly followed the Catholic Church that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered”. And she would never back away from the Church.
Since then, she has come along amazingly. She and my Love get along famously, partly, I think, because my Love embodies everything my mother thinks a woman should be: Strong, capable, self-reliant, intelligent, neat, conservatively dressed – and feminine.
My mother and my Love’s mother have also gotten to be great friends. My Love’s mother is conservative – politically and theologically – but is sensible, warm, intelligent and good-humored. She is beyond tolerant, beyond accepting, to embracing. She has never believed that homosexuality or homosexual acts are a sin. She’s delighted that her daughter has found love. She has embraced me from our first introduction. And she loves me as if I were her daughter. She has been a terrific influence on my mother.
I haven’t pressed my mother to change her beliefs, and I’ve been careful not to ask her about them. Before I left for New York she told me that she had changed her mind: If we married, she would attend our wedding, and she would make sure that the rest of the family did, too. She didn’t say anything about blessing a marriage, however.
My Love was nervous about what my mother would say when asked to bless my Love’s proposal.
Perhaps amor vincit omnia. My father and mother both gave their consent and blessing.
Our first call as fiancées was to my parents. They were overjoyed.