{Jon}

Jon arrived at the house with a tray full of coffees for himself and the morning staff and a flat of donuts for the meeting at nine. Angel gratefully lifted her coffee off the tray, before returning to the swathe of school forms spread out on the counter. "Thanks boss."

"How's the morning?" Jon said.

She waved her hand. "Just signing off on the paperwork for immunizations next week."

"Don't tell Dusty," Jon said. "He'll be worked up every day until he gets his shot. We'll tell him the morning of and send him to school with his stuffy."

She touched her bangs in a little salute. The fire-engine red colour looked fresh as a new coat of paint. "Got that."

Grace was curled on the sofa under the comforter from her bed, watching children and dragons frolic over the flatscreen TV.

"Morning, Grace," Jon said cheerfully.

Her wary eyes slid to him and she made a small smile.

"Anything you're looking forward to at school today?"

She shook her head, her eyes wandering back to the TV. "I don't have to get any shots." Grace didn't speak very often, but when she did Jon was always struck by how deep and raspy her voice was.

"That's right, no shots, you're the lucky one," Jon said.

"Can I have a donut for breakfast?"

He glanced at Angel, who shrugged. "Sure--you can have a donut for dessert after breakfast," Jon said. "You need protein to stick to your tummy and keep you going in school all morning."

She obligingly put her feet on the floor, wrapping her comforter around her as she walked to the table. It swept behind her little body like the train of a robe.

Jordin and Dusty were up shortly after and the kitchen was loud with the bustle of getting the children fed, their lunches packed, Dusty's shirt turned right side out, mittens located, and Jordin's hair brushed and braided.

Grace refused to let a hairbrush near her head and Jon despaired of the nest of dreadlocks forming on the back of her skull. "Grace, honey, if we don't brush your hair we're going to have to just cut it off. Those knots are never coming out," Jon said.

Grace waved her hands, fending him off with her eyes closed. "I don't care. I want Angel's hair!" It was the loudest thing he'd ever heard her say.

Jon shrugged, tossing the brush on the counter. "Done. What's your hairdresser's name?" He asked Angel.

Angel was laughing, a soft breathy sound. "I'll make an appointment. She can't have my hair colour, boss, this beauty costs a fortune."

Finally the children were out the door to the bus stop, and Jon pulled the kitchen chairs into the living room to make a circle big enough for his whole staff team. One after another, the other staff arrived, casual and full-timers, new hires and older folks who'd been at the house for more than a decade.

Jon sat on the broad couch arm, too nervous to settle into a chair, absently smiling and saying good morning while he breathed an inward prayer. He'd emailed the staff earlier in the week to let them know they would be talking about Jordin and getting orientated on how to respond to a LGBTQ+ child. He checked their faces for early signs of discomfort or resistance, but everyone just looked like he felt: like it was a little too early to be alert and in need of coffee.

Jon began the meeting with a devotional from the Bible, as usual. He often read out of Psalms, the book of prayers in the middle of the Bible, and today was no different. He'd chosen one of his personal favourites, and the staff settled, listening quietly as he read.

"For you created my inmost being;

You knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made,

Your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

He took a breath to pray, "Creator God, thank you for making each one of us and making us wonderfully." His body felt on high alert and he couldn't close his eyes on a room full of people, but everyone else had bowed their heads so it didn't matter. "We ask your Spirit to be gracious to us today and give us all we need to care for the children in our home, and the others in our own lives." Jon thought briefly of Kurt, waking up in bed alone and heading to work with Cary. "Thank you for your love, amen."

A little murmur of "amen" went around the room.

Jon had not scripted the words for how to open the topic of this meeting, and as he closed his Bible app, he decided to just be honest. "So I've been nervous about today because homosexuality is such a divisive topic in our Christian circles." He cleared his throat, glancing around the room. "I'd like to start from a place of what we hold in common.

"Every one of us deeply cares for the kids in this house. We fought for Jordin to be here, with his brother. I know you want the best for him, and so do I. I'm asking you, as a team, to be open to learning. Jordin needs our support in this vulnerable time now more than ever. We don't all have to agree on what we think the Bible says about Jordin's gender or sexual identity to be kind."

Jon took a steadying breath. "I'm going to say that again. We don't all have to agree on what we think the Bible says about Jordin's gender or sexual identity to be kind." There were some heads nodding around the room, that was encouraging.

"I just want to acknowledge that maybe some of us here don't have personal experience with an LGBTQ+ person in their life, and some of us do. Um. So--does anyone have a friend or family member who is gay?" He held his breath, watching them with what he hoped was a friendly, neutral expression. It felt like such a risk to ask this question--if no one spoke up, he was going to have to say something about his family.

Naomi, a generously proportioned Black woman famous for her chewy chocolate chip cookies, nodded and lifted her hand. "I'm just going to come right out and say this to y'all. My daughter is a lesbian and I've been fighting for her and her friends to have space in our church and with my husband's family for years. I think she might finally have found 'the one.' They're talking about getting married and it about breaks this momma's heart that can't happen in our church where she was raised. I just need y'all to know that right now: I love my daughter, and God loves my daughter, and I'll take on any one of you who says different."

"Thank you, Naomi." Jon was so relieved he could have cried. He ducked his head, shuffling his notes. The staff beside Naomi patted her shoulder, making sympathetic noises as she dabbed her eyes on her scarf.

Hesitantly, Patrick said, "I hear you Naomi. I really don't know what to do here. I wouldn't say my family is homophobic but--I was raised to believe homosexuality is a sin. I've never met a gay person and I don't know what I'd do if I did. When I look around at what's in the media and what goes on during Pride parades, I feel like I don't know what the heck is happening in our country, that this is all okay now and I'm supposed to support it." He met Jon's eyes, the struggle plain in his face.

Jon lifted his chin, reaching for what his dad would say. Agree, find something to agree on first. "I think that's an important point, Patrick. I want to make a distinction here between the way we treat Jordin in our house, and whether or not we endorse everything we see in the media about gay culture. We're going to do what we've always done, which is make a plan to support the child in our care so they can become functional, thriving adults. That doesn't mean you have to go march in a Pride parade. It just means you're a little more educated about what Jordin's experience is like in the world, and how to care for him in the midst of that. Does that make sense?" Patrick nodded slowly. "Is everyone with me so far?"

There was a mixture of expressions around the room, from interest, to boredom, to frustrated confusion. Angel gave him a little smile, like: so far, so good.

Jon got a breath in and dived into his notes. "So I do want to give some Biblical perspective on this, because that's who we are as an organization." This was the one advantage of doing this himself: he doubted anyone at the GSA knew how to speak the language of this crowd the way he did.

"The Bible holds that God created each one of us, including our bodies, and values each person. We just read that in our opening psalm. God's generous love is the huge over-arching theme in the Bible—and a far bigger deal than a handful of verses we might not be translating correctly." He couldn't stop himself from making that dig, but he yanked himself back from saying more. He wanted to build a bridge here, not start a fight. "That's the love we're called to embody for everyone, not just the people we agree with.

"We've talked about this before with our older kids. Our Christian beliefs are the foundation of our desire to support them as they learn to respect their bodies, and the bodies of their girlfriends or boyfriends. At minimum, we want to encourage them to live in such a way that they're not spreading STIs or getting their girlfriend pregnant, or using someone casually for sex...and sometimes that bare minimum is all we can hope for." A couple of the older staff smiled ruefully back at him.

Jon took a breath, meeting their eyes. "Here's the leap I want you to make with me, with regards to Jordin. We all want Jordin to become an emotionally mature, loving adult. What if that's the minimum we hope and work for? Can we let go of some kind of expectation about what Jordin wears, or the pronoun they might want to be called by in the future? Can we hold Jordin or any of our kids to that high standard of respect for their bodies, regardless of the gender of their partner?

"This in no way changes the fact that we have a set of appropriate behaviours we expect Jordin to abide by in our home—but none of those behaviours have to do with Jordin's gender identity. Their choice to wear feminine hair clips isn't a sign of disrespect for us or this home. Jordin loves this home and wants to continue to belong here. And that's what we want too."

Around the room he saw understanding and agreement dawning in the faces of his staff team. For all the difficulty Jordin had caused them over the past two years, they recognized that, out of the short list of options, this was the most positive setting for Jordin to grow up in. In previous staff meetings they talked about how well Jordin had responded over time to their care as a team on his behalf.

Jon exhaled. "Maybe you feel like we're just doing this to be politically correct in our setting. And definitely there's a set of expectations from the ministry of Social Services that we need to follow. But I also think this kind of generous acceptance is what Jesus modelled in the gospels, and it's consistent with our calling as Christians. Our Lord hung out with people we maybe wouldn't want in our churches on Sunday. He was at those parties, loving people where they were at. He wasn't afraid they would contaminate him."

Saying the word, Jon laid his hand against the sick knot in his middle, just holding the train of his thought. "Jesus was unfailingly kind to people others called 'sinners' and it looks to me like he spent most of his time with people on the margins in his culture. He didn't give them a lecture: his very presence was an invitation to know God, because he is God. I think it's worth noticing how often Jesus used stories to show people what God is like--instead of telling them all the things that were wrong with their behaviour and out of line with God's design."

His stomach touched the back of his throat. Jesus. He hadn't planned to use that phrase, and now he was remembering absorbing those words into his thirteen-year old body at a church youth group event, sick with horror, self-loathing and shame as the man at the front talked about the Bible and sex.

Jon dug his feet against the floor, his face heating with anger. Fuck his boss for making him do this training alone and fuck past Jon for not speaking up and insisting that someone with no personal stake in the matter come and train his staff. Now present Jon was stuck holding the bag.

That surge of anger helped Jon get his shit together to move on. "So let's look at some terms we use interchangeably and define them a little better: gender and sexuality."

He was soaked with sweat under his hoodie when the meeting finally wrapped up, but it felt like they'd come to a common agreement to treat Jordin with kindness and consideration wherever they were at.

Naomi's closing prayer for them as a team, and for Jordin, Dusty and Grace, almost brought Jon to tears again. She folded him into a soft, expansive hug before she left. "Bless you, Jon. This has me feeling so hopeful for us."

Patrick hung back, waiting until the other staff were gone to approach. "Hey Jon--um, I hope I didn't offend you with what I said before. I'm really trying to wrap my head around this."

Jon's head felt a little too big for the size of his skull, and his ears were ringing faintly--sure signs that a wicked headache was coming on. "Sure, I get that," he said evenly. "I appreciated your honest questions today."

"How did you get to where you're at on this? Up until now I would've said you're the person whose Christian walk I most admire and want to imitate."

That stung and Jon made an effort not to show it.

"I mean, I still do," Patrick said. "I just...never met a Christian guy who even talked about this stuff, let alone said we should love gays. Which is what I hear you saying." His face twitched involuntarily and he sighed. "It makes me super uncomfortable. But I think you're right: Jesus would be hanging out with them and I have to wrestle with that now. So how did you--get there?"

Patrick's face was troubled and it felt like an honest question, not someone spoiling for a fight. Jon glanced at Angel, who was leaning in the living room doorway, her arms folded as she listened in. He had expected this question at some point and had his answer ready.

"My brother is gay," Jon said, crossing his arms tight over his chest and lifting his chin to hold Patrick's look. "He... says he knew when he was thirteen, that he was attracted to guys, and he didn't tell anyone because he thought God hated him, hated his body, and maybe our parents would kick him out. My dad's a pastor, so we grew up in church and thought the same way your family thinks. He carried that secret by himself for years and that breaks my heart now." Jon drew a slow breath, anger banked hot in his chest for the kid he had been.

"This isn't some theological problem that needs to be solved, Patrick. It's personal. It's people you don't even know you know. It's kids in our churches. It's our siblings sitting in the pew with us knowing if they come out they'll lose everyone they care about. Look, you have to ask yourself: what if they're telling the truth and they can't change and they didn't choose this? I don't want to be part of a church that says--God doesn't want you. You're a mistake--cut out this part of you or you can't be with us."

Too late, Jon realized he was furious that Kurt's family had done exactly that. He just managed to jam the lid on before taking Patrick down like that was his fault. "That's how I got here." The words still snapped a little. "My brother should be able to sit in the pew with me and take Communion without being made to feel like there's something wrong with him, compared to everyone else. I can't believe the God I know doesn't love him as much as I do."

Patrick blinked, his square-jawed face open and his forehead worried as he listened. There was an awkward silence, then he said. "I didn't know, man. And I never thought about that. What did your parents do?"

"They worked incredibly hard to understand and love him and that made a huge difference." Jon slumped back in the chair, arms still crossed tight. "That's what I want for Jordin. To just know he's safe and loved in his home while he's figuring himself out. So he has a chance to not become another statistic about suicide rates among LGBTQ+ kids. And maybe grows up loving well and managing his emotions like a mature human because we loved him well. We're the best chance he's got, precisely because we're Christians--we have access to the deepest, most generous Source of Love there is."

Patrick laughed a little, shaking his head. "You should've been a preacher, Jon. That's the most hopeful, challenging sermon I've heard in a long time."

"Samesies," Angel said quietly.

Jon laughed drily. "That's my dad, not me."

"I'm going to think about all of that," Patrick said, "While I make some beds and clean some toilets."

Angel gave her co-worker a high five on the way by.

Jon arched his back in a stretch, exhaling, shaking with release of adrenaline.

"I thought that went well today," Angel said. "You did good, boss."

"Thanks. First of four sessions--whee." Jon sarcastically spun a finger in the air.

"Gay Straight Alliance wasn't free to come?"

"Head office didn't want them in the house," Jon said, turning aside.

"Aw, shit." Angel's face fell. She blew out her breath. "Well... At least my work partner is a little less homophobic today, thanks to you. That's not nothing."

Jon smiled sideways at her. "That's not nothing." A wave of dizziness hit him and he closed his eyes briefly, taking a breath. Time to get home before he wasn't safe to drive anymore. "Listen, can you two cover today? I'd like to take the day to work from home and catch up on some things."

"You got it, boss," Angel said.

*How'd Jon do?

What did you think about the way he used the Bible, and Jesus' life to persuade his staff to treat Jordin with kindness?

If you're in a non-affirming Christian setting, do you think this kind of 'diversity training' would be helpful in your church, or with your co-workers? Was there anything that surprised you or that you had difficulty with?*

3268 words.