"Who Am I To Judge...?" ~ Pope Frances

It was, without a doubt, the most difficult time of my life.  I had basically lost everything in my attempt to be true to myself, to be who God made me to be.  I made the heart wrenching decision to end my marriage, the memory of sitting my girls down on our family room couch to tell them the news still makes me cry, as my throat tightens with anxiety, still able to see their faces, hear the first cry from my oldest as she realized what mommy and daddy were telling her, her younger sisters following her lead.  Even writing it, thirteen years later, tears stream down my face. My girls confess that the words 'family meeting' dredge up memories of this event for them, that night in May, after one of their softball games - the night that changed their lives forever.  We try not to use those words, thankful for any reason to forget.

It was May, 2005 when we decided to tell them, the second last day of school, summer offering them protection from the gossip that would soon ensue.  I moved to an apartment, made it a home the best I could.  Their dad staying in the family home.  I would come over every morning to wait for them to wake up, he had to be at work early and I had been let go from my job, one more loss in my endeavor to be true to myself.  Unemployed, I spent the summer with my girls, doing my best to make it ok, to make it up to them, to mitigate any damage.  Loss was familiar by now, no one had died which made it worse, my family walking around a few miles from me, yet dead to me in every way.  My home, my marriage, my stability, most of my 'friends'...I had my girls, my new apartment and some new friends as I struggled to make a life out of the rubble of my cowardice from years before.  Their dad and I vowed to be the best parents we could be and we were true to that vow.  Never talking badly about each other, celebrating holidays and birthdays as a family, sitting together as our talented daughters played sports, danced, sang, and received awards.  Never making them choose which parent to run to first when the event was over, ice cream enjoyed afterwards, together.   As they are now all on their way to be incredible adults, we recently patted each other, and ourselves, on the back for the wonderful job we did.

During my marriage, my church families were separated into two as we were a combined faith couple - me a Catholic and my ex a Presbyterian.  On Sundays we frequently went to the Presbyterian church and our three daughters were baptized there.  However, we chose to send them to a Catholic grade school, St. Agnes, wanting for them the Christ centered atmosphere a private school provided.  I was very active at their school.  As a member of the athletic boosters, I spearheaded the Booster Boogie 5K, that raised money that the boosters could spend on facility and equipment upgrades, and still is going strong today, albeit under a different name.  The Booster Boogie was also a great community celebration with music, food and drinks afterwards.  We routinely raised $7,000 or more for our small school.  I was also the Volleyball Director and one of the grade level coaches.  I ran camps, trained other school's coaches, ran a league in the school's gym - again all fundraising that went directly back to the school's athletic program.  My girls loved St. Agnes. The teachers had become family friends, I was homeroom mom, cafeteria worker, I helped with field day....you name it, I would help do it.  To be fair, this is not at all unusual for St. Agnes.  It is a school filled with loving, involved families who truly want what is best for the children and the community.  My girls were surrounded by faith filled Christians and they were happy.

By August, 2005, three months after our family talk on the couch that Thursday night in May, the rumors were rampant.  Was I on drugs, was my ex on drugs, who was cheating on whom, etc.  The Payton place that is Northern Kentucky couldn't help themselves with this juicy piece of gossip - only a few people knew the truth, yet many had a lot to say.  I had moved to an apartment place with a pool so we were able to spend time away from the masses who were judging me and my girls, being hurtful with their sideways glances and backs turning as they would see us.  It wasn't everyone.  In fact there was a group of four St. Agnes moms who offered a safe space for us.  They didn't ask questions, they didn't gossip, they were just there for us and let us be with them at the park, the zoo, Chuck E Cheese on the rainy days that summer.  In many ways, they saved me...in many ways, they were the ones who made me believe it would all be okay someday.  Thank you.

My Girls circa 2006

I was looking forward to school starting back.  I was giving volleyball lessons for a local club and I had decided to go back to grad school and get my master's, staying busy and being strong my only options at that point.  I was also running the volleyball camps for St. Agnes, looking forward to coaching my team and another successful volleyball season for the program.  We were already practicing a couple times a week when the call came on my newly acquired cell phone.  It was the Deacon who called and summoned me to the Parish office.  This Deacon has since passed away.  I have decided to not use his name, even though he was active in the events that occurred, we all know Deacons wield no real power at local parishes.  I also like to think that after so many years and the cultural shift that has occurred he, like many others from that time who treated us poorly, would be ashamed of his actions. Since I don't know, I am giving him a pass.  We all make mistakes in the name of 'religion' and ignorance and I would like to think this Deacon who had known me since I was a child, would have had a change of heart by now.  Fr. Mark Keene doesn't get such treatment.  Fr. Keene was and still is the pastor of St. Agnes.

So the call came from the Deacon, requesting to meet with me later that afternoon.  Of course,  in my gut, I knew right away what they were calling about but, hoped, maybe they were going to just check on me.  After all, I was a paying/contributing member of their church family, my kids went to school there and I was an avid volunteer who selflessly gave of my time and efforts for whatever they needed.  Fr. Keene 'knew' me, he knew my heart, he knew my children...However, after everything, I was still scared and nervous.  I had lost so much already, I was finally getting back on my feet with some things to look forward to, the pit back in my stomach as I write this.

When I entered the room the Deacon and Fr. Keene were seated at a table.  The tension in the room dripping as much as the sweat down my back.  My instincts took hold and immediately I knew this was not a meeting to check in with me, to minister to me, to ask if I was ok.  The Deacon did most of the talking, telling me they had heard of my 'lifestyle' and asking me to confirm or deny that I was a lesbian.  The conversation quickly escalated, fight or flight taking over, a natural reaction after all I had already been through.  I refused to answer his questions, asking why it was any of their business?  I was a parent at the school, not an employee, I was not teaching Sunday school, I still considered myself very much a Catholic and a supporter of the Faith.  They didn't ask me any of these questions, they didn't ask me anything other than "Are you a lesbian?" Confused, they finally gave me the reason for asking, they finally said it, "We can't have you working with our school children as a volleyball coach or homeroom mom if you are a lesbian.  We can't take the chance that you will abuse the children...."  Stunned...unable to speak for a few seconds...I asked for a repeat of what he had just said.  He repeated it and confirmed that I had heard what I thought I had heard.  Furious, I began to defend myself, my 20 year coaching career, my years of volunteering with kids of all ages, my history as a mom at the school, cafeteria duty, field day, on and on almost out of breath as I tried to capture what they had just insinuated and make it sensible in my brain. I also tried to educate them, pedophilia is not the same as homosexuality...pedophilia is an attraction to young kids, a crime, abhorrent....yet they wouldn't budge, obvious to me that their ignorance made them believe pedophilia and homosexuality are one and the same.  They said with the recent sex abuse scandal that had rocked the Diocese of Covington, they could not 'take a chance' by having me work with the school children, their decision final, no appeal.  Furious is the only word I can find to describe what I was feeling...not so nice things flew from my mouth as I raged about men and women that I knew who also were parent volunteers, yet cheating on their spouses, another 'sexual sin' no better or worse than what they were accusing me of, screaming 'what was the difference?" The two men staring back with expressions of disgust as the lesbian in front of them, completely losing her mind, played right into their stereotype.  It is a mistake I regret to this day.

I left the room...the tears came when I sat down in my hot car in the parking lot.  I don't remember the drive home, I don't remember what happened the rest of that day, I just remember thinking that it was time for me to just be 'me'.  In a way I am thankful for Fr. Keene and the Deacon for their ignorance that day because the phrase, 'What more have I got to lose' resonated now, more loudly than ever.  The last bit of shame I felt for who I was, washing away with my tears...the 'Church' taking the last little bit of my old life away in one swift move that defied any type of logic.  I decided to start being more open about what was happening, I quit hiding.  I began to reach out past the four moms who had been my rock up to that point...and a wonderful thing happened.  It quickly became apparent that no one cared, once I told the truth and stopped the rumors, no one cared.  In fact, without my asking, Fr. Keene's office was bombarded with letters of support stapled to his door from parents of St. Agnes kids I had coached or was going to coach.  They demanded he meet with them and listen to them, he refused, hiding like the coward he is and then promptly going on 'vacation'.  I still have copies of the letters, I read them recently...smiling at how far I have come, loving my St. Agnes family.

My Family

Many years have passed and my life did indeed 'get better', in fact it is the best it can ever be.  Everything I thought I lost has been regained.  With time and patience the wounds heal, relationships are salvaged, love wins.  Life is good.  I have never made peace with Fr. Keene, I suffered through 8 more years at St. Agnes and never mentioned these incidents publicly until now.  I never felt compelled to write about this part of my past until now.

I quietly gave up all of my parent and volunteer duties at St. Agnes.  After being the topic of such "hot gossip" for 8 months, I desperately just wanted to fade away.  I never asked anyone to intervene, I explained as simply as I could to the girls on my 5th grade team why I could no longer coach them.  They were confused and disappointed, I wonder now what they remember from that experience?  I would occasionally be asked to work cafeteria duty or go on a field trip and I would always jump at the chance.  I never wanted any more public discussion about me though, afraid of what Fr. Keene would do, I laid low.  I sent my girls off to a school that held them in their heart of hearts but also where I was not welcomed by the man who made the decisions.  The teachers, I hoped understood and knew why I was suddenly uninvolved.

At the last school mass at the end of that fateful 2005-06 school year, the first one for my kids coming from a 'broken home', the same one where I was banned from being involved - the teachers award one student per grade with the "Christian Respect Award" - tears flowed at the last school mass, as all three of my girls were chosen for their grade.  They got to approach the altar and receive the award directly from Fr. Keene....I have always hoped the irony was not lost on him.  My daughters, their kindness, their loving hearts, their community mindedness, their leadership...my greatest triumph in combating the ignorance of Fr. Keene and others like him.

 Last summer, I was asked by a friend why I don't coach at St. Agnes (her daughter is a student there and an up and coming volleyballer).  When I explained this story to her, she was speechless and, frankly, I am not sure she believed me.  She said certainly Fr. Keene doesn't still feel this way, she mentioned the Pope and what he has said about LGBT, I smiled at her ignorance as she obviously didn't understand that the Pope's message of love and acceptance somehow gets lost on its way to the Diocese of Covington.

In spite of what I explained to her, she still asked me to help one coach who was having a particularly hard time, attend a few practices, run a couple drills.  I told her I would love to help but would only do so if she got explicit permission from Fr. Keene.  Trying to be respectful and avoid a public display and knowing what his answer would be, I never gave her plea for help another thought.  A few weeks later she called me and told me, her anger palpable in her voice, what Fr. Keene said, "It is my understanding that Gretchen's lifestyle choices haven't changed and therefore she is not allowed to participate at St. Agnes." or some such wording.  My friend processed this much the same way the parents did the first time around, expressed her disappointment and anger.  I did nothing. I felt nothing.  Fr. Keene's judgment doesn't matter to me.

I wonder when Fr. Keene, and others like him, will understand that by being exclusive to this one 'sin' they are marginalizing a whole group of people who they should be ministering to and also missing out on talents that people, like me, want to share.  I am not angry at the Catholic church as an institution. I have been showed great love by many every day Catholics.  I share close friendships with some Sisters of Notre Dame as well as Divine Mercy nuns. My volunteer work with both of these Catholic institutions welcomed and appreciated.  My closest friends and my entire family are Catholic.  They are Pope Frances Catholics, as I like to call them.

It is easy to make peace with situations when you know you have done nothing wrong and have only been trespassed against.   I know the time for change is coming, I just hope I am alive to see it. 

“If someone is gay and searches for the Lord 

and has good will, who am I to judge?” 

Pope Frances, 2013