All You Need is Love

One of those strange March snows started to fall as I traveled west on Route 50, heading for the weekend wedding-celebration of one of my dearest and oldest friends. It was Linda's second wedding. This time, she was marrying a woman. The ceremony was to be held on the

beach, performed by a Native American Shaman in one of the shore's secluded watertowns. She had asked me to be a part of the circle to help make sacred her marriage to the woman she loved. Fighting the strong winds and freak snowstorm as I wound my way up the road, I realized this little challenge of mother nature was small potatoes compared to the battle Linda had to fight to openly love this woman. I had to smile at the courage of this very unique and special friend who had never been afraid to be herself.

Linda and I had been friends since 6th grade. I had just moved from California to the western shore of Maryland and was facing the challenge of another new school and making new friends. There I was, packed into yet another crowded parochial classroom feeling extremely awkward in yet another plaid wool uniform. At 11, I

looked very much like a plump Pippi Longstocking. My waist-long hair usually hung in two braids down my back and my face was completely freckled. I spotted Linda immediately because she was beautiful and exactly who I wanted to look like. She was obviously very popular, extremely cool and very clever at hiding her antics from the nun's watchful eye. It was her wildness and sheer joy of life that attracted me most to her and for some reason she seemed to like me too.

Linda was always first at everything. The first to need a bra, to have her ears pierced, to french kiss, to sneak out at night and of course, to "go-all-the-way." I was her balance I suppose. She fascinated me and I envied her experience and sophistication, but I watched from the side-lines. The boys loved her and it was exciting for me to see how she managed to win their hearts. I definitely wasn't ready to play the game and she would tease me about my shyness. We would laugh that I was Larue to her Gidget.

Linda went on to be what my mom referred to as "Earth Mother," which amazed us all considering how wild she was growing up. Yet, it didn't. She always had an open heart and was a healer. She became a midwife and had four babies of her own before I even

considered the notion of becoming a mother. When I did become pregnant, Linda gave me wonderful emotional support as well as the inspiration and courage to buck the traditional birthing system. She couldn't quite convince me to have a home birth, but I was sorely tempted. As it ended up, providing home births for women cost Linda her nursing license, but it never interfered with her incredible nurturing nature.

It was while she was in Texas one summer, working as a midwife and helping to care for people with Aids that Linda decided to "come- out." That may have been well and good in a big city like Houston, but moving back to the Shore was certainly 'culture shock.' Linda, always true to herself, suffered the pain of a broken marriage, severed friendships, and a great deal of social ostracism. Fierce as a mama lion, however, she managed to keep her children close, and in spite of all the warnings of damage she had heaped upon their heads, they seemed as well adjusted as any kids growing up today.

It became predictable that when men would comment on Linda's turnabout, they would say how much worse it would be to have your wife leave you for a woman. It was perceived as being a failure for the entire male gender. Many friends she grew up with declared they had to draw the line and withdrew their love. Usually the main

issue was over Linda's children. How could she subject them to the social fallout that was sure to occur living in such a conservative area? Everyone would feel a lot more comfortable if she would hide her love and pretend to be someone she wasn't. I don't mean to sound like a big shot. Even I had decided not to bring my children along that weekend because I wasn't sure how I would explain to them how Linda could be marrying a woman.

But Linda had always shown me what it is to love. She was an only child, and when her mother grew sick with cancer, she brought her into her home and cared for her, allowing her to die surrounded by her grandchildren and the comfort of a busy home. Her father, confused and dazed with a rare form of alzheimer's, joined her soon after that. He never really knew who anyone was, but seemed to be happy and well watched by every member of the family.

Linda's love extended beyond her immediate family. Ever since I had known her she would take to her heart the wounded and disenfranchised. Her home was always filled with those in need of sanctuary from some emotional or physical crisis. Linda was able to help ease a lot of pain through her gift of being able to accept people for who they were and enjoying people for being themselves.

It was obvious to me Linda clearly loved this woman. And it appeared she was loved in return. I respected the fact that both of them wanted to have their love and commitment to one another blessed in the presence of their children and friends. True love is not easy to find and even more difficult to keep.

The ceremony was beautiful and very touching. Despite the wind and cold on the beach that Sunday morning, the circle we formed that day warmed all of our hearts. We provided a brief protection and sanction to a couple who loved each other enough to want to be joined in holy matrimony. Sadly, we all knew that sanction would not easily be found elsewhere in our world where it seems to be more important what the gender is of the person you love rather than that you love at all.

Kelley!

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