A Look In The Mirror

OH MY GOD I'm a priest. I am a priest. I am a priest forever. I look in the mirror; I am neither different and I am different. No, nothing magic happened with the warmth of my blessed bishop's hands; I didn't get zapped. But I WAS changed in a wonderful way. Changed because a group of people believed in my call, believed in me, believed in Love, believed in God to ordain me to do the work I have been put on this earth to do. That is how I am both different and not. It's not about the collar or the piece of paper. It's about the sacrament; that IS for sure. It's like getting married when I finally married the right man, all that sacramental stuff was there. And in this rite, it's right. To say and respond to the ancient words that send me AND us forward together in this world to do the work, to live the call. Yes, I am happy. Yes, I am terrified. And I am strangely exhausted, an unexpected emotional exhaustion. I think I was so keyed up before that I couldn't sleep. Now my darling is in PC and I still can't sleep! I have become one of those old ladies who can't sleep without her husband. And in one more day his pillow and his smelliest, sweatiest tshirt will no longer smell like him; then I guess I'll stay up all night and paint the house! I need to write about this and I will. But there is stuff I have to sort out for myself and some people to write and thank and share appreciation with. But I'll mention them right here, right now, in front of God and everybody: my beloved life-partner Kenny; my dear friends, Rusty and George, my bishop and our deacon who have believed in me, challenged me, and loved me to take time out of their busy lives to come to PANAMA to ordain me and to help me plan this and who walked the streets while I tried to sleep; to Ricardo and Ernesto and Ernesto and Ricardo and AHMNP and UNAIDS/SIDA for coming to this church thing because they love me and honour my work and because I love them and honor their work; and o! sweet Jesus, the great gift of the magnificent voice of Moizes, whose name I will never be able to spell--I will remember that voice forever; and for AHMNP and UNSIDA again for film and reporters. And for Sr Oliver and Miss Jean and Sr Arturo who dressed me so beautifully in fabrics and in tailoring. For precious Meri Elvia who cared for the min-chees and mee-sees while we were gone. For the love and belief and care and friendship of Michelle. For as they say on Sex And The City, our girlfriends are really THE ones and Michelle, thank you. HA! I feel like Miss America!!! And always and forever, thank you Robert Warren Cromey and Lady Ann for you are the two who truly raised up this priest. I miss you two soo very very much and love you soo very much. I'm sad for the ECUSA and the Anglican Communion because they don't get it and don't get me. I'm glad that no longer hurts me as much as my parents' death, not being welcomed and accepted by you. I feel sad and sorry for your fear and well ignorance. But more than that, I am glad to be a priest of "The New Church" as John Kater once said long ago, "O, oonie, how very New Testament of you!" I'm glad and happy that this is meet and right as we used to say, for me--and for Panama. NOW if someone could just get us out of this friggin goddamned endless eternal heat and humidity in this very ugly town a water taxi ride across from my beloved Bocas of years past, the one that didn't have gazillion dollar homes and a TGIF (gag), I don't think I'd have one blessed thing of which to complain! I mean I LOVE PC TAXI DRIVERS! I DO! And I will never HAVE to walk inside of an ugly church again because I have to; thank you, Obispo Rusty and George! And still, fuck you Diablo Chiquita for that hideous siren sound about "work" and death. Sorry, Pax Christi, for that moment of violencia. Oh NOT the fuck you Chiquita but the less than 3 seconds of a feeling of violence against your violence of this gorgeous place. Even Almirante and Changuinola MIGHT have a chance at beauty without you. Madre Uni and still just oonie