"I got the perfect Moms."

"Happy Mother's Day, Mama."

"Thank you, Skye." I answered, still wiping the sleep from my eyes. I stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee, feeling like there wasn't enough caffeine in Columbia to help me through the day. "But honey, it's not Mother's Day yet. It's only May 8th."

"I know, Mama. I'm going to celebrate Mother's Day everyday because I got the perfect moms and you got the perfect daughter."

I smiled, realizing that she was absolutely right. God was in the mix that morning, and His message rang through my fatigue and that fragmented feeling that I get when my mind is racing through all the tasks on my to-do list.

Sky reminds me that God is in the mix.

My list is longer these days, because I'm trying to launch an anti-bullying company, I was just promoted at work, and the school year is winding down, so I'm at school volunteering and preparing for year-end activities related to the Safety Team I am part of. It seems that God's been listening as I pray for Him to "use me up." That "be careful what you ask for" adage has started to feel all too ominous. But, in that moment with Skye, I was reminded to stop and enjoy the moment. I tend to rush ahead about five hours, or five days, or five months from any given moment, keeping track of my commitments like I track a project's progress on a Gantt chart at work.

That moment with Skye is a clear message that having two moms is not a detriment to her upbringing, but a perfect gift from God that keeps on giving. She and Hunter are precious blessings who demonstrate to me everyday what it means to be authentic and honest and open to all the love the world has to offer. Messages like the one she shared that morning wash away all the emotional debris left behind after arguments over what outfit she's going to wear, whether or not she's going to shower before or after she does homework, and what's for dinner. It washes away all the doubts about whether I'm doing enough to help her grow up happy and healthy. It showed me that even when I feel like I've moved away from the purposeful approach to parenting I strive for, God is still there, helping me juggle the different hats I have to wear every day.

So, as life races by and the pace I keep threatens my well-being, I'll stop long enough to remember how her words felt like God's embrace. I'll lean into that embrace and trust that Skye is right; she's got the perfect Moms and we have the perfect daughter.

"Is Hell real?"

Hunter's questions cast out some personal demons

 Hunter has a lot on his nearly 11-year old mind. He's always been something of an old soul and very much in touch with his emotions and intuitive and sympathetic to the emotions around him. Even knowing this, I was profoundly moved when we visited the pastor of East Orrington Congregational Church, my childhood church home.

We stopped in when I arrived in my hometown. I was moved to visit because of an all too recent tragedy involving the alleged suicide of my hero, The Reverend Bob Carlson. He had been the pastor of the church when I was growing up and I needed to be close to his spirit. I wanted Hunter to see where I had gone to church, although the building I had attended was torn down decades ago to accommodate the growing congregation. My experience was the little church on the hill. Current parishioners are attending a much larger church.

Pastor Carl was warm and welcoming as he answered the door. The secretary had to take the day off, leaving Pastor Carl to answer the bell. Immediately we felt at home. Pastor Carl's gift was clear as Hunter opened up quickly and began asking him questions about the Bible, about the vestry, and about life.

Suddenly, Hunter looked a bit sheepish as he looked at me and then turned to Pastor Carl and said, "I don't know if I should ask this in a church, but is Hell real?"

I must have been visibly surprised, although I did my best to stay even-keeled as Pastor Carl prepared his response. He looked to me before he began and I gave a nod of consent to answer. 

"Hell is here right now," responded Pastor Carl.

I wasn't prepared for that answer, but I appreciated his candor and his ability to make an intangible concept understood by my son. Hunter was fascinated as Pastor Carl continued.

"We create our own Hell." He went on to share a story that I won't relate here, but it drove home the message that we are often the very ones responsible for our own torment . And the secret to escaping from Hell on Earth is to forgive the transgressor who put us there. Often, that transgressor lives inside us.

I find it fascinating that Hell was on Hunter's mind, since it was on mine too. Bob's death was far too fresh and the things he was being publicly accused of were terrible things. Things that when I read about them in other contexts, in other towns, I found myself quick to say, "There's a special place in Hell for them." My own harsh judgement was on trial suddenly, and I felt ashamed for being so self-righteous. My heart was aching and still does for the man that I knew to be kind and generous and loving. I realized I was in my own Hell, and had to trust that what my spirit told me was true. Bob was with God and being well cared for and cherished. Once I leaned into that belief, I found peace, and left my self-imposed Hell.

I am so blessed to have had  that humbling experience. Adding to it that my son was the one who helped lead me out of a Hell I hadn't even recognized before that moment, made the experience that much more precious.

"You two are one of the greatest couples I know"

As we celebrate Easter, I can't help but reflect on the symbolism that surrounds the holiday. It's not about chocolate bunnies, Cadbury chocolate eggs, and Easter egg hunts. It's a celebration of rebirth and resurrection. The promise of everlasting life and redemption. It is a time we are reminded to lean into our faith during our darkest hours and trust in the promise that God is with us, willing to lift our burdens if we simply believe.

I often wonder what Jesus was thinking as he celebrated Passover with his disciples the day he was arrested. The Last Supper was actually the Seder (family holiday ritual meal). They were remembering how the Israelis were freed from slavery.

I find it beautifully ironic that Jesus was about to free his followers from spiritual slavery, although they didn't understand the profound journey they were about to take with Him. This time of year causes me to reflect on my own rebirth. I love that my name, Stacy, is of Greek origin and means "The resurrection." There have been points in my life when part of me has died and my soul was resurrected with new hope and purpose.

When I came out of the closet at nineteen, the facade that I would ever be straight died. I chose to be authentic about who I was. When I made that decision, I leaned into my faith that my long term happiness would be better served by embracing all of who I was. At the time I came out, I was tormented with the fear that my sexuality was counter to my spirituality. Some branches of organized religion still think my "lifestyle" is an abomination. I only wish that they could see my "lifestyle" is very much grounded in the same family values they have.

Donna and I are received as "The Graffams", not as "The Lesbians"

When I married my wife and we became parents, the single person died and my perspective of how I fit in the world changed dramatically. I moved from a self-centered vantage point to a beautiful space in which I recognized how we are all connected and how important it is to create a loving, nurturing home for my children and my family. I want to instill strong values in my children so they understand the importance of contributing to  their community. I want them to demonstrate good citizenship and use their individual skills and talents to contribute to something greater than they are by themselves.

I believe that goal is being achieved. My family and friends know that I believe God speaks to us through one another. As I spoke to the crossing guard at my children's school today, she shared that Donna and I are one of the greatest couples she knows. She talked about Hunter's manners and  Skye's zest for life. We were talking about how being Gay or Lesbian is perceived in the world. She underscored what Donna and I have felt since we moved to Bergenfield. We are and always have been a part of this community and no one has ever made us feel like we had to work harder to be accepted because we are lesbian. We are not seen as the gay couple, we are seen as the Graffams.  

I hope and pray that all GLBT people find a place in the world like we have. If you do, you'll know how wonderful it feels to be authentic and be seen for who you are, not for who you're not.

"He gets it from his Moms."

My mother has come a long way since thinking I was going through some kind of collegiate confusion more than twenty years ago when I came out. Today, she warmly embraces my family and joyfully enjoys my stories about the children and Donna and how we move through the world together. Last month, as Hunter and I were heading back to New Jersey after a visit that was far too short, Hunter was balancing his gear while trying to open the car door. I made my way over to help him, telling him how talented he was to manage it all on his own.

My mother was watching all of this perched on the deck of my childhood home. Her response touched my heart when I heard her say, "He gets it from his mothers."

Wow! As I think back nearly twelve years ago when Donna and I were planning a life together, I remember struggling to find peace with my mother's disapproval of the choices I made and my own belief that I belonged with Donna. My parents decided not to attend our Commitment Ceremony in May of 2000. How I longed to have her share my joy that I had finally found the right partner with whom to spend my life.

Hunter manifests the best of both parents

 It was only after Hunter's birth that she came to understand how committed I was to building a life with Donna and enjoying all the blessings that God had in store for us.

I distinctly remember the time during which Donna and I were pouring over the choices we needed to make to realize our dream of having children . I so wanted to share each moment with my mother; however, at that time in our relationship, our conversations were strained and cluttered with small talk,designed to hide the important things that needed to be discussed. So, I was thrilled to hear the change in her voice when I told her Donna was pregnant and I intended to adopt our baby to share parental rights. I think that up until that point, she was fearful that our commitment to each other wasn't stable enough to have children. Looking at it from her vantage point, I had moved to New Jersey to be with Donna in March and by December, we were pregnant! It was analogous to a straight couple coming back from their honeymoon with a bun in the oven.

Today, I love that we have come to love and respect one another and really enjoy each others company. Now, the moments of silence between us are nothing more than pauses in a conversation we started more than 40 years ago when I was born.

I will agree with my mother that Hunter has gotten much of his talent from his mothers. It only makes sense, since so much of what I bring to the world is because of my her.

"It looks like Heaven!"

Recently, Hunter and I took a trip together to Maine to enjoy some ice fishing and time with my parents.

We had just started out on our trip. It was before dawn and our route suddenly became very foggy. I felt myself tense up as I navigated the Jeep through dense fog and darkness. Rather than be concerned, Hunter exclaimed, "It looks like Heaven, Mom!"

Hunter found Heaven on Earth

I found myself relax almost instantaneously from the knowledge that God spoke through Hunter, reminding me that He's at the wheel. It was one of those humbling moments. A moment when my delusion that I'm in control of anything was shattered with the reality that there is a Higher Power in charge. The only thing I'm in control of is how willing I am to lean into my faith to find my center and focus as life throws me off balance.

I'm a person who has a lot of responsibility so it's hard for me to trust blindly and not try to take charge. Not only am I a parent of two beautiful children, which is daunting in itself, I'm also a manager of a team of people responsible for helping pursuit teams close multimillion dollar opportunities. I have to keep myself focused on keeping each member of that team competitive and attentive to the demands of our customers. I pride myself on being very good at my job. But this week, I had to let two members of my team know they would no longer have a job. I felt like I had failed in my ability to keep them gainfully employed.

I know that I had little say in how the decisions were made at the top of the company. Likewise, I know that I have little say in God's plan. As Hunter showed me, I have to remember to look at the situation from a different vantage point. Some may call it naive to think that in this economy those employees will actually have better opportunities in front of them. But I have to believe that's the case.

I have to believe that in the same way I believe in that Higher Power. I take great inspiration from my son and his old soul. He's a beautiful spirit looking at the world through the fresh eyes of a child and teaching me to do the same thing whenever possible. I'm going to hold my faith in a Greater Plan closer than ever during these challenging times.

Because what I've just learned from Hunter is that sometimes, when what I see in front of me is dark and murky, someone else sees Heaven.

"Our hands are best friends."

I was walking Skye to school last week and asked her to hold my hand because it was lonely.

She had a sweet grin on her face as she took my hand and said,"Our hands are best friends." It was the most genuine, spontaneous response and one that really tugged at my heart strings. 

Skye's joyful expression mirrors my own.

It reminded me of a great lyric in one of my favorite songs, Amy Grant's She Colors My Day released in 2009. The phrase "In her skin I end and begin." articulates precisely how I feel about Skye. I am still incredulous that I have a little girl whom so many people insist looks very much like me. We share the same slope of our nose, the shape of our eyes and the curve of our smile.  I've started to respond to those observations by saying she's "the new and improved version" of me.

For both Hunter and Skye, my aspiration for them is to have a new and improved opportunity to exceed the accomplishments their mother and I have realized in our adulthood. And I know that is a common aspiration most parents have for their children. It seems that the challenges rising up to meet our children's adult worlds are greater with each generation. The fear of what those challenges may throw at our children must be tempered with the faith that they will have the fortitude to overcome them.


God has blessed Donna and me with the most thoughtful, intelligent children. Each of them demonstrate their charm, their wit, and their unique approach to what life throws at them every day. Watching their resilience and their ability to navigate through challenges is a joy that reinforces our confidence that they will successfully navigate through childhood into a happy adulthood. Hunter shared recently that a friend asked him how he could have two moms as parents. Her tone implied that she knew the science behind how a child is conceived and wanted to know whether he knew who his father was. His quick response back to her was, "End of conversation." He didn't miss a beat and showed how quickly he could establish firm boundaries with friends. He also demonstrated how confident he is and comfortable with his family. I was so proud of how he handled that situation.

This example is one reminder of how often I forget to appreciate my children's own independence and person hood and get caught up in the desire to protect them from anything uncomfortable or bad. Sometimes, I'm able to step out of that protective mode to let them experience life as it comes so they can learn from the lessons that broken hearts, hurt feelings and perceived injustices teach.

After all, it's those experiences that teach the most important lessons.

So, when other situations arise in their lives and we're not within earshot, I know they will be able to pick themselves up and dust themselves off and come home to share their pain with us. And as they relate their stories, they will know that we will hold their hands and provide a safe place for them to heal and learn from their experiences.

Thankfully, Skye already realizes that our hands are best friends, and best friends last forever.

"Now, our family is back together."

 O Happy Day! My wife is home. She was gone for nearly two weeks and the kids and I did well overall, but boy are we glad to have her back.

Donna was in Trinidad with her parents and her brother, preparing for her Dad's 80th birthday celebration. It was an important time for her and her family, both the part she has here and the part she has in Trinidad. It was a critical lesson in parenting, too. Our children, especially Hunter, were not happy to stay behind. Hunter insisted that his middle name was "Party" and that not being there was counter-intuitive if Donna wanted to make sure the party was sufficiently entertaining. Skye seemed to take things in stride, but was shocked that Donna did not plan on going to the beach when she was there. The lesson for the children was that school is important and they can't skip nearly two weeks of classes, regardless of how much we wanted to go as a family.

When I dropped Donna off at the airport, the children were a mess. I expected the tears from Hunter, but I was shocked at Skye's reaction; because apart from being very happy-go-lucky, she tends to be rather stoic when it comes to expressing sadness or hurt feelings. However, as soon as Donna walked through security to leave, she joined Hunter and began sobbing into a melt-down I wasn't prepared for.

Fortunately, I was able to make my way out of the airport without being stopped for ID, as both children were crying for Mommy. I thought to myself, some well-meaning stranger is going to stop me and ask for my relationship to these children.

So, as we fast-forward nearly two weeks,  it was precious to witness our reunion in the school yard. As she clung to both Donna and myself, Skye whispered in my ear, "Our family is back together again."

Later, as Skye sat on my lap, she told me, "When Mommy was gone, the puzzle broke. Now that she's home the piece is back and the puzzle is back together." I think that's a perfect metaphor for family's in similar situations. What I love most about that metaphor is the unity of the family, but recognition that the family is made up of its individual pieces. When one of the pieces is missing, the family is not the same.

I know that the children's reactions to her absence and joy at our reunion took Donna by surprise. I don't think we understand individually the importance each of us brings to the table until it's gone. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder and helps us develop a conscious appreciation for the merits each one of us brings to our family. A small example was my valiant efforts at cooking Donna's french toast  or eggs and bacon like Mommy does rather than fall back on my cereal menu during our morning routine. Believe me, Donna's breakfasts are much better.

A week has passed since our reunion and Skye still talks about how much she loves and missed Donna. Now, as I prepare to leave with Hunter for a long weekend, I jokingly hope that Skye's psyche is not irreparably damaged by another separation.

What this experience has left me with is an unshakable belief that Donna and I are doing something right if our children are that affected by our absence. What a fantastic blessing we enjoy!