"I tried to shake this off and keep moving, but July 2017, a few more people decided to get bitter and nasty. Victoria, a woman who I called my adopted mother at one time, told me at dinner that I was confused, that I was every bit of a man, and that I should be happy with the way God made me. I went home feeling hurt and upset, but tried to move on nonetheless. A few days later, with my world going to hell in a very large handbasket, I received a text message from my Aunt Sandy, and I got an earful. I was told I was sinning, that I shouldn’t dare have sex with a man, and that I needed to find God. She also hated the fact I vote with liberals and for liberal causes. This long as **** text message ends with her telling me the only family she has are her kids and grandkids. I was working second shift at Tyson at the time, and on this one Thursday, no one else was around. I was devastated; she and I had a great relationship up to this point, but apparently, she devolved into a nasty human being. Upon receiving this message, I put the phone down, and wanted to cry. But I was at work, and there was nothing I could do but finish my break and go back to the production floor.
As July dragged into August, I knew if I wasn’t done with Christians before, after that, I was done now. God clearly didn’t love me, and all the stuff I heard about God executing the LGBT community from on high must be true. As summer became fall, I was convinced I was going to hell for being anything other than a cisgender, heterosexual male. I sat on that fact, and it was awhile before anyone could change my mind or even attempt to. October 2017, the notion of genderfluid went away and was replaced with 100% Amber Marie. And I needed a place to go, but I was stuck on second shift. But in November that year, something broke and I got on first shift at Tyson. The week of Thanksgiving, I started on first and it was an adjustment, but I needed it. That Tuesday, I walked into Out On The Lakeshore, Holland’s LGBTQ+ resource center. I walked in with full apprehension, knowing this was my first time there and I needed social support. I spoke with Robbie and Brother Francis that night, two Episcopalians. Robbie was from Grace Episcopal, and Francis was from All Saints in Douglas. That night, for two hours, I was told about a God that loved me and wanted the best for me. I was told about a denomination that welcomed me and wanted me to be a part of their family. When I left at 7 PM, my heart had been opened a little bit to attending church again and maybe believing in God again. Two weeks later, I met Jen Adams, the rector at Grace Episcopal. I told my story to Jen, and she listened to me in a way that no other clergy listened to me before. Francis was there too, and he told Jen he didn’t think I was ready to go back to church or start believing in God again. However, at the end of the night, we hugged tight, and I knew there was a definite possibility of me attending church again