The gift my mother gave me

I  was 11 years old. Mom was resting in her room, reading, as she usually did in the afternoon. I went up to her and stood by her side. I asked, 'Mom, what if I'm a lesbian?”

'Then, you'll be a lesbian,” she said, and went back to her book.

The year was 1978, not a time when parents tended to discuss homosexuality with their children. I'm not even sure if many parents discuss it with their children now.

I have always remembered and cherished this example of who my mother is. Loving, accepting, tolerant, and flexible with who/whatever I happen to be.

I have taken on, and fully experienced, many personae in my life, including but not limited to: bisexual activist, minimum-wage bakery worker (with a BA in philosophy), aerobics instructor, poor graduate student, wife, Yoga teacher, poor adjunct professor (with a Ph.D. in Sport Sociology), stay-at-home-mom, militant feminist and spiritual seeker.

Throughout all of these stages, my mother saw only my attempts at authenticity and my yearning to belong. She offered only support. While she may not have understood me, she always respected me and allowed me the freedom to execute my searches in the manner that I saw fit. She exuded the confidence that I could, and would, figure out my life's path. Nothing I could say or do would fracture our relationship or her love for me. I felt free to explore myriad ways of being.

And boy did I ever.

Thank you, Mom, for bestowing upon me, through your love and acceptance, the freedom to be exactly who I am, no matter how many times and how many ways that identity shifts and changes.

Flash forward 21 years. I am married for two years and exploring yet another path, a foray into Judaism. Although I am ethnically, technically and culturally Jewish, I was raised in a purely secular environment. I feel a strong new pull toward my erstwhile faith, and am excited to go further. I wonder how this might affect my marriage to my (culturally) Catholic new husband. I worry about it.

I am 32 years old. My husband, Steve, is reading in his rocking chair, as he loves to do.

I go up to him and stand nervously by his side; we are still new to each other.

'I am getting really excited about Judaism and would like to pursue it further. Steve, what if I want to become a Rabbi?”

Barely looking up from his reading, he says: 'Then, you'll be a Rabbi.”

Reader, I married him/her.

' Lea Haravon Collins is a resident of Iowa City. Comments: lharavon@mchsi.com