Love Makes a Family
We wanted to share the news in this space that we are now legally married. If you are reading this you are one of our loved ones–your love and support has sustained and nurtured us throughout our lives.
We wish we could have gathered with friends and family to witness this occasion (we never did have a commitment ceremony) but the timing was much too rushed. Instead we want to share our story. Please don’t feel the need to send gifts—your support and love have been gift enough over the years.
As we began the process of relocating to Boston, we made a series of decisions that meant that Rosalie would be left without health insurance. Kevin’s parent company, Viacom, offers domestic partner benefits but only to same-sex couples and Rosalie will be self-employed at least for many months.
We’ve been unmarried for eleven and a half years. We saw being happily unmarried as a political statement against homophobic marriage laws as well as a positive affirmation of our love and commitment to one another. We’ve pieced together the rights and legal protections that are available to all unmarried couples, and have made some sacrifices in the process. We’ve called each other “Partner” and have been proud to use that word because of the deep equality it implies.
But we’re moving to a state where same-sex marriage is legal. Although the long, hard struggle for justice for all families and individuals continues, in this particular part of the country, many people live their lives as if sexual orientation is no more relevant than eye color—just a part of our diversity as human beings.
It was a difficult decision, but we decided the time had come to have our commitment legally recognized. There wasn’t time to plan a ceremony with invited guests in the midst of the overwhelming undertaking involved in selling a home and relocating across country. We’ve been living basically apart for two months. We couldn’t wait until after our move because only legal residents of Massachusetts can be married in the state and it would take months to establish residency. We’d have to get married in Illinois.
Rosalie’s colleague and good friend at Cunningham Children’s Home, Chaplain Gay King Crede offered to sign our marriage license. Ceremony or no ceremony, as a minister she has the authority to sign the license and we took her up on her generous offer.
And then we thought, we have been separated from one another as a family and are going through the most tremendous of transitions. This is an opportunity to come together and bless our family’s core spirit of love and respect, and affirm that we’re a family despite our extended separation from one another. We wrote a ceremony and scheduled a time to meet Chaplain Gay in the meditation room inside Rosalie’s building on a date when Kevin would be in town.
The weekend of the ceremony we traveled to Macomb to say good-bye to friends and spend time with Rosalie’s mother, who we’ll miss dearly. On Sunday we drove in separate vehicles back to Urbana, unloaded some bookcases from a rented van and convinced the kids to change into slightly nicer clothes. Raimi said he didn’t want to go to a wedding and Kinnell cried and crabbed about having to change his shirt. Raimi was persuaded and Kinnell fell asleep in the car on the way to dropping off the rental.
When we parked our car at the Spiritual Life Center , Raimi asked, “Why do you want to get married in mommy’s office?” Kevin joked, “well, she spends a lot of time here so…” and Rosalie shushed him and answered, “The meditation room is sacred space. Special moments have happened there like reunions and memorial services. It’s a good place to get married.”
Holding hands, we walked into the building and found Chaplain Gay. The meditation room is a small, peaceful room with enormous windows overlooking the old trees and brick buildings of the Cunningham Children’s Home campus. Gay is a thoughtful and loving minister to Cunningham kids—committed to helping each child identify meaning and hope in the language and tradition that will sustain them throughout their lives. She is a United Methodist who has supported kids to find comfort in Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, art and nature. She’s also an activist for the full inclusion of gays and lesbians in the Untied Methodist Church. She’s a good friend.
We gathered in a circle for the blessing ceremony. We reminded the boys that we believe that what makes a family is love. Kinnell listened and we think Raimi understood when we said, “Mommy & daddy have promised long ago to love one another forever. This paper we’re going to sign today is a way to help keep our family safe and give us certain rights. Not everyone has the same rights in our country, and mommy and daddy believe in justice for all families. In about a month, we’re going to move to a state where all families are treated fairly and equally. So it’s time for us to get married, too, and Chaplain Gay will help us!”
Then, Gay told the boys, “your mommy and daddy want you to be a part of their marriage blessing today. Your mommy and daddy believe that what makes a family is love. So if you think that’s true too, say after me, “Love makes a family!”
And we all said, “Love makes a family!”
Well, Raimi joined in—Kinnell stopped playing for a minute to listen.
Gay asked us if we came there that day of our own free will, ready to allow our promise to be legally recognized. We each answered, “I do.”
Then she had us turn to one another to repeat vows we had written together based on the song that always makes us cry, “The Last Barn Dance” by Cheri Knight. We each said to the other:
We’ve traveled this far
Bound together by love.
My commitment to you is stronger
than the separation of distance
or the words of the law.
Today I ask you again
to give me your hand.
I will take it, and offer you mine.
Here we are, on this road, bound together:
You and I, You and I, You and I.
We both got choked up while Rosalie said her vows. Rosalie was smiling as Kevin spoke—and we laughed because Kinnell was running around being all kinds of noisy and rambunctious.
Then we each signed the marriage license, and on the decorative marriage license the boys each signed as a witness. Raimi signed his special signature and Kinnell drew a picture, telling us “I’m drawing Kinnell the mermaid.”
Together we put our hands together like a team and Gay had us repeat, “Love makes a family!” Then she offered a blessing for the changes to come and what stays the same, and our future lives together.