Gay sat

This day, however, was different. It had been a year since I walked by that statue, and even in that relatively short time, I already felt like an outsider. A few weeks earlier, I had received a Facebook message from a former colleague of mine at the school, located outside Boston.

Attached was an invitation to attend an event that even just a few years earlier I could never have imagined receiving: a welcome reception for Gay sat alums. I held this secret always gay sat to my chest. I sat on that invitation from my former colleague for a few days.

Going to the event would likely mean running into colleagues, who would ask why I was back at the school. I had spent the formative professional years of my life here, having left in the spring of for a new job in the Catholic world. As I kept hearing things like this, peace entered in and touched my heart.

And so there I was, walking into the school, fear still overwhelming me to the point where I found myself a few times ready to retreat back to my car. I walked into the main office, where I found my former colleague who had reached out to me, along with a few other gay alums.

At that moment, two worlds collided, worlds that I had long kept separate: the personal and the professional. There was no turning back. As we walked through the hallway, down to the faculty and staff dining room where the event was to take place, memories from the school flashed in front of me—my time as a student, my time as a professional.

None of them seemed to prepare me for this moment. What would this time bring? When we arrived in the dining room, I finally paused and caught my breath. I was out of the public eye of others in the building. I felt safe. Adult allies in the building are welcome to join in the gay sat for the second half, and will have the opportunity to add their thumbprint to the periphery of the display.

More anxiety. Former colleagues would be coming in for the latter part of the event. It was a defining moment for me and I had a choice to make: to stay or to leave. I made small talk with folks I knew in the room to keep my mind occupied. But some unexpected grace soon found me.

I paused to remind myself that, among the other alums gathered, I was in good gay sat through shared struggles. The end of the school day arrived and colleagues filtered into the dining room. This time, the celebration was for a different cause. But was this something I was ready to celebrate—being different, being gay?

Then the conversations began—gay alums mixing with straight colleagues. I felt sheepish. I wanted to shrink in a corner. I fell back back to belonging in the best sense of the word.