Chapter Text
Elizabeth Ann Hummel sat on the stairs to the upper floor of the parsonage, watching her little boy, Kurt, as he pranced around the dining room table, singing at the top of his lungs.
Do, a deer, a female deer. Re, a drop of golden sun.
“Mama, why you not singin’ wif me?”
Elizabeth smiled down at him, eyes sparkling as she joined him on the next line.
Mi, a name, I call myself. Fa, a long, long way to run!
She stood up and took his hands, joining him as they went twirling and dancing around the room.
Sol, a needle pulling thread. La, a note to follow sol.
Ti, a drink with jam and bread. That will bring us back to do-do-do-do.
“What’s going on in here?”
“Daddy!” Kurt ran to his father and jumped at him, tripping over the floral tablecloth he’d tied around his waist as a skirt.
“Oops! Watch out, buddy,” Burt said, as he scooped Kurt up into his arms.
“We singing Sound of Music, Daddy! Come sing wif us!”
“I can’t right now, kiddo. I have to go visit Mr. Smalley in the hospital,” replied Burt, “but I bet Mama would love to sing it again with you.” Burt looked at Elizabeth, eyes twinkling with mirth. He kissed his son on the top of his head and set him down.
“Of course, baby. Let’s do it again.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes at Burt as Kurt started on his 101st rendition of the afternoon.
Do, a deer
Burt shook his head, laughing as he walked down the hall to the front door and left to do his hospital visit.
Kurt and his mother had always had a special connection. It was more than their shared love of musicals, or the fact that he was more interested in sewing with her than changing the oil on their Chevy with Burt. It was like she somehow had the rulebook for how to deal with a toddler in high heels and Burt missed that class in school.
Burt loved his son more than anything except his wife and his Lord, but damn if it wasn’t hard to understand him. When Kurt was born and the doctor announced “It’s a boy,” Burt’s first thought wasn’t how to find him a pair of sensible heels. Honestly, what three-year-old boy asks for sensible heels for his birthday? No, Burt had planned t-ball games and Little League, football practice and track meets.
He hadn’t anticipated Kurt at all.
Kurt -- the lover of songs, stories, and dress-up. The kid who was just as comfortable in his mother’s wide-brimmed, purple straw hat as he was in overalls. Heck, probably even more comfortable. As much as Burt tried to interest Kurt in sports and cars, Burt’s two main joys, he just couldn’t do it. As the pastor of Spirit of Peace Baptist Church in Lima, Ohio, he was an extremely busy man, so he ended up feeling grateful but a little guilty that his wife and his son were so connected. It made it easier for him to submerge himself in his sermons, visitations and event planning without feeling like he was missing out on the games and events in his son’s life.
Every so often he would watch and smile as Elizabeth sang Beatles’ classics or Broadway showstoppers with Kurt, but more often than not he’d retire to his office and plan the sermon for the next Sunday.
****
The summer after Kurt turned three, Elizabeth and Kurt ran across a Great Performances production of The Little Mermaid by the San Francisco ballet on PBS one evening while Burt was at church for a Deacon’s meeting. Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off the screen as the ballerinas and danseurs danced the original tale, from the author’s tragic dive into the ocean after being rejected by his love, to Ariel’s first sight of humans, to her last breath as she faded away into the sea foam[tg1] . He was in tears as Ariel’s life seemingly faded away.
“Mama, how can I do that?”
“What do you mean, love?”
“How can I dance like that? Where do I learn how?”
“Would you like to learn ballet, Kurt? Would you like to dance like those men?”
“I would, Mama. I really would.”
The next morning, while watching Blue’s Clues, Kurt attempted some of the moves he’d seen in the ballet the night before during the theme song. Elizabeth watched him from the doorway to the living room and went to the phone. She checked around with other moms at church and got a recommendation for a ballet studio near the center of town.
When they arrived for Kurt’s first class, they checked in at the front desk in the hall.
“Madame Virginia’s studio is up the stairs and to the right.”
Kurt was so excited he practically floated his way up the stairs. Elizabeth trailed after him, overhearing the whispers of several women in the lobby, some of them prominent members of their congregation, as they wondered why Pastor would let his son dance “gay ballet”. She shook her head, trying to ignore the ignorance, and smiled as she caught sight of her son trying on a pink tutu and dancing around waving a fairy wand.
After his first class, Kurt didn’t stop smiling for hours. That night when he went to bed, he prayed “Thank you, Jesus, for ballet class and Madame Virginia and all the fun I had today.”
It was the third week before he stopped floating home after class and began to sulk a bit.
“What’s wrong, Kurtsie-Pie?” asked Elizabeth, looking at his sullen face in the rear-view mirror as they drove home.
“Mama, why do those moms laugh at me and call me fairy even when I’m not wearing the wings?”
“Oh, Kurt. They just don’t understand. They think dancing is only for girls.”
“That’s silly, Mama. There were lots of boys in The Little Mermaid.”
“I know, sweetie. I know.”
“I really want to dance, Mama, just like them. I want to!”
“Then go for it, Kurt. You can do anything you want to do and be anything you want to be. That’s how God made you.”
Later that evening, Elizabeth made some warm milk with nutmeg, poured it into two mugs, and brought them in to Burt’s study, setting one next to him. She sat on the black leather couch, tucking her feet underneath her.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, we need to talk about Kurt, Burt. Some of the church ladies were making fun of him at Madame Virginia’s tonight and he overheard them.”
“What do you expect? He’s dancing ballet. Of course people are going to make fun of him.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “What? You think it’s okay to make fun of a three year old?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I didn’t say that. I just said it’s to be expected.” Burt said, his hands out in front of him, placating.
“Don’t patronize me, Burt. Either you are a part of the problem or a part of the solution and right now you are a part of the problem.” She got up, left her milk on the coffee table, and slammed the door to the study on her way out.
Burt sighed, rubbed his head, and turned back to his sermon notes.
***
Kurt and his mom had a habit of watching a video together every day before naptime. Kurt was allowed to pick from a library of DVDs that were short enough to help him calm down without being so long that he’d fall asleep on the couch. His favorites featured Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber and their singing and dancing Veggie Tales friends reenacting stories from the Bible.
His mother often laughed at different places than Kurt did, which confused him, but grown-ups were always weird.
One day, Kurt chose to watch one of the very first ones. The first half of the show reminded him of the story his daddy had told him about, the one where Jesus was trying to make people understand that you needed to treat people nicer, even when it was your enemy that was hurt. Kurt loved the vegetables that had shoes on their heads and didn’t understand why someone who had a pot on theirs couldn’t be friends with them.
“Mama, why do they keep throwing things at each other just cuz they wear different stuff on their heads?”
Elizabeth sighed. “I don’t understand people sometimes, Kurt. All the way back in Jesus’s time they hated people who were different, and they still sometimes do, sweetie.”
“But Jesus said to love everyone, didn’t he?”
“He did.”
“That was like, millions of years ago, wasn’t it?”
“Well, thousands, but it was a long time ago, yes.”
“Didn’t anybody listen to him, then?”
“Some did, sweetie, but maybe not enough. That’s why daddy became a preacher. He wants to remind people what Jesus said and make the world a better place.”
Kurt smiled and snuggled in for the Silly Song with Larry.
After Larry the Cucumber was done looking for his hairbrush in the silly song, another story came on, this time about being friends with kids that are weird.
“Mama, I wish all the kids in Sunday School could watch this one.”
At the end of the video, Kurt’s mom carried him upstairs to tuck him in for his nap, repeating the line from the end of the video, just like she did every time she tucked him in to sleep.
“Remember Kurt, God made you special, and he loves you very much.”
Then, for the first time, she continued, “I love you forever and always, no matter what.”
***
Kurt became obsessed with Disney movies around the age of four. He was grateful that the Ariel in the movie was rescued from her tragic fate by her loving father. He attempted to sing like Sebastian the crab.
Under da sea , under da sea.
Darlin’ it’s bettah, down where it’s wettah,
Take it from me!
Burt arrived home from an evening Bible study one night to find Kurt and Elizabeth dressed to the nines, with Kurt wearing red oven mitts as claws and Elizabeth wrapped in a green towel from the waist down, reenacting all of Kurt’s favorite parts of the movie. Burt walked up behind his wife, wrapped his arms around her waist, and chuckled in her ear as Kurt kept on singing.
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la
My, oh my
Look like the boy too shy
Ain’t gonna kiss da girl.
Kurt stopped for a moment, looking up at his parents with a question in his eyes.
“Mama, Daddy? Why do boys have to kiss girls?”
Burt responded, “That’s the way God made us, son. ‘Male and female, God created them’, remember? In Genesis?”
“Oh.” Kurt looked crestfallen for a moment, then went back to singing.
Sha-la-la-la-la-la-la
Ain’t that sad
Ain’t it a shame, too bad
You gonna miss da girl.
***
“Burt, what are you going to do about the fact that those catty women are harassing our son, and teaching their children to harass him as well?”
Burt looked up from his Bible and set his coffee cup down on the kitchen table.
“What are you talking about, Liz?”
“Darn it, Burt. Get your head out of the sand. Kurt is different. You know it as well as I do.”
“Well, yeah. I guess I do.”
“Those harp- , those women, whose husbands serve on the deacon’s committee or the elder board or the finance committee? Those women are the ones that laugh at Kurt every single time I take him to ballet class. Their kids tease him about being a “fairy” right now, but how much longer do you think it’s going to take for them to use another “f” word?
“Liz, it’s not like that, I mean –“
“Seriously, Burt? That’s exactly what it’s like.”
“But Kurt, do you really think he’s –,” Burt paused, unable to enunciate his fear.
“Say it, Burt.”
“Do you think he’s going to be gay?” Burt’s voice trailed off to a whisper.
“No, Burt, I don’t think he’s going to be gay. I think he already is.”
Burt gulped. “What are we gonna do, Liz?”
“We aren’t going to do anything, baby. God made him to be who he is. We can’t change that.”
“But gay? A pastor can’t have a fag for a kid, Lizzie.” Burt put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyebrow into his forehead with two fingers.
Elizabeth exploded, “Burton Hummel, I don’t ever want to hear that word out of your mouth again!”
Burt looked up quickly. “What word, fag? That’s what they’re called, right?”
“Would you call that sweet little Jackson baby a retard? Or Pastor Jones a nigger?”
“What? Of course not!”
“Then don’t you dare use that word about our son, or any other homosexual. Ever.”
“Okay, okay. But still, my point stands. What are people gonna think?”
Elizabeth dropped to her knees on the floor in front of Burt’s chair. “I think that’s up to you, honey. You are the leader of this congregation. If you lead them in the right direction, maybe they’ll follow?”
“But, what is the right direction? The Bible is so clear on this one, Liz.”
“Is it? Maybe it’s time for you to look into it some more, Burt. You might be surprised.”
With that, she stood up, kissed his forehead, turned his Bible to 1 John and left.
Burt prayed for wisdom and began reading.
***
The church nursery stopped taking children at the age of four, which created a dilemma for Pastor Burt and Elizabeth. She led the choir, sitting on the platform between the pulpit and the baptismal for the length of the service, and of course, Burt, being the pastor, was in the pulpit more often than not. There weren’t many people in the congregation who wanted to deal with an extra child, especially one as unusual as Kurt.
As it turned out, they needn’t have worried, as Kurt was mesmerized by the music. He’d sit in the second row with his little chin resting on top of his hands, leaning against the back of the pew in front of him, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the choir as their voices soared in worship. On one occasion, he’d stood up and danced with all his might, twirling and whirling across the aisle, causing titters and whispers from some of the older members of the church. Burt watched from his mini-pew on the platform, not sure at first if he should say something or if he should let it continue. He’d eventually decided to just let Kurt dance, and made a quick adjustment to his sermon that day.
“Good morning, church!”
“Good morning, pastor.”
“What a wonderful display by our choir this morning. Aren’t they incredible?”
The congregation applauded loudly, whooping and whistling.
“In Ecclesiastes, the wisest man in recorded history wrote this in chapter 3:
‘These is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.
A time to be born, and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to uproot.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build.
A time to weep and a time to laugh.
A time to mourn and a time to dance.’
“I want to thank my beautiful wife for reminding me that it is my job to build up, not tear down. That this is the right time to laugh and enjoy the gifts God has given us. Especially the gift of dance.
“The Bible has a lot to say about dancing, and contrary to popular opinion in the traditions of the Baptist church, the Bible speaks highly of dancing every time it is mentioned. Solomon’s father, King David, danced with all his might before the Lord in nothing but his underwear. It cost him his marriage, but the Lord was pleased with him. David was called a man after God’s own heart. That’s a title I want to wear someday, a title I want my son to wear as well.
“Five different times, in five different Psalms, David commands us to dance. Dance before the Lord. Dance in celebration. Turn our mourning into dancing. Psalm 150 verse 4 says ‘Praise him with tambourine and dancing, praise him with strings and pipe.’ I encourage you all, make time in your life to dance. Make time to enjoy the gifts the Lord has given you.”
Burt stepped back from the pulpit and glanced over at his wife as she stepped in front of the choir to lead the closing hymn. She had tears streaming down her face and a smile that lit up the room. He was sure that it was pride shining from her eyes, mixed with a heaping portion of love.
***
The next week at ballet class, the same ladies were sitting in the waiting room as Kurt dashed up the stairs. Elizabeth overheard them snickering again. She made sure Kurt was settled at the barre and instead of staying upstairs to watch him through the window as was her usual routine, she decided to go back downstairs and sit in the waiting room with the other mothers.
It didn’t take long for them to stop whispering and snickering, but after a few minutes, one of them leaned towards her and asked, “Why are you encouraging your son’s deviant behavior?”
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth pulled herself up straight and leaned forward slightly. “What did you just say?”
“I said, why are you encouraging your son’s deviant behavior? Don’t you know that most male dancers are gay? Why would you put your son in a class that might make him gay?”
Elizabeth drew in a long breath through her nose in an effort not to bite the woman’s head off. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said I don’t even know where to start. One- Barely half of male professional danseurs are gay. Two- Ballet doesn’t make someone gay. The only thing that makes someone anything is God. God makes us who we are, period.”
Elizabeth stood up and walked towards at the other mother, ticking three fingers on her hand. “Three- Being gay isn’t deviant behavior. God doesn’t make mistakes, and God made my son to be exactly who he is. If it turns out he is gay, I will celebrate his love and his relationships just as much as if he were straight.”
Elizabeth let go of every single bit of self-control at this point. “And finally, four- What business is it of yours how I choose to raise my son? Didn’t anyone ever tell you that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all?” Elizabeth turned and walked back up the stairs to attempt to calm down before Kurt’s class finished. When he came over to her with his enormous grin lighting up his face after class, she enveloped him in a hug and clung to him until he squirmed away, telling her all about the new skills he’d learned that day.
***
Kurt was born to be a star. He knew it, even if the world hadn’t figured it out yet. His first starring role was in the Vacation Bible School Living Nativity, at the tender age of six weeks old. The theme that summer was “365 Days of Christmas”, and Kurt got to play the baby Jesus while all the kids in the congregation sang Christmas carols in July.
Before he was old enough to walk, he sang along with Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber, laughing his head off with Silly Songs with Larry. At the tender age of five, he cried when Mr. Lunt took over and Larry got fired. He remembered hearing over and over at the end of each Veggie Tales video, “God made you special and He loves you very much.”
He grew up singing with his mother, first songs like Jesus Loves Me and I’ve got the Joy, then moving on to Give Me Oil in my Lamp, I’m in the Lord’s Army, and This Little Light. His debut solo was Thank You Jesus, at the age of five. He started the song on the chorus all by himself with the piano, his mother joined in at the repeat, and then the choir and organ swelled behind them on the verse. The entire ladies’ fellowship was in tears before the end of his chorus and he played them like a violin, raising the hand that wasn’t holding the microphone at the beginning, lowering it when he got to “for all you’ve given me”, reaching out like he was accepting a gift from the Lord himself.
That was the first time he performed with his mother. After that rousing success, they found ways for him to sing solos with the choir; they sang duets together for the offering; they sang together for women’s fellowship events and funerals, Christmas Eve and Good Friday. It was just about Kurt’s favorite thing to do, second only to ballet.
They were working on another solo for him to sing with the choir at Easter when Kurt was eight, but the drunk driver that smashed into his mother’s car took away the opportunity.
He ended up learning the rest of the song in order to sing it at her funeral service, just a week before Easter.
The very same God
That spins things in orbit
Runs to the weary
The worn and the weak
And the same gentle hands
That hold me when I'm broken
They conquer death to bring me victory
Now I know my Redeemer lives
Even as he was singing the words, he wasn’t so sure he could believe them anymore.
Kurt’s dad immersed himself in work after the funeral. With the Easter service only a week away and no choir director, he didn’t take the time to mourn. He also didn’t take time for Kurt. He brought Kurt with him to the church every day since it was Spring Break, and Kurt entertained himself with the baby toys in the nursery and by reading books from the church library. Despite the fact that the women in the church had filled their freezer with casseroles in the days following Elizabeth’s death, every meal that week had come from a drive through because of course, the choir rehearsed Wednesday evening, there was a Maundy Thursday and a Good Friday service, and Burt was in the sanctuary decorating for Easter bright and early Saturday morning.
At ten o’clock, the women’s ministry team came in pushing a cart full of lilies, expressing surprise to see Pastor Burt and Kurt hanging sheer white fabric from the ceiling, Burt high on the ladder while Kurt gave him directions from the floor. Nancy, the team leader, clucked under her breath and then asked, “What on earth are you two doing? Shouldn’t you be at home today?”
“Well, someone has to get this done, and no one’s volunteered, so we came in to do it.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “We’re here now. Take your son and go home.”
Burt snapped, “I’m not going to let you ladies hang off a ladder when I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”
“Well I just think it’s a little early for you to be hanging from a ladder, considering your wife’s funeral was a week ago today. Go home and mourn properly before you kill yourself.”
Kurt looked wide-eyed at the grown-ups arguing, then ran out of the sanctuary towards the library.
“Dangitall, woman. Now you’ve gone and upset him. Maybe your idea of mourning isn’t the only one in the world.” Burt stalked out of the sanctuary to find Kurt, leaving a gaping group of women in his wake.
When Burt finally located Kurt, after five minutes that felt like five hours, Kurt was sobbing into his knees, leaning against the bookshelves in the children’s section of the church library.
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, little buddy.”
Kurt turned his tear-filled eyes on his father and wailed. “She said you were going to kill yourself. You can’t, Daddy, you can’t! You can’t leave me too!” Kurt broke down into sobs again, not able to catch his breath.
Burt pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly. “I’m never gonna leave you, Kurt. Never.”
Through his tears, with big hiccup breaths, Kurt gasped out “You can’t promise that, Daddy. God’s gonna take you away just like he took Mommy.”
Burt just held on to his little boy and cried right along with him, thinking Elizabeth would have known what to say.
***
The next Friday Burt took a day off, away from the office. Fridays had always been an important family night. Burt had always made sure to be home in time for dinner, and he didn’t want Kurt to spend their first Friday dinner at a drive through. It was bad enough that Kurt had to come with him to the office every day after school. Burt had planned a full meal, including a roast chicken and mashed potatoes, all their favorites. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to actually cook any of it.
When Kurt got home from school, Burt had the chicken in the oven and was attempting to peel potatoes.
“Daddy, I’m home!” called Kurt, in a sing-song voice.
“Hey there, buddy! How was your – ouch!” There was a clattering sound from the kitchen.
Kurt ran towards the sound. “What did you do, Daddy? Are you okay?”
Burt looked at him sheepishly. “I’m fine bud. I just got my finger in the way of the potato peeler and I cut myself,” he said, as he ran his hand under cold water. “I’ll be okay.”
“Mommy showed me how to do that. Can I help you?” asked Kurt.
“That would be great, buddy,” replied Burt.
Kurt grabbed the potato peeler off the floor, rinsed it off, and grabbed the unfinished potato. “Gosh, Daddy, don’t you know that you have to only take little swipes off the side? You threw away half the potato here.”
“Yeah, well, I never really learned how to do much in the kitchen. Your grandma always told me that I’d grow up and marry someone to do it for me so she wasn’t going to teach me how to cook.”
Kurt looked over at his father with one eyebrow raised. “That’s silly, Daddy. Everyone should know how to cook.”
“Yeah, bud, I realize that now. Too bad it’s kinda late to learn.”
Later that evening, after scorching the potatoes and burning the canned corn, when Burt tried to carve into the bird, it was still mostly raw. Tears began to fill his eyes as Kurt’s face fell, disappointed. As they began to fall, Kurt climbed into his lap, took Burt’s face in his hands, and said, “Don’t worry daddy, KFC is still open.”
Burt snorted, knowing just how much Kurt hated KFC. “Right buddy, like you want to eat their food?”
Kurt replied, eyes wide open in honesty, “It’s got to be better than this.”
Burt guffawed, then threw his head back and laughed, a deep laugh right down through his belly. Kurt began giggling and a few minutes later their eyes were watering, their tummies ached from laughing, and hand in hand they walked out into the spring evening to get their dinner together.
***
Life was different for Kurt without his mom. He stopped going to dance classes because his dad was still immersed in work and was too busy to take him. He stopped singing and dancing around the house because it made his heart hurt too much, until one Sunday afternoon when he was sitting with his father, trying to understand the football game on the television.
“You know, kiddo, I used to think that maybe I’d get to see you playing football someday.”
“I don’t even understand this game, though. Why do they all jump on top of each other, Dad?”
Burt glanced over at him. “That’s called a tackle, son. They don’t want him running with the ball, so they try to knock him down.”
“Oh.”
A few minutes later: “Why did he just smack the other guy’s butt?”
“Because he ran a long way with the ball. That was a good play, so he was saying ‘Good job’”
“Oh.”
Another few minutes pass: “Why is he dancing like that?”
“He scored a touchdown, so he’s celebrating.”
“So football players dance?”
Burt looked over at Kurt again. “Sure they do. Lots of people dance.”
“How come you never dance, Daddy?”
“I never really learned how, I guess. Your mom –“
Kurt sucked in a breath and shuddered. “Don’t. Don’t say her name.”
Burt frowned. “Why not, buddy?”
Tears spilled down Kurt’s cheeks against his will. “Because I can’t be strong and brave if we talk about her, and I need to be strong and brave.”
“Who made you think you can’t cry, Kurt?”
“Well, big boys don’t cry, daddy.”
“Kurt, I cry all the time. Every time I go to bed and your mother isn’t in there. Every time I burn dinner.”
“Gosh, you do that all the time!”
“Oh be quiet, you,” teased Burt. “I guess I didn’t think that you don’t always see me when I cry.”
“I really miss her daddy. I miss The Sound of Music, and dancing and singing. I miss her perfume and the way she always smelled.” Kurt sniffed and rubbed his eyes, then continued, “I miss her dinners and the special notes she’d put in my lunch box. I especially miss our tea parties.”
“I miss her too, bud. So much.” Burt and Kurt clung to each other and cried together. Then, Burt got up and turned on the stereo, held out his hand to Kurt, and they danced together to the soundtrack from My Fair Lady.
The next morning, when Kurt woke up, his dad was waiting in the kitchen with a towel over his arm when Kurt got downstairs.
“Whatcha’ doin’, Daddy?”
“Well, Master Hummel, there is a tea party in the garden this morning, and I didn’t want to miss it.”
Kurt looked up at his father, confused. “A tea party?”
“Yes sir. Scones, lemonade, iced tea, and cookies.”
Kurt’s face lit up. “Well, then, we mustn’t be late.”
Kurt took his dad’s hand and allowed himself to be led to their small café table in the back yard, which was completely set up with his tea set, a table cloth, and even his teddy bear underneath on the grass. He taught his dad how to properly hold a tea cup, with his pinky pointed out and away, explained the difference between scones, biscuits and cookies, and enjoyed his morning far more than he had expected.
When it was all over and they were carrying in the last load of dishes into the kitchen, Burt wrapped his arm around Kurt’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss his perfectly coifed head. “I love you, buddy.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
“I know I’m not your mom, but I love you forever, you know that?”
“I know, Daddy. I know.”
Together, they repeated Elizabeth’s trademark line, “Forever and always, no matter what.”
***
Kurt had always loved performing at church. He took a major role in the Sunday School play each Christmas, and even though his mom wasn’t the director anymore, he still got to sing solos with the choir on occasion. It was the one connection he was guaranteed with his Dad.
When Christmas rolled around that first year after Elizabeth died, he was asked to sing the soprano solo on the choir’s big number for the Christmas Eve service. When he realized the words of the third verse, he was sure that he had to do it. His dad sat in on their rehearsal the day before Christmas Eve, and tears of pride rolled down his cheeks as Kurt sang.
Truly He taught us to love one another
His law is love and His gospel is peace
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night, divine . . .
When they went home after the rehearsal, Kurt slipped off into his room, where he had hidden away some old things of his mother’s, including one of her perfume bottles. He pulled it out and talked to her as if she could hear him.
“Dad forgot about the Christmas tree again, Mom. I don’t want to remind him because he’s so busy. You know how he gets around the holidays. Anyway, it’s just not the same without you here. I’m just going to hang a few decorations in my room.”
Kurt was taping the decorations on his window shade when his dad walked into his room to let him know dinner was almost ready.
Burt’s face fell and tears started streaming down his face when he realized what Kurt was doing. He insisted they go immediately and choose a Christmas tree together, forgetting all about dinner until they got home and smelled the overdone roast in the oven. They ordered pizza and decorated the tree together, laughing and singing along to his mother’s favorite Christmas albums. It wasn’t perfect, but it was them.
***
When Kurt began middle school, he escaped into the music in his headphones more and more. He still listened to some Christian music, especially the angry, mournful songs. He sang a couple in church, including a song called Job, where the first verse screamed out his pain to the God he wasn’t sure he could believe in anymore.
Where were You when my night fell?
Pieces shattered everywhere
If I have loved You with my whole heart
Time will tell, time will tell
Were the stars moving across the ocean?
Did the world turn away for just a glance
And leave me here in these ashes?
I will weep, I will dance
For the first time in his performing life, he left the room in a stunned silence. There was no applause, no smiles. Instead, as he sat back down in his spot in the choir loft, he looked out over the congregation and realized none of them understood him at all.
***
Kurt had a passion for the Beatles like no other child his age. His mother had started it when he was younger, but his father fueled it in the evenings, pulling out the cassettes and records that he and Elizabeth had fallen in love listening to.
“Dad, can I sing Let it Be in church sometime? It’s about Mother Mary, so it works, right?”
Burt laughed. “Mother Mary in that song is talking about Paul McCartney’s mother, Kurt. It’s not a Christian song.”
“But it works, though. If you think about it, the light shining could be Jesus, and it could be talking about his mother, right?” Kurt continued, “And what’s so wrong about singing a song about mothers anyway? We sing about fathers all the time.”
“Kurt, we’re singing about our Heavenly Father, not our earthly fathers. The point of music in church is to inspire people to worship God.”
“Well, what if I sang Imagine?” Kurt asked. “That’s an inspiring song.”
Burt snorted. “Inspiring people right out of religion. What’s your deal, buddy? Can’t you find a worship song you want to sing?”
“I just don’t understand why we have to be limited to such a small amount of music. Why can’t I perform what I want to?”
“Because church isn’t about a performance, bud. It’s about giving God the glory, not taking it for ourselves.”
“Fine. I’ll pick something else.”
He ended up choosing a solo for the offering, a popular song on Christian radio at the time:
I want to live like there's no tomorrow
I want to dance like no one's around
I want to sing like nobody's listening
Before I lay my body down
I want to give like I have plenty
I want to love like I'm not afraid
I want to be the man I was meant to be
I want to be the way I was made
Once again, the congregation failed to applaud his performance. In the lobby during the coffee hour after the service, he overheard a conversation between some of the church ladies.
“What a shame poor Pastor Burt has a flaming fairy instead of a real son.”
“I know. Can you believe it?”
“It’s like he doesn’t even care that he’s flaunting his sin in front of his father’s church!”
“Well you know how they are. Fags don’t have any respect for God at all. That’s why the Bible calls homosexuality an abomination.”
“Poor Pastor, having an abomination for a son!”
Tears come to Kurt’s eyes as he turned and walked out the door.
The kids in church hadn’t taken it well, either. His dad was so proud of him every time he sang in front of everyone, but the amount of harassment Kurt had gotten in school from the rest of the kids in the youth group hadn’t been worth it.
“Hey faggot, does your daddy know that you want to lay your body down with other guys?”
“Look at the fairy, who wants to dance like no one’s around. You’d better hope I never see you dancing, or I’ll have to kick your ass, Hummel.”
That was the last time he sang in church.
The rest of middle school was hell on wheels for Kurt. His dad was too busy keeping the church going to pay much attention to the bruises he’d come home with. Kurt never mentioned a word about the verbal abuse he endured, figuring his father probably believed being gay was an abomination, too, since the Bible said it. The youth group leader at church didn’t know what to do with Kurt, either. He was essentially ostracized during any group outing. During Wednesday night activities, he would sit in the corner and watch, nose in the air, while the other kids got silly and loud. He preferred to read quietly rather than join in the games. Sunday mornings, Kurt avoided the Sunday school for the kids his age, telling his dad he’d rather listen to the sermon.
No one realized it, but tucked inside Kurt’s Bible case wasn’t actually a Bible. It was frequently the latest Harry Potter book, or a play or musical he’d read about from Broadway. He had memorized enough verses as a child to be able to come up with something religious enough when he was asked a direct question, but for the most part he checked out of anything to do with the church save showing up when he was supposed to.
[tg1]http://www.pbs.org/wnet/gperf/episodes/the-little-mermaid-from-san-francisco-ballet/watch-the-full-program/1217/