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Evening
“. . . and there was evening, and there was morning, the sixth day. On the seventh day, God rested.”
Elizabeth set the book down on the table next to the rocking chair where she was seated with Kurt in her lap. He cuddled in next to her shoulder, warm and cozy.
“So God made everytin’ in the whole wide world, Mama?”
“Everything and everyone, and the Bible says He loves it all.”
Kurt sighed happily as he snuggled in tighter. “I love you so much, Mama.”
Elizabeth kissed his soft head. “I love you too, buddy, and I always will.”
Legacy
“May all who come behind us find us faithful. May the fire of our devotion light their way. May the footprints that we leave lead them to believe, and the lives we live inspire them to obey. Oh may all who come behind us find us faithful.”
Three-year-old Kurt listened as the choir sang, his mother leading in the front, his dad’s face radiating joy as he watched her in her element. Kurt knew at that moment that he wanted to make his daddy look like that as often as possible.
Her legacy of performing began in him that day.
Please
Burt got the call while preparing his sermon for Palm Sunday. As he was researching the traditions of Jewish people in Israel 2,000 years ago, watching his son playing in the corner of his office out of the corner of his eye, the phone rang. His only thought when he heard the nurse on the other end of the line was “Please, God, no.” He left Kurt with his secretary and raced to the hospital only to find he was too late. His beautiful Elizabeth had breathed her last earthly breath and would be spending her first Easter in heaven.
Balance
Pastor Burt Hummel was completely and totally shattered. The only way he could maintain any semblance of control of his emotions after losing his beloved Elizabeth was to immerse himself in his work. A pastor’s job is never done, anyway, and Kurt was content to play in the nursery all evening while Burt worked in his office, so why not bury himself under the sermon notes, the choir anthems, the service planning and the counseling ministry? What a laugh! Counseling others when his own life was so completely out of balance? He felt like he had nothing left without her.
Occasion
As a young man, Burt Hummel was confident. Some might say arrogant. He knew what was right and he wasn’t afraid to say it. He became a pastor to share the truth with the world and save souls for Jesus.
When he met Elizabeth Richter, she was the first woman who dared to call him out for his conceit and egotism. She made him want to be better, more humble, more righteous and less self-righteous. He married her.
When their son was born, their precious Kurt, all selfishness and self-importance went out the window. Being a parent shed a totally new perspective on God’s sacrifice of his own son, and on Burt’s own failures.
When Elizabeth was killed, Burt found himself reflecting once again on all she had taught him without talking, just by living her life making each day an occasion to bring life and joy to another soul. He found himself praying that he would be more like her, and thus, more like her Lord.
Year
The year Kurt turned nine was the longest year of Burt Hummel’s life. He had no idea how to raise a child like Kurt. Every impulse he had to squelch his son’s burgeoning personality, to morph him into a model pastor’s kid instead of the beautiful soul his mother had nurtured, needed to be kicked out. He could almost feel Elizabeth on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “Be encouraging. Love him anyway. God made him just the way he is.” He would always be eternally grateful for that morning she sat him down and made him see the truth.
Dessert
“So that’s called a scone!”
“It really looks like a biscuit, kiddo.”
Kurt rolled his eyes. “Just because they are the same shape doesn’t mean they taste the same, silly. A biscuit is saltier. I think . . .” Kurt choked up.
Burt looked at his son carefully, wondering what caused his tears. “Kurt? What’s up, buddy?”
“I can’t remember what she told me it was called. Scones are sweet, and biscuits are something that starts with s. Why can’t I remember?”
Burt moved to the other side of the tea party table and took Kurt in his arms. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
“I can’t forget her daddy, I can’t.” Kurt looked up at his dad through his tears and all of a sudden, he smiled. “I remember! Savory! Scones are dessert and biscuits are dinner. Sweet and savory.”
Burt smiled down at Kurt. “See? You won’t forget her, Kurt. She’ll always be a part of us. Always.”
Fall
Burt loved autumn. There was something special about the crisp scent of fallen leaves and the tingle of the first frost in his nose. Raking the leaves in the churchyard was a ritual he enjoyed. Nine-year-old Kurt was a great helper. They were almost done, only one pile left, when Burt walked over and grabbed Kurt under the arms and tossed him into it, burying him under the leaves. Kurt squawked indignantly and Burt laughed heartily until Kurt stood up and stuffed leaves up under Burt’s shirt. Hearing the giggles pouring from him was a salve to Burt’s broken heart.
Ache
He forgot. I can’t believe he forgot. Mama never forgot.
Kurt looked around the house for something, anything to remind him it was Christmas. He’d have to go perform at the Christmas Eve service soon. His dad had been so busy planning the service he hadn’t thought to do any of the regular decorating around the house. That had always been Mama’s job . . .
The familiar ache of missing her filled eight-year-old Kurt’s eyes with tears.
He spotted the perfect ornament to hang on his window shade tree. Her perfume bottle. The fragrance of her.
Mama never forgot.
Midnight
Burt walked into Kurt’s room as he was trying to hook his mother’s perfume bottle on the window shade and realized with horror what was happening. He threw his arms around his little boy, picked him up and sat with him on his bed as the tears rolled down both of their cheeks.
“Kurt, buddy, why didn’t you say anything?”
Kurt looked up at him through his tears and replied, “But Daddy, you were so busy. You have the service this afternoon and the candlelight service, too. We didn’t have time to get a tree anyway.”
Burt shook his head. “We’ll make time. After the afternoon service, we’ll go pick one up and even if we’re decorating it at midnight, we’ll have that tree for Christmas.”
Kurt smiled through his tears as they shook hands and walked to the car together.
Imprint
Baking cookies was one tradition Kurt held onto despite his lost belief in the “Reason for the Season”. Measuring dry ingredients, whisking eggs and milk, and mixing everything together, things he once did with his mother, then on his own, and now with his father as they tried to rebuild a bond Kurt wasn’t sure was repairable. As Kurt tried to teach his father how to roll dough evenly, pressing cookie cutters just so to leave an imprint of the angels’ faces without the cookies getting stuck, he realized the legacy of loving effort also left an imprint on his heart.
Grace
Grace, the free and unmerited favor of God, the salvation of sinners, the bestowal of blessings. That which was removed from Kurt Hummel when he admitted he was gay. That which no one was ever willing to offer him, even before he admitted the truth. The subject of too many sermons to drive the point home, until . . .
“Grace is not ours to give nor take away. However, it is our job to show God’s grace and mercy to every person on Earth, sinners and saints. Yes church, sinners and saints. Saints are just sinners saved by grace.”
Cloud
Burt began to wrap up his sermon, quoting Hebrews 12, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” He noticed Kurt in the back pew, his nose buried in his bible.
Burt continued, “Some of you are really good at picking out the sin that has entangled those around you, but you have forgotten something. The only sin that matters in your race is your own.”
Kurt glanced up at the pulpit and Burt caught his eye as he closed the message. “Judging peoples’ races is God’s job. Running our race is our job. Don’t get the two confused.”
Kurt smiled to himself as he stood for the closing hymn.
Jukebox
Kurt thought for sure he’d finally done it. He’d found a Broadway show on tour that he could enjoy with his dad. It was one of those jukebox musicals, but it was all the 80s tunes his dad used to listen to as guilty pleasures when he got overwhelmed with church work. He had even used one of the songs in sermon illustration once.
They arrived on time and sat down just as the lights dimmed.
Kurt realized immediately his dad was going to be offended six ways to Sunday. Rock of Ages apparently wasn’t meant for men of God.
Twist
Kurt arrived at the church after school, just like every other day. He wandered into the office and said hello to his dad’s secretary, just like every other day. He knocked on his dad’s door to get his afternoon hug, just like every other day. Only this time, when his dad opened the door, Kurt heard music coming from the speakers in his office. His dad reached out and pulled him in, dancing across the room, swiveling his hips along with the Beatles “c’mon baby now, twist and shout”. Perhaps introducing him to Carole Hudson had actually done some good.
Kindred
From the first moment on the staircase, Kurt knew he’d found a friend. He didn’t realize at first just how good a friend Blaine would be. They had similar tastes in music, in magazines, and in men. If only they could be more than friends or kindred spirits, but Blaine wasn’t interested in anything more with Kurt than that. At least, as Kurt told Mr. Schuester, Kurt was in love with him and he was gay, and that was progress. Kurt didn’t blame Blaine for his disinterest. Very few gay men would want to deal with dating a pastor’s kid.
Rent
Kurt spent days pondering his wardrobe, hours at the mall looking for the perfect accessories, and as he stood in front of the mirror ready to go out with Blaine, just as friends, Kurt, it’s not a date. He’s just your friend, he looked good. Better than good. The pants hugged his hips just right. The shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. He wondered if Blaine would hold his hand when Kurt cried during the reprise of I’ll Cover You. To Kurt’s surprise and delight, Blaine not only held his hand, he put his arm around him and cried alongside.
Scarf
Kurt and Blaine went to Breadstix on their way back to Kurt’s after seeing Rent. Blaine escorted him in. The hostess hardly glanced at them as she sat them at a booth near the back.
“So, what’s your pleasure?”
Kurt looked up and smiled. “Cheesecake. Always cheesecake.”
“Shall we split a piece, then?”
Kurt’s face fell. “Um . . . “
Blaine grinned. “Of course not. We each get one. I’m buying.”
Kurt chuckled. “Thank you.”
When the waitress arrived with their dessert, Kurt’s disappeared in less than two minutes. Blaine had never seen anyone scarf down cheesecake that fast.
Wedding
Kurt stood next to his father as Pastor Jones intoned some long-winded spiel about wives submitting to husbands and husbands dying for their wives. He pondered what that would mean for him if he was ever to get married himself. The traditional wedding scriptures didn’t really apply to his life, just like most scripture.
He was surprised, though, when Pastor Jones quoted from The Message, a modern translation of the bible. “Love never gives up . . .Always looks for the best, Never looks back, But keeps going to the end.”
He heard Blaine’s voice echoing in his head “Don’t ever look back, don’t ever look back.” Maybe some things were universal.
Vacation
Thanksgiving break was the first vacation Kurt got after he started at Dalton. He and Carole had planned the wedding to perfection, and for that one year, Black Friday became a white wedding day, instead. He was so busy with the event planning, he hardly missed his new friends. Burt took a vacation day that Sunday and a guest pastor come in for the service. The whole family skipped church in favor of sleeping in, brunch cooked by Kurt, and a relaxed afternoon of family bonding over football games. Kurt didn’t care that the Browns lost. He felt victorious anyway.
Harmony
Kurt loved singing with his mother. She always let him lead with the melody, her clear mezzo-soprano providing perfect harmony. Whether it was Jesus Loves Me, The Lord’s Army, or any Veggie Tales or Disney tunes, Kurt remembered always feeling perfectly safe, perfectly loved, perfectly hers.
Nothing felt the same after she died, especially singing. Singing in New Directions was fun, a place to belong, but it was far from safe. With the Warblers, he always felt slightly out of place, more like a caged bird than a member. The first duet with Blaine, however, and he was home again.
Needle
After the Rock of Ages debacle, Kurt was afraid to bring his dad to any show that he hadn’t personally seen. They ended up seeing Riverdance three years in a row together. Kurt saw Rent with Blaine and knew he couldn’t take Burt to see that one, either.
When Billy Elliot came to Columbus, Kurt did enough research to think that his dad might get uncomfortable again, so he was surprised to get three tickets in his Christmas stocking that year.
“Three?” he asked his dad.
“Three,” was the reply. “I wanted to make sure Blaine could come with us, if he wanted. I want to get to know this young man that has captured your heart. Besides,” he needled, “I have to make sure there aren’t any half-naked women running around on stage, don’t I? “
Kurt snorted, then guffawed, and finally they both ended up in giggles.
Uniform
Kurt knew the uniform was supposed to keep him safe. Dalton Academy was a haven for him and other boys like him. The bullies couldn’t touch him there. No one would taunt him, nor tease him. He could sing in the glee club and be treated like a rock star. He could learn in peace. No one cared that his father was a Baptist pastor nor that he was there on scholarship. No one cared that he was gay. The uniform was supposed to set him free to be himself.
So why did it feel so much like a prison?
Zigzag
Kurt stood in front of the assembled congregation, eyes shining with tears.
“My dad was the best dad a boy like me could ask for. He taught me how to ride a bike and how to be a man. He showed me that standing up for what I believe in is one of the most important things to do, even when I zigzagged away from his dreams for me.
“Dad and I disagreed on a lot of things. He never once tried to make me feel ashamed for my beliefs. He loved me despite our differences.
“I will never forget him.”