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Two souls languish in disappointment. One prays desperately that his child’s heart will somehow match his form. The other prays that somehow finally that her form will at last match her heart. Both will find out that it’s not about what, but about who we are.

Previously...

It had finally reached a point of no return; not for the boy’s frustration or his father’s rage, but for the overwhelming flood of hopeless grief as he realized he would never be the same in his father’s eyes again. He burst into tears and ran down the hall and out the front door, passing his mother in the doorway. She went to speak but he had hopped onto his bike and was down the block and away before she had the wherewithal to utter a single word other than a weakly breathed, “Honey? Jordan?”

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Daniel sighed; he needed no Bible to know his wife's meaning. He put his hand to his face and began to weep.

Two weeks later...

“I don’t care!”

Daniel glared at door, as if somehow magically all would change in an instant and his children would come running home, repentant and willing to obey. ‘I don’t care’ often means something entirely different. Daniel cared, but not in the sense of caring about his children. He cared that they did and said and acted exactly as he expected; an awesome request for even the most compliant of kids. That they had lives and beliefs and hearts that belonged to God long before they entered his life didn’t cross his mind. That they had souls that were who they were instead of what he expected never dawned on him. Paula shook her head and bit her lip.

“But Dan…come on…” She pled on behalf of the two in the family who had no voices.

“What, Paula? What do you want me to say? It would be hard enough to deal with this…” He nearly swore; God forbid he actually behaved like a father for once.

“I don’t believe it for one instant, but let’s assume for argument’s sake that I do!” Arguments instead of persuasion; being right was more important to him at that point than having the respect and love of his two daughters. Or at least his two children.

“Let’s just say this genetic stuff actually is acceptable…what your friends call science!” He said the word with such disdain that Paula fought the urge to ‘roll her eyeballs’ in frustration, but that might add fuel to the fire.

“He’s been tested for all that, and they found nothing, Paula. NOTHING!” He practically spat the word at his wife.

“So there goes your proof! He’s a boy and that’s that! So defend him all you want, but it’s so wrong!” He took a breath and went to finish but Paula cut him off; her face was red and hot and her eyes had teared up.

“What, Daniel? Sinful? Say it! Say your child is sinful for wanting to be whom GOD…yes, Daniel, whom God created her to be! Open your damned eyes and look at your children. Have you ever known a more caring or giving or loving person than Rachael? And yet you push her away with every breath you take; inhaling so as to shout at her with impatience and rejection. She’s your daughter, for Christ’s sake!” Daniel went to speak but Paula’s look shouted , ‘Don’t you dare!’

“And Jordan? What has….” Her voice trailed off; she resisted the urge to say ‘she’ even though it screamed at her from inside.

“Jordan has been different since birth!”

“Oh, come on, Paula. He’s athletic and he likes all sorts of stuff that boys like.” Jordan was athletic, but so were most of his friends; boys and girls alike. And yes, he did like science, but so did every girl in his biology class save for two who took the course to qualify for college. It mattered little to Daniel that a woman confirmed the structure of DNA or that Sally Ride went into space. That Marie Curie discovered Radium… nothing would disuade him from his own truth.

“Yes…but…” Paula paused; enough appeasement!

“SHE loves painting and music….and before you go there, think about Manet and Bizet….” Men composed and painted, didn’t they?

“Oh, dear God in heaven, Paula. He’s a boy, and that’s that!” An edict issued ex Cathedra; no argument once the resident theologian issued his decree.

“You win, Daniel. I won’t argue with you again.” He almost gloated until she got up and put her hand to her face in a futile effort to wipe away the tears.

“I’d invoke….Lysistrata, but there’s no need to.” Paula had been accused of withholding relations just to prove a point. Daniel didn’t get it that when he was being so angry and stubborn he made himself unloveable. She loved him in her heart, but she found it too hard to get close to him when every word out of his mouth pushed his family away.

“I’m taking Jordan to a specialist tomorrow, and if you decide to support her, fine. We would welcome a return of the man whom I learned to love and the father of our children. But either way, if you choose to stop me, I’m not going to stand for it. You’ve managed to squander away the adoration of your family; don’t push any further or you’ll lose all of us altogether!”

“But….You can’t!” There’s a point in every foolish argument that seems to be the defining moment between being merely foolish and being nearly irretrievably stubbornly unreasonable. Daniel zoomed past that point into utterly senseless.

“What will the church think?”

Paula stood by the kitchen door; her fists balled into a hopeless anger as she burst into tears. Speechless other than a curse only her grandmother would have understood, she opened the door and walked out; slamming it behnd her enough to break a couple of the panes of glass. Daniel stood up and walked to the closet and grabbed the dustpan and brush and began cleaning up the glass. It would be quite some time before he was able to pick up the pieces of his shattered family. A moment later Paula stood in the doorway again; the look on her face was less sad and decidedly more than merely angry.

“You’re …” Paula grabbed her left hand with her right and squeezed; she wanted to slap him…hard. She shook her head and walked up to him and did something odd; she kissed him full on the lips, holding his face with both hands. It wasn't a death that the kiss portended, but merely a caution, if somewhat melodramatic. Paula's face was red and hot.

“Never again, Daniel. I love you. I want you to leave…now. I need some space and I’ll be damned if I’m going to be the one going anywhere.” She said it firmly; her efforts to stay calm nearly failed until she turned away. He went to hug her and she shrugged her shoulders; turning her head from side to side to avoid a kiss.

“Get the hell out, Daniel, while I’ve still got some semblance of care for you. Don’t…” She pulled away and turned to face him.

“Don’t you dare come back here until you’re willing to actually care about your family. I’m going for a walk, and you better be out by the time I get back.” She turned and walked out the back door. Daniel stared out the open doorway and watched as she turned around the side of the house and was gone.

A few weeks later...

“I hate him!” Jordan sat on the couch; her knees pulled up and her arms folded tightly around her legs; she rocked slightly and shook her head repeatedly as if to argue with fate. To argue with a non-descript generic condition seemed so much easier and less painful that to look upward and argue; she didn’t mind tempting fate, but she felt uneasy and ill-equipped to argue with God. She needn’t have worried; God was totally on her side for this apart from her decidedly understandable assumption of victim status. Fortunately her mother loved her too much to allow her to wallow in self-pity.

“I know. I’m not terribly thrilled with him either,” Paula laughed softly, but the half-frown on her face indicated a mood somewhat removed from humor.

“Between you and me and Rachael, we’ve got a huge grudge going, honey, and I don’t think it’s all that productive.” Her laid back approach seemed to coax the girl, and Jordan spoke; first in a whisper, but a bit louder at the end.

“It….I don’t know how much more I can change for him….Mom….this is who I am….Why can’t…” She paused and bit her lip; ever the obedient and willing child, she felt lost and abandoned even with her mother and sister beside her.

“He hates me…why does he hate me?” She shook her head. Paula sat down next to her and hugged her.

“He doesn’t hate you….” Paula thought for a moment; she was convinced of what she was about to say, but she felt insecure about how to communicate it. Rachael ‘rescued’ her as she walked into the living room and sat down on the hearth of the fireplace.

“He loves you the way he sees you. It’s not really loving that much…but he does care.” Jordan stared incredulously at her sister.

“He wants to be a good ‘Christian’ father. Good Christian fathers don’t raise transsexuals, so naturually it has to be your fault.” Paula added. Her expression let Jordan know it was an opinion held only by Daniel. She touched the girl’s knee and Jordan winced; parents betray, don’t they. Paula looked at her again.

“Jordan? Please? You know I don’t feel that way, right?” She was saying it, not as a defense, but for Jordan’s benefit and encouragement. The girl nodded almost reluctantly; wanting so much to believe her mother, but feeling almost incapable of trust after her father’s rejection.

“Mommy loves you for who you are…so do I. And I think….no….I want to believe that Daddy will too, if he really thinks about it.” Rachael looked over at her mother and tilted her head, seeking approval. Paula nodded.

“I hate to be trite about this, but all we can do at this point is pray, okay?” Jordan hardly trusted God at this point, but recalled enough of her faith to trust her mother to trust God for her. She grabbed her mother’s hand and prayed haltingly.

“Dear God…please let Dad…. See ME? Please…?” She put her head down and repeated it a few times like a mantra before disolving in tears.

Several weeks later; a visit to the dermatologist...

“How long have you had this rash on your face, Jordan?” Dr. Phillipousis tilted her head slightly while examining the girl’s face. A red band stretched from one cheek to the other across the bridge of her nose.

“A while… “ She put her hand to her face but pulled it back as the dermatologist leaned closer.

“It’s not acne…. More like a systemic rash. I’d like to run some blood work, just to get to the bottom of things so we can get it cleared up, okay?” Jordan nodded and the doctor scribbled some instructions on her script pad.

“Get this done in a couple of days, okay? No eating after midnight and have them send your endocrinologist a copy as well; I noted that on the script, but mention it to them when they draw the blood.

“Okay. Is it serious?” Jordan had been dealing with too much rejection to begin with between her father and the church youth group. It was a wonder that Daniel had kept his position as care pastor considering the ‘rebellion’ he faced from his ‘son.’ The church stood by him in his time of need, with several of the church wives reaching out to Paula; unsuccessful to date, but they prayed that she’d come to her senses. It was probably a good thing that none of the women who called her knew any Italian.

“Oh, all rashes indicate something other than just a problem with the skin, honey. Don’t worry; it’s probably something we can treat with antibiotics; we’ll get you good as new in no time."

The phrase was particularly painful; even with an okay from her psychologist, her other doctors preferred to have her wait until after graduation and all of them hoped that she would be fortunate enough to have her father change his mind and support her. Still, it was better than most ; pre-operative at just past her sixteenth birthday, she had all the time in the world, as her doctors reminded her. No one knew then just how wrong they were.

No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it. I Corinthians 10:13 The Message

To be concluded...