The Diagnosis

“The good news is, we were able to remove the golfball-sized tumor from her fallopian tube in its entirety. The concerning news is, it appears that there is quite a bit of cancerous growth throughout your partner’s pelvic region.” My girlfriend’s gynecologist delivered this news in her signature velvet tone, the horrific news wrapping itself around me like an unwanted blanket.

I sat in stunned silence, absorbing the shock of each word. Night had fallen in the surgical waiting room of Summit Hospital in Hermitage, Tennessee and I was the last loved one remaining in the otherwise empty room. The doctor sat across from me, her eyes full of gentle care and genuine concern. What had started as a routine doctor visit earlier in the day had escalated to emergency surgery at a moment’s notice, and concluded with this earth-shattering news.

As I sat in the dark waiting room, I couldn’t help but reminisce to what now felt like a distant, simpler time, seven years prior, five floors up, on the sixth floor of the same hospital, snowed in on a cold January day in 2010 with Laura.

*Lindsey and Laura, two months into dating, 2010*

A series of photographic moments clicked through my mind - stepping over the threshold into the hospital room, locking eyes with this slightly odd blonde girl that I barely knew - instantly falling in love with her as I watched her tend to our sick friend. Falling in love with Laura that day was as subtle and natural as breathing. Later reconciling what this meant for me and my identity would be the painful and confusing part.

The doctor’s words brought me back to the present moment.

“We’re going to keep Laura overnight for observation. I’ve made a referral to a local oncologist and they will be ready to schedule an

appointment with you as soon as you call.”

I remember driving home, stunned. Lost in thought, it was only when my hands began to ache that I realized I had been gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles were white.

Coming Out

Just earlier that week, I had sat across from my new therapist, Linda.

“Tell me what brings you in today, Lindsey.” She invited, her voice smooth and comforting in a way that would envelope me in our sessions over the next year. “I need help navigating coming out to my family, certain friends, and my community. Because… I’m gay.” I choked out the last two words between unexpected tears, suddenly overwhelmed with the finality of making this simple statement out loud. Saying it out loud made my sexuality real in a way that I had not yet faced.

Only one of my sisters and a couple of our closest friends knew that Laura and I had been a couple for those past seven years. I paced from room to room in the house that Laura and I had made into a home and shared this medical revelation to each of them by phone. I stood in the middle of the guest room that Laura and I had staged as my fake bedroom - just in case family came over - and felt the weight of seven years in the closet closing in on me.

Laura’s Health Decline

You may be wondering how we got here. Laura and I were rounding into the seventh year of our mostly-secret relationship when her health began to fail. Attacks of immense pelvic pain had left Laura debilitated, causing her to pass out repeatedly, interrupting her ability to work. Months into these painful spells, she resigned from her job.

I lost count of the dozens of ER visits in which doctors looked at Laura, bewildered as to what could be causing these pains. Every scan, blood work, and test under the sun had been administered, with no answers. Finally, with nowhere else to turn, we made an appointment with our gynecologist (who had known that we were a couple for several years and was very supportive and loving) and things took off from there.

When I brought Laura home the next day, we processed the news together, fear mirrored in one another’s eyes. “We’ll fight the cancer, and we’ll win. We’ll do whatever we need to do. Our life is just beginning.” I remember promising to Laura, clasping her hand in mine. Bravely, she agreed with me.

The Proposal

A couple days later, I recounted the story of this news to a coworker, turned trusted friend. “Laura has no health insurance now. We have racked up so many medical bills.. and now she has cancer? I don’t know what to do next.”

This friend reminded me that in a couple weeks’ time, I would be starting a new job with great health insurance. “You and Laura were always going to get married someday. It looks like someday is now. Get married, add her to your health insurance, and get the treatment she needs for the cancer.”

The simplicity of her words shook me, and I knew she was right. This was the right next step to take.

That evening, I proposed to Laura as we sat in my car, waiting for our dinner in to-go parking at a restaurant.

We laughed at the casual and anti-climatic nature of it all. When we got home, we applied for a marriage license online, which only took minutes.

The following morning, we got ready in a daze, still not believing that we were about to make this sudden plunge into marriage. We nervously arrived at the Wilson County clerk's office and were able to receive our license for marriage without any feeling of judgement, which was a major relief for both of us. After the maternal elderly clerk handed the license to us, we looked at each other and back to her. “What do we do now?” I asked, feeling naive.

“Oh honey, you can call the Wilson County courthouse and schedule a time to be married. They’re just around the corner.” Back in the car, sweating hands clasping the marriage license and my phone, I called the courthouse and was connected to the Justice of the Peace.

“Hello… I just received our marriage license and we’d like to get married… today if possible.” I explained, fumbling over my words. “Why don’t y’all come on down? I’ve got nothin’ on my schedule all day.” The Justice of the Peace drawled in a warm and friendly voice.

The clerk was right… the Wilson County Courthouse was literally around the corner. Within seconds, we were parked and Laura and I began the hike up the dozens of steps of the courthouse. In the distance, we could see the Justice standing by the entrance, waiting for us. As we closed the distance, I watched as his expression devolved from warmth, to confusion, to disgust.

“Hi, I’m Lindsey. We just talked on the phone a moment …” I began the statement, but the Justice cut me off. “I don’t perform marriages for same-sex couples.” His words were heavy, and seemed to land between us with a dead thud.

“Oh… I um.. what? Can you tell us who will? Do you know who can help us?” I stuttered, my brain struggling to catch up to this sudden change in the Justice’s demeanor. “I can’t help you.” His response was curt, cold, and final.

Laura immediately began to cry. The Justice turned on his heels and walked back into the courthouse, leaving me to guide Laura back down the hundred stairs to the car.

Finding a Way

Despite this turn of events, Laura and I did achieve our goal of being married on that day in May of 2017. We learned that in Tennessee, with the exception of Davidson and Shelby County, all other counties had opted to no longer offer (at least publicly) the resource of a courthouse marriage - because by law, if they married heterosexual couples, they would be required to also marry same-sex couples. Davidson and Shelby County didn’t have any openings that day, so Laura and I called a chapel in Gatlinburg and proceeded into a road trip we never predicted when we woke that morning.

As we said our vows in front of a small waterfall in Gatlinburg, Laura looked into my eyes and shed five tears; I counted them as they rolled down her cheeks, one by one.

Eight Years Later

As I reach my hand out to wipe away a tear, the year is now 2025, and Laura and I are standing in the warm, loving glow of our pastor, Reverend Eric Mayle, and surrounded by our biological and chosen family at Edgehill United Methodist Church.

*Vow renewal service at Edgehill UMC, June 2025 (*photo courtesy of Mike DuBose)

*Moments after the vow renewal, June 2025*

Eight years have passed, and Laura and I navigated the challenging task of coming out to our families, not only as a couple, but - surprise! - a married couple! We were able to do this under the care of my skilled therapist, Linda, and with the love and support of Edgehill UMC, where we began attending two months prior to the cancer diagnosis. Laura and I came out to members of this church before our own family and friends - because Edgehill is a church community with a history of truly unconditional love for LGBTQ+ people.

On the morning of June 8, 2025, Laura and I were able to finally pledge our love and vow of commitment to one another in the presence of our church, our family, our friends, and the community. A journalist from the United Methodist News Service was there to document a story about us along with two other couples that were renewing their vows to one another that day.

Today, I still marvel at the journey Laura and I have made to living out and proud.

From that moment pacing in my staged bedroom, feeling the heaviness of the closet closing in on me, to proclaiming my love for Laura in the most public way possible - I am filled with nothing but gratitude to Laura for her bravery, and every beautiful soul that held us along the way. Thanks be to God.

It should also be noted - after Laura’s visit to that oncologist, it was determined that she did not have cancer. Removing the tumor eliminated the painful attacks she’d been having. Again, thanks be to God.

Leaving the vow renewal service as “renewly weds,” June 2025 (photo courtesy of Madison Thorn)

Full Circle

This year, Laura and I celebrated our fifteenth anniversary of being together. Coming out is the most beautiful gift I’ve given myself, and I think Laura would agree with me.

Happy National Coming Out Day, friends. If you are reading this and are in search of a community that will love and support you unconditionally - find us at Edgehill United Methodist Church. Edgehill has been doing the work of advocating for and supporting the LGBTQ+ community for over 50 years, and has served as the perfect safety net for me as I navigated what it means to be both queer and Christian. The two concepts are not mutually exclusive, and I hope that one day, if you don’t believe it yet, you’ll come to know that you are beautifully and perfectly made, just as you are… just like I am. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Living Out Loud in Love

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