Red Umbrellas

Room 4202 was especially crowded today. I looked around the room and it seemed like everyone was wearing heart-shaped stickers on their lapels. On the floor there were two men in suits playing with two little curly-haired boys. Soon the smallest boy started screaming and running uncontrollably up and down the aisles. Where was their mother? They didn’t have one.

Gay marriage was debated in committee and we lost. I did my best job testifying. So at least I can’t regret that. I know we could have been better organized. But we only had three days’ notice. (Definitely not enough time to make our own lapel stickers.)

After I was done testifying, I spent the rest of my time listening . . . and praying. The spiritual warfare in the room was thick. Throughout the entire hearing I kept glancing upward away from the masses of people, "God, You are stronger than this." It was comforting to know He was there, on my side, and in control.

As the votes were being cast, I realized that, whatever the result today, morality would be legislated. Indeed, every law on the books has been decided by some sort of standard. The question in my mind was whose version of morality would prevail: ours or theirs?

Truth was stifled today. But it will ultimately overcome.

As we left the capitol, I saw that the ground outside was wet and instinctively put up my red umbrella. As we walked back to the office, Karen chattered away about the hearing. I was only half-listening. My brain was numb. After several minutes, when we were almost back at the office, Karen stopped and turned to me: "Amy, I hate to mention it to you, but . . . it’s not raining."