We've been lucky. Luckier than many, to be sure. My parents, and Lindi's, and all of our siblings and even most of our extended family and friends, were fine with our respective coming outs. When we became a couple, most of the people we love were happy for us, and loved us right back just as fiercely as ever. When we got married, we were showered with love and joy and most everyone we cared about wanted to be there. So, we have been lucky. Most of the people whose opinions matter to us have been completely happy with us as a couple- but not all of them.

When we decided to get married, I had a cousin tell me that she wished she could tell me she was happy for me-- but was against her religion. One of my best friends stepped down from being a bridesmaid, because she felt she couldn't support us due to her religious beliefs-- and told me all this the night before the wedding. That brought the startling, heartbreaking total to three of my best friends who would not come to my wedding on religious grounds. Lindi's grandmother, who has been more of a second parent than a grandparent for Lindi's whole life, is very Catholic and told Lindi we weren't allowed at her house anymore when she found out we were more than friends. Lindi was crushed. Her grandmother was and is one of the most important people in her life; her grandparents' house is a like a second home. Eventually her grandmother relented, and said we could be there as long as we didn't touch each other at all or act like a couple-- and then didn't look at or speak to me for nearly six months of weekly visits. For another six months, she spoke to me when necessary but still wouldn't look at me. She certainly didn't come to the wedding. We stuck it out, because it was important, and we hoped against hope that eventually things would change.

And now? Things, somehow, have shifted. She hugs me when we go over for dinner. Sometimes when the others of the younger generation of Lindi's sprawling family have moved into the living room or outside, I'll sit in the kitchen with her by myself or with Lindi, talking. I've been there for Thanksgivings and Christmases and the fourth of July, after Lindi and I spent the first few major holidays as a couple in separate states. I've decorated Easter cookies and spent the night there countless times. I've gone on camping trips with Lindi's grandmother and the rest of the family.

Every year, Lindi's grandmother takes each of the grandchildren on special Christmas shopping trips by themselves or in pairs or threes. And now? I'm counted as one of the grandchildren. She takes me shopping with Lindi. She piles presents for me under the huge tree in the living room just like for all the others. And while the presents are certainly wonderful, it is that shopping trip, that gesture of inclusion, that means more than I can say. This past year, she and Lindi and I were in Old Navy, and she was sitting outside the dressing rooms while we tried on clothes and came out to show her so she could give us her opinion on what we had picked out. I had just shown her a long dress and she told me she loved it, and I came back into the dressing room and sat down on the bench and cried.

I cried because being there, Christmas shopping with my wife and her Catholic, formerly very homophobic grandmother, felt so incredibly normal. Her grandmother loves me, and I love her, and I am miraculously and completely accepted as part of her family. How absolutely incredible.

When I asked another one of my best friends to be a bridesmaid-- not the one who stepped down the night before the wedding, but another one-- she said no. We were in the kitchen of the house we all lived in together, and I was sitting on the kitchen counter with my feet swinging and she was standing beside me. My hands were shaking a little. I was nervous because I wanted more than anything for her to say yes, but I didn't know if she would or not. And she didn't say yes. She said no, and said that although she loved me and Lindi, and she felt it wasn't her place to judge us for this choice we were making, she nonetheless did not feel comfortable with the idea of standing up next to us at our wedding due to her belief that homosexuality is a sin. I told her that I hoped that seeing Lindi and I together, and the commitment and love represented by our relationship, would change her mind about that eventually. She said that although she loved me very much, there was no way her mind- or the minds of those who feel similarly- would ever be changed, because no number of happy committed gay couples can change what is in the Bible.

Honestly, I don't know if her mind has been or ever will be changed- but I do think she was wrong about not ever changing anyone's mind. Along with other people in our life, I think Lindi's grandmother has proven that, as have the increasing number of people in our country that support gay marriage.

Except for the fact that we are both women, Lindi and I are normal. Almost boring. We pay our taxes. We adopt cats from the animal shelter. We bake birthday cakes for our friends and watch Law and Order. We celebrate holidays with our family and forget to take out the recycling. And although I think that equality activism is incredibly important, I sometimes wonder if the slow and steady change comes from more and more people having someone they love be open about who they love. It must be, after all, harder to hate your sister or your son or your best friend than it is to hate a faceless stranger. It certainly must be more difficult to want to strip rights away from someone you love than some group of nameless people.

This weekend I took Lindi with me to a mini family reunion-- a bunch of my aunts and uncles on my mom's side had come from all over the country to visit. My grandmother's birthday is this week, so we had a birthday lunch for her. Afterward, we all went outside to take some photos together. Lindi walked across the yard to my parents' berry garden to take some photos of the ripening raspberries, and I was still standing with my aunt and two of my uncles and my grandmother, watching her. One of my uncles- the one who had just finally met Lindi for the first time- turned to me and said, 'She is great! What a catch!' And I laughed a little and said, 'Yes, she is pretty great. I'm certainly a fan.' And he said, 'You are so obviously happy with her, and that is the most important thing.'

And it is. And we are. We are lucky, and happy, and our life is so beautiful. And in the end? Love is what really, really matters.