A lesson is about to descend on us whose very looming horrifies the unforgiving and the self-satisfied, that homosexual parents vary in their parenting abilities as much as do heterosexual parents. Inwardly we beg, and we demand, that they all be lousy perverting creatures, and we'll not find them so. Somehow we feel betrayed, because we already understand this bitter truth and it hurts.
Profound learning increases sorrow, sages tell us, and great lessons provide bitter understandings. We remember learning that it's better to love than to be loved, and realization hurt. We felt betrayed, but not by whom.
You and I had heterosexual parents as did they, and they raised us well or badly, and we survived intact or we did not. We remember love or being thrown against a wall and kicked when we bounced, bleeding. Of course it's likely we retain the tradition.
We will discover monsters among these freshly ordained parents, and we'll discover saints, steady hard-working souls. The stroke of cosmic inscrutability that ordained their sexual disposition has likely spared them, per se, the inability to cherish.
The respectably costumed heterosexuals wish to be admired, being self-consciously important and conscientiously God's elite troops. They preach to the choir on Sabbath, and are admired eloquently. They love and hate, as do their perceived enemies, and they dance in their neighbor's kitchen with somebody else's spouse, as we do.