You ordained me. With a few questions, with a steady gaze of affection and, I like to think, a little pride, you spoke the words that, in our tradition, set me apart, but at the same time called me to be with. It was a model for ministry you had already shown me how to live.

You were always a man of the system, choosing to work inside it, even while you subverted it by your loving pastoral presence, your acid wit, your style, and your quiet celebration of who you are and who you were called to love.

Your pain is over at last; at your request, the frantic efforts to halt your body's collapse are past and now there is only peace...for you. For us there remains an empty space that we will fill for a while with tears and memorials, and eventually with fond memories, perhaps a bit of your strength, and some lessons learned from your well-intended mistakes.

Dear L, I do not seek flights of angels singing for you...they would be too precious for your dry and irreverent humor. May you be heralded to your rest by be-winged be-bopping muscle boys and seraphically joyous drag queens. Rest for a while...I'll see you again at the party that is to come.