I meet Iva at the door, a lady about my own age, and we talk for 5 minutes before we both go in.
Going to mass as Joanna is special to me in a way I cannot describe. It completes the circle on what used to be a heavy handed Catholicism exacting judgment on a boy who very early identified as a girl.
Now a past middle aged woman presents herself every week knowing that I am accepted as a creation of God and that I am welcome.
How do I know all this? I just know it in my bones.