"We're a church where people are welcome, where families are nurtured, where families are families."

She believes right-wing preachers get too much air time, that for far too long, conservative pastors have drowned out the voices of progressive people of faith.

The Maryland legislature passed marriage equality, and the governor signed it into law earlier this year. But opponents gathered enough petition signatures to force a vote this year.

Daniel watched from the sidelines last year as conservative clergy led the charge to try to block the legislation and ban gays from marrying. "Not doing anything this year was not an option," she said.

She and other leaders helped form an interfaith group called AMEN -- Advocating for Marriage Equality Now. They received social media training on how to spread posts rapidly across Facebook. They knocked on doors, placed hundreds of phone calls and wrote letters to the editor to area newspapers, anything to reach out to the state's more progressive electorate.

"The evolution on my journey is: Ever since that time I said 'no,' I've said, 'Why did I do that? They love each other. Why is that any different than the other couples I'm marrying?'"

As she cast her ballot, she thought of all the families that could be made whole. "I must admit that it was a bit emotional," she wrote on her Facebook page.

The Sunday after the vote, she stood before her congregation and declared, "We are generous, we are passionate about justice and we support love for all families. Let's give it up for Maryland!"

The more than 200 members cheered wildly.

In the church bulletin, a gay couple who have been together for more than 25 years invited everyone in the church to their wedding on January 5.

Daniel will marry them.

Fighting bigotry

When Mark Ellis was about 3 months old, a white couple from Maine adopted him in the Philippines. His father was in the Air Force and stationed there. For years, they lived the rolling stone life of a military family, moving from base to base. Ellis played with kids from all walks of life, of all different races.

But when he was 10, his father retired, and the family moved back to Maine. Ellis was suddenly dropped into an all-white environment, the only kid of a different race.

"I had never experienced racial bigotry until we got back to my father's home state," he says.

He heard sneers. Kids mocked him in their pretend Asian voices. They called him "gook."

Being bullied would shape him and his views. "My perspective was built up on being different on this journey through life."

Now 51, Ellis was drawn to the Republican Party during the Reagan era. He found Then-President Ronald Reagan's calls for personal responsibility and growing the economy through private enterprise inspiring. He's been a Republican ever since, eventually becoming the chairman of the GOP in Maine. He is currently the communications director for Maine Senate Republicans.

As this election neared, Ellis thought long and hard about how vocal he should be about same-sex marriage.

"That's something I had to work through personally with an eye on who I'm going to offend and am I going to limit myself professionally or politically. I was sort of weighing all of those things on how public I should be."

He couldn't help but recall his own marriage, 28 years ago. He knew the nation once barred interracial couples like him and his wife, who is white, from marrying. Opponents then used arguments that sound eerily similar to those against gays today, he thought.

Ultimately, Ellis joined a coalition of Republicans for marriage equality and took to his blog to broadcast his support.

"My vote of 'yes' is not based in some radical desire to toss tradition out on its ear or to discount marriage as we know it today," he wrote. "My vote comes from the simple notion that acknowledges the powerful, positive potential [that] loving and committed couples hold for their families, communities, and society."

A vote for dignity

Michael Clark, 35, blazed a trail early on. He was the first openly gay person in his high school in southern Oregon. He faced constant bullying, but he also had "people around me saying that I deserve respect and dignity."