Monday, December 19, 2011

kettle

it was about a week or two ago.

my partner and i had to run to the store to get a few things. it was pretty cold out, and i was ready to hurry inside from the car.

she said, "wait just a minute."

then i watched as she started rummaging through the car, looking for all the change that she could find. from cup holders and trays. digging in her pockets. after she had a handful, she said, "ok." then we walked toward the store entrance.

i had recently read articles on the red kettle, about how the salvation army discriminates against lgbt people, people like me, and like her. but i stayed silent. on the way to the door, she says to me, "did you know that the salvation army hires people who stay in their shelters to ring the bells and collect money in the kettles?"

i said, "no. i didn't know that."

then i reached in my wallet and emptied my change as well.

i looked at the man ringing the bell. in the eyes. there was pain in them. but still some hope. some kindness. some desperation. he wished us a merry christmas. we wished him one, too.

my mom works retail. there's a bell ringer that is posted outside her store. my mom told me a story about her. i cried.

my mom made a comment, "that's who we should be buying christmas gifts for. people like her."

amen.

i recently have seen a lot of articles about boycotting chik-fil-a. because of how funds have been distributed to organizations which campaign against gay people, or even organizations that try to change someone's orientation. many many people are giving up their chicken sandwiches or finding other places to get them.

the other night, i sat on the couch with d and we talked about the boycotts. to both the restaurant and the nonprofit. we came to the same conclusion: it isn't the same.

and this is where i break with a large number of friends and organizations and leaders i normally agree with.

when i don't buy food from a business because i think they support hate and discrimination, i am affecting shareholders, ceo's, i.e. people making profit.

however, when i don't donate to a nonprofit because they won't serve or hire people like me, i stand up for my rights and the rights of lgbt families who need assistance, but at the cost of looking that man or that woman who i mentioned earlier in the eye and theoretically saying, no. i refuse to help you because i don't think that the nonprofit that helps you is fair.

i've read articles that say to give your money to other groups. that do more good because they don't discriminate.

i think giving is wonderful.

i think giving to the salvation army is wonderful, too.

i think there has to be another way.

we as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer people hate it when we are treated like "an issue."

dear friends, giving to a nonprofit that does some good by helping real people is not an issue. one article called for not supporting homeless centers that discriminate against gay people... it makes me angry and sad and disgusted.

i'm angry, sad, and disgusted that someone would refuse someone like me shelter.

i'm angry, sad, and disgusted at the notion that people who believe differently than me are not worthy of my love and my money and my time and my resources.

it's a lie.

it's another lie meant to divide us.

it's another way to keep us from true reconciliation.

we have to be different.
we have to evoke change in peaceful, loving, life giving ways.

if love will win,
and i believe it will,

we must respond with incredible incredible love.

might we not change hearts and minds through authentic relationship, continual presence and with extravagant giving and generosity?

what if we get more involved with our respective communities' homeless programs and work to encourage welcoming and helping policies? what if the gay christian community stopped telling people to boycott giving and started asking the welcoming church to plea for assisting everyone, and also to start creating alternatives when their pleas fall on deaf ears?

we have to be more creative. find a way to live creatively together. to love.

i'm not pretending this is an easy one.

but i'm not going to pretend that this is black and white, cut and dry.

it isn't.

the truth is that we can't afford to not give. our money, our time, our resources.

we do need to give to accepting organizations which will help everyone. but in doing so, we do not need to slander an organization that is actually doing good.

friends, love. love everyone. pray for the salvation army. pray for the bell ringer. pray for the homeless, both gay and straight. help in any way you can. whether it's the red kettle or another avenue.

but, please...
i beg you...

do it all in love.

Monday, December 12, 2011

weave

riding along the curvy mountain roads yesterday with the love of my life, in a biodiesel using vintage volkswagen truck, she started coughing. i reached in my pocket and pulled out a cherry ricola. in just a few minutes, i could smell the lozenge. and the sound of her gently moving the cough drop between her teeth, a small crunch here and there from time to time, rose just above the folk music playing softly on the cd player.

we looked up at the sky to see gentle swirls and streaks in the clouds and the different colors evoked by the setting sun: blues, purples, pinks, peaches, and some orange. we talked about the beauty we were witnessing.

once we reached our home atop one of the mountains, she pulled in the driveway and stopped. we looked down our road aways and saw one of the most glorious displays in the sky we have witnessed together.

without a word, she backed into the road and drove toward the setting sun so that we could better see it. we sighed and made exclamations. we pointed and spoke of hues and patterns.

then we came home.

it's the simple things.

the everyday things.

the precious moments we have with those we love. the sounds, the colors, the smells.

i still vividly recall the sound of my great grandmother's blinker in her pontiac. never listening to the radio while driving. just a distinctive clicking of a blinker from time to time. her low voice softly breaking the silence every now and then.

i still remember the sound of grandparents chewing "chewing gum" or rolling around hard candy as we rode places. the smell of doublemint, freedent, peppermints.

it's the little things.

when i was very young, my great-grandmother or grandmother giving me a dollar to put in the offering plate. falling asleep on a church pew with my head in my grandmother's lap. playing with pipe cleaners and pom poms during my grandfather's sermons at the church he pastored. singing while my grandmother played the piano.

my great grandmothers: it's the memory of working puzzles with maw-maw and the popcorn balls she made at halloween. of little granny spending the night on christmas eve and her jello and prune cake. of working in the flower bed with nanny alloway (or nanny grubbs as i sometimes called her) and her 7-up salad, and lord, her chicken and dumplin's.

my grandparents: it's the memory of spending long days by the river, fishing with a bamboo pole while my paw paw on the river worked in his woodshop. of him buying me candy cigarettes and yoohoo in glass bottles. of my paw paw adams driving a painted school bus for church and him singing silly songs. of singing with my nanny on the river and her buttermilk pie. of making cookies, cornbread, and slaw with my nanny adams and her fried okra.

my parents: remembering my dad making amazing breakfasts, including pancakes with food coloring, of him and i talking and him showing us how to play in the snow. my mom making soups and "king ranch chicken" and her painting and crafting constantly. and her tickling me when i revealed that i knew, due to my investigation, that santa clause was really her and my dad.

my brother: riding down the big hill where we lived, on our "big wheels," and catching bugs and frogs. going fishing.

it's the simple things.

it's the kind of thing that ties us together. the web of life, as richard louv writes.

the kind of web i am weaving with my fiance. and our friends. (oh how i could go on and may) and oneday: with our children.

it has me thinking of what matters. and of how precious is the garden of relationships, and how it must be tended by more than one. how beautiful the simple moments are. how magical and sweet and soul-stirring it can be to truly cherish the moments together.

last night, i found a mouse in our basement. it was stuck to a glueboard the exterminator had set out for spiders and scorpions which were a problem when we first moved in. i felt so bad, that it had died. then, it got worse, the poor thing moved. it was suffering, and barely alive. i burst into tears and called for deanna. she came down and "took care" of the mouse. i know it was hard on her; she hung her head down low. i cried for a while. she held me close and told me how precious i am.

now, as i am writing this and hot tears stream down my face, i realize that i cried last night for the creature. it shouldn't have been in our house. i have to figure out how it got in and seal it up. i felt guilty and sorry for the poor thing. i felt sorry for deanna.

today, i am crying because i am so incredibly loved. and for all those memories of love. and her love for me... well, there are no words.

and so it is with my love for her.

and as we are making memories of good and bad, easy and hard, comfort and pain, i feel our hearts woven together and woven together still.

and my eyes are more and more open to love and friendship and to what is true.

and to what matters.

it's the simple things. the little things.

and you know what else matters?

love.

Friday, November 18, 2011

art

forgiveness is an art, and i am afraid that i am still using crayons.

at the end of all my effort and creativity, i look back and see a crude representation of what i had imagined.

instead of the desired masterpiece created by oil paints, mixing, shades, and brush techniques,
i see a child’s drawing where the creatures are disproportionate, the colors aren’t quite right, wax is thick on the page, and lines of white are still visible between strokes of color.

as i look back, i find myself frustrated that it didn’t happen the way i wanted.
maybe i left out something.
perhaps i added too much.

it just doesn’t look like i thought it would.

yet, maybe, just maybe, i have been mistaken in what to expect.
is it not possible that child-like wonder and approach are more beautiful and heartfelt than concern with making it look right?

in what other areas of life might i need to pick up the crayons in favor over the charcoals, the pastels, and the oil paints?

in laughter?

in writing? in dance and song?

in worship and thought?

in love?

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

letting go

when i was in middle school, i was made fun of. a lot.

middle school and part of high school were hell on earth that included insults about my appearance, my gait, my name... people "outing" me with their taunts... girls stealing my purse in gym class and flushing the contents they didn't want... a girl threatening me while other girls surrounded me so i couldn't leave for safety... a sucker punch to my jaw from a bully i had stood up to earlier in the day...

my momma had quippy little sayings to try to make me feel better. things like:

"they get in their clothes just the same as you."

and

"charity, honey, they are just jealous."

and

(my personal favorite)

"their poop stinks too."

my momma is a sage.

i realize that lately, my posts have been more ringing of the visionary within me. the peace seeker and the one who dreams of true reconciliation and of the victory of love being seen day by day.

today, however, i think i have more questions. more pangs. more heartache and just, well downright fatigue to be honest. i'm really struggling here.

in the description of this blog, i speak about reconciliation and hope. in the subtitle of the book i am working on, (for which the blog is an outlet to formulate ideas and wording), i talk about moving together toward reconciliation.

the question heavy on my mind tonight as i fold and hang laundry, pick up shoes, and try to get in my daily intake of water:

is it ok to just let people go? is it ok to stop trying? when?

this has always been hard for me. i've always been the type to let people walk all over me. to which my momma always said, "charity, honey, God doesn't make doormats."

i know i'm not a doormat. but do i really know it? do i know my true worth? do i treat myself as the beloved God knows me as? or do I allow people to walk all over me?

turning the cheek. and turning the cheek. and turning the cheek.

there's a line in a civil rights movie, the ernest green story. a young black man has grown weary and was caught fighting. when he is confronted and told to turn the other cheek, he asks "what do you do when you run out of cheeks?"

my heart cries the same question.

i've been waking a lot lately and thinking about this. it keeps me up at night. and i have been thinking about just how vocal and upfront and honest i should be. how things i have said were ok really and truly are not ok.

people who have played big roles in my life have stopped contacting me, responding to my attempts to contact. ever since i have been with my fiance. their absence is evident and felt when i think of the roster of people who have expressed their excitement and joy for me and my engagement.

people who do not know me well have sent me messages (some hateful, some civil) that have let me know they do not "approve" or "agree" with "my lifestyle."

friends... have sent me emails saying the same thing. with the words "i love you" added in.

it isn't ok. not any of it. even if i said it was. it is not ok. it hurt me. and it angered me. and it still does.

i try to look at it differently... because i know for one it was out of concern and her doing what she really thought was right. but what makes me more apt to tolerate her message is that she has never shied away from telling me anything that she sees might be a block in my relationship with God. and i have done the same for her. i love her, and i know she loves me, and our relationship has included a strong element of accountability and prayer and encouragement. i let her know i love her for always, even though i disagree with her when it comes to my relationship with my fiance. so, kindred, you know this is not directed at you.

so now i am thinking... it's time to let some people go. to stop tiring myself by pouring into people who do not embrace me and D. it's time for me to stop crying over those whose love has been limited and to start rejoicing over the great love and friendship i have in many others. it's time for me to stop turning and laying down for people to walk on me.

i get in my clothes just like everyone else. God didn't make me to be a doormat, and i am so loved.

i don't live an "alternative lifestyle" or whatever this elusive "gay lifestyle" is.

we make soup. walk the dog. worry about paying our bills. laugh at comedies. cry when people hurt us. read christian books while drinking coffee in the mornings. scoop the cat litter. get excited when we open a new bottle of coffee creamer. mow the lawn. and poop just like everyone else.

we are boring. we are normal.

and completely in love with one another.

and we are beloved. daughters of the living God we love and serve.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

headdress

i have so much to say this morning. so much has been happening.

in ways great and small.
in private sacred moments with one other.
in public sacred moments with many.

i have been thinking about shame, and pride.
the pride that, as the avett brothers sing, is the good kind,
not the kind in the bible that makes you bad.

and i've been thinking about that good kind of pride and it's opposition to shame.
and that third factor which enables pride to overcome shame,
enables us to see ourselves as we are seen by God:

love.

i am reading brennan manning's abba's child, and there is much he says and quotes about false selves and about being our true selves before God.

our ordinary,
beloved selves.

there is, of course, another dimension to this realization of love:
extending it.

i was met with such great love and affectionate holding arms when i told my beloved fiance the things that i am most afraid and ashamed of. she didn't push me away. she pulled me closer in a beautiful and incredibly healing embrace. something fell off of me and broke in that moment. something dark and heavy. and now i feel lighter, freer and more connected.

inspired.

love overcame shame. and i am proud of the love and healing. proud of our relationship. proud of her Christ-likeness as she spills out his love through her heart. proud of Christ and of his great challenge to us to love, really love.

this past weekend, i also attended my first ever gay pride festival. it was very small. about 1100 people total came through on sunday. there were so many families with kids. it was incredibly encouraging.

small town gay pride reflects a silent majority. we aren't the stereotypes. no one was walking around naked or barely clothed. no one was doing anything obscene. it was mostly quiet and peaceful.

just a bunch of people, gathering, even though we were mostly disjointed, sharing a common solidarity. seeking acceptance and love for our homes, our families.

to be honest, it was kind of boring sometimes.

boring, and so normal.

of course, it wasn't perfect. or all sacred. there was the profane co-existing with the sacred as it is in all of life...

there were things said and sung that i didn't like. just like when i turn on the radio to any mainstream station and even christian stations and hear songs about objectifying others, objectifying the Church, seeking temporal things: like power, money, a good time, a temporary "encounter" of the sexual or spiritual kind. empty songs. sung by the seeking that have not yet found grace and love. real love.

what surpised me the most was the feelings i had during the last event which took place at night. a big show in the outdoor plaza downtown where everything else had taken place... a drag show.

i had never seen a drag show, and honestly i had a lot of unsure feelings about it and some prejudgments about the whole concept of drag.

i do not like objectification of people. i do not like seeing people's bodies on display. i hate the pornography industry and anything dealing with the sex trade. that said, this is not what the show i saw on saturday night was.

i saw something beautiful, and it caught me off guard so badly that i cried.

there was one moment in particular that moved me, and i still tear up talking about it. one of the earlier performers was a popular drag queen in the local community. i had heard stories about her and how much people like her, so i was curious.

when she entered the stage, she had on a brightly colored outfit that included what i have labeled as the most beautiful piece of pride attire i have ever seen. it was an elaborate and expansive rainbow headdress.

yellow, blue, green, orange, red, and purple shook and shimmered.

it was like someone was screaming, "i am beautiful, and i am loved, and so are you!" everytime a feather waved in the air.

it spoke to me. it spoke for me.

it sang my song of finding love and freedom and grace and of reconciling my faith, my relationships, my journey, and my true self all into one me. the me i was made to be.

it was a crown of pride.
the good kind of pride.

the kind that inspires hope.
and loving.
and reconciling.
and writing this, today.
sharing.
with you.

may you find your pride.
and wear that love on your sleeves, your feet, your head, your hands.
and share it. wherever you may go.

may it sing a song of finding grace and love,
with every move you make.
may it comfort the broken and challenge the false,
and may it inspire hope, loving, reconciling, writing, sharing,
and more singing.

Friday, September 23, 2011

spirit

so much has been going on in my life lately. most of my internet time has been spent job searching and applying for jobs. sometimes it is difficult to hold on to the hope that something will work out. that i will find employment. that i will be able to restore my credit and pay my debts and monthly bills. that i will be able to pay for my wedding and expenses around having children.

i am engaged. to a beautiful, intelligent, peace-loving, hippie woman. a woman who challenges me to be better and who encourages me and shows me kindness. a woman i love immensely.

in the midst of all this love and newness, there is a troubling in my spirit that is deeper than my unemployment and my battle with the faulty belief that i am not good enough (for a good job or for this amazing relationship.) it is a troubling that i am just now able to put to words after they escaped my lips during a heartfelt tearful prayer i prayed just yesterday.

i am troubled when i hear people cheer over the fact that a primary presidential candidate has overseen over 200 executions. i am troubled when i see racial divisions and no one says anything about them. i wonder if they hope they will just go away if ignored. like a suspicious mole on the epidermis of humanity. i am troubled when i hear people booing a gay man during a presidential primary debate, because the man is gay and in the military.

i realize the problem is deeper than politics. more widespread than administrations and parties and ideologies. more toxic even than a systemic issue (although, systemic it is, indeed).

it's spiritual.

i was moved to tears while watching coverage of troy davis. moved because of some letters which were highlighted. letters in other capital punishment cases, where victims' families cried for mercy to be shown to the very people who were accused and convicted for killing their loved ones. mercy. enough people have died, they said. please, do not do this, they said.

i could barely speak.

i prayed intensely yesterday, and during my prayer i felt a cry well up within me. one i knew was more than just me. my throat tightened, my breathing heavy, my eyes hot with tears:

Lord, Jesus... We need your spirit.

a good friend of mine talked to me about prayer once. she shared with me one idea on prayer, that it's meant to change our attitudes. so we may pray for a forgiving spirit, a merciful spirit, a loving outlook, a stronger commitment, a more integral life. and those prayers work on our wills.

Lord, Jesus... We need your spirit.

i am deeply moved by liturgical services. by calls and responses. by creeds. by the beauty and power of confessing together and praying together. by the communal nature that transcends time and space and difference.

Lord, Jesus... We need your spirit.

i find myself uncomfortable with much of what i see in the world. i see an uphill battle. i still, for some reason, believe in the hope we have. in the power of Christ's love. Christ present. Christ come.

Lord, Jesus... We need your spirit.

sometimes it seems as though the ones who profess Jesus Christ are those who most blatantly defy his love and his nature and his drawing in. sometimes it seems as if there is a hardness of hearts in those who both claim to know him and those who openly reject him. both break my heart anew with each encounter.

Lord, Jesus... We need your spirit.

creation groans. guns ring out. people scream for justice. children cry for food, for relief, for freedom from slavery. animals are killed for sport, and the land is spoiled for minerals. women whisper secrets of abuse and rape. highways are littered. people hoard or misuse money and yell hate-filled words. oppressors capture, maim, mistreat, kill, and dehumanize.

Lord, Jesus... We need your spirit.


The world is angry and violent.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

Forgiveness is rare and hatred is rampant.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

The earth and people are being destroyed.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

The outcast is in need of welcoming.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

We need hearts full of grace, peace, and love.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

We need reconciliation and unconditional love.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

We need patience and strength to care for earth and others.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

We need to open our hearts and our doors.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

Fill us with your merciful love.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

Fill us with your unfailing love.
Lord, Jesus, we need your spirit.

Fill us with your spirit, Lord.
Jesus, we need your spirit.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

stop.

normally i try not to post reactive emotionally charged writings.

but, perhaps, i have been wrong in holding back. it seems that people do not realize the impact of their statements and comments. and if they do, i am deeply saddened and frightened at that much malice and hatred.

a local news story about a gay child being bullied.
an informal poll.
ignorance and nonacceptance.
spewed hatred in the name of the One who saved and saves me.

comments saying gay people deserve to be bullied, that we have demons which need to be cast out of us, that our relationships are "in fact" sinful, that gay kids should be put in a room alone (only derogatory terms were used), that a group to form bridges and connections between gay and straight people would be unfair or wrong in schools, that being gay is just trendy...

trendy.

as if we would choose to be ridiculed.
as if my girlfriend and i like the fact that we have to look around before we hold hands even if "straight" couples are practically making out at the same venue.
as if students are just looking for attention, in the form of death threats and bullying...

wake up.
stop.

i sit here and type these words while crying tears.
tears over the hatred for people like me.
tears over the people like me who are bullied.
tears over the fact that i can't find words which are good enough to get my message across.

just stop.
please stop.

stop making comments like that.
stop being silent when you see comments like that.
stop talking so much you never listen.
stop pretending to listen while you formulate a response.
stop listening to all the hate and ignorance so much that you never speak up.
stop teaching people to look down on other people, no matter the reason, no matter the degree.
stop using derogatory language, making disgusted faces, and flippant "jokes."
stop laughing at that behavior.

stop using my Savior to support hateful comments.
stop blaming my God for the hatred of wayward misguided ignorant people.

all i know is Love.

Love.
Please, love.

i haven't posted in a while.
i've never been so happy. so flourishing. so incredibly blessed.

when she holds me, i thank God for every moment. i feel held by her and kept by the One who made me and who held me and preserved me and sustains me. the One who blessed me with such a beautiful relationship. i feel a little safer, even in the middle of such a dangerous world.

the storms: rains, wind, lightning, thunder, and even tornadoes of pain, loss, judgment, discrimination, and hatred rage on. but her love, and the love of our Lord still and comfort me.

stop minimizing this love. and others like it.
it is real. it is good. it is sacred.


Wednesday, June 8, 2011

proud

i am working on a longer post, but it is taking me a while because i have a summer cold and have been trying to sleep it away.

june is lgbt pride month. (such a fitting time for me to completely end my silence.)

i just wanted to take a few minutes to tell you how proud i am.

i'm proud to be me. and to do the work i am doing. to say the things i say. to love the way i love.

i am also proud to be friends with such wonderful people who don't stop at tolerating me, or accepting me, but who celebrate with me.

i recently came out to a friend, and she said. "congratulations!"

i love it.

and i love you.

and i am proud to have such wonderful community.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

hand in hand in Hand

i had never been to washington d.c.

it was early march of this year, and the air outside was still cold and brisk.

we got there on a friday night. our little caravan. me and three of my friends (all of whom i was just getting to know). we drove together from tennessee. we met up with several others, some we knew. some we would get to know. all we would love. as we were gathering to celebrate

love.

two of our dear friends, both women. marrying one another, committing themselves to love one another for life. til the end of their days. and our commitment to love and support them.

the weekend was filled with laughter, hugs, tears, and poignant moments.

i sat across the breakfast table from some wonderful gay male couples. they were getting married that weekend as well. one man thanked a friend of mine for "living in the trenches" in the south. he had tears in his eyes. i did, too.

one of those couples had been together for 17 years.

the other?

30 years together.

and for their anniversary?
a legal marriage.

i cried when i found out.
i cried again when we passed by them just as their ceremony had ended.
i cried many times as i thought about it again.

another poignant moment for me was when my friends who were getting married reached over, touched me, looked into my eyes, and said in earnest, "we want this for you, too."

the ceremony was beautiful.
my favorite wedding i have ever been to.
not just because it was a lesbian wedding,
but because of how communal it was.

it was truly a celebration and gathering
of love
in its various forms.

perhaps my favorite moment of the weekend captures it best.

just before the wedding, we all walked and rode the subway throughout d.c. while the photographer took pictures. literally, just before the wedding.

the brides were both in their beautiful gowns, and we were all in our attire for the evening.

as we walked around d.c. , most people smiled, waved
some even honked their horns.
one girl hung out a car window and yelled, "we love your dress!"
a little girl said my friends were "soooo beautiful."

at the restaurant the reception was at, a mom told her children that my friends had just gotten married and told her children to say "congratualtions" to them.

all of these moments moved me deeply.

however, there was one image/moment that is seared into my mind
and i hope it always is.

we were all walking down the sidewalk in downtown d.c., heading for the subway station.

at the front of the line
the brides were walking next to each other
in their wedding dresses
hand in hand

behind them
two lovely guys
who are marrying each other very soon
hand in hand

behind them
a lovely "straight" couple
who are also marrying each other very soon
hand in hand

just behind them
my friend, "s" and i
in complete admiration

we kept looking at each other and all the hands
we talked about how beautiful it was,
all those representations of love

then she took my hand
and said "we're friendship."

and we walked that way
hand in hand.

a few months later, she would take my hand again
and she held it while i was having trouble sleeping
and i held hers and told her how much it meant for her to be there.

and we walked through my damaged neighborhood
the morning after the tornado
surveying the damage

hand in hand.

i was thinking about how beautiful both of these instances are.

there is another.

i was feeling alone.
a friend of mine was holding her boyfriend's hand
she took mine too
and we walked that way
hand in hand

and another.

i was sitting in a chapel service.
a man was talking about gay people
he was wrong. i was angry.
a friend of mine took my hand.
we sat there.
hand in hand.

oh, another.

i was in church.
the speaker said something about heaven
that it is continued relationship with those we love
my friend had lost someone. i had too.
i took her hand. she gripped mine.
we sat that way.
hand in hand.

what if we became more attuned to taking one another's hand?
what if we broke across the distance and the social norms and held hands more often?
what if we didn't care what people think?
what if we cared more about the connection? the communion? the communication?

holding another's hand says:
i love you.
i am here.
i am unashamed to say i am with you.
i see you
i feel you.
you can see me.
you can feel me.
i've got you.
you've got me.

what if people held hands with people who are different than them?
and then looked into each other's eyes?

what if we realized that when we are hand in hand
we are really
hand in hand
in Hand?

that God, Godself
Love. Loveself
holds us.
holds our hands.
in Hand.

would we walk more freely?
hand in hand?

would we make brave choices
in whose hands we hold?

to realize what is good
what is healthy
what is uplifting?

where we can mend?
where we can heal?
where we can cross the divide?

where we can be mended?
where we can be healed?
where our sad divisions have ceased?

we can.
we would.
we must.

walk hand
in hand
in Hand.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

nail

a while back ago, i wrote a journal entry about what it is like to live in the closet.

Closet (2/10/09; midnight)

This is the way my closet once was ->

It was a world, the world in which I lived

But more like a shadow because I was afraid to come to life. I was not fully known. There was a bed and books – books about being gay and the rightness/wrongness arguments, the Bible, and people’s experiences. There were letters to the outside – little hints and conversations to see whether or not it was safe to come out. There was a noose on the ceiling with no windows or light. But there was no ladder or chair to reach the noose because suicide was a constant thought, but I never had the means or full desire to carry it out.

Now my closet has a revolving door. Sometimes I am allowed the freedom to step outside and breathe the air and bask in the sunshine which so many take for granted. I can be known and am known by some and I am getting stronger for it. I am moving out some of my possessions. I no longer sleep there and I am bringing the books out into the light so I can see them better. The noose has been cut down, and I am feeling alive. Sometimes, I must retreat to my closet and poke my head out the revolving door to see when it’s safe to exit once more.

One day, I will exit for good. And I will bring all of my stuff with me. I will board up the door with hammer and nails and enlist my friends to help me. I want to make sure that neither I nor anyone else can be trapped in that closet again.

People do not live in closets… skeletons do. And skeletons are only shadows of persons who once were. There is no life. No potential. No beauty. Only death and decay.

Outside, there is sun, earth, and rain – a place to grow and become. A place to be. A place to live.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

more than 2 years has gone by since that entry, and it still grabs me. i think it gets at the heart of some of the pain i endured. by not being myself. by hiding part of myself.

well, i will have you know that the hammer has been in my hand this weekend.
i have driven in the final nail in the boards i have placed over my closet door.

many of you, dear dear friends helped me board by board. step by step.

now i am

out

truly

out.

out of that place of shame and death and decay and into what my dear friend called a sweet boon, and he should know.

i am in life. and living.

i am becoming and growing.

and i am loving

and seeing

and breathing in the air... basking in the sun... letting the rain fall on my face...

no. more. hiding.

the nail.

it will not be removed.

no one, not i nor my dearly loved friends and family,

will ever be limited by it again.

it is beautiful and freeing.

i am beautiful. i am free. with a new kind of freedom i have only dreamt of.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

cheer on

my church community did a series not too long ago on the first part of hebrews 12.

it talks about a "great cloud of witnesses" cheering us on. it follows hebrews 11, which talks about all of these people who are examples of having good faith. people who were broken in some profound ways. people who faced all kinds of challenges. people like me. people like you.

one of the conversations we had as a community was about what it means to be cheered on. there was a comparison of a crowd in a stadium, cheering someone on as they are finishing a race. it sounded exciting and encouraging. it sounded inspiring and hopeful.

it sounded good.

last night i went to a major league baseball game for the first time. the stadium was at least half empty, but the size of it all was overwhelming.

it was my first time to attend a major sporting event, and i honestly didn't expect much of it. baseball lost its luster for me a while back ago, even though i loved it so much as a kid, i collected players' cards. i still have all of them.

the pre-game was somewhat entertaining:
kids running in size 16 shoes, racing around the bases, putting on the mariner's uniform.
2 people who threw first pitches.
intros of the teams.
a group sang the star spangled banner.

i was having a decent time, laughing, enjoying people watching.

the home team pitcher struck out all of the opposing team. there were a few hits from the home team.

i was struck by the quiet in between noise. no commentary, like there is on t.v.

i was full of processing. of the game. of my surroundings. of my own feelings and thoughts and what is going on in my life. and in the lives of the friends i was with.

then something happened.

someone hit the ball, and someone else ran home to increasing cheers from the crowd.

the umpire gave the safe signal.

from under me, behind me, in front of me, on my left, on my right, and above me...

energy.

the crowd erupted, and i could literally feel vibrations from the noise, the applause, the excitement.

the cheering on.

tears immediately hit my eyes. and i felt my mouth open. i did my best to take it all in. to remember it. to build an altar here, as one of my friends would say, to remember when and what has been spoken to us.

cheering on.
great cloud.
witnesses.

bigger and more inspiring, exciting, encouraging, hopeful, and better than i could ever imagine.

i thought about how much we all need that. to be supported and loved and cheered on.

our relationships need support and encouragement.

our supporters need encouragement and support from us.

it saddened me when i thought about the lack of support for gay marriages and gay rights in many areas of the world. and the lack of support in many of our social circles and families.

but

we are not alone or forgotten.

there are people who offer support and affirmation and love.


my gay and lesbian and bisexual and transgendered and questioning friends...
we are cheered on.

my supportive and affirming straight friends,
you are cheered on.

to my friends who are unsure of what you think and unsure of how supportive or affirming you are,
you are cheered on.

and we cheer each other on.
and those who went before us cheer us on.
and the Maker of those and us and of the earth and the sky and the wonders beyond it
cheers us on.
Love loves' self cheers us on.

and so we cheer for love
and Love
and life
and hope
and redemption
and reconciliation

and love
and love!
and Love!
and LOVE!

and love. wins. wins.
Wins.
WINS.

and
we
can be
part
of
it
and
cheer
and
run
and
hope
and
believe
and
hallelujah!

LOVE.

Friday, May 13, 2011

letter

i have a somewhat heavy heart as i am leaving a place i have called home since the summer of 2005, and a community i have been part of since the fall of 2005, and another community i have been part of since the spring of 2006.

though i am not severing the relationships i have built with so many wonderful people, there is a change which is occurring as i am cluing more and more people into who i really am and am hiding less and less.

for the most part, it has been wonderful and healing to feel free to be me and impact others by being myself.

however, there is still a sting which i must voice. and direct to a specific community i belong to. my alma mater and former employer. a place that prides itself on being a family. and so, an open letter to them (you):

dear lee university family,

i first came to you in the fall of 2005, excited to finally be part of a school which i had dreamt of coming to as an adolescent. though i was 24, and older than most students, i found relationships and excitement and love of learning from the very first week of attending class.

throughout my experience with you as both an undergraduate and then graduate student and then later as an employee, i was challenged to grow and supported in my academic, faith, and relational pursuits. i have never felt so valued and encouraged and affirmed for who i am... except for one part of me which i had to hide so much that it nearly cost me everything...

i am gay.

lee family, most of you only knew a part of me. i apologize for not telling you sooner, but you must understand the fear and the silencing that i endured. you must understand the pain i felt as many of you made ignorant statements, abrasive and offensive jokes, and some of you even directed hate speech at me, driving by me and yelling "fucking lesbian" or "dyke" as i was walking on campus.

i am not alone. whether you want to admit it, see it, realize it, and do anything about it or not, the campus you claim is a place where Christ is King is a place where people like me are often rejected, ignored, silenced and even abused. a place where we have had to search out for pockets of safety and often forced to navigate that alone as there is no formal support for those of us who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgendered. a place where people like me live in fear of being kicked out of school, hated, and fear being alone. but we are alone. and the face of Christ is tarnished by a film of disdain and disgust which the face of our Lord and Savior does not actually bare.

we have all been robbed. robbed of the chance to get to know one another more fully. but who is the thief? is the thief fear? your fear or mine? is the thief oppression? is the thief ignorance? is it policy that committed the crime? maybe it was a group of bandits.

because of the seemingly uncrossable distance... the silencing, the lack of feeling free to be open, the lack of the ability to be open... you miss out. you miss out on knowing some very wonderful people and celebrating some very beautiful relationships and families. you miss out on supporting us and cheering us on and being part of our lives in a meaningful way.

you miss us.

we miss out. we feel a deep sadness when we see the support that straight couples receive on campus and by administration, staff, and faculty and know that there are often not even crumbs falling from the table for us. we miss you knowing us fully. we miss you knowing us as couples and families and so miss your cheering. we also miss being able to pour into you by inspiring love with our own love. by supporting you as couples and families who would love to be active, giving members of our family at lee.

we miss you.

we all miss out.

and surely, this is not the community Christ wants. this pomp and circumstance show. this "you and you but not you are welcome," this "well, you can stay if you try to change or if you don't act on it," this us and them. the scapegoating. the blame. the fear. the lack of love.

i have great hope for you, lee. i have hope that more and more the people who are loving and supportive will outweigh the people who aren't. that one day, a young lesbian will come to that school and not live in constant fear while she is part of our lee family.

i have hope that you will see us. your children. your gay children, who you have treated and labeled as black sheep. and that you will come to value and love and appreciate all that we have to offer. that you will say to us,

"baa baa black sheep"
(come here, dearly loved ones)
"have you any wool?"
(you are so valued for who you are and the gifts and personality and love you have. will you share it?)

and we will say to you,

"yes sir, yes sir, 3 bags full"
(here we are, all of us.)
"one for the master, one for the dame, one for little boy who lives down the lane."
(we will give to the Lord, we will give and share with you, and we will walk with you, hand in hand, and work for justice together.)

may it be so.

sincerely,
charity

Sunday, May 8, 2011

pain

i was reminded today of pain i caused someone i love very deeply. you know who you are.

pain i caused because of my ability to be oblivious to others when i am hurting. pain i caused because, somehow, even when i least want to, i manage to damage where i mean to heal, to break when i mean to build, to show carelessness when i mean to show love.

it reminded me of the deep sadness and pain i felt during a few weeks. the hopelessness and despair. and how my own paralysis wounded those i care most about.

i am struggling now, since i have been reminded, to know what to do. i wish to say, "i am sorry and please forgive me and it isn't true that i don't love you or that i do not mean what i say. i do love you..." a thousand times over.

but i know that my words are nothing. instead, i am left with my own weight of guilt and regret and wishing i could go back in time.

but i cannot.

no one can.

i am wondering now, what my future holds. how i might change. how i might be better. if i really can love like i say i do. like i want to. like i believe i do, but somehow must not.

and yet must.

i am tired. and feeling a little anxious. moving in with family while i am transitioning into literally only God knows what where and whom it will be with.

i hope i can only love better and better.

and i hope, dear one, that you have forgiven me and know that i do love you. always.

date night

(i wrote this on may 2nd)

i’ve known i was gay since i was 5 years old.

i started suppressing it just after. the pushing down of a big part of my soul only grew as the years went on. being 13 and in a locker room full of girls was torture. i didn’t know which way to look. i hid behind modesty and faced the lockers and stared at the cold grey metal.

being 16 and having intense deep feelings for friends was confusing.

being 23 and dating a guy for the last time felt odd and like something was missing.

i used to throw up on my dates with guys.

poor guys... they had to pull over their cars or suvs on more than one occasion. i would throw up before dates, during dates, and after dates.

as if i was vomiting out all the torture inside just to make it more visible and to leave a bad taste in my mouth.

reminding me of how

this

wasn’t

going

to work.

i only kissed one guy… my boyfriend when i was 14. i had to go to the bathroom to dry heave after.

he was wonderful,

but something wasn’t right.

and still, dates were never what other girls talked them up to be.

i never had the courage to ask a girl on a date. i didn’t even readily admit i was gay ‘til i was in my mid-twenties and spent a couple of years before i finally reached a point of accepting myself. i only just graduated from a school where being gay isn’t allowed. and my last day of working there has come and gone.

so here i am, twenty-nine years old, and i just had my first date with someone i really wanted to date – another woman.

i’ve been referring to it as “my first official girl date.”

we planned on it just being a fun date. we have been flirting with each other. we are friends, but there is still a lot to know about one another – enough mystery you could say, to add to the fun of getting to know each other.

on wednesday, i cleaned house, and i went to the store and bought a bouquet of flowers for her. i also bought the ingredients and made chocolate covered strawberries, with good chocolate. i took a shower after all my hard work and put on a black button down with a purple tie. my hair and make-up looked great.

it was storming outside, and something felt odd. i went downstairs and realized the storm was getting bad. the hail was very strange. i took cover in a small nook/hallway. a fury of storm went through, then an eerie silence. for the next 3-5 minutes, i screamed “jesus christ, son of god. oh my god. jesus. please. help. oh jesus…” as a tornado ripped through my neighborhood, roaring in my ears and shaking my house. i have never been so frightened. i can’t describe what i saw, heard, and felt.

i called my mom and could barely find the words. i stuttered a lot. my house only had minor damage. but there was so much destruction around me.

i texted a few friends, including my date. she called me. pretty much the same conversation as with my mom. i am not sure. i can’t remember.

she texted me. she kept me talking. she told me she was coming.

she came.

in the lull between more storms that became tornadoes in our area. she drove through a fallen tree, brought her laptop, and we watched a movie by candle light. she held me. she let me be weak. she took care of me. she let me hold her, too.

it was nothing like what i had planned. it was the best date i have ever had.

it made me realize that as i weather more storms in life, i do want to have another woman with me, to love and be loved by, to have and hold and be had and held by. and i will.

it made me realize that i deserve to be loved and cherished and be in a healthy relationship when the time for relationship is right. it made me realize that i have so much love and care in my heart, and i so long to give it.

and i will.

my first real date. in the middle of chaos and fear.

it made me realize that more and more, what i believe is true…

love does win.

and that night and the next as she held me again, it put fear in its place.

Friday, May 6, 2011

lost time

i know i have been silent for a very long time.

however, my heart has not been silent.

this has been such a ground-breaking year for me thus far...

i graduated and then became an employee of the institution which held me (mostly) silent. i worked as a counselor and as an educator. i found new ways to use my voice while staying cautious in my temporary, still-in-the-closet (but only partially) setting.

i went to my first gay wedding. two dear friends of mine. an amazing weekend in washington d.c. that literally changed my life and infused me with hope and possibility.

i went through a tornado.
i had my first official date with another woman.
in the same night.

i came out to students i was responsible for educating and shared much of my story and words from some of my gay and lesbian friends. and i saw so much openness and loving it brought me to tears.

all of this, and more, i will be writing about.

i am in the middle of transition, and life is only getting more and more exciting as i see it open up into more and more exciting opportunities for me.

so, get ready. i have a lot of time to make up for.

and you will see, as i have,

that love wins.

hope survives.

grace shields.

peace and reconciliation are real.

and love, yes and amen, love

wins. wins. wins.