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.