selah.

"and then he came.

selah.

oh and it means

praise and meditation." - lauryn hill


(rest)


this will be my last post on blacksheep for i do not know how long. maybe forever. i do not know.

i am in need of rest. of a break.

i have been the "go to" for so long.

i have endured going to a school and being part of a community where i suffered in silence, heard hate, felt hate, heard fear, felt fear, grew afraid. i have been hurt, and it has been too recent.

i can't seem to shake it lately - the wounds inflicted by family, friends, and community when i was at lee and after i left. i can't seem to shake the anger and hurt that i do not hold a place there, not really, because i am gay.

i can't seem to shake it when i am constantly presented with our struggle, on the news, in the paper, in our search for what to do for protections, and on my paycheck and her health insurance bill.

i need rest.

i need to be silent.

i need to stop being the "go to" for a while.

i don't know how long.

i am putting aside my book, my blog, my speaking engagements.

i am broken, angry, and sad too often.

i am indignant and fiercely defensive of my beautiful marriage and of love.

i am tired.

i am exhausted.

i cannot fight this fight right now.

i do not even want to fight this fight right now. not in the way i have been.

i am so incredibly thankful for being the go to for so long.

i am thankful for my experiences in finding safety in places where it is hard to find. i am thankful for the strength and grace and wisdom i have grown in. i am thankful for the opportunities to talk to people - all people: the people who i have encouraged on their journey which is like mine. the people who have different views and think i am in sin. the people who changed their minds about how to respond and the people who did not.

i need to rest for a while. i need to put my hands in the earth and cultivate.

i need to write about other things.

i need to start playing the guitar and singing again.

i need to take brush to canvas and use nonverbal art to communicate.

i need to read.

i need to serve.

i need to spend time with family and friends.

i want to stop thinking about the struggle every hour of every day. i want to just enjoy life for a while.

i hope you all can respect that and pray for me and support me in that. the earliest i will be ready is the fall, but it may be a year or more. i need some time.

selah.

rest.

praise and meditation.


peace,
charity

stop.

i have not been blogging.

i would say that it is because i have been trying to focus my writing energy on other projects - namely, trying to write the book i have been working on for some time. and that i have been writing more songs. that i have been wrapped up in my new life with my wife, and enjoying our engagement, and now our marriage.

i would say that i have been focusing on more real-life interactions, relationships, and simple pleasures i enjoy like gardening, cooking, and reading good books. that i have been using less technology.

if i said all these things, and said that was the reason - i would be lying.

i have been trying all of these things: writing, focusing on relationships, trying to enjoy the simple pleasures... my marriage has been beautiful and wonderful so far.

the truth is i have been struggling, and have been lost in a darkness that is so dark, so sinister, so utterly life-killing that i cannot describe it.

the pain of children.

children who have been abandoned, abused, neglected.

poverty.

not enough food to go around, malnutrition, cold trailers in the winter and ovens they live in during summer.

roaches. crawling, scattering, everywhere. causing a special stink from their infestations.

cigarette smoke so thick that the ash is buried deep in the walls, in the carpet, in my lungs after sitting there listening.

aggressive dogs.

houses that look abandoned. 

families that hurl homophobic and racial slurs at each other as a joke. to their kids.

children crying because they want to live with their parents.

who are in prison.

burned out social workers who don't even know the kids' names. when the child is sitting with them after i called to make a report.

children who do not believe in anything good. because that isn't their reality so far in life.

the absence of hope.

i've been here for over a year. and now, as i am leaving this job, i have something to say. in a more complete way than i have been able to utter. for i have been disabled and crippled mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and even physically by what i have experienced, even though i got to go home to a wonderful spouse, a clean home, food, and comfort every night.

church,

it
has
to

STOP.

child abuse.

it is real.

it is disgustingly rampant.

we are not equipped.

human beings are not designed to deal with this pain. the burn out rate is high. the use of alcohol and other means to escape is common. because we are not designed to deal with this pain.

because we are not designed to hurt each other.

especially our children.

and to deal with the aftermath is soul-damaging.

i have wounds i am unsure will ever heal.

and

it didn't happen to me.

i have friends who have been abused.
i have worked with college age young adults who were abused as children.
it was painful to hear their stories.

but there is something about hearing the voice of a child tell stories of pain, heartache, and loss.
something about the tears and brokenness of children.
something that is both beyond words and conjures emotion laden explicative vocabulary.

what is to be done?

we have
to prevent it.

Church,
break the silence.
make this a priority.
start talking
and acting.

stop being known to the world as anti-gay and too political.

and let's begin to be known for what we should be known for
for justice
for love
for everyone
our children.

government officials,
where is your voice?

news and media:
why the silence?

human trafficking and making soldiers out of children is horrific child abuse, and it has to stop.

but i am afraid that those issues are in some weird way "glammed up."

it's "cool" to fight for those causes, and popular. and don't get me wrong - they need to be causes we whole heartedly join the fight in.
but we cannot neglect the children here at home who are subject to torment, torture, rape, mind control, and other things which i cannot utter.

as a gay woman, i am appalled when i hear people talk about "protecting the family" from people like me.

you want to know what is destroying families? what is really making families fall apart?

it is a lack of real relationship with one another.

it is the practice of being consumed by the media and technology and being separate from one another and from nature.

it is the selfishness and idea that we should just do what makes us happy and not what would make us flourish.

it is substance abuse, and poverty and domestic violence.

it is a lack of true community and support and a lack of education for people who need it most.

it is greed on the part of us who have more than we should.

it is the culture of having more stuff, which makes us have less of what is most real.

it is a lack of true and undefiled religion and a surplus of non-sense, flash and pomp.

it is a deficit of the pursuit for truth and beauty.


we sing jesus saves and that all things are made new

well,
Christ save us

from this superficial life and the ignorance we have all embraced, and help us to make things new for the abused children, the poor, the outcast, the immigrant.

help us to fight for what we really should be fighting for, to support one another, to be more giving and to be more aware even though it hurts.

help us to pursue what is good, noble, holy, and pure.

Christ,
save us.

so what am i to do?

i am just one person.

but i know a lot of people.

and i will start talking. to start acting. whether it is writing my pastor, my senators, congressional reps, and governor and pleading with them to do something. or talking to friends.

whatever it may be,
let's join together friends.

and make it

STOP.

speak

a very brief word.

i love north carolina.

that's why it hurts.

and let us not forget that there are very many wonderful people in north carolina who love lgbt people. many wonderful people in north carolina who speak out against discrimination.

the temptation is to speak hatred back.

but what does that do?

how does it make us look? like those who do not understand or who do hate us want to paint a picture of us?

we cannot afford to label everyone in the state as a bigot, a redneck, a hick, or an incestuous homophobe. because it just isn't true. and we know it.

we know how it feels to be labeled.

let us not speak words of hatred and labeling today.

let us speak love and hope instead.

someone will hear us. no matter what we say.

i love north carolina. and i'm hurt by what has happened and by some of the words of hatred i have heard.

but i love north carolina. and i hope that love will be heard.

one

i would be lying to you if i told you that my heart doesn't hurt, that my confidence hasn't wavered, that my blood has not boiled.

all in reading a simple word in a status... "passed."

following two other words: "amendment one."

today i couldn't even bear to listen to the radio because of the news reports about the measure and the vote and the likelihood that voters would vote for it. and that the word would be written into the state of north carolina's constitution.

i don't live in north carolina.

it's a state that i have loved since i was a child and visited chimney rock and grandfather mountain with my family. it's a state that my partner loves and where she went to art school. it's somewhere where we thought we might have a home one day. it's where we had planned to take our honeymoon in october.

i have some reflections, and i warn you, i have been deep in thought nearly all day on a variety of issues, so i may digress or repeat myself. however, since i just read the news that this amendment passed, i want to be as open and unedited with you all as possible with keeping at least some coherence. (this means i did not delete what came out - even the ugly)

first, it feels like a punch in the stomach. really, it does. to hear of one more state where we can't.

it's been difficult in our home lately, trying to figure out what the hell we are going to do about health insurance.  it weighs on my mind on top of everything else like the stories my clients tell me, the grocery list, my student debt, my health... we are going to have to work our butts off to just be legally recognized enough to see each other if one of us is hospitalized.

second, even hearing these stories, knowing there is a vote... can you imagine if your marriage were on trial? if hundreds and thousands and more all wanted to have their own say about it? how hurtful and messed up would that feel? my heart has hurt time and again.

third, it's sick how quickly people rise up against this and how little is being done or said about child abuse and domestic violence. i'll say something to this here, too... child abuse is not the fault of the LGBT community. and we will not be scapegoated for it, or for the failure of heterosexual marriages, or any other ailment of the family unit. and if the Church and people outside the church who truly care would mobilize in this way to stand against child abuse, to rebuke greed, to care for the sick - we might not be in such a mess as we are in.

lastly, i refuse to stop believing in hope. hope that deanna and i might one day have rights which would allow us legal recognition. hope that there are way more people who care. hope that there are many more voices in the church, who even if they think that "homosexual behavior is a sin", there are people who went to bat for us. people who stand up and speak for us and with us and to as human beings and neighbors.

so i refuse to give up. i refuse to believe anything other than that love will ultimately win. and if that is a pollyanna way of looking at things, then call me pollyanna. but i know that this is going to be a process, and a mess, but it will have beautiful moments. and we still have legs. love still has legs. and we will walk. and we will remember and be thankful. and we will be one.

strength

yesterday, i wrote that my grandfather has nearly lost his strength.

this morning, i am rethinking my words. yes, his physical strength is nearly gone...

but he is still fighting.

i walked in to his home this morning to find him sleeping and snoring. and i can't help but smile at my uncle's statement that he is "a tough little booger."

yes, he is.

paw-paw not only broke the earth under a hot summer sun, but he has been a survivor and fighter in many ways.

he wasn't supposed to live this long

he has lived way past his prognosis.

he fought in world war II. in the battle of the bulge.

one day when i was just a baby, a great mudslide rushed down the side of signal mountain and washed out a bridge. paw-paw didn't know the bridge was out and he went into the river, swept away by the current. somehow, he managed to grab on to a log and was rescued even though whole trees had swept by him and his vehicle is still lost, never recovered, perhaps a relic on the river floor now, housing catfish and sturgeon.

my point is, he has been a fighter. he has been a tough little booger. and we will miss him.

death and life

death is one of the weirdest parts of life.

i don't know that i will ever understand it or even reach a place of being remotely o.k. with it, even though i know i have come a long way, a very long way, in being "o.k."

i am sitting in the next room while my grandfather is struggling just to breathe. it doesn't seem right or fair. and i find myself also struggling for breath when i am standing or sitting awkwardly next to him, not knowing what to say or do other than the moment when i touched his hand and said "i love you paw paw."

i do not know where the strength or composure came from when my dad asked me to sing. but i do know that the lump in my throat was so large at times i didn't think any air would come out, much less a note, and even lesser - a note that would sound half-way decent.

but somehow, it did.

i sang the verses of hymns. i sang the verses and choruses of worship songs. i gently plucked the strings on the guitar which was the last guitar my grandmother gracefully touched. the very strings that have been on the little guitar since just before she left this world for the next. they are dull and have nearly lost their brightness.

paw paw has nearly lost his strength. it's crazy to look at him and think this is the same man who busted the earth under a hot summer sun, toiling for hours a day to make a rich garden grow beside the river bank. the man who worked with wood and had a wonderful wood shop where he built amazing bird houses and feeders. the man who made his own suet. the man who has built homes. the man who taught me to fish with a bamboo pole. the man who let me drive his pickup way before i was sixteen.

he doesn't look like that man.

in fact, when i first came in this morning, i thought "he isn't really here anymore. not really." in some ways, he is an impression, a fossil of sorts pressed by the hands of time and loss and hard work.

in the midst of all these thoughts, there are more thoughts going through my mind...

there is a sacredness here today. at my grandparents' home.

it was sacred, to sing those hymns and realize how many of them are about life. and Who life is.

it was sacred to say i love you.

it is sacred and comforting to hear the normalcy of the wind chimes. to hear my dad in the kitchen, preparing food. to know my aunt judy is on her way from the store. to hear my uncle bennie answer the phone with his gentle "hello."

it is good and healing in the midst of deep heartache, to hear a light chuckle from time to time, even in the darkness of sorrow and pain.

it is good to know my extended family is going to be here soon.

it is good to know that my grandparents will be reunited soon.

it is good to know that we are not alone. and it is good to be loved. by my family. by my partner. by my Lord. and to know that they all are near.

i look out at the view from the porch, the tennessee river still meandering along the banks of massive hills, though the landscape has changed a bit since i first met her. and that same view that brings me comfort and sadness all at once is the one that gives me the peace i need today.

and though (this is hard to admit) i am afraid of grief and anxious when i think of loss of any kind, i know somehow that i will be o.k.

and a hawk, my symbol of hope, flew over the mud brown water. and disappeared into the greenery of the hills.

God. is. Great.

it's like an anthem i keep repeating in my heart this morning.

i think of the pain of a girl who faces criminal charges, and she is 9 months pregnant.

God.

and all of the injustice and pain and life circumstance that has brought her to this place.


i am also thinking about the hatred and injustice and violent oppression against people like me.

is.

about how it feels to think God hates you.
about how indifferent people are to our suffering.
about how the response "well it's a sin. i can't support that"
just
doesn't
cut it.

Great.

.

.

God.

dear friends, i need your prayers. i've been writing less and less on here for multiple reasons. one of them being that i am finally focusing my writing energy into the book this blog was meant for. the vision i've had since i first began writing on here, sorting out my thoughts and growing in my journey. the other reason is because i have felt less like a black sheep in many ways. this blog reflected light peeking out of my place of darkness and heaviness.

but i find myself here today as that darkness and heaviness is closer to me. my heart is heavy.

as i write the words of a story that needs to be heard, of a prayer that needs to be prayed, of a litany that needs to be spoken and responded to...

i more and more deeply feel the pain.
i am more and more aware of even more hatred and ignorance.
i see the scapegoating and the lies.
i feel the heartache of many of my friends. and revisit the heartache of my own.

is.

after watching tv and seeing some extreme hatred and violence toward people like us a few nights ago, i felt myself sinking a little.
feeling a little defeated.
saying love wins more as a prayer and a hope than of a firm belief.

d noticed.
she called me on it.

as i cried and told her i was afraid of the hate and the violence and that i don't want anything to happen to her or the children we will oneday have,
she held me.

she told me we just have to surround ourselves with people who love and support us. our truest friends. we need you.

Great.

friends, please pray for me. for the strength to continue to write. and that i can find some peace and assurance while i am writing.

my heart is so full of love. and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

i do believe that God is Great. that love wins. and that it's our togetherness that makes us strong.

that Christ is with us, in us, through us.

and that his great grace will lead us on.