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.

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.