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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.