Wherever You Go, There You Are

“Life doesn’t have. a remote. You’re going to have to get off your butt and change it yourself.” ~Scott Tatum

I came here today to say I am so damn proud of myself.

While I wholeheartedly accept there is still a fair distance I need to travel on my mental health journey to become the best me I can be, I am not thinking about that today. Today I am having one of those rare days when I feel truly comfortable in my skin. So, today I am going to do something I rarely, if ever, did before. Today I am not being self-effacing. Today I am calling it as it is. I’ve worked damn hard to move the needle as far as I have. It catches me off guard some days how my thoughts about myself and my actions based on those thoughts have shifted. So, where am I now?

I set boundaries. I no longer make excuses when I don’t want to do something. I believe I have the right to choose how I want to spend my time. I know if someone else is disappointed about my “no” answer, they will have to deal with their own emotions about it.
I am not afraid to ask for help. I know doing so does not equal weakness. I understand we all have a lot to learn.
I feel genuine remorse when I wrong someone rather than deflecting to protect my ego. I strive to offer honest, appropriate apologies when I fall short.
I understand my negative behaviors do not define who I am on the inside. I accept that humans screw up and I am human so, by the transitive property of equality, I screw up sometimes. I don’t allow my mistakes to mean more than my efforts to ameliorate them.
I say “yes” more often and embrace new, and occasionally scary or uncomfortable, situations. I’m not hiding from things or opportunities that require me to be a novice or an outsider at first. I recognize this is where growth happens, in the risk taking and discomfort.
I am not “shoulding” on myself as often. I am changing “should have” to “could have” and understanding the difference between the two.
I am no longer owning more than my fair share of the blame in a situation or relationship. I acknowledge that relationships are a two-way street, and I am not entirely responsible for carrying their weight alone or keeping them afloat. If someone isn’t attempting to meet me halfway, like ever, I let them go. You can’t change the people around you, but you can change the people around you.*
I no longer view myself as broken. I am a work in progress. I forgive myself for the amount of time it took me to reach this stage in my growth. It doesn’t matter how long it took me to get here, just that I got here.
I notice when I overreact to something and try to understand where that overreaction came from, and I don’t beat myself up about it. We all have our Achille’s heels. I am working to hit pause when I feel a trauma response building. I know these patterns arose out of a need to protect myself when I was a child. I understand they may not be serving me now. I continue working to lessen their grip on me.
I understand I did the best I could before I knew better. I forgive myself for not taking the paths I now feel were lost opportunities. I wasn’t ready to travel those roads or be with those people. My life had a different trajectory, and it has given me a beautifull life.
I no longer look in the mirror and hate what I see 100% of the time. Sometimes, I can even admit that I am holding up pretty well after all these years.
I take time to acknowledge and celebrate my successes. I know how hard it has been for me to journey to this point. I am proud of myself for facing my demons and doing the work. I know that while others may not see these changes because they happened slowly over time, I still experienced a seismic shift in my perceptions of my life, myself, and my relationship to others and the world. I am proud of messy, complicated, determined, hard-working me and, as the F1 drivers say, “I will keep pushing.”

*This sentence is also attributable to Scott Tatum. Check him out on Instagram @ucanoutdoors or through his newly published book, Friendly Reminders: Lessons from a Self-Care Savage.

Posted on 10/10/2023 by Me 2

This One Time At The Olympics…

I am not normally a fan of the Olympics. I know. I know. What kind of person am I? But, seriously, I’ve just not really ever cared. I don’t mind watching (I don’t have much of a choice since everywhere you turn, there they are), but if they didn’t come around every two or four years or whatever, I would not be broken up over it. That said, there have been three athletes whose stories spoke to me.

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

First up is Ester Ledescká, the Czech skier/snowboarder. NBC did a human interest spot on her, and she blew my mind. It’s one thing to be a world class athlete, but it’s another thing entirely to be a female, world class athlete who competes in not one, but two, sports. And Ester doesn’t just compete. She wins gold medals…in two sports. It’s awesome. What really spoke to me about the interview with her was when she was discussing how many people had told her she shouldn’t try to compete in two sports. They told her it is better to focus on one. They told her that if she attempted to focus on two she would only accomplish being middling at two sports rather than potentially exceptional at one. They told her it couldn’t and shouldn’t be done. Ester, however, had a the audacity to ask a simple question when people told her it couldn’t be done. She asked them, “How do you know?” And she did it anyway. Damn. I thought about my own life and how many times I listened to naysayers, never once believing in myself enough to stand up for myself and tell them what I knew in my own heart: “I got this.” So often I backed off the courage of my convictions and figured others knew what was best for me. I was wrong. I think every young girl (and boy) should know Ester’s story. Ester is the embodiment of grit, a woman who knew what she wanted, fought for it, worked hard, and did what others said couldn’t be done. She kicks ass.

“We are at our most powerful the moment we no longer need to be powerful.” -Eric Micha’el Leventhal

The second outstanding athlete is Shaun White, of course. I have been a fan of Shaun’s since his first Olympic appearance in 2006 in Turin. Shaun White is a walking superlative. He’s a joy to watch, the rare combination of hard work, creativity, enthusiasm, confidence, finesse, and passion. He elevated snowboarding to an art form, constantly pushing himself (and others) to greater heights, literally and figuratively. At 35, he showed up solidly against competitors almost half his age. Yes. He landed in fourth place at his fifth Olympics, but who cares? He’s Shaun White, dammit. What struck me about what I saw of him after his final run, though, wasn’t his graciousness but his heart. After receiving an ovation upon completion of his final Olympic run, after accepting hugs and kind words from each of his fellow competitors, Shaun did something more extraordinary than all of his physical feats. He let the emotion of the day take over, and he cried, not a couple quickly wiped away man tears but actual, ugly-cry tears. I don’t think I have ever been more impressed by him than I was in that moment. He showed his humanity. In fairness, he has cried on camera at Olympic events before, but this meant more. This was a man openly weeping on television for the world to see because he was feeling all the feels. And me being where I am in my life cried right along with him. I’ve got tears just remembering it now. Shaun gave the sport of snowboarding a firm foundation and a heart, and he proved that you can be a man and feel your feelings and show them for all the world to see. And that is a bigger gift to the youth who follow in his footsteps than his Double McTwist 1260.

“Life is not about how many times you fall down. It’s about how many times you get back up.” ~Jaime Escalante

The final athlete who wowed me this week was Mikaela Shiffrin. After falls in her first two events, events where she is usually the one to beat, she was visibly shaken. She was angry at herself, disappointed in her performance, and all-too-aware she was letting people down. But she rode the chairlift to the top of the Super G course and stood at the gate to face her fears. I can’t even comprehend that level of bravery. After her first two events, she could have simply decided not to compete any further. She could have decided that maybe the universe was trying to tell her it wasn’t safe for her to compete. Oh, the voices of self-doubt she must have been battling as she took that ride to the top of the mountain. But she did it. 3…2…1…and she burst from the gate to ski 70 miles per hour down to the finish. And when she finished in 9th place, she wasn’t disappointed in herself. She was ebullient. She was smiling. The relief on her face was there for the world to see. She hadn’t raced that race because she had something to prove to others. She had raced because she had something to prove to herself. She showed up to that race for herself and, in doing so, told the fear in her heart and mind to go to hell. She is so strong. I’m not talking her physical strength (although, holy crap, yas queen, you go, girl). I’m referring to her mental strength, the strength to fall in front of the world and get back up and risk it all again. That is what the world needs to see more of. The strength to look fear in the face and do the scary thing anyway. Mikaela, you are my hero this week. I will always root for you. Not because you’re my Colorado mountain girl, but because you are wicked brave.

I guess my admiration for these athletes teaches me these three things. I need to believe in myself and follow what my heart tells me because it knows me best. I need to be willing to open up, to be vulnerable, and to feel my feelings when they arise. And I need to look fear in the face to make forward progress. This is the way.

Posted on 11/02/202212/02/2022 by Me 2

Fear, Superpower, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Shakespeare

After a long, heartfelt, open discussion last night, I am feeling much better today. Sometimes, you have to face your fears, speak your mind, listen carefully, and breathe through the discomfort of it all to reach a better place. I woke up this morning a little anxious because it’s hard when you’ve opened up and been vulnerable. It’s difficult to know if others were able to see and feel your heart. As the day progressed, though, I became more and more relaxed as a realization sunk in. I’ve spent my entire life giving other people power over me. It started when I was young and I gave up my power because it was a survival strategy. Then I was older and still operating under the rules of that previous paradigm, wanting people to like me, wanting to be fair to everyone else, wanting to be the “good girl” I was told I should be. I stayed in that good girl bubble for a long, long, long time. And then it hit me today. People only have power over me because I have continued to give it away. I can be both a good person and a person who holds her own power. I can help people with love and compassion and not be a doormat. I can listen to and hear people and still speak my truth. I can be and do those things because that is my superpower. So today is a good day because I finally realized I am a goddam superhero.

Now, not everyone is going to get me or like me or agree with my previous statement, and that is okay. Some people may even puke in their mouth a little bit when they read this. And that too is okay. I am not for everyone. But the people in my tribe know my heart and benefit from my light, and those can’t or don’t want to see my goodness may never. And that also is just fine. Whether or not others see my goodness doesn’t determine whether or not it exists. It does. It is always there even when others deny it. As long as I know it, as long as I feel it, as long as I try my hardest every day to be decent and kind while respecting my own choices and gifts and goals, nothing else can touch me. I will make mistakes. I will upset people. I will land in some awkward situations. No doubt. But none of that detracts from who I am. It only proves I am human. But now I am a human with an invisible but powerful cape.

All of this reminds me immediately of Eleanor Roosevelt. She was a brilliant woman. During her lifetime, she dispensed a great deal of wisdom. Here are a few of my favorite quotes:

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’ You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

“Do what you feel in your heart to be right — for you’ll be criticized anyway.”

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

“When you have decided what you believe, what you feel must be done, have the courage to stand alone and be counted.”

And the final quote is the one that inspired this blog, Live Now and Zen:

“Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. And today? Today is a gift. That is why we call it the present.”

So, put yourself out there. Be vulnerable. Don’t let anyone dim your shine. Own your shit, but own your brilliance too. And if you won’t listen to me, listen to Eleanor Roosevelt or even Shakespeare, who penned in Hamlet:

“This above all: to thine own self be true.”

Go get ’em, Tiger. Or, as my sister says, TOWANDA!

Posted on 09/02/2022 by Me 2

Open A Window

“When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.” ~ The Sound of Music

My little succulent reaching for the light

Throughout the day yesterday, I took sizable mental health breaks from updating myself on the news on television and social media. In between those breaks when I tuned in, however, what I saw and heard hurt my brain. First it was a post by a friend who offered an update from a health care worker reminding us that this virus can be indiscriminate, killing younger people along with the elderly and immunocompromised. Later I came back to see another friend had shared video of crowded beaches in Clearwater, Florida, a sight alarming in itself, but worsened by comments her friends made claiming the story was Fake News. Finally, after my son’s educational, evening presentation on a battle between Julius Caesar’s Roman army and the Gallic army led by Vercingetorix (you really can learn something new every day), I turned on the news and caught a couple minutes with New York Mayor Bill DeBlasio as he discussed the potential need for military intervention to deliver food during the pandemic. The notion of military food drops in New York City sent me over the edge. What fresh hell is this? I started to cry, turned off the television, and began doing the dishes because at least that was something my brain and I could handle.

The news is bad. It is very bad. And it is, sadly and most definitely, going to get unimaginably worse over the coming weeks and months. Death tolls will climb. The world economy will tank. People will lose jobs, and the unemployment rate will rise. Families will find themselves in dire circumstances. Like the virus itself, these negatives will grow exponentially for a while. No part of this is pretty.

I woke up this morning determined to hit reboot on my positive attitude in the face of this global nightmare. I started thinking about the reduction in emissions northern Italy has seen since their country lockdown began. Not the way we planned to cut global emissions, but still that’s a pretty positive side effect of this nightmare scenario. I thought about the way I have seen others reaching out to shop for the elderly and help strangers find child care and offer extra rolls of toilet paper to those unable to find any. We’re starting to remember we’re part of a something bigger. I considered the amount of time together families will have now. Just before my son was getting ready to head to college, for example, I get uninterrupted time at home with him, which is an unimaginable gift. As with all things in life, where there is a yin, there is a yang.

Through this quagmire, the universe will provide us with an opportunity to rise. To do that, though, we are going to slog uphill through mounds of shit. We are currently at the bottom of that hill, mired in muck, and we may be stuck here for a while. It’s overwhelming. So, give yourself permission to cry, to tantrum, to stress, to feel all the feels you are feeling. Those emotions are as important to our future recovery as action is, but perseverate not solely on what is happening but continue to imagine where we might be able to go later because of this experience. Horrible, tragic events have occurred since this rock we live on started growing life, but incredible recoveries have also occurred. Make yourself a promise to look for the good. Wake up and take a few deep breaths. Compose a list of positives. With concentrated intention, recognize and be grateful for the good you can see. Step outside, turn your face towards the sun for a minute and ruminate on its warmth. Not everything is bad, even if it feels that way. We can and will do hard things, my friends. For now, though, put down the unbearable load of the future, go wash some dishes, and open a damn window.

Posted on 18/03/2020 by Me 2

What I Teach My Children About The Illusion of Security

They might have guns but we have flowers.

Ever since the tragic events in Paris last Friday, my mind has been tempest tossed. Coming immediately on the heels of the deadliest bombing in Beirut in 25 years, the senseless murder of innocent civilians in the City of Light was a tough blow, the second poignant lesson in the fragility of life in two days. It seems I can’t sift through the news anymore without reading about another heinous act. While I know that countless acts of murder, rape, and violence have been perpetrated for as long as humans have existed, the constant barrage of stories about the dark side of humanity elucidated by the news media over the Internet and forwarded around the globe via social media can take a toll on even the most hopeful souls.

As a mother, I have struggled with what to share with my sons about these events and what example to set for them with my words about them. When they were younger, I cautiously shielded them from gratuitous details about natural disasters, shootings, and suicide bombings, proffering just enough information to make them aware but not enough to cause them sleepless nights. Parenting is a non-stop balancing act, and I regularly walk the high wire between too much information and not enough. Our sons are 12 and 14 now, plenty old enough to be aware of world events and form opinions about them. At school they watch news clips from CNN, an education I am grateful for because it provides an opportunity for open discourse at home about the world. I welcome the invitation to engage with our sons and answer questions and concerns as they arise. I like to think that in doing so my husband and I are raising informed, thinking, and engaged citizens of the world.

Today, during my daily run through of my social media news feeds, I read that governors of 27 states have declared they will not welcome Syrian refugees due to security concerns after the Paris attacks. I scratched my head. Regardless of the fact that states do not have the right to refuse refugees our federal government chooses to accept, I marvel at the naiveté of leaders who presume that refusing refugees is the surest way to keep their citizens safe. But many people in this country harbor the illusion that security is an entity we can guarantee and enforce because, well, we’re the United States of America, dammit. But we can’t. We never have been able to and we never will be. We can’t stop bad things from happening. Bad things are as certain as the sunrise, and security is merely an illusion we cling to as a means to mitigate our fears.

I live in Colorado, one of only seven states that has said it will welcome refugees displaced by the atrocities in Syria, which have left over 250,000 civilians dead and nearly half of its population of 22 million seeking a safe haven elsewhere. While many are against this, I am pleased with our governor’s proclamation. I don’t believe that turning away victims of terrorism will keep us any safer than we are now. Could an ISIS sympathizer be among the refugees who end up in Colorado? Probably. There have already been arrests of suspected ISIS militants and supporters in the US, and there is no reason to imagine we will be able to stop more from seeking to harm us if that is what they intend. Even our best attempts at national security will leave unexpected holes for terrorists to slip through. We are not capable of squelching every plot. We didn’t foresee the attack on Pearl Harbor or the attacks of 9/11. Is that a reason to turn away hundreds of innocents who are displaced and suffering, seeking a better, safer place for their family? I don’t think so. I like to think that we are a better nation than that.

The truth is that life is tenuous and fraught with peril, and there is little to nothing we can do about it. This is what I tell my sons daily. You could lose your life to a terrorist suicide bomber in a crowded cafe or to a mentally disturbed individual in a movie theater, to a drunk driver on their way home or to an incurable cancer. You could be the healthiest person out there and keel over from a heart attack. You can do everything right, take all the proper precautions, but you will still fall someday. Not one of us is getting out of this life alive, and we can’t guarantee that security to our children either. But the legacy we leave with our actions can and will make a difference in the lives of others. I would like my children to witness from me love, generosity, and bravery in the face of life’s sometimes scary realities rather than fear, isolationism, and cowardice disguised as protectionism. I would rather my sons learn to take a calculated risk for the sake of goodness than to shun others for an imagined sense of security.

Right after I read that article about the governors unwilling to welcome refugees, I found this video of a Parisian father and his young son being interviewed at the site of the Bataclan attacks where citizens were gathering to leave flowers and light candles in memory of the lives lost there. The father tells his son that there are bad people everywhere and that the flowers and candles being placed are there to protect him. I won’t lie. I get weepy every time I replay that video, and I have watched it at least a dozen times already. In the most beautiful way possible, this father is teaching his son that bad things happen but we don’t need to fear them. We need to accept them, focus on the good we can do, and go on with our lives. If we operate from a place of peace and love and hope, we are freer from fear than if we barricade ourselves in to hide from it. Fear can become an inescapable prison or our impetus to live in the present.

I showed my sons the video of that father because it speaks more eloquently about security than anything I’ve seen on the Internet since the attacks on Beirut and Paris. I’ve felt my heart shrivel as I scanned comments from friends about why we should not open our nation and our hearts to those who seek peace because we might regret it. While I understand their concerns, I can’t believe that this is what we have come to. We citizens of the United States forget how fortunate we are to be here and the sacrifices made by previous citizens that afforded us the luxury of birthright and the illusion of security. We forget that most of our ancestors arrived on these shores disillusioned, frightened, and clinging to hope promised by a lady standing in a harbor, the same feelings the Syrian refugees now hold. My husband and I are supporting our governor as he opens the doors to our incredible state. We are talking to our sons and teaching them that the inscription on Lady Liberty does not have caveats. It’s not “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore but only if they aren’t coming from a war torn Middle Eastern country or from a south-of-the-border neighbor with drug problems because we don’t want any of THOSE.” We are telling them that life is scary. Bad things do happen. But the more good we put out into the world and the more we focus on that, the better things will become. My silent parental prayer today and every day is that our sons will grow to love this world despite the negatives and to live boldly in it without fear for as many days as they have.

Posted on 17/11/2015 by Me 7

All Apologies

This morning I was going through some of the boys’ school papers. Joe almost never hands his to me because he flat-out forgets. I recover them months later when I notice his backpack has become too heavy to lift. Luke tosses his graded papers onto the counter amidst the usual chaos there where they often rest unnoticed until I finally remember there is an actual countertop under there and determine I should find it. At that point, they usually find their way to the trash because I don’t have the time to look through papers 20 minutes before company is scheduled to arrive. This morning, though, on a counter that was mostly clear because we had company over for dinner on Sunday, I found Luke’s papers and decided to flip through them before depositing them in the trash.

Most of Luke’s papers were stamped Excellent or had positive comments written on them in Ms. Fitzwater’s bold, Sharpie markers. She had even drawn some pictures on the few of the papers, which I thought was above and beyond the usual teacher commentary. On this one paper, though, I noticed she had written, “Good second try!” Second try?

“Hey, Luke….”

“Yeah, Mom?”

I showed him the paper.

“Second try? Did you have to do this paper again?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“What happened to the first try?”

Luke looked right at me and in his usual unapologetic, straightforward way responded.

“You could say I didn’t find the right words….or use correct spelling…or use any punctuation..or make real sentences the first time.”

Well…there you go. I suppose that would invite a redo.

Luke is a funny kid. He’ll lie to you if he thinks he can get away with it. If you catch him in a lie, he will come clean without apologizing. It used to bother me, the lack of apology. Then I realized that his lack of contrition is the correct response. Why should he apologize for something he meant to get away with?

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this lack of apology and how freeing it must be. I grew up apologizing…for everything. As a child, I was continually made aware if I were being too loud, too quiet, too aloof, too inquisitive, too busy, too lazy, or too whatever-adjective-you-want-to-insert. I became constantly fearful that whatever I was doing affected others in a negative way. I learned to apologize for my emotions, my actions, and my choices, as if everything I did was open to comments from the peanut gallery. I went into my adult life with a hesitant, cautious demeanor. It colored everything I did and reduced the number of things I was willing to attempt. It wasn’t until I hit midlife and felt time ticking away on me that I figured it was time to stop being so damned sorry all the time.

Luke was sent to me for a reason. He’s in my life to teach me that it’s okay not to offer unnecessary apologies. Luke is excellent at empathy and generous about owning up when he’s truly at fault or has caused pain. He merely doesn’t look for excuses for contrition. He doesn’t assume they’re necessary. That’s a skill I am working on. Luke lives his life. He is who he is and he knows what he wants. He knows what his strengths are and he knows his weaknesses too, although he’s smart enough not to dwell on them. There isn’t a day that goes by that I am not grateful for what my son has brought to my life. Perhaps if I take some cues from Luke, I will finally grow up and learn to live without being all apologies.

Posted on 24/09/201425/09/2014 by Me 0

Surviving The Fire Swamp

This photo is not relevant to this post. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. — This photo is not relevant to this post. I just happen to find things my boys do amusing.

Buttercup (referring to the Fire Swamp): “We’ll never survive.”

Wesley: “Nonsense. You’ve only saying that because no one ever has.”

~The Princess Bride

Someone asked me yesterday where I am with the book I am working on. It was a polite question, meant only to show interest in my progress. I have been dreading this question because, well, the truth is that I am nowhere with the book I am working on because I haven’t really started it. Wait. That’s not totally true. I have two ideas fleshed out and a couple chapters in each story attempt. I also have another story idea that I really kind of like, but it is still flipping over and over in my brain like a rock in a tumbler until I decide it’s shiny enough for me to write. So, I guess I have started writing. I simply haven’t made any real progress on an actual book.

A couple days ago I began analyzing my situation to determine what is causing my writing paralysis. Originally I blamed it on a lack of time. I used my blog as an excuse. Well, I’ve been off my blog more or less for over a month now and I haven’t added one lousy, stinking word to any of my started stories. Not one. I haven’t worked on a character sketch or written an outline. Aside from giving a couple hours’ worth of mental massage to my stories, I haven’t done a thing. I don’t suppose I can blame my blog for my lack of progress anymore. I have time now that the boys are back in school. As I documented the other day, I’ve had enough time to clean out my pantry, hand wash the floors, and dust baseboards. All those housecleaning maneuvers are clearly nothing but the actions of a desperate woman. I’m uncomfortable enough with the idea of having to write something creative that I cleaned out my pantry. I hadn’t done that job properly once in the ten years we’ve been in this house. Interesting that I should decide now is the time to remedy that situation.

Tonight, though, during a conversation with my sister it hit me. I was able to admit what is at the root of my procrastination. It’s fear. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do it. I’m afraid that if I do finish it that it still won’t be worth reading. I’m concerned that perhaps my putting myself forth as a writer was a mistake because if I do this and I’m not successful then I won’t even be able to claim that I am a writer. And, I only just got up the nerve to admit that I’m a writer a little less than a year ago. What if I’m a sham?

I’m a smart gal. I know there are no guarantees. I know that the best things in life come when you take a risk. I know that life is a growth proposition and to make forward progress you actually have to move. I know all these things. So, what the hell is my problem? Why am I being such a scaredy cat? And, how do I get beyond my fear? How do I make it through the Fire Swamp when I don’t see any way to survive?

I’d love to believe I could face the Fire Swamp the way that Wesley did, with optimism, blind faith, and complete confidence that it would all simply somehow work out. But, I don’t work that way, which is what has gotten me into this predicament in the first place. Rather than taking Wesley’s approach, like Inigo Montoya, I think I need to go back to the beginning. I need to make mini-goals that aren’t as scary as the goal of writing an actual book. Perhaps, first I will write a paragraph and see how that goes. Maybe I can do that every day for a week and then gradually, over time, I will find that fiction writing isn’t really as terrifying as I’m imagining? I nearly stalled out on my 80-page Master’s thesis due to this same type of writer’s paralysis, but I survived that Fire Swamp so I’m fairly certain I can negotiate this one. I have to stop telling myself I can’t. There are no flame spurts, lightning sand, or R.O.U.S. here, anyway, so that means my chances of survival are pretty good.

Posted on 09/01/2013 by Me 6

My God Doesn’t Make Junk

“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.” ~Audre Lorde

This morning while driving the boys to school, we got into another one of our deep discussions about life. In particular, today we were discussing the Bible, Christianity, and love and tolerance for all types of people. Very ambitious subject matter for 8 a.m., I know, but I cherish these conversations with my boys because it’s in them that I see the amazing young men they are becoming.

Today’s conversation started because I was talking about something I had read where two young, gay men had been asked to leave a public place they had every right to be in. In fact, they were told they would be thrown out if they did not leave willingly. This type of exclusion bothers me a great deal. Every time I start to think that as a society and a country we are moving forward with acceptance, I read something like this and my faith in us is diminished a bit. My boys are being raised in a home where it’s acknowledged that homosexuals are the same as heterosexuals except that they fall in love with someone of the same sex. We’re raising our boys this way because 1) it’s what my husband and I believe, and 2) they have family members in same sex relationships and we’ve never wanted our boys to think that it was unusual. We’ve decided the best way to teach tolerance is to discuss it and demonstrate it.

“I don’t know why people care who someone else loves,” I said. “Gay people deserve our respect too. Just because they’re walking a different path doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path. If Jesus could love the sinners, beggars, and lepers, why can’t His followers find love for different types of people too?”

“I don’t know.” Luke said. “It doesn’t bother me,” he said with a bit of pride. Then, after thinking about it for a minute he added, “Why does it bother people?”

“Well,” I replied. “many Christians quote the Bible and say God says it’s not right for men to be with other men. Personally,” I said, “I think it’s a little crazy the way people pick and chose things just the things they want to support from the Bible. I mean, do we go an eye for an eye or do we turn the other cheek? You can read an awful lot into Bible text. If every life is precious, then that means the lives of gay people are precious too. If we’re going to chose things from the Bible to follow in our lives, you’d think we’d pick the positive ones…like love your neighbor as yourself.”

I allowed for a little pause while the boys chewed on that tidbit.

“Sometimes people fear what they don’t or can’t understand,” I added.

We sat in silence for a minute or so. Then, Joe spoke.

“You know, in the X-Men show we watch, they say humanity crushes what it does not understand.”

“Exactly, Joe,” I replied.

I was so proud of him just then, proud that he understood what I was saying enough to draw his own parallel to support it, even if that parallel was the X-Men. Sometimes my boys surprise me with their wisdom. To explain people’s differences, I tell them what I truly believe. A Christian should follow the example of Christ first and foremost. We are not God and we can’t understand His wisdom, but we can strive to accept that He does not make junk. Just because we don’t understand it, doesn’t make it wrong.

Posted on 26/10/2012 by Me 3

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