Almost 2018.

I've been pretty reflective this past week or so. I mean aren't we all at this time of year really? It's really not something 'special' but as this has been a year of great transition in my family and personal life...I realize that I've learned much to carry with me into 2018. And also what I'm letting go before the clock strikes midnight.

What I've learned is that I held so much of my identity in motherhood. I mean, let's be honest, I knew that of course....but to have the day to day 'mom'ing gone...I realized just how lost I was.  And I had grandiose plans for the days and months after the BABY headed off in August...but 4 months later, I've accomplished very few of them. (getting more sleep might be one of the only plans I've held to)  I was worried that this would be a great disappointment to myself...but I've come to accept that I think I needed these 4 months to almost detox in a way. Instead of jumping right into all of the plans I had for myself....I realized that I needed to rest. Rest my brain, my heart and my busy way of living.

What I've learned is that I will likely always need to be on medicine to treat my bipolar disorder. And I am ok with that and I embrace it. It is NOT my identity. But it is a piece of who I am and how I function. And who I am and how I function are both 'better' (hate that word but it fits sometimes) when I am honest and open about the limitations that I have if I am not taking medicine. This is not something that I am going to hide from. 

What I've learned is that I value my husband and my marriage more today than I did early on. Because I had a daughter when we met and well, we had kids together before we were married....we never did 'marriage' without being parents. Taking time to be in therapy together...taking time to truly learn and continue to learn who the other is....taking time to listen and rebuild. These things have given us new life. We are imperfect. But we are together. And we are going to continue to fight and hold on and enjoy our moments. And we are going to remember and cherish those that have passed. And we are going to rediscover 'we'.

What I've learned is that I am 100% okay being angry with people who refuse to learn and grow and listen to understand. I am okay walking away from willful ignorance and embracing my mindset of 'we can be casual but we can't be close. I am okay with letting you be you....but believe me, I am not about to stop being me.

What I'm letting go of? 

Falsehood.

Pretending.

Worrying.

That's it really.  I'm focused on actively laying those things down.

What I'm moving toward?

Freedom & Faith

Love & Light

There is much work to do. We are broken and ugly.  And I want to continue to do it. And I will grow weary and disillusioned by people. But I will also be lifted and carried by people.  

There is much work to do.

It's almost 2018. 

Ready? Go.

That's what I got today.

To Care

Moore didn't win
But it was close
Who'd be surprised
It's just how it goes
Do we care?

Trump tweets stupidity
Spews foolishness and hate
And people flock to explain
Rationalize,mitigate
Do we care?

People argue over details
of who 'deserves' what
They fight for their rights
not caring what gets cut

Worry about self
That's the 'merican way
Make sure you get yours
The rest?  Well they better pray.

But i live in a world
with those that aren't seen
as good enough, smart enough, or who matter enough..
except

That young man who kneeled
but still ended up dead
he was someone's son

That young woman who pulled away
afraid for her life
it's over before it begun

The mom who's afraid
of what her child has done
has tried to do her best

The dad who runs
acting like he doesn't care
doesn't know how

do you care?

Each is human
with a heart and a soul
hopefully with dreams
about reaching their goals

And yet you sit
with a smug shaking head
'why don't they blah blah blah'
are you surprised they are dead or

Surprised she's been raped
Surprised that she drinks
surprised by his absence
No?
It's much deeper than you think

There is racism everywhere
it doesn't matter if you see it
if others are experiencing it
it's time you believe it

There is rape culture everywhere
it doesn't matter if you see it
it others are experiencing it
it's time you believe it

There is sexism everywhere
it doesn't matter if you see it
if others are experiencing it
it's time you believe it

We pretend that we care but it's
Preservation of self
Look out for numero ono
Worry about nothing else

I'm telling you.

Care

because the 14 year old who's life is full of trauma
of unthinkable things that have been done

because the 17 year old who is full of anger
of how her life has been unfair

because the 6 year old who can't stop hurting
as she remembers the truth of her story

because the mom or the dad who are weary
of decisions they've made or maybe haven't

They need you.
They need us.


To care.

Hope and Perseverance.

I've been thinking a lot about hopelessness. And perseverance. And how they are linked in deeper ways then I think I ever really knew.

The other day in a meeting with a family.....much tension--a 14 year old who runs away, puts herself in harms way--has deep dark demons of the horrific things she has seen and experienced, a mom at her wits end with her own demons whispering in her ear....yet a love for each other so deep.

The youth has this tough shell and you can tell she is just through with everyone telling her what to do and telling how things are.The mom sounds so cold and callous that you almost wonder has she given up?

And I ask the mom, 'What's your biggest fear?'

And she shares that her biggest fear is so very real that she just recently purchased life insurance for her daughter....her biggest fear is that her daughter is going to die before she sees 20.

Before. She. Sees. 20.

And she breaks. And her daughter?  Her daughter responds, 'I probably will be, but you know what? What does it matter, that's what everyone my entire has been telling me anyway.'

What the fuck kind of world have we created where 14 year old girls have no hope that they will live past 20?

Another day in another meeting with another family.....much tension--a 6 year old who bites and hits, steals and lies--has deep dark demons of the horrific things she has seen and experienced, a dad at his wits end with his own demons whispering in his ear....yet a love for each other so deep.

And I ask the dad, "What's your biggest fear?"

And he shares that his biggest fear is that he'll find out the truth of what he believes happened to her, while on a visit at her mom's house and that he won't be able to help her or face it and they'll drown in the pain.

And the daughter, she responds by saying, 'I just like hugging and doing bad. I don't know why. I wanna do good but it's like I can't.'

What the fuck kind of world have we created where 6 year old girls have had to live and experience monstrosities?

It's why I get so up in arms about jack asses that want to spout out shit about the city, and minorities (ps. one of these families is white) and horrible parents and absent daddies and judge and condemn and put up their noses.  You are them and they are you.

And think that they have no concerns about this....like...
'hey sorry they don't have their shit together'
'hey, 'merica's great again so shut up'
'hey, we all got problems'

It's overwhelming right?
It's enough to make you feel hopeless for sure.

And if I sometimes feel hopeless? How the hell am I supposed to help inspire hope into other's lives?

Which leads me to perseverance.

The definition is steadfastness in doing something despite difficulty or delay in achieving success.

Steadfastness. Deep difficulty. Delay.

Having forward movement isn't necessary. And might not be happening. And you can still be persevering.  I might argue that is the only time you are ever are.

When you are moving forward, and it's difficult and there's delay, but there's movement....that's great. You keep going.

But when you are stuck. And there's no movement. And there's no change. And you keep going?

That's perseverance.

And I looked at that 14 year old and I said, 'But you're here. And you came to this meeting. And  you didn't have to. And you are strong and able to do great things, and you've lived through hard things. And you can wake up tomorrow and we're all here to help support you as you figure out why you want to.'

And I looked at that 6 year old and I said, 'I'm not sure either. Sometimes I don't do the right things. Everyone does bad stuff. And maybe there's a reason we don't know yet about why making good choices is hard for you and maybe we can find someone you can trust that you might like to tell

to help you figure it out.'

I normally cling to hope. 

And when I feel myself starting to drift to hopelessness...then I know it's time to self check. Time to rest. Time to regroup and refocus because I am being lazy about persevering.

Steadfastness. Firm and unwavering.

Difficult. Needing effort to accomplish,deal with or understand.

Delay. Late and postponed.

We gotta affect the world around us.

Those with hope?  We have to persevere. 

Because while you persevere?  

I wanna be right next to you persevering too.

I don't know another way.

That's what I got today.

My job, my people, my tribe.

I haven't been able to write. Not because of a jumbled brain or inability to formulate thoughts. Not because I've been too depressed to put pen to paper. So those are good things that I am grateful for.

But.

It's mostly because I am in a constant state of fighting my disdain for so many wretched things happening in the world around me.  I'm not sure if it's because of my sociology background, the fact that I've always been concerned about the world around me or what....but lately I've found myself so heavy whenever I've tried to write. How can I write with anything other than venom if I write about trump, or sexual assault, or mass shootings, or police brutality?  I seriously have stopped listening to any news about trump because it makes me not just pissed that he is such a joke of a president but also that people voted for him. I mean seriously. Someone for the love of all things holy take his damn twitter account away.

But I digress.  See how easily that happens?  It's like my blood pressure rises just thinking about it.

And honestly?

I have enough of each day and the people that are in my sphere to focus elsewhere.

My job. I get to help young people with mental health diagnosis navigate their world and help build a team to come along side them and their family to try and support them as they focus on meeting the youth's needs. This is heart wrenching and rewarding.  There is so much hopelessness out in the world today. There is such a need for healing.

My people. I am blessed to have a world very specifically chosen to be filled with people like me and people not. I eat lunch with, go to coffee with, serve with, laugh with and cry with people who struggle to pay their rent and those who own boats and multiple homes. Those who are devoted to their love of Christ and those who ran from the church for the horrific way they were treated. Those who bring other people's children into their homes and those who are fighting to find ways to keep their own.

My tribe. My tribe is not perfect....but they are full of love and respect and light. They fight for each other and for the underdog. They set high expectations and yet they are learning to extend themselves grace when they don't always reach them. They are individuals yet an intricate part of our team. It's amazing to watch them interact with each other and the world around them.  It is heart breaking when they experience disappointment or setbacks...it is heart warming when they achieve a goal or smile from inner joy.

It's not that I don't want to stay aware of the things that are happening around me. Especially when they come against my job, people and tribe. But I must put it in perspective because there is too much going on daily that I need my heart for.

So regardless of content and regardless of ache. I'm going to share what I have to say. I'm not going to censor myself any longer.

It might not always be pretty. But it will always be me.

That's what I got today. 

Not unicorns

My husband has a lot of great t-shirts that he likes to wear. They represent his heart and thoughts about racism, black pride, black history, etc. He often gets comments and most definitely gets looks. 

The Black Lives Matter shirt of course gets a mix of 'Love your shirt' and 'What about all lives matter' comments.

His Black Panther t-shirt of course gets a lot of fists in the air or pursed lips on frowned faces.

His 'Danger: Educated Black Man' seems to evoke either great joy or extreme irritation.

His 'I Defy Sterotypes' seems to be a crowd pleaser to all.

Today. Was an interesting day.  He was wearing a newer shirt that he hasn't worn before and the statement on the shirt is: 'I am my ancestors wildest dreams'.

We were in Barnes and Nobles and we had separated, looking for a book I wanted to buy. I heard someone talking to him and saw that it was a woman we had gone to church with at Elmbrook (who by the way KNOWS from a Facebook argument quite awhile ago that I cannot tolerate her racist ideology and thankfully knew not to come and say hi when Marlon pointed me out to her). When Marlon and I reconnected he asked if had seen who he was talking to. I said yes. He told me that what she had said when she saw his shirt was kind of strange and caught him off guard. She looked at him and said, 'That shirt is totally cracking me up!'  He told me that if he hadn't been caught so off guard he should have asked her, 'Why?' 

Later when we were in line to check out the woman in front of us read his shirt, laughed and then said, 'Well, that's a nice shirt but you know it could go either way.'  She was kind of old so I didn't ask, but I wanted to say, 'What do you mean by that?'

1. What about that quote is hilarious?

2. What other way could it go?

Help me. What am I missing?  

Seriously. Any help you can give me would be great.

I know that it is easy to fall prey to the stererotypes. I know that we can all overlook our own bias and prejudice and we have to actively examine our own racist ideology in order to break free from it.

And I also know that there are just crazy racist people who say ignorant stuff about 'niggas' and 'thugs' and 'them' and 'those people'.  I do my best to stay away from folks who think like that and just hold them at arm's length because.  Well, I'm too old to be whooping anyone's ass.  

But it's the best intention people that intrique me. And I don't think I will ever understand.

People who think it is disrespectful to the flag to kneel. Why?  And if you still stick to that thinking....are you making and sharing memes about all of the people who go to the concessions stand, talk on their phone or go to the bathroom during the anthem?  Because, I mean that's being disrespectful too then, right? And if the kneeling bothers you for the reason you say it does, then those other things should piss you off just as much, correct?  Or maybe deep down t's really the movement of black men protesting police brutality and the killing of black men that bothers you.

People who think it is disrespectful to cops to wear a Black Lives Matter t-shirt or be a part of the BLM movement. Why? All lives DON'T matter so please get outta here with that crap. I mean they do, of course, but our country is not reflective of all mattering...it is a part of the fabric that we began on. And the simple fact that white people get SO PISSED about the Black Lives Matter movement?  Well, that's one of the first indications that all lives don't matter. 

People who understand protest but just wish it wasn't volatile and didn't get so violent. Why? The 60s were spent with much non-violent protest and white people hated that too. Just ask Martin Luther King Jr's family. That's a cop out to me. To try and dictate what kind of protest and what kind of outrage there should be? To say, 'But maybe others would listen better if you met them halfway with a strong, silent kind of protest, one they better understood.'  Maybe. But maybe others have had plenty of time to listen but really they don't give a damn because what doesn't affect them, doesn't affect them. 

People who try to understand and be considerate of a racist's point of view. That will never be me. Not now. I have not patience for that willful ignorance. Because today there are plenty of books, movies, articles, groups, and people to learn from to begin to understand the human experience of being non white in this country. So if someone is racist in this day and age?  They are racist because they choose to be. And I ain't got time for that. 

I could go on and on. 

My sons who are all in college. They are not unicorns. 

My husband who is an involved dad. He is not a unicorn.

My coworkers who are professionals. They are not unicorns. 

My family that has both triumph and trouble. Is not a unicorn. 

And the less people see my sons, husband, coworkers and family as unicorns?

I believe the less people will think it's hilarious that my husband is proud to be his ancestor's wildest dreams.

That's what I've got today.

Being collected by CollectiveMKE

Church this morning was like balm for my soul. I am tethered to the people of God that I walk through the world with in ways deeper than customs and tradition. In ways stronger than common ideology and history. In ways truer than programs and activities. It is not that they have replaced anyone or anything already significant in my life....it's more that they enhance and make clear the place that things of significance can and should have in my life.

It would be short sighted to refer to these gems as friends. Friendship seems ill equipped to explain the relationship.  They are not people that I go to church with because that is not even how we "do" (for lack of a better word) church.  I even struggle telling others that I "go" to such and such a church.  It seems short sighted to say I attend, or I am a member, or I belong to such and such a church.  There is not a building or address that is 'church' because that is not even how we "do" church.

We ARE the church.

Please understand. I know there are wonderful and honoring traditional church communities. I am not trying to promote or invite anyone to anything. I am simply trying to give explanation to what is in my life. It's possible you are feeling disillusioned. It's possible you are fearful and weary. It's possible.


Here are some things I know to be true.

We respect. I have no doubt that there are people in my church community who have different opinions about politics, who feel differently about policy or the how of carrying out laws....that there are different opinions about "hot" topics right now. BUT I know that I am in a community of safety. That I can cry out and voice my disdain, that I can have an unpopular opinion and it is taken seriously. It is not dismissed and it is not disregarded. Jokes aren't made about serious matters and difficult social justices aren't ignored.  It's not that everyone agrees and there's false unity. It's that humanity matters. And if humanity matters then the way that I experience my humanness matters. 

We love. Each other, the world, people, Jesus. Even in the midst of not all thinking, living, experiencing the same. Even in the midst of hate and despair all around us. Even in the midst of many of us feeling broken and wounded and forgotten by the faith community. Even in the midst of sometimes wondering just what it means to follow fast after Jesus.  We love.  I know that I can cry out in the middle of open prayer and it will not be met with criticism or even advice, but love.

We live. There is no pattern or right way to be. There aren't bullet points to check off and show what a good Christian we are. We mess up and sometimes get it right. We stumble and extend grace. We eat together, serve together, and pray together. We are not special nor do we have some special formula of the right way to be. We breathe in and out. We wake up in the morning and some days are just hard. Our heads hit the pillow at night and some nights we are just grateful we made it one more.

We knew about Collective before it became ours. We had friends and people we loved there. And we prayed for them. And there had been times they had reached out and helped.  I feel like it was meant to be.

What I am about to share is my own thoughts and ideas. NOT a CollectiveMKE endorsement. The idea of church being intimate and connected was a little scary. Just sitting in someone's living room? No programs or groups to hide in? No places to shine? No leader telling us how to believe? 

But what it became was more like...

Just sitting in someone's living room? So special. To share such an intimate part of each other. Our homes. Sharing a meal and then sitting together as we share and learn and understand. Simple. No pomp. No circumstance.

There are no programs or groups to hide in? We need you to be fully engaged, fully involved.  The programs and groups we need to be involved in aren't in the 'church', they exist in the community around us. We exist in the community around us.

There are no places to shine?  We ALL have shine. And your gifts and capabilities will be treasured and honored because your shine isn't about outshining someone else. If you aren't sure what your shine is, you may finally discover it, because it's there.

No leader telling us how to believe? The pastor is not God. And he does not have all of the answers. He doesn't recommend an author because they have the 'right' point of view, but he might because they spoke to him and he'd like to chat about if they spoke to you. We learn from each other.

Balm for my soul.

This morning I was feeling tired and broke down. My heart ached and I felt far away.  And while there was no magic potion to fully take those feelings away....I was loved and allowed to feel them.

Being collected by Collective....good bye traditional americanized way of "doing" church....I cannot imagine ever coming back.

That's what I got today.

She's Returning

She wanders alone
Her mind is all over
Her focus is fleeting
Anxiety on 10

From the outside
It seems to others
who don't know
that all is well
that all is

Well...

And she fears
what she knows
And she knows
all alone.

There's a fog
and a haze
that surrounds her

Her heart feels full
Her heart feels

But her mind.
Her mind is frozen
Yet her thoughts racing
Almost too fast to think

And she fears
what she knows
and she knows
all alone.

So she pushes away
while wishing near
She tries to explain
it's never quite clear

So she fights
everyday
to find her way back
back to herself

In a moment of laughter
a moment of peace
she is able to give
of herself

She sees what they see
She remembers
Even if fleeting
It's there.

And returning.


She's returning.


That's what I got today.

More Than My Diagnosis

Fall is my favorite season. I love the cool breezes. I love seeing the leaves change colors and fall from the trees. I love the warmth of soup and hot cider. I love wearing hoodies and boots.  I love sitting on the porch sipping coffee. I love snuggling on the couch with my hubby under a blanket.

But there is a negative to fall. For as long as I can remember....as I head into fall....I am fighting the cyclical battle of depression.  I was diagnosed around 17 years ago with Bipolar II disorder. After many many years of self strategies and holistic ways of treating this, last year I knew I needed more intensive treatment. And beginning medication again just about a year ago has helped that tremendously. When I think of where I was a year ago heading into October....where my emotions were on a roller coaster and my mind was jumbled...I know I am in a much better place.  I do not cycle to manic phases in the same way....in the same pattern. Much of my reality is spent in what I think of as neutral and the waves of depression and anxiety wash over me. Most times I am able to stand against the waves...sometimes the current takes me under.

I choose to share the things I share about my mental health--not for the nosy people to raise their eyebrows and say, 'Ohhhhhhhhh.' (even though I know that will happen, it's all good, some people have boring lives) I share the things I share about my mental health--to normalize it, to be out loud, to take away stigma, to bring awareness. Mental illness is real. And it not something we need to hide away and pretend isn't there. My hope is that if you have a diagnosis of Bipolar that you will give it the attention that it needs....and if you love someone with Bipolar you might understand them better.

Even with being in a rather stable place lately, if I look back over the last few weeks...I know that there's still some of the 'normal' fall gunk permeating my heart....clouding my mind...and I am fighting again. It's so hard to explain to others. I know it must get confusing at times for my close friends, for my family, for my husband. The internal battle that they might not fully understand, that I try to explain. How can someone seem so together and yet not?  How can someone seem so confidant and insecure at the same time? How can someone have such a distorted view of self? That is Bipolar. It robs you of security and swings you back and forth between all of your emotions. It makes you doubt everything you think you know.  

 But we are more than our diagnosis. We are more than a label.  Nobody is just right, nobody has it all together. We all struggle differently....we all have areas in our lives that are not perfect.  Some of us just have a name that's been tacked on.

I used to have people in my life that made me feel like if I just focused on Christ enough....I wouldn't cycle to depression. That if I said the right formula of prayer that I wouldn't cycle to depression. That if my faith was grounded enough that I wouldn't cycle to depression. I know that I bought into that. It's what caused me to survive without medication for so long. And it's what also caused me to want to hide my diagnosis. Now, I see having bipolar as this. It is a reality that is, but it does not define me. I must be vigilant and diligent. Vigilant in allowing myself to learn all of the idiosyncrasies of this disease and diligent to care for myself so I can be as healthy as possible.

So you might wonder how I can know that I am fighting the spiral of depression. There are a lot of signs and they vary among people, but for me?  I become aware of the following things first: I lack energy and have decreased activities levels all while having extreme sleeping problems. I begin to forget things--even words as I am saying them and it is difficult to concentrate. I often find myself worrying about things and lacking self confidence. I become easily overwhelmed, especially with decisions and doubt myself--even my value.

Different things can be helpful treatment for this. And each of us are different. What works for one person might not work for another. For me, I've found that there are several things needed in order for me to be as healthy as possible. Medication is key.  It keeps my brain firing as properly as possible. Therapy at different times in my life has been life saving. Being able to process with an 'outsider' is very healthy. Self strategies have been extremely helpful. Knowing your triggers and how to work through your emotions is important. For me that is often writing and getting out all of the crap that is inside of me. Taking every ugly, painful thought that wants to permeate my mind and writing it down helps me not just process but move beyond the mess.  Meditating and prayer are effective ways of staying calm and focused and finally singing fills my heart with joy and that helps combat the sad.

Today in church, I had the privilege to help lead worship and one of the songs was perfect timing as a reminder for me. The chorus says, 'You're a good, good God, it's who you are, it's who you, it's who you are and I'm loved by you, it's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am.'

I am grateful that I have a very supportive husband and family as well as close friends. Who help me process and allow me space when I need it. Who might not always know what to say or how to help but who do not judge me. They understand that Bipolar disorder is not who I am...it is simply something I have. I am more than my diagnosis.

I am loved.

And that's all I need today.

We Kneel

i'm holding onto every fiber of hope i have left

that we can change
that we want to

but i must admit

i see thoughts being written
of being 'woke'
but they're still sleep

the mission ahead
the protest
is not about poverty or city
is not about 'welfare'
or even no daddies

it is about the hatred
that permeates

cuz guess what
people of color have jobs,
they have homes,
they have daddies that love them
and education too

and yet they can still be gunned down
beat bloody
trigger pulled
but nobody pulled it

because they are scary
because they looked like that
because they walked away
because they played in a park
because they helped their client
because they held up their hands
because they could not breathe
because they were not white.

so please
you do not help
thinking you sound so woke
by saying

they kneel

because things in the inner city are rough
and things in their life might be tough

they kneel

because their daddies don't read them books
and their mommies lie, steal and hook

they kneel

because they receive food share and aid
and they can't teach their kids to behave

they kneel.....

because
over and over again they die.

and you're too busy with your hand over your heart

to see
to believe
you percieve
disrespect
and say 'shame on them'
but really 'shame on  you'

as you continue to argue and fight
tsk tsk cuz you're right
i mean why can't they see
really....how bad can it be?

and another man dies
and another cop lies
and another mother cries

and you're too busy with your hand over your heart
while

we kneel.

That's what I got today.

Struggling to Love

Love.


I've been thinking a lot about that word recently.


It's such a popular word really...
Songs tell us all about love


All you need is love...
Love will keep us together...
Can you feel the love tonight...
I will always love you...




It's such a powerful word really...
We tell others about our love for them


Our parents,
Our partner
Our children
Our friends


It's also. Well it's a confusing word.
Because I've been taught to love my enemies.
And right now I feel like there are a lot of enemies out there.
And while it's true that I do not love them...
It's truer yet...that I don't know that I want to.


In the past years...as my own sons have grown up and become black men...I've shared many blogs and social media posts about my fear for them.  This fear likely sky rocketed in 2012 when George Zimmerman killed Trayvon Martin.  I remember being so pissed that he wasn't arrested. We hadn't even gotten to the 'not guilty'...I was already heated from the fact that there was even DEBATE about whether or not George should have been arrested?  I lost many Facebook friends during that time. Really it's just continued....and seriously, I can't bring myself to care.


What has continued is an onslaught of people of color not just being gunned down by the police...but nobody giving a damn.  I know there are people that care. Please hear me. I see it around me, I have friends who I love that support my family and me.




But somehow over and over....police officers are not held accountable.
And somehow over and over....people continue to condone this.
And somehow over and over....systematic racism continues to thrive.
And somehow over and over....my distrust of others grows.




I've had a blog....an angry...full of cuss words blog...rattling in my head for days....and I've begun and deleted...begun and deleted.  And I realized all I had today was this.....




Colin takes a knee
And people lose their shit
Please be more like Martin
Well Martin? He got killed.


Stand up you no good n***er
Don't you have respect
No sir not for you
But you can't seem to connect


That the need to bring to light
The dismissive way POC die
Should make us stop and ask
How come you don't care why?


Prisons are full of people of color
In disproportionate numbers
The system is either broken or not for them
Doesn't it make you wonder?


And if not, why?
Why don't you care
Could be it be somewhere deep inside
There's racism living there?


I am threw with conversations
With trying to educate
Folks who do not care to understand
And only try to agitate


Because I have children I love
Who are struggling with those
That come against their well being
That pretend and pose


And I am struggling to love
Everyone I meet
It's hard to stay in my lane
When I only want to flee.


The anthem, the flag, blah blah blah
Are only a smokescreen
Meant to distract
Meant to alarm


So I'm struggling to love my neighbor
I'm struggling to see
Just how am I supposed to do it
When they aren't behaving neighborly?


So my circle is getting smaller
of the people that I trust and believe
But I'm learning to love them deeper
And right now that's all I need.




And that. Is all I got today.

We've Got a Groovy Kind of Love

A glance in a club
And numbers exchanged
Back in the day
That was how it got played

If he called would I answer
Would it go anywhere?
Over 20 years later
The answer is clear but

Love isn't what I thought it was
Fireworks? Oh my
If I waited on those daily
It would be a very very short ride.

It's not always making nice
And it isn't pretending
It doesn't always make sense
But we pray there is no ending

There were children and setbacks
And dreams set aside
There was worry and fear
There can be things we hide.

Sometimes love is buried
Deep down inside us
We struggle to show it
We allow pride to guide

Sometimes love is messy
And sometimes it is broken
Sometimes we neglect it
And forget to stay connected

Sometimes there's forgiveness
For hurts that cut quite deep
Sometimes there's understanding
Even if it seems quite brief

Sometimes you see the other
As they really truly are
The person they're becoming
And who they've left behind

Love is leading
And love is following too
It's rolling up your sleeves
Because there's work to do

It's knowing the truth
Before it is even said
It's allowing the other
To stay our lover and friend.

To have and to hold
Means so much more
20 plus years later
When you've had to endure

Being hurt by the other
Being left all alone
Being forgotten, neglected
Feeling like you can't win.

But you're also rejoicing
As you've bathed in forgiveness
Because you've rebuilt trust
Dealt with unfinished business

And the person across from you
Who's connected to your soul
Will continue to be by your side
As your story unfolds....

That's what I got today.......

I'm Unwritten

So it's been 6 weeks since becoming empty nesters.  I'd spent so much of the past year anxiously anticipating this season of life.


Sometimes excited.
Sometimes exhausted.
Sometimes.  Quite frankly terrified.


I've been excited because, well, it's exciting to see your children becoming adults. It's not even about them doing everything right...but just the simple fact that they are making adult choices with adult consequences.  They are making dreams they talked about for years become reality. When I look back on pictures of my kids....I quite often tear up. There's a special kind of love that fills your heart when you think back on those crazy toddler days of three full throttle boys....or the emotional angst of a pre-teen girl. But I've learned there's also something special about watching them fly.

I've been exhausted because, well, it's exhausting to do all that there is to get to the season of empty nesters. Thinking about it now makes me tired!!  Diapers, Field trips, birthday parties, concerts, chauffeuring, sporting events, sporting events, sporting events, bonus kids moving in, bedrooms moving around, buying dresses for dances, renting tuxes, staying up with sick kids, 5 kids getting their license, 5 kids graduating, 5 kids heading to college, praying, praying, praying. But man....what a season. What an immense privilege.

I've been terrified because, well, it's terrifying to think about Marlon and I as empty nesters....you see, we've never been here. We've never had an empty nest. We had 3 children before we got married....that's an another blog for another day...but the just of it is that we've never been alone. We've never been just a couple.  I've never been just a wife.  And I know we are still parents and that our kids still need us and we still have a close relationship. But as for the day to day of life....THIS has never been. And I can't lie...my anxiety is on 10...because I so don't want to be one of those couples that falls apart because there they realize the kids were the glue and they've grown apart. I'm not trying to sound cryptic or negative.... I'm being honest about my fears. I love this man with all that I have to give....the beautiful broken mess that I am.  And I want to grow old and grey together. (well, the grey has already begun.)

So now that the last of the last has flown the coop....and the excitement, exhaustion and fear have had time to marinate for a bit....what have I learned?

1. I've been reminded how much I enjoy my husband's company. He's currently working 3rd shift and started school for mechanical engineering. He is tired and busy and has much on his plate.  And he is doing all that he can to stay afloat and maintain. So we've tried to carve out time...even if it's just vegging on the couch for an hour. And just sitting there, alone, in each other's presence?  Is important. We've made Friday nights our 'out to eat' night and taken time to try new restaurants and stay out later than we have in a longggggggggg time. I am so looking forward to our 20th anniversary in January when we plan to take a few days away together.

2. I've come to realize just how much I short change myself. I question so many things about myself  as a woman, still so much. I did not question myself as much as a parent because I felt much more confidant in that area of my life.  But at 46. As an educated, professional woman. I still am so insecure. I still doubt my abilities and my skills. I struggle  vanity, self image and inner turmoil. I let my doubts have too much power at times and I forget that I have an arsenal of people who are there to support me.

3. I've been reminded that I enjoy my own company as well. I remember that there would sometimes be an hour here or there....when the house was quiet and everyone was sleep and I could just sit and watch what I wanted and eat what I wanted. Even an occasional weekend where the boys and Marlon might go away for a tournament and I would have moments to myself.  But now there is plenty of time to do that and it doesn't have to be stolen moments.  I can just sit. And read and write. And dream. And be.

4. I've come to understand that I likely will not ever fully stop missing that mommy phase. If I think back to those days....it makes me smile. Marlon and I might bring up a memory and we both will laugh as we reminisce, so cemented in our memories...often seeming just like yesterday. I see littles all around me and my heart just fills as I envision my kids at those ages and joy (and sometimes pain) it was during those stages. It was special and good. I like remembering.

5. I've discovered that I can hold the excitement AND the fear and still embrace each day full of hope and anticipation of good and ready to conquer whatever life throws at us because Marlon is my partner and my friend as well as my husband. And when we get off track....we must get back on.  When we hurt the other....we must forgive.  When we feel defeated....we must remember that the other has our back.  And we can't stop working at our marriage and focusing on the other. We must invest in each other as much as ourselves. And well, quite frankly we need to remember to follow Uncle Jerome's advice to help heal almost all marriage issues at their core. That's prayer and sex by the way. And yes he came right out and told us this. And yes there were other people in the room. Might as well put it all out there.

6. Finally....even though #2 is so very real....on the flip side I am also getting my mojo back. I am excited to invest in myself...to make myself a priority....to focus in on just what I want to spend my time doing for the NEXT 46 years or at least until grandchildren come! What can I do different and better?  I am finding out that the best is yet to come because the next part of my journey really is unwritten (cue Natasha Bedingfield) and that is exciting!! I am hopeful. And I'm ready.







Six weeks. Just the beginning.

That's what I got today.



A Time and a Place

There's a time and a place
Where hopelessness lives
in the deepest of heartache
and the moment of fear.


Fear of a life that is never enough
Fear that your best will not measure up
Anxiety hits and paralyzes but
What is the result of just giving up?


The life that you fear?
Of losing it all?
It becomes your truth
And we accept it cuz


We forget to trust in hope and a future
We flounder around unable to believe that
Our past is the past
And it does not have to define us


We can understand our thoughts and actions
We can choose to stop and turn around
We can decide to write a new story
We can seek to find help when we stray
We can fight to survive another day


There's a time and a place
Where hope can grow
If we give it permission to live.
It will fill us with calm
and a deep sense of peace
If we give it permission to be.




That's what I got today.

Hold My Earrings....

So last night was the North vs.South game. I had a football boy graduate from South in 2014. I sat in those stands for years. Full fledged fan. I had a football boy graduate from North in 2017. I didn't sit in those stands as  many years, but I was full fledged fan when I did.

So last night I decided I would go back and forth between the two sides.

South--I have absolutely no kind words to say about the head coach. But. Izzy's lil bro and our extra son Mason plays for South. So I had to cheer for him.

North--I respect the head coach. But. I'm not really connected to any of the players like I am Mason.

So I wore some Bearcat gear to represent my son's college team and planed to sit back and forth between the stands.

I'm sitting between a bunch of South fans. Some of which I know.  And I'm cheering for Mason. And occasionally small, silent cheers when North does something noteworthy.

There's this athlete on North who is pretty good. Makes a lot of big plays. Last night defensively he made a few right in a row--defending the same player on South. And so his name happened to be said a few times back to back by the announcer. As a result, the North student section began one of high school sports standard chants,

'Whose your daddy!  Whose your daddy!  Whose your daddy!'


Now for those who don't know, this basically, in general terms means, 'He just schooled you, he just put you in your place as a father would. You are his son.'

'Whose your daddy! Whose your daddy! Whose your daddy!'

And a South fan...grown ass man....no clue who he was or how he was connected, called out (not loud enough for everyone--but loud enough for the section around him), 'Does he even know who his daddy is?'  Light laughter from the others, good ol' laugh from him.

Let me add. This player is black.

And without hesistation, because I've decided uncomfortable for others or not, I am no longer letting even the slightest bit of racial stereotype, discrimination, IGNORANCE to be ignored around me, I turned around and said, 'What the hell does that mean?'

To which there was a small giggle.  (ps. It is a pet peeve when grown men giggle, especially when they've just been laughing and gettin their hee-hee on...like a toddler who has been caught misbehaving)

'Seriously, why the fuck would you say that?  Because I know that young man. And you have absolutely no valid reason to say that......do you?  (pause) Or do you?'

To which there was awkward, uncomfortable silence.

'I know any further jack ass comments are gonna make things pretty ugly. I suggest you wait until I move around next quarter.'

To which there was aversion of the eyes.  Seriously?

So. Livid.

Confused as to why so livid? I know some of you will get it. And I know some won't.

Are there POC (people of color) single mothers? Yes.  I am not denying those statistics exist.

However, I do believe those statistics are skewed.

Most racial breakdowns of single mothers are in the following categories: Asian, African American, Hispanic, and non-Hispanic whites. Because actually Hispanic is not noted on most forms as a race to choose. It is an ethnicity to say you are or aren't.

But I digress. Sorry the sociologist in me sometimes can't turn off.

So re-read the categories if you need to.

Did you catch it?  What they did there? Did you?

Someone like me.....who was a single mom....but am white-hispanic....I'm gonna get tossed in the Hispanic category.  But I was also a white single mom.  But I 'boost' the Hispanic category by clicking the Hispanic box.

Why?  Have you thought about why this exists?  Have you cared?  Might it be so we can continue to perpetuate the lie that there are virtually NO black fathers around?  No Hispanic fathers around?Because that statistic is often also the statistic used for fatherless children (which it often is).  But I know many single mothers who did not marry the bio dad, but he is still an engaged and partnership parent with his children.

Also, what about the "minority" kids who have white mommies?  Do those mommies get a pass from the stereotype because of the color of their skin? Do those kids get considered in the category as a minority kid without a dad? Or are they left out of that statistic...and the stereotype because of their white mom?

I can tell you they don't get left out of the discrimination.

Words matter.

And that man....fine, you might try to argue that he might not have even realized how incredibly ignorant and racially charged his comment was.  I am not sure how....but there are still white people who say, 'I don't see color...I don't have a racist bone in my body....I didn't own slaves.' ....but I would be willing to bet money, seriously THOUSANDS of dollars that if that athlete had been white?  THAT is not the comment that fan would have made.

He might have said a hundred other things as a salty fan, but not...

'Does he even know who his daddy is?'

And if you are honest with yourself....in the still space of your heart....where you aren't defensive, justifying and denying....I would also bet that you believe that too.

Don't be afraid of that.  You might be becoming just a little more woke.

That's what I got today.

For me.....

It's funny to me how we are all wired.


I see some who choose not to engage with what is happening in the world around them.
I see some who would prefer to live in a bubble.
I see some who think all we need to do is pray.
I see some who think it's someone else's fault.
I see some who think if we just got rid of _____________ we'd be ok.



Indifferent.
Afraid.
Angry.



People hate the people who hate the people who hate.


Are there clear or blurred lines regarding humanity?
Does freedom of speech trump freedom?
Or living?
Are we offering passes for the 'good guys'
Are we closer to understanding privilege yet?


For me, it does not.
For me, disdain is not hate.
A desire to see equity for ALL people to live
is more important that someone getting to carry a torch.
For me, if you don't see that connection?
Well, then I don't know what to say.


If you were raised with hate, you will likely hate.
If you were raised with fear, you will likely fear.
If you were raised to love, you will likely love.


But
Why do some equate love with doing nothing.
Why do some equate love with "playing nice".
Why do some equate love with looking the other way.
Why do some equate love with pretending to keep the peace.


For me, that is not love.
For me, love is not fear.
A desire to see authentic love that allows others to live
is more important than clinging to 6 verses.
For me, if you can't open your mind or heart,
Well, then I don't know what to say.


I have no desire to 'make' anyone see or understand or grow
I have no desire to debate willful ignorance.
I once social media argued to exhaustion
the truth of Jim Crow and mass incarceration of black men.
With someone who wouldn't watch 13th.
With someone who wouldn't read the New Jim Crow.
With someone who didn't believe statistics.
With someone who thought their high school history book from the 80s was sufficient info.
Looking back...this, to me, was wasted time and energy.
Not because it wasn't true.
But, for me, if a person isn't receptive to grow in understanding.
Then I will no longer force the issue.
I'm cool to love you from afar.
And I do wish you well.


There is so much to learn.
But not everyone wants to be a student.
It is hard to change.
And not everyone wants to be a teacher.


I don't have all the answers.
I have never claimed to.
But I also admit this.
I accept it.
There is much to learn.


We are all wired different.

So I must engage with what is happening in the world around me.
So I cannot live in a bubble.
I do believe we need to pray, but we must ALSO act.
I think it's all of our faults.
I can't imagine life without the _____________ that others want gone.


Sometimes I can't sleep at night.
Sometimes I sleep well.
Sometimes I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Sometimes I stand tall.


And sometimes I write about it, in moments I'm tired of being about it
Because I am weary and human.
And I take a deep breath, roll up my sleeves
Because there is so much work to do.


That's what I got today.

The final chapter which is the new beginning....

I've been sitting on the this last chapter.....this chapter that has led me to my current place....I'm not sure why.  Then the Nashville Statement came out.


I'm not sure I'm a "Christian" anymore.  At least not as conservative Christians are concerned. 


I'm not sure I want to be "Christian" anymore. At least not as it's identified by many--it seems it's not about love.


I love God. I see His beauty and creation all around me. He's in the breeze I feel when I am sitting on the back patio feeling melancholy....a reminder that he is there. It's in the majestic sunset...giving me hope that tomorrow is a new day. It's in the faces of the people around me....each so unique and beautifully messy.


I love Jesus. His message of LOVE is what I desire to pattern my own love after. His unconditional love....his challenging the religious leaders of the day for their rigid and self-serving law....his meeting each one right where they were....his parables making me think and wonder and change.


I love people. They also make me incredibly frustrated and angry....but I love them. I have dedicated my professional career and personal life to serving others. To seeking ways to help and lighten someone else's load. To instill hope and bring joy. To love them.


I became a Christian late in life....as you might know if you've read the other chapters of my journey. And Elmbrook taught me that homosexuality was a sin.  Also, that you can "love the sinner, but not the sin". (that phrase isn't anywhere in scripture by the way)  When I worked at the Mission, I had to sign a statement that I agreed homosexuality was a sin and that marriage was to be only between a man and a woman.  I know of many women who were counseled to denounce their homosexual lifestyles and that they couldn't be a Christian if they were 'living in sin'.


Much of this teaching was based on 5 or 6 verses. And I was taught that they CLEARLY spelled out that homosexuality was a sin and at some point transgender and bisexual individuals were tossed in as well.  When I pushed back against this....I had no basis other than my own internal gut. So often I would get shut down by the 5 or 6 verses.  I could have dug deeper and done my own reading/studying but I didn't. How careless of me.  How privileged of me.  To not be sure that I fully agreed with a teaching....but to remain silent because I wasn't quite sure how to express my thoughts in a way that had anything more than an emotional response to my internal questioning.


A little over a year ago someone shared a blog post on social media and I don't remember who, but it was regarding homosexuality and sin and Christianity. The Bible Does Not Condemn Homosexuality Adam Phillips) It definitely peaked my interest. Because my wary over the overly emphatic 'the bible is very clear' about these 5 or 6 verses....was suddenly spelled out.  The 'bible is very clear' language justified slavery for over 200 years.  The 'bible is very clear language' also justified genocide of the native people to this land when Europeans arrived here.


So I studied those 5 or 6 verses. A little history. I purposely sought out articles and research from both sides. A look at words and meaning.  5 or 6 verses out of over 30,000.


And....


Well, I don't have all the answers. Just like you don't either.


But I do not believe that anyone can say, 'the bible is clear and I fully understand it'


Theologians and men and women who are well versed on scripture....who put my limited knowledge to shame.....can not agree. And not just on this issue. On many.


So if I remove those 5 or 6 verses as THE verses telling me that I have the biblical authority to condemn homosexuals and homosexuality....what am I left with?  Nothing that makes me feel just in condemning anyone of the LGBTQ community. And not condemning anyone who loves and supports anyone of the LGBTQ community.


I had so much more to write. So much in my heart and head to share about this part of my journey...what led me to become a part of a church community again albeit rather different than the traditional Evangelical churches I've been a part of.


But none of those details really matter.


Because all that matters is that I am going to continue to love him and love others. I am going to continue to do the work I believe I've been called and gifted to do. I am going to continue to work on my own mess and do my best to live out loud each and every day.


And NOBODY gets to decide and tell me that I am not a Christian because I don't believe as they do.
 (even if I really don't care for that word anymore)


That's what I got today.

Chapter 10: Can you lose what you aren't sure you ever found?

I knew right away how exhausted I was.  I slept for what seemed like an entire weekend when I left.


I remember telling my husband that I didn't want to go to church for awhile. I just needed a break. For me, it had become hard to work where I worshipped because the job had taken some of my joy....and I had a hard time separating the two. I didn't know how long I would feel this way and I am grateful that my husband didn't press me and was willing to wait with me.


But as for feeling any experienced grief?  I didn't recognize it at first.  Maybe I just didn't want to.  Maybe because I was finally feeling free to shout, holler and be pissed....I was too busy doing all of that.


I didn't want to lose Jesus. He had been my sustainer.  But I sure as hell wanted to lose church.


What I wasn't ready for was the abandonment I felt from people I considered friends.  I did reach out. I texted. Sent inboxes. Even some ministry connection kind of things regarding my new position.


Crickets.


It made me so sad, because I wondered how I had been a part of abandoning others who had left---and most not of their own choice. Why hadn't I been intentional about reaching out? Sending a card? Scheduling a coffee date? So I also had understanding, even though I was hurt, because I knew from experience that there was likely a spin/or  new narrative being written even in my absence. It likely wasn't kind or flattering and quite honestly, like wasn't true.  And I would find out years later that those assumptions were correct. It also made me frustrated every time a new situation revealed itself. My son's request for a Pastor letter of recommendation that went unanswered...even after sending it several times...even after including the assistant.  Not being told no. Just flat out being ignored.  Inboxes from people telling me I should delete statuses I made because they might make others think negatively of the church. Inboxes from people telling me that I had a loud voice and should be careful how I chose to use it politically. (this really pissed me off after the whole 'NOBAMA' pills.) I almost responded 'F#&! you!' to that person but instead just ignored it.  Stuffed it really.


I realized that all of this was making the thought of returning to church difficult to imagine.


I occasionally read my bible. I started to sing again.  I still prayed. But I was wary. And weary.


I wandered around like this for about a year or so.  Being totally fine not in community and yet even though I did not desire it like that....I missed community as well. 


I am grateful at the time that I worked with women who loved to pray, loved to hug and were my sisters.  They sustained me.  There were life affirming and yet challenged me. I hope that they might say the same of me.


An acquaintance of ours was a Pastor at a church that was nothing like the previous. It was small and seemed harmless. I do not mean that in a disrespectful way at all. Harmless in that because he was a friend and Marlon and I had shared some of our hesitation to 'church' again....he assured us that we were welcome to come and visit--share--join--whatever need be. There would be no pressure to get involved. And there wasn't. It was freeing.


We started out small....attending on occasion...participating.  Soon we were there on a regular basis.  Soon after that I was helping to lead worship. Soon after that Marlon led communion. Soon after that we were leading Men and Women's Bible Study.  There was much kindness there.  And we were welcomed with open arms.  But I always knew they were not our people.  And I always knew the women there were not my flock to lead.  There were too many sarcastic jokes at other's expenses...rigid thoughts about homosexuality and race...I found it harder and harder to just be.  And it was not anyone's fault....


I did my best to enjoy church.  But I couldn't.  Not like that.


While all of this had been happening....I was simultaneously beginning to struggle again at my job. The rules (while they did make sense) did not allow me to continue relationship/friendship with the women I was meeting. I was not in agreement with all of the theology that was being preached and taught in class. I loved the ladies. I still loved my coworkers.  But I was beginning not to stand behind or love the mission. So I knew that my time there would be coming to an end as well. It occurred to me that it might be time to just work. Not in ministry. Not at a church. Not anywhere Christians claimed to be. Spring of 2016 I left the shelter for a 'in the gap' position. I knew it would an interim to what would come next. But it was an on time job. It paid well, I set my own schedule, and we used words like 'significant other' and 'culturally appropriate'. 


But I found myself worried a lot.  And sad a lot. And frustrated a lot. Add in that the country was going mad killing black men?  And my nest was quickly becoming more empty?


I was lost and a mess.  I had lost my religion....honestly, beginning to wonder if I ever
had even found it. Everything and nothing made sense.


That's what I got today.

Chapter 9: Freedom?

I began the 6 months between May and November with a lot of prayer, hiding out in select few offices and laying low....also, with living out Jesus as loud as I could while I attempted to conduct myself as 'normal' as I could. It was the only way to stay sane because it was emotional torture to not share with my closest confidantes that I was leaving.


What's crazy is that I found out after the fact that a couple of people had been told....but not by me....so the beginning of my false narrative began before I even had been given permission to tell it.




I began praying for the right place to come to me. I missed the city. I missed working with a diverse staff. I spent a lot of time with a mentor. I remember saying to him, 'I don't know what to do. I've been released but I haven't been called.' He assured me that I would find my place where I could fully be me and use all of my skills and abilities. I did my best to avoid any and all conversation that led too directly to future planning, yet still provided my opinion regarding fall prep, after all, I had no place to go at that point and I wasn't sure when I was leaving.  It felt so wrong--not telling. And yet, for some reason, I didn't say anything.


Summer was the very best because I had previously been given permission from my boss to run a community camp, a camp I had named 'Camp Intersect'.  This had been my baby and allowed me reprieve from so much of the chaos and crazy I began to feel around me. I partnered with another agency and together we put on a wonderfully sweet camp in Roberta Park in Waukesha. We passed out some flyers....showed up...and grew in numbers as the three weeks went on. It was a safe haven for me and I was so grateful for this break. It also stirred my heart for God's people....the people who didn't step inside a church...the people who didn't know the 'right' answers or wear the 'right' clothes....the people who didn't care what other people thought and weren't trying to appease anyone.




Mid summer I felt called to include a few close people as I prayed for a job.  I chose 5 people, only one from Children's Ministry, to bring into the loop the details of my meeting in May and my desire to be gone by November. In the midst of turmoil....I trusted. God had told me to stop putting the square in the circle. I KNEW the right job was going to come.


And a few weeks later, my dear friend came to me and said she had something to tell me but she didn't want to. She had run into an old coworker from a job she had in Milwaukee many years before. And that old coworker let her know about a full time position at the Christian women's shelter she used to work at. I will always remember that moment. Because it was my life line. A position in the city combining living breathing Jesus to families and my social service experience.  I emailed my resume immediately.  It was odd really, my cover letter basically explained that this was a long shot because I didn't even know the name of the position they were hiring for, but to please consider me because God had told me to stop putting the square in the circle :)  Looking back, it sounds ridiculous!!  But I could only be honest.
While I could not tell my coworkers, volunteers and families....I was very closely meeting with our staff coordinator/HR. While I was being told to keep the secret of my leaving and my new boss seemed totally fine, actually even encouraged keeping that secret.... I was not comfortable and did not know exactly how to navigate this transition.  I was given good advice that applying at and interviewing for other positions did not have to be shared--even with HR because that was not an official job offer that was leading to me giving notice. I was under no obligation to keep anyone informed of my plans or other opportunities I was pursuing. I agreed and smiled.  Because I knew. I don't know how, but I knew. I knew I was going to get this job.


And so I began to plan for November in my heart and mind.


Leaving the staff?  That was easy. Little by little I had already been leaving....but leaving the children that I loved so....as well as the families and volunteers I had come to care for? That was going to be hard.


And then it came. The job offer. And the exact right fit for the exact right time.


I gave my 2 week notice and then told the other people that were important to me. That needed to know prior to the people being told.


It was a whirlwind 2 weeks. There was much to do and much I wanted to do to leave well.  I did not have fake conversations with people who I knew either did not care I was leaving or smiled smugly at me. I don't do smug. I causes me to either be petty or aggressive.....so I try to stay away at all costs.  There were definitely difficult good byes and many people I would miss greatly. I had close connections with a lot of people and while I was honest that I would likely stay away for a bit....I truly thought there'd be a good handful of folks who would continue to be my friends.


I was thrilled and overjoyed and could taste freedom.


Freedom from the dying I realized had been happening the past 3 years.


My last day was November 18th, 2011.  Six months.


I cried my whole way home.  I had done it. I had finished well.  And I thought I was free.


Little did I know what I was still needing to learn....and while I was free from the place?  I most definitely was not free from the trauma.


That journey was just beginning.


That's all I got today.

Chapter 8: November came.

If it seems like something is missing in the story as you read certain chapters, I encourage you to go back and read from the start. I truly am going somewhere here. I'll get there. I just could not go forward without first going back. I am not sharing to shame anyone or honestly not even to blame anyone. These chapters tell the story of what was. And what is. I am truly grateful for every bump and bruise along the way....they are MY scars and I wear them proudly.


As we headed into the spring of 2011 there was a change for me. In talking with many others---some who can speak out, some who aren't allowed to speak out and some who won't speak out--I have since found that many others felt the same. A change.


It was so hard.


Suddenly there were more closed door conversations. Less eye contact. Withdrawn or closed off body language.  For me? It solidified the beginning of the end.  Perhaps because I spent so much of my late teens and early 20s living in secret----my drinking, my bulimia, my domestic violence relationship, my promiscuity....I refused to live in secret. Especially at a job. Especially at my church. And recognizing that the church I was loved so....people I had trusted so....were being secretive and sketchy in their behavior. Was troublesome.


I was praying. Often. And I felt like I wasn't hearing any kind of answer from God. So I stayed put.


Talk came of change. And restructuring. And a new org chart. Most folks were either very excited. Or very nervous. I was hesistant to be either.  And in my sometimes creepy way....I knew what was to come before I was told.  (seriously, you can ask those close to me. Almost every single change that was made....I shared with a few.) 


I knew my boss would go. I felt it in my bones. And I struggled with that. There was so much stress. So much pressure. A few of us had gone seeking help, clarity. I began to feel like our words were being used not in the way we intended. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that I had any part in sneaky and backhanded behavior.  And because there seemed to be this 'justified' reason....just like that she was gone.  I can not and will not tell her story because it is not mine to tell. I can only share from my perspective what it meant and how it affected me. While others told stories of abandonment and 'how could she'....I knew with every fiber of my being that there was more to the story. And I don't believe it was just. And I don't believe it was life giving.  I still and will always believe that.


And I was praying. Often. And I felt like I wasn't hearing any kind of answer from God. So I stayed put.


As a staff we were encouraged to put in our requests....because we were basically 'applying' for our jobs again. And if there were other places that we'd like to pursue, other areas that we'd like to be considered for...this was the time to do so. This caused me great pause and uneasiness.  And in the midst of a pre planned trip to California I knew exactly how the ministry I was in would change. Nobody told me. Nobody had to. Discernment is not always a welcomed spiritual gift. It is often misunderstood and often scoffed at. It's ok. Those of us with that gift....we understand. 


But I was glad for the opportunity to possibly change areas. And that's what I did. Asked to move to another area. Or split my time between two different ministries. I submitted my request. 


And One by one...meetings were held. People weren't just being moved to different areas....some were being let go. I get downsizing. I do. I once took a year severance package to leave a job because of downsizing. But even that for profit organization had been clear that downsizing was happening and offered the year package openly to everyone who might be interested in taking it....so that it wouldn't have to be harder than it was. This was not the case now.


There's so many emotions involved when you work where you worship. And this place consumes 24/7 of your time, energy, creativity, dreams...your friendships are based around them, your free time, your family life. I waited for my meeting. And while I hoped for the best....I felt in my spirit what I would be told.


And I was praying. Often. And it felt like I wasn't hearing any kind of answer from God. So I stayed put.


The day of my meeting came. I was prepared. My husband and I had processed, he had let me cry, I knew my heart. In my meeting, I was told that my job would stay exactly the same. I'd stay full time. My role and position would go unchanged. With smiles. And pride. And even a comment of how keeping me full time was fought for especially knowing my husband was out of work and I'd need insurance.  I am sure the two individuals I met with had good intentions. I honestly believe that.  But it made me sad because it meant that they did not know me at all. What was important and mattered to me. And in the middle of that meeting...I heard God audibly for the first time.


'You can stop putting the square in the circle.'


And I was able to very calmly and clearly let them know, 'Thank you, but no.' I assured them that I was able to give them 6 months and I would put in everything that I had....as I had been doing....for that 6 months. I knew this might be professional suicide and I knew that they might just ask me to leave, but it was time. I knew I was released.


I felt so free. And ready to conquer what was next. But like a cruel joke, I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. I was told that it wouldn't be fair to the team....my volunteers....that it wasn't the right time. And I hated that. But I obeyed.  It caused me so much inner turmoil...because suddenly I was the one keeping secrets. If I'm honest? I was pissed.  But there was still enough of me that was consumed by feeding into the 'team' narrative that I kept silent. Even from my closest and dearest confidants and friends. If that happened now, I'd say get the fuck outta here. Period.  The meeting was in May. And it would be the beginning of November before I would be allowed to say anything to anyone...when I was giving my two weeks notice.


But November came. And that's a story for another day. 


Because that's all I got today.

Chapter 7: Dual Personas

There is a strange phenomenon that occurs when you are living a double life.  I had already experienced this during my rock star vs. college-mom phase....I never thought that in my 30s this would again become a reality for me.  But there I was....simultaneously promoting Christ and dying. Not in the biblical way of 'dying to myself'....nope. Just plain old dying.


I felt as if I started to have dual personas emerging. One that put on the happy face and threw myself into my areas of ministry--striving to create a place for families and kids to feel safe and cared for and loved. To be themselves.  The other that struggled tremendously with anger and self preservation while struggling to seek truth and discover secrets. And in the midst of this?  My true self suffered. My mental health, my physical health and my soul.  I am not blameless. I stayed. I participated.  But I also must share that I prayed often to have the freedom to leave. I can honestly say that I didn't.


I'm so grateful for the few safe places I had to process and hide. Where I could fully be myself and express myself without fear of being shamed or silenced. Those places were few and far between and as time crept into my 4th and 5th year...it was harder and harder to know who was an ally.


My husband, who was a full time missionary at the time, often studied the bible in the library of the church. This particular day he was in the lobby on his blue tooth, talking on the phone. A Pastor, who also a friend, approached him in the lobby and kind of laughed when he got to my husband. He shared that a woman had come to the info desk and let them know that there was someone scary in the lobby talking to himself and waving his hands around.  I was so sad and angry.  My husband handled it better than I. I was so angry that this woman ASSUMED. But I think what made me move past anger into sadness was that as the story was shared...most did not see this as a reason to be upset....some even took a step further to tell me that I was overreacting. I mean, it OBVIOUSLY was not because he was black. Was I crazy?


An audio of a guest speaker at a Women's Event was brought to my attention by someone who did not attend the church. They had been at the speaker's session and heard the talk and asked me to listen to it for my opinion. The speaker was rude and dismissive and used derogatory slang regarding different people groups. I listened to it several times and I asked 2 people in charge to please review it, listen specifically for some of the questionable language/ideology and could we at least consider adding a disclaimer 'the church does not share in this viewpoint". I was called into one office first and chastised for wasting time because there was nothing questionable. I shared that someone had been so upset they had left the session and I was informed that the person likely needed to be a little less sensitive and they were likely not spiritually mature. I was then pulled another office and told that it had been listened to and now it was time for me to let go and give it up. I was also told that I needed to learn to be quiet because I was seen as a firecracker who liked to start stuff. I informed her that if she meant that to make me feel shame....it did not work because I saw that as a compliment.  I was then told that being bold wasn't becoming.  My response was, I don't care about being "becoming" so I guess it's all good.


I was outright lied to by people who were in charge. People who told part of the story to some and another part of the story to others. If I would ask a question, the response was often something along the lines of, 'There's a lot you don't know. There are things I can't share but just trust that we know more.'  Um....are we suddenly okay with secrets and fear and hiddenness  as attributes to be celebrated?  Sometimes someone in power would ask questions that made you feel like there was a 'right' answer and you were being screened.  My problem is that if I didn't trust you or respect you? It was a wrap. I personally know at least 4 people, myself included that had an entire new narrative written for them after they left (or for some in the midst of being fired) I saw capable but flawed, dedicated people who loved Jesus and loved the church....being chewed up and spit out.


And I fought against feeding into it. But I know that I did. There's one person who was painted as weak. And I remember telling our team.  Something is up. There's something happening that we aren't aware of. This isn't healthy. There's more to the story. This person, like many others had been, was unraveling, weren't they? Did anyone else see it? I wish I could say that I was bold enough to speak up for all of these individuals, but I just couldn't. But  I would find out years later that it was all true and I know I share in responsibility. Did I speak up enough? Did I bury my head in the sand TOOO much? Where are the places I shared false narratives to be a team player?


And as all of this was happening....I was writing curriculum, coordinating volunteers, loving children and families....especially the 'unruly' ones who did not 'fit'.....struggling to keep my head above water....living with the tension that my husband had already left this church as his place of worship yet I had to be there every Sunday perpetuating a narrative that I no longer believed in.


My prayer life had never been stronger.
Music became cemented in my soul as a way to connect to God.
I spent some of the sweetest times with volunteers and the littles.
And I spent a LOT of time in the offices of a couple of people I fully trusted.
This all helped me survive.


It was a lot.  But it was preparing me for my last 9 months there.  Because I was about to hear God audibly for the first time in my life.


But that's all I got today.

Chapter 6.....3 years in led to 3 years out

This next part of my journey....man, I've written and rewritten it for weeks. It's what led to my decision to tell the ENTIRE journey thus far actually. I didn't totally have words for this season and it bought me a little time.


I again caution, because there are still people I love and who love me that worship in that place and have community in that place, do not read my journey as if I am somehow sharing what you should be doing with yours. But in the midst of secrets and smoke and mirrors and my story being told by others...I decided it was right and fine to tell my own story.... all of it.  In our liturgy today we talked about asking 'how did we get here?'  And it's funny because I know that's part of why I wanted, no needed to share.  I finally feel like I've gotten through some muck and am standing on solid ground for a bit.  And with a little distance and clarity I can see a little more clearly. 




So we went to the big non denominational church.  And it was a right fit at a right time.


I learned so many things about studying the bible there.
I met so many people who loved Jesus and believed in the power of prayer.
I learned so many ways to bring my faith into my daily life.
I discovered a lot about myself.
I truly embraced the idea that if I only love Him and love others so many things in my broken reality could be ok...and even if they weren't, they were.


We engaged quickly and became engulfed with classes and groups and teams and activities. We volunteered. We signed our kids up. We dove in.


We were different. But it was okay. Different such that we..... listened to different music. Disciplined our kids different. (if one more person tried to force me to 'Love and Logic') Celebrated holidays differently. But we found friends and a community.


We served in so many different areas. Children's Ministry, prison ministry, worship ministry, marriage ministry....we then progressed to leading groups, teaching classes, my husband became a full time stateside missionary.  I felt as if even though there weren't a lot of people like us...(PS I mean Mexican and Black by the way) it was ok because we were accepted and loved.


And then I joined the staff.  And my journey was about to change.


Because I would never look at Christians the same.


I knew I was in for trouble my very first week. I had come from a job where on my last day I couldn't leave when I was supposed to because I had to stay on the phone with my client---a young adult who had threatened to end their life--until the police came and I knew they were safe. And just a few days into this new job, I was at a table with co workers discussing camp for the following summer and an argument broke out regarding the color of the tshirt that was going to be chosen. A serious argument that had faces turning red and voices being raised. And I began to angry cry. (Angry cry, for those who don't know me, is what occurs when I am equally pissed and sad and have to choose between losing my cool in a potentially aggressive/violent way or burst into tears. When asked what was wrong, I had to slam my hand on the table and say that I couldn't believe just a week ago I was dealing with real issues and real problems and here we were arguing about the color of a fricken tshirt?????  A tshirt which incidentally a great many of us moms were not crafting into quilts or pillows or art but were cutting for rags or donating to Goodwill.  Please tell me this was not real life.


But. It was.  


Over and over I would find myself caught in these odd scenarios....real life 'What Would You Do' interactions....where my family and friends who were not a part of this church would ask me over and over 'how are you doing this?  how are you surviving?' And as this was occurring.....there were ugly secrets and lies...reputations smeared...questions posed in ways that made you feel there was a 'right' answer and if you didn't know what the answer was....you were suddenly not on the team.


Both. Became more than I could bear.


I struggled. And I fought with myself about what my role was.  I knew that I could not stay silent about things that weren't okay, but I really tired quickly, as did my husband, in being the 'voice' or 'face' to represent something.  Also there were times when I might bring something up and it was well received....doesn't mean they always agreed but that they were open to discussion, to finding out more about the different perspective.....and there were times where I could tell the people I was speaking with really just wished I would shut up and get in line.  (PS. I hate lines)  I can't do anything but give examples because I'm tired of being cryptic. So that's what I'm going to do.


Special week with a theme of Taking it to the Streets. That week. Was incredibly hard. So many little things, but to name two.... we got an email asking us to bring in garbage so that the stage could be decorated for the city.  No, no, no, no, no.  Also, beautiful, full color postcards had been printed as promo for the family meals that were offered that week. Those meals had come to be known as the diner....that year?  the Soup Kitchen. No, no, no, no, no.  Both times, I ran to my boss's office and slammed the door and hollered and cried and in her sweet, gentle way she talked me out of spitting on people and quitting. And she helped me find my voice to go and have hard conversations requesting that this not happen....explaining that not everyone saw this as ok.  The garbage email?  Well, that person did not like my critique.  I could tell by her face and body language. She smiled and said they were decorating for the city so of course that's where mind went first.  I assured her that the city is more than skid row and off the top of my head there's bus stops, parks, trees, food trucks, people, buildings...just to name a few.  The postcard?  Immediately production was stopped and new postcards were printed, with the name back to the diner.  The person took ownership that it had not even entered their mind that it might not be appropriate, but of course they could see how that was insensitive and thanked me for being bold to speak up.


There were so many situations like this. Unwed pregnant mom----she can no longer be a leader? Ok cool. But I'm not telling her that. That's gonna have to be one of you.  Young child on the autism spectrum too difficult or disruptive for large group, so can they stay back in the classroom? Yea, that's not about to happen. Sorry Charlie.  Over and over. I learned who I could trust and who to avoid. I knew who had authentic love for me and who 'tolerated' me.


3 years in...I knew I would have to leave.  I remember the day.  I had to leave early.  And it was the first time that I felt totally alone in that place.


It was the day Obama was elected. His first term. I had put up with a lot during campaign season. Snide comments. Inappropriate jokes. Sarcastic remarks. Things that were not appropriate at the work place...much less coming from Christians.  But that day. That day, a staff person came to work wearing black and carrying a 'joke' bottle of 'NOBAMA' pills.  And was walking around, offering them to people. And people were laughing.  And she was not checked.  And I knew I had to get out of there before she got to me because I could feel it rising in me....I would've put down my Jesus and knocked the shit outta her.  So once again, into my bosses office I went. I don't remember if I told her the truth of why I had to leave or not....because from there it was a blur.  Grabbing my bag, racing to the car and then sobbing uncontrollably the entire way home. Not because she didn't want Obama elected. Believe me, that place might as well have been the Republican headquarters, so I was used to Republican rhetoric being widely accepted as the 'right' way to think....but that nobody, to my knowledge, pulled her aside, made her put them away and corrected her behavior.  Man, I pray I'm wrong and at some point that conversation happened....but to my knowledge it did not.


And so my prayer began....God. Please release me.  But there would be three more years of reflection, growth, and change before that day would come.


That's what I've got today.