I have been sitting looking at this empty page on and off now for about 2 hours. I heard a wonderful sermon on Advent Hope this morning at 1st UCC Elkhart, I've read some wonderful Advent reflections over the past couple of days ... and yet I do not feel a flow of ideas that are forming themselves into words.
It isn't that I don't have hope. Hope is my fuel. Sometimes my tank runs low, but mostly I have enough to get where I need to go.
The ritual of Advent appeals to me, so there isn't a hurdle there. This year I am looking forward to adorning my small tree and setting up other Christmas decorations.
And still ... I can not find within me an inspiring reflection.
Here is what is rolling around in my head. It is a phrase from the Roman Catholic Mass. I was born and raised a Roman Catholic. Even though I am a Protestant now, my R.C. upbringing vibrates within me. Sometimes it vibrates in harmony, sometimes (tho rarely) it is the melody, sometimes it is discordant. What I have been hearing these last few days is a part of the Lord's Prayer. In the R.C. mass where I went to church the Lord's prayer was sung. Toward the end, just before "For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours, now and forever." there was a pause in the song when the priest says or sings this,
"Deliver us, Lord from every evil, and grant us peace in our day. In your mercy keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Saviour, Jesus Christ."
In the church where I grew up, after the priest sung this in his monotone style the organ music would swell and we would have a grand finish"
"For thine is the kingdom,
and the power,
and the glory
forever!"
Our organist was amazing. Amazing, I tell you!! And her voice was as big as the 40 acres of our farm. As we sang the "Our Father" we started out confidently though quietly. The song would build and then pause for the priest to pray for us - praying that we would be protected so that our joyful hope would not be blocked by evil and anxiety. Then ... the big finish ... glorious and exhilarating. Each and every week this happened for at least 3 years of my teenage life.
This is what stays with me, this glorious finish preceded by the calm yet fervent prayer that our joyful hope be not extinguished by evil or anxiety.
Oh God ... hear our prayer.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
In memory of Tiasha
Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. I have a memory that I'd like to share with you.
Nineteen years ago I met a beautiful woman who was funny, kind, and hard-working. I'll call her Tiasha. She worked for an organization at which I periodically volunteered. I also had a friend who worked for this organization. I'll call him Kevin.
Kevin identified as a straight white man. Tiasha identified as a straight black woman. I identified as an ex-gay white woman.
I didn't know Tiasha very well, but when I would call to talk to Kevin she was always quick to recognize me and to tease me lovingly saying that I had a sultry voice. I couldn't hear what she heard, but I loved that she was so easy-going and playful. Kevin seemed to enjoy working with her and spoke of her with some frequency. In our conversations I learned that she was periodically ill, more than seemed average.
I volunteered for this organization for about three years. It was in that third that Kevin called me in shock. Tiasha had died suddenly. Furthermore, he said, Tiasha wasn't Tiasha but actually was Norman. Kevin then said, "Norman died of AIDS."
I questioned why he was suddenly calling Tiasha he and Norman. Kevin said that Tiasha was a lie and that Norman was the truth. He wouldn't call Norman she or Tiasha. My heart sunk. I had no words to help me express what I was thinking, feeling, or reacting to. I had noone to help me think through this complicated scenario. Kevin seemed to think it was very simple. I knew that it wasn't.
Tiasha was Tiasha. I honestly believed, and still believe, that in most ways, I didn't know Norman. I had never met him. I had met and worked alongside Tiasha. She was great. I didn't feel betrayed, although I did feel sad.
First, I felt sad because this vibrant wonderful woman was suddenly dead.
Second, her family took her body and had a private funeral for "him." I asked about a memorial service for her and was told there wouldn't be one.
Third, she had AIDS. All those times she was sick and we didn't know why. For the more ignorant and paranoid, they thought she might have given them AIDS just by her presence with them. They were angry that she hadn't told them because they thought they had the right to protect themselves. Even then I knew that was ridiculous.
Fourth, she was being referred to now as he. How could they do that? Tiasha was clearly a woman. Even though the shape of her body was a surprise to us, what did it matter? It didn't change who she had been to us. The words that I heard them say about her prompted me to not volunteer there anymore.
At the time I was aware that some people had sex changes. As a young adult I had some interest in having a sex change, but for many reasons I didn't follow through. When I met Tiasha I was in the throws of full denial of my true self. I spent most of my energy trying to be a heterosexual woman, when in fact the best I could do was identify as ex-gay. I loved the joy and freedom that I found in Tiasha. I didn't know what to make of her having a male body, and I didn't have any names like transgender, mtf, or gender variant but I knew she was a woman to me no matter what anyone else said.
I wish I could say that I began my own exploration of my gender identity as a result of this, but that was yet to be a long time coming. When I did begin to chip away at my own self denial and wrestle with my own complicated gender identity, remembering Tiasha's story served both as a comfort and as a caution to me. The comfort was that I could know joy and freedom in who I am no matter who I am. The caution was that there are many many people who wouldn't understand and who wouldn't even try to understand.
For me, Tiasha is a stellar loving example of living life to the fullest and being as authentic as possible. Those who called her a life a lie break my heart.
Today I honor Tiasha for being who she was in every way. She is now one of the beautiful ancestors.
Nineteen years ago I met a beautiful woman who was funny, kind, and hard-working. I'll call her Tiasha. She worked for an organization at which I periodically volunteered. I also had a friend who worked for this organization. I'll call him Kevin.
Kevin identified as a straight white man. Tiasha identified as a straight black woman. I identified as an ex-gay white woman.
I didn't know Tiasha very well, but when I would call to talk to Kevin she was always quick to recognize me and to tease me lovingly saying that I had a sultry voice. I couldn't hear what she heard, but I loved that she was so easy-going and playful. Kevin seemed to enjoy working with her and spoke of her with some frequency. In our conversations I learned that she was periodically ill, more than seemed average.
I volunteered for this organization for about three years. It was in that third that Kevin called me in shock. Tiasha had died suddenly. Furthermore, he said, Tiasha wasn't Tiasha but actually was Norman. Kevin then said, "Norman died of AIDS."
I questioned why he was suddenly calling Tiasha he and Norman. Kevin said that Tiasha was a lie and that Norman was the truth. He wouldn't call Norman she or Tiasha. My heart sunk. I had no words to help me express what I was thinking, feeling, or reacting to. I had noone to help me think through this complicated scenario. Kevin seemed to think it was very simple. I knew that it wasn't.
Tiasha was Tiasha. I honestly believed, and still believe, that in most ways, I didn't know Norman. I had never met him. I had met and worked alongside Tiasha. She was great. I didn't feel betrayed, although I did feel sad.
First, I felt sad because this vibrant wonderful woman was suddenly dead.
Second, her family took her body and had a private funeral for "him." I asked about a memorial service for her and was told there wouldn't be one.
Third, she had AIDS. All those times she was sick and we didn't know why. For the more ignorant and paranoid, they thought she might have given them AIDS just by her presence with them. They were angry that she hadn't told them because they thought they had the right to protect themselves. Even then I knew that was ridiculous.
Fourth, she was being referred to now as he. How could they do that? Tiasha was clearly a woman. Even though the shape of her body was a surprise to us, what did it matter? It didn't change who she had been to us. The words that I heard them say about her prompted me to not volunteer there anymore.
At the time I was aware that some people had sex changes. As a young adult I had some interest in having a sex change, but for many reasons I didn't follow through. When I met Tiasha I was in the throws of full denial of my true self. I spent most of my energy trying to be a heterosexual woman, when in fact the best I could do was identify as ex-gay. I loved the joy and freedom that I found in Tiasha. I didn't know what to make of her having a male body, and I didn't have any names like transgender, mtf, or gender variant but I knew she was a woman to me no matter what anyone else said.
I wish I could say that I began my own exploration of my gender identity as a result of this, but that was yet to be a long time coming. When I did begin to chip away at my own self denial and wrestle with my own complicated gender identity, remembering Tiasha's story served both as a comfort and as a caution to me. The comfort was that I could know joy and freedom in who I am no matter who I am. The caution was that there are many many people who wouldn't understand and who wouldn't even try to understand.
For me, Tiasha is a stellar loving example of living life to the fullest and being as authentic as possible. Those who called her a life a lie break my heart.
Today I honor Tiasha for being who she was in every way. She is now one of the beautiful ancestors.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Fabulous Super Hero
Texts: Ephesians 6:10 – 18
and
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
from A Return to Love, by Marianne Williamson.
************************
We are between two holidays – Past is the mixed bag of Halloween, All Saints Day, and Day of the Dead. Ahead is Thanksgiving. The transition between these two holidays has been powerful for me this year. I keep connecting my thoughts of those who have made an impact on my life and have died, as I prepare myself internally for the upcoming harvest celebration. Maybe a part of this is because my mother died on Thanksgiving day. However, I think that more than that I am being influenced by what I am reading and the stories that people are telling me about their lives.
Thanksgiving, if we think of it as a harvest celebration from ancient times rather than an American holiday of dubious distinction, is a celebration of hope to get through the winter and gratitude to the earth and/or a deity for providing the sustenance.
All Saints Day is a time of honoring those who have died. It is a time of grieving but also of celebrating. We celebrate the impact that these people have had on our lives, how we have been nurtured by them and continue to be nurtured through their memories. In a way, this is another kind of harvest celebration. It is the harvest of a person's life feeding us and nurturing us.
For example, recently I found out that my friend Iyvie died this spring. She was not someone I knew for many years. We weren't close in the way that you hang out with someone. And I found out she died through a Google search. When examining these kinds of facts, one might say that she and I were not close. And yet, for the time that we were in each other's lives, which was brief and fairly isolated, we had an influence on each other. The influence that I had on her is hers to tell, but the influence she had on me, I can tell you, is profound. She helped me become strong and certain that I had gifts to share. She mentored my gifts of healing and she exuded an undeniable love that wasn't labeled Christian that I had to deal with. It was spirit love ... and at first I was suspect of her ways. Slowly though I came to put together the lesson from Matthew 7:15 – 20
"Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will know them by their fruits. “
... with Galatians 5:22 and 23 "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."
I looked closely at Iyvie's loving healing energies and incredibly accurate insight. I saw love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. She was a good tree producing good fruit. I had no reason not to eat the harvest of her love and healing. She walked in her power and she helped me learn to walk in mine. She also helped me deconstruct my narrow mindedness and judgmental attitude, although I'm not sure she knows she did that.
She produced a harvest that I am still enjoying. I can tell you stories of many others such as Anthony Hollins, Tom Douthett, my brother Rick, my mom Angie, and Glenn Walker. You can tell me of those in your life that have died but still nurture you today. I love these stories. Yes it is a sharing of grief but it is also a celebration relationship. These people have helped to make us who we are.
We have so much to be thankful for. Real things, and especially the loving people who have been in our lives. These people with whom we have shared our lives, however long and however deep, have changed us. There are lots of people who have influenced our lives in unhelpful, hurtful, and unloving ways. Too often these are the folks to whom we give our power and whose harvest we eat. I've had enough of that. I feel like I owe a debt to the good people in my life ... those whose trusted me, who put stock in me, and who cared for me. I want to live my life as a testimony to their love and to the abundance of their harvest that they offer me.
This is how I found myself mulling the text in Ephesians as well as the quote from Marianne Williamson. This power that we have been given as a gift from our Divine Beloved as well as the power that we have been bequeathed from those who have loved and nurtured us is challenging to tap into. We are told over and over that power equals things like money and authority over others. These voices crowd the voices of the Holy Spirit, the teachings of Jesus, and the love of the saints. I believe we have to learn to walk in our power and we have to be diligent about protecting ourselves from the forces that would scoff at us or try to redirect our attention to the things that we can't do rather than to the awesomeness of who we are.
We are awesome. We have powers that are more permanent and effective than money and authority. When we own this, we frighten those who want to make us believe that the fruits of the spirit are wimpy. The image of the armor of God reminds us that we are powerful and that we have something to protect. We have a harvest to share that is delicious, robust, and life-giving. I agree with Marianne Williamson that "As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." It is little by little. We may not see any miracles happening ... no demons being delivered ... but little by little is how revolutions begin.
I believe we need to live into our fabulousness, our brilliance, our gorgeousness, and our talent. We need to do this because according to Psalm 139 we are "fearfully and wonderfully made." We are made by God. How much more fantastic can we be?? If we do not live in our power and awesomeness, then we are discrediting God because we are God's good creation.
How can this not be true? Would we be instructed to put on spiritual armor if there wasn't something to protect spiritually? Our hearts are to be protected by a breastplate of righteousness. Our minds are protected by the helmet of salvation. Our feet are protected as we journey by the gospel of peace, which we are charged to proclaim. We are given a shield of faith with which we are to protect ourselves from the fiery arrows of the enemy – arrows that want to penetrate our confidence with doubt, that want to mock our gifts, that seek to discredit our power. The only thing in this armor that seems missing to me are the tights, otherwise this is perfect spiritual superhero attire.
Every life that we touch can be a life that we help to heal and sustain. Every struggle that we come up against is an opportunity to sink a little deeper into the reality of who we are in our souls. We all have battles. We all become frustrated, angry, and hurt. And we all are created wonderfully by a God who loves us. Furthermore, we all have a harvest from which we can nourish ourselves and a spiritual armor that is crucial to our good work and spiritual health.
I know that I expect a lot of myself and I often don't meet my own expectations. I have to protect myself from my own criticism. I think we all do.
This year the harvest I am giving thanks for is the legacy of love and the nourishing gifts of belief and hope that we have been offered by those who love us – those who are living as well as those who have passed on. I know longer want us to be small and quiet. Let's honor the gifts we've been given by God and by those put in our paths who love us by finding our strengths, sharing our gifts, believing in ourselves, and protecting ourselves. We are brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous. I urge you to not shrink back. The world needs us.
and
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
from A Return to Love, by Marianne Williamson.
************************
We are between two holidays – Past is the mixed bag of Halloween, All Saints Day, and Day of the Dead. Ahead is Thanksgiving. The transition between these two holidays has been powerful for me this year. I keep connecting my thoughts of those who have made an impact on my life and have died, as I prepare myself internally for the upcoming harvest celebration. Maybe a part of this is because my mother died on Thanksgiving day. However, I think that more than that I am being influenced by what I am reading and the stories that people are telling me about their lives.
Thanksgiving, if we think of it as a harvest celebration from ancient times rather than an American holiday of dubious distinction, is a celebration of hope to get through the winter and gratitude to the earth and/or a deity for providing the sustenance.
All Saints Day is a time of honoring those who have died. It is a time of grieving but also of celebrating. We celebrate the impact that these people have had on our lives, how we have been nurtured by them and continue to be nurtured through their memories. In a way, this is another kind of harvest celebration. It is the harvest of a person's life feeding us and nurturing us.
For example, recently I found out that my friend Iyvie died this spring. She was not someone I knew for many years. We weren't close in the way that you hang out with someone. And I found out she died through a Google search. When examining these kinds of facts, one might say that she and I were not close. And yet, for the time that we were in each other's lives, which was brief and fairly isolated, we had an influence on each other. The influence that I had on her is hers to tell, but the influence she had on me, I can tell you, is profound. She helped me become strong and certain that I had gifts to share. She mentored my gifts of healing and she exuded an undeniable love that wasn't labeled Christian that I had to deal with. It was spirit love ... and at first I was suspect of her ways. Slowly though I came to put together the lesson from Matthew 7:15 – 20
"Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns, or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will know them by their fruits. “
... with Galatians 5:22 and 23 "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control."
I looked closely at Iyvie's loving healing energies and incredibly accurate insight. I saw love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. She was a good tree producing good fruit. I had no reason not to eat the harvest of her love and healing. She walked in her power and she helped me learn to walk in mine. She also helped me deconstruct my narrow mindedness and judgmental attitude, although I'm not sure she knows she did that.
She produced a harvest that I am still enjoying. I can tell you stories of many others such as Anthony Hollins, Tom Douthett, my brother Rick, my mom Angie, and Glenn Walker. You can tell me of those in your life that have died but still nurture you today. I love these stories. Yes it is a sharing of grief but it is also a celebration relationship. These people have helped to make us who we are.
We have so much to be thankful for. Real things, and especially the loving people who have been in our lives. These people with whom we have shared our lives, however long and however deep, have changed us. There are lots of people who have influenced our lives in unhelpful, hurtful, and unloving ways. Too often these are the folks to whom we give our power and whose harvest we eat. I've had enough of that. I feel like I owe a debt to the good people in my life ... those whose trusted me, who put stock in me, and who cared for me. I want to live my life as a testimony to their love and to the abundance of their harvest that they offer me.
This is how I found myself mulling the text in Ephesians as well as the quote from Marianne Williamson. This power that we have been given as a gift from our Divine Beloved as well as the power that we have been bequeathed from those who have loved and nurtured us is challenging to tap into. We are told over and over that power equals things like money and authority over others. These voices crowd the voices of the Holy Spirit, the teachings of Jesus, and the love of the saints. I believe we have to learn to walk in our power and we have to be diligent about protecting ourselves from the forces that would scoff at us or try to redirect our attention to the things that we can't do rather than to the awesomeness of who we are.
We are awesome. We have powers that are more permanent and effective than money and authority. When we own this, we frighten those who want to make us believe that the fruits of the spirit are wimpy. The image of the armor of God reminds us that we are powerful and that we have something to protect. We have a harvest to share that is delicious, robust, and life-giving. I agree with Marianne Williamson that "As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." It is little by little. We may not see any miracles happening ... no demons being delivered ... but little by little is how revolutions begin.
I believe we need to live into our fabulousness, our brilliance, our gorgeousness, and our talent. We need to do this because according to Psalm 139 we are "fearfully and wonderfully made." We are made by God. How much more fantastic can we be?? If we do not live in our power and awesomeness, then we are discrediting God because we are God's good creation.
How can this not be true? Would we be instructed to put on spiritual armor if there wasn't something to protect spiritually? Our hearts are to be protected by a breastplate of righteousness. Our minds are protected by the helmet of salvation. Our feet are protected as we journey by the gospel of peace, which we are charged to proclaim. We are given a shield of faith with which we are to protect ourselves from the fiery arrows of the enemy – arrows that want to penetrate our confidence with doubt, that want to mock our gifts, that seek to discredit our power. The only thing in this armor that seems missing to me are the tights, otherwise this is perfect spiritual superhero attire.
Every life that we touch can be a life that we help to heal and sustain. Every struggle that we come up against is an opportunity to sink a little deeper into the reality of who we are in our souls. We all have battles. We all become frustrated, angry, and hurt. And we all are created wonderfully by a God who loves us. Furthermore, we all have a harvest from which we can nourish ourselves and a spiritual armor that is crucial to our good work and spiritual health.
I know that I expect a lot of myself and I often don't meet my own expectations. I have to protect myself from my own criticism. I think we all do.
This year the harvest I am giving thanks for is the legacy of love and the nourishing gifts of belief and hope that we have been offered by those who love us – those who are living as well as those who have passed on. I know longer want us to be small and quiet. Let's honor the gifts we've been given by God and by those put in our paths who love us by finding our strengths, sharing our gifts, believing in ourselves, and protecting ourselves. We are brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous. I urge you to not shrink back. The world needs us.
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