Beauty From Ashes: A twist on the Easter message.

It's Holy Week. And Christian communities across the world are all a buzz.

As I am known to do, I am jumping outside the box of how we traditionally think about Easter. Will I skirt around the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ? Absolutely not. Rather, I will embrace it, fully, but in a different light and with a broader lens.

I want to talk about the beauty and the ashes in the lives of those who live at the margins and who call themselves Christian. In particular, LGBTQ+ folks. Some would argue that a queer Christian is one of the most sure footed faithful followers. Why can we say that? Because we have worked so damn hard to preserve our faith when so much in this world would prefer that we dry up and blow away.

When the world has worked so diligently to strip one's faith and use its very foundation, the Holy Scripture, as a weapon to beat the spiritual life out of gay Christians... to rise from the ashes into a beautiful new life is no small feat.

The last 40 days of the Lenten journey delivers us to the foot of the cross this week. As we mourn the death and burial of Jesus some of us mourn the death of our own spiritual selves.

Fear not. Death does not have the last word. Jesus rose on Easter morning.

His life, as God's most precious child, is to be an example for us as we are free to accept the invitation to live out our queer Christian faith through the Easter experience.

Making beauty from the ashes is God's main production. It's a theatrical performance of the greatest proportion. God is taking all of the characters in the play and adorning them with grace, with mercy, with love, and with righteousness... placing the jeweled crown on all of their heads. God's Love wants that none should be separated, none should die a carnal death and call it good.

God makes beauty from ashes day after day. We can take hope and promise in the risen Christ. We can accept the invitation to live into the full embrace of God's love.

We can lay down, turn away, and reject all of those things that work to separate us from who is Beautiful.

We are free to leave our burned up ashes at the foot of the cross believing full well that the promises of Christ include our resurrected lives.

This Easter may you find the tomb empty, may you let the ashes of your grief, your sorrow, and the negative voices that come at you fall away.

May the Son and the Wind whisk you up into new life and make something beautiful from the ash.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise God all creatures here below.

Praise God above the heavenly host. Creator, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Amen and Amen.

The ELCA Lutheran Church invites all to come and dine at the Lord's Table.

The ELCA Lutheran Church is a welcoming and affirming denomination where all are welcome regardless of race, gender identity, gender expression, sexual orientation, or ability. To learn more about the ELCA click here.

Jesus: Execution on Death Row

Ash Wednesday was yesterday and I had the blessing to curate an Art Exhibit in conjunction with an Ashes service. The Art Exhibit was not just any Art Exhibit. It displayed hand-drawn and oil painted canvas scrolls depicting the Twelve Stations of the Cross. In addition, was a stand-alone canvas of the risen Christ.

This description may not stand out to you either. However, it's important to note that the picture and the
scrolls are the mastery of prisoners who live on Tennessee's Death Row.

How ironic is that! Death Row prisoners painting the story of Jesus on his journey to Death Row.

Let that sink in.

Jesus’s death was a State-sanctioned execution. We don't often think about Jesus being incarcerated
or being executed. We have a more touchy-feely version...one of gratitude that he died for our sins
and redeemed us, to secure us a seat at the Table of the Lord in a heavenly kingdom. Now, I'm not
debating Jesus’s death, or even how he died, or even that he willingly went to the cross on our behalf.

Scripture is quite clear about this and Jesus is in agreement. But, Jesus did ask for a stay of execution.
Three times in fact! (Matthew 26 “Father, let this cup pass from me…”) His stay was not granted and
Jesus was executed.

A few questions to ponder: How does  the death penalty impact society today? How is it that we
explain to our children in any more, or less I should say, graphic detail that someone is executed
by State sanction?

We already have a Savior and we don't need another.

There will be no hand drawn and painted scrolls and there will be no portrait of the Risen prisoner
when someone is executed by electric chair or lethal injection.

If we believe in a God who came to redeem the world, then we can sit securely that our executed will
return to their Maker.

It does no good, in my opinion, to put our children in a bubble and not talk to them about mass
incarceration. Not if we are going to talk to them about Lent -- a steadfast faithful tradition where
we teach them about what a wonderful thing Jesus did.

Most Protestant Christians and Catholics and Orthodox believers walked around yesterday with a
black cross on their forehead.

We are reminded of our mortality.

We are reminded of our broken lives and our broken world.

We are reminded that we are in need of something good and holy to reconcile us back to  our Maker.

I'm reminded of the goodness in the world when I look at these beautiful scrolls and this beautiful
portrait of the Risen Christ.

I'm reminded of what is good and pure and holy in this world.

Human hands dedicated their time, talent and treasure...from Death Row... people who shouldn't
really even give a damn...but still do.

As you journey through Lent this season, I invite you to take a deeper look  at the underside of life.

The side that makes you uncomfortable.

The side that makes you want to look away.

The side that makes you want to shelter your children.

And then, I invite you to LEAN IN  TO LENT.

The Stations of the Cross remind us that Christ willingly died for ALL people, regardless of
their station in life.

For more information on the Lutheran Church (ELCA) click here
For more information on the Lutheran Church concerning Criminal Justice click here
For more information on Dawn Bennett click here

Full or Filled

I am often touched by the willingness of people who return to their place of upbringing...those who carry back to others what was given them for their journey.

This week, Jesus does just that. He has returned to Nazareth, the place of his upbringing, He's preaching to his friends and loved ones. He went home to spend time together. They know that he has been out spreading good news across the land, performing miracles and such. All they want upon his return apparently, is some of what he has shared with others.

I suppose it is not an unrealistic expectation. But what happened to the relationship of mutuality? When Jesus declares ancient prophecy has been fulfilled in their hearing the Nazarenes get a little sideways because they are expecting signs and wonders and all they get, at least in their opinion, is a sermon full of words.

It begs the question, are the townspeople full of the love that they helped produce? Or have they allowed their disappointment and unmet expectations to fill them with misguided rage?

Perhaps it is, that they don't realize that their lives are full, and Jesus returned to remind them of that. They have everything they need to go about the work in their community taking care of those in need...to be light in the darkness.

How often it is in our own context that we drive up to the red light and witness a street vendor or a panhandler and think why are you out here? Certainly you have everything you need, if not in your possession at least available to you through Public Services. We allow ourselves to be filled with disgust and hardness of heart.

For us who have been raised in the Christian tradition, we would do well to remember that the Good News of our faith comes back into our lives on a daily basis. Many times a day, actually.

If we remember our roots, we can be full of hospitality and grace. We can be full of love and mercy. And in our fullness, we are equipped upon arriving at the red light...to share our gifts to help fill someone else's life.

For information on how you can help fill other's lives in Nashville, TN click here.

If you are looking for ways to fill others regionally or nationally click here

It's Mine You Can't Have It

Text 1 Sam 2: 18-20, 26

This week we read about an annual gift Samuel’s Mom and Dad brought to him when they visited the Temple. You might recall Samuel is Hannah’s son. Forever and a day she lamented that she couldn’t have a baby. She poured out her heart to God in a song. When the time was right his parents dedicated Samuel to God.

Today, we call this baptism. It’s a forever thing. Once dedicated to God, we are never removed from sacredness or subscription. (Note: we are sacred before subscription, but baptism is our way of making it public)

You may be saddened to learn that for LGBTQ+ folks the story is sometimes very different. For years I have worked with Christian parents who rush their children to the altar of God so that they can be joined in Love to the Body of Christ.

In more recent years, I have worked with youth and parents whose faith-life has come under attack because of coming out as gay, lesbian, transgender or queer. Now, we all know that only God can remove us from The Club of God’s holy love and since God is love….well let’s just agree we humans don’t have that kind of power or authority.

ELCA Lutherans are a faith family who believe ALL God’s children have EQUAL value, worth and beauty. Imagine for a second how your life would be impacted by someone you don’t even know demanding that God no longer loves you and you can no longer come to church...and then imagine that person is part of your family. Sit with that a moment…

As we ponder the start of a new year, a new opportunity and zest for life, let us remember that ONLY GOD gives and takes away. What belongs to God is God’s. And by God’s grace, the life we have is ours. Our baptism into the mystery of Love is ours. No one can take it from us and we cannot take it from anyone else.

Learn more here about ELCA Lutheran views on human sexuality

Learn more here about becoming an Ally and friend to LGBTQ people

Word Made Flesh

The Word became flesh
and stayed for a little while among us;
we saw the Word's glory --
the favor and position a parent gives an only child --
filled with grace,
filled with truth.*
John 1: 14

I recently read an article about a parent who writes a Christmas love letter to his spouse and to each of his children every year. A nice sentiment. A wonderful gift. The letter describes the love for them and how they contribute to the beauty of their family. Each letter, no doubt, makes for an unforgettable Christmas present.

We could say that Jesus was the love letter God wrote to the world. And what a wonderfully Word-ed letter it is! In the Greek, Word is translated as logos, meaning divine mind or order that unites reality. But John, ahhh, in John’s writing it’s so much more. More than a thought, Word becomes flesh, a person.

     In Jesus we find ourselves and our relationship with our Creator. This Word is the bridge that unites us in mind, body and spirit to our Loving Parent. Parents, human and divine, are placed in our lives for a particular reason. Human parents are our first teachers and our first love relationships. LGBTQiA+ children learn to love their parents the same as all other children. However, the sad truth is that when LGBTQiA+ children come out to their parents, sometimes they are not met with the love of Jesus, but rather rejection based on twisted words describing Jesus.

As we journey through the last days of Advent, pondering this mystical Love about to break into the world, please know that these days can be very heartbreaking for some in the queer community who have been told, by well meaning Christians (and yes, some even Lutheran…) that the Word tells them they stand apart from God’s love. Not as Beloved community but rather as Other community. Actually, what the Word says is  nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus (Rom 8:38-39).

LGBTQiA+ people would so love to be welcomed and included at a Candlelight Christmas Eve service. How do I know? Because I am one. We know the Word became flesh and dwells among us, ALL OF US. We also know that we, like all who believe the Word, are set apart by our baptism.

We are all set apart by our baptism into the love and mystery who is the Christ.

If you know of someone who would like a love letter for Christmas, invite them to a Candlelight Service.

_______________________

*The Inclusive Bible: The First Egalitarian Translation. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2007

**LGBTQiA+ is not complete. The acronym is used to indicate a non-cisgender-heterosexual person, but is by no means a complete description of a person, their beauty or their createdness. For more information visit PFLAG.

"Thou Shalt Not Steal"

I read the most interesting perspective on stealing. It started with the declaration that whatever we have is not ours anyway, so that makes stealing doubly wrong. I believe it's accurate to say that when we think of stealing, and the fact that it's considered wrong, we naturally think of tangible objects. We can't steal stuff from our neighbors, we can't rob banks, we can't "sample" fruit from the produce section. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

As I began to travel down the dusty road of my thoughts, I began to think to myself, but what about the intangible things people own: our thoughts, our feelings, our identity. What about that? How do those things fit into the equation of stealing and God and all that stuff. Here's my thought:

If everything we have  and everything we own is indeed not necessarily ours but on loan, as in it was given to us (a big prim and proper religious term is bestowed upon us) then our identity also is a gift...and given. The ability to be a free thinker is given to us. The desire to love and be loved is a gift given to us. Stealing is not allowed. Who are are, what we stand for, how we see ourselves...it's all a gift given to us. We are not allowed to steal another person's identity. Let me be clear here, I'm not talking about their online identity (although clearly that's wrong too) I'm talking about their gender identity, sexual identity, how they see themselves in this world and how they expect to be seen.

There are lots of hate groups who have decided that to "be LGBTQ" is wrong and those of us who identify under that acronym need to  be"corrected". (For those who are unfamiliar LGBTQ stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer). Folks who align with L-G-B are talking about their sexuality (very different and not related to gender); those who align with T are referring to their gender (male, female, both, neither); those who align with Q could be referring to either their sexual or gender identity. Further information can be found at PFLAG.org or HRC.org because this is not the blog post to go into this in depth.

Back to the stealing thing. When God (however you align with God or what represents a divine authority in your world) says stealing is wrong it is an abomination (another big scary religious word) and God cries. ALL of everything in what we call this world is made from the abundance of a divine authority who far exceeds any human capacity or authority. 

When an organization or a person steals the hopes and dreams, the hard personal effort or blood-sweat-and-tears personal commitment from another person, a crime [against humanity] has been committed. We are what we are and have what we have as a gift. None of us owns any of this. We leave this "world" with the same as we came into it with - nothing. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

When a person decides someone else is wrong for living into their full authenticity (i.e. sexual or gender identity) and advances are made toward taking it away, i.e. stealing it, we are no longer living as we are instructed. When someone robs another of a life worth living, a dream and a hope of a better life, a gesture of giving and receiving love...God cries. We are not allowed to steal.

Thou Shalt Not Steal. Not property. Not grapes. Not a person's identity. Not a person's joy.

Mind your business. Mind your manners. Mind yourself.

Hollowed Out

Hollowed Out

It’s hard to go through life feeling like a carved pumpkin. Sometimes the faces can be scary. Sometimes they are funny, but never does it feel good to have your guts ripped out. 

What I have found to be helpful in these times is to write a gratitude list.

It may be hard to find things that I am grateful for, but that’s when the real digging begins.

Dust off the shovel and till the soil of your life.

Are you breathing? Have you been given a new day in which to make free choices? Do you have ONE friend in whom you can confide?

It’s a good day.

When your guts are lying on the ground and your seeds are scattered, that is the time to look for the remnant that remains. Life can be hard.

But, if there is breath in your body, you have found a shred of gratitude.

Most pumpkins wind up with a candle inside to light up the darkness. This is the time to take your hollowed out self and bring in some light. Sit. Rest. Glow.

It’s hard to go through life feeling like a carved pumpkin, hollowed out. 

But finding the little things in life to be grateful for: breath, free choice, the comfort of a friend…it’s a good day.

It's A Good Friday

It's later in the month, later than I'd like it to be actually. I've been waiting for inspiration to give you something I felt was worth reading. It finally came today. It's true, it's real, it's honest. It's a page from my journal this morning. I know I'm not the only one in this quagmire, maybe that's why I felt it's worth reading. Happy Easter to all of humanity.

.....

"It’s a Good Friday!

Abba, so much is changing, but you have stayed the same. The tomb is empty this morning. No one knows where you are or where you went.

This season of Lent has been so incredibly painful. I’ve been so far from you – and so close to you. I’m scared, I’m isolated, I’m exhausted, I’m angry, I’m so incredibly sad. I’m eager, I’m demanding, I’m questioning, I’m forgetful, I’m desperate. I have anxiety; I’ve traveled far and wide to find peace – to create peace – to upset peace – and to enjoy the peace. It’s Good Friday, and like the rest of the fold, I’m seeking because the tomb is empty and I don’t know where you went.

Ferguson is still looking for you. Naples says they have you, the golden roads are supposed to prove that. Nashville sings all about you, but the people are still dying of hunger and thirst.

Sometimes it’s hard for me to see you in everything and be grateful, because honestly, when I don’t get what I want (and the way I perceive I need it to be), I think you either suck or you’re looking at someone else’s life. I mean, there’s lots of us down here trying to figure this crazy shit out. Maybe you got me mixed up?

It’s supposed to rain here Sunday – I’m looking forward to that. Everything is better after some cleansing rain. The sun will surely rise and shine, that’s all it knows how to do. Thanks for that too.

Thanks for never taking your eye off me. I’ll try to reciprocate that a bit better today. I love you."

Journey To the Center of My Birth

   Happy New Year! For some 2016 has been declared as the turn-around year. For others, it will be a year of traveling in the same direction, only deeper, and perhaps at a faster clip. And, that may or may not be a good thing. Time will tell.

                For me, I’m hoping for a bit of both actually. You see, for me, 2016 is going to be a year of great change. And it won’t all be good change. Or will it? Change is one of the only guarantees in the Universe. We can embrace it, reject it, rail against it, work in harmony with it, question it or just observe it. Whatever we choose to do, change is inevitable. In Ecclesiastes 3:4, the Bible talks about a time for all things under the sun. I believe this is true and I also believe that not all change is looked upon as welcomed. For part of this year, I will have that attitude I expect.

                We are each on a private journey to discover who we are, in the midst of where we are. Where we are physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. We must learn to look upon this journey as a necessity rather than a burden, even when the journey is through a dry and weary land. Being a human being is the most excruciating journey we will ever encounter. This is a strong statement and I admit that. But, selah (from Hebrew, meaning, “pause and think on this”). 

                If we are a people whose belief and trust are in something or someone bigger than us, then we are sure to resonate with that infamous lyric so eloquently stated by Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you need.” Believers in God will undoubtedly admit that there are times we wonder where the hell God is in a particular situation. When we can’t see the forest through the trees. Sometimes we can’t even see the trees. But God has clearer vision. That’s where our hope lies.

                The journey to the center of our birth is a requirement for all of us, to figure out where we came from, where we are and more decidedly, where we want to go. In 2016 many of us will travel through fire to get to our next place. For some, a smooth sail down a quiet stream will be in store. Others will be led into a desert and will likely feel the cracked ground beneath their feet and wonder again, where the hell is God? But, have no lingering fear. Notice, I said lingering. Fear is inevitable, even with the good changes that will come our way.

    I think it’s fair to say change and fear live in tandem.

   (I know you’ve heard of the fear of failure. But, have you heard of the fear of success?)

                One important adoption for the coming year of change will be to acquire some type of calming discipline. For some yoga, others running or extreme sports will be needed. Yet for others, prayer and meditation. (Oops! I accidentally typed medication….I corrected the typo, but realized that for some it may very well include medication…and if that’s what it takes, that’s okay too, under a doctor’s supervision of course.) The important thing here is that the journey to the center of your birth will require from you the hardest part of the journey…a decision.

                A few years ago a great philosopher gave me some life changing advice (okay, it was my older brother actually). He said, “Everyone else has an opinion, you have a decision.”

   Here I am again this year looking at some continuing big-life changes. As I recalled that advice, I believe it is still powerful and still true. My decisions may only make sense to me. Your decisions may only make sense to you. To others they may look like delusion or risky. That’s their opinion. I have to decide what it takes for me to be able to travel my journey (and so do you).

                As you look over your new 2016 calendar, you’re only about seven days or so in. You’ve got about another 355 days or so of change waiting for you. So what’s it going to be? Embrace? Reject? Question? Rail? Walk in harmony? Observe? You decide. Let the naysayers and haters have their opinions. Let the loved ones and supporters have their opinions. There’s nothing you can do about what they think of your circumstance or your decision to act (or not).

   They have an opinion. YOU HAVE A DECISION.

                I’d love to tell you to stand tall and face your fears! To roar like a lion! To fight, fight fight! But, the best advice might just be to shut the hell up and let time pass. To cry and lick your wounds in private. To pray and just keep hoping in a brighter day. See, I just have an opinion too. I also have a decision, and it’s no less scary than yours. Being a writer doesn’t grant me any special passes, only a vessel to talk about my life on a public platform, and hope that another beautiful human is somehow inspired.

                The journey to the center of your birth never ends. The journey started before you left the womb and it will continue until you return to the Dust. If you don’t have the moxie to be brave today, don’t fret. Bravery is a relative term (the magazines and media will tell you otherwise though). If you need to retreat today, please do. If you need to run and rage, do so (just don’t hurt anyone else in the process). If you need to stand up for yourself, stand. If you need to sit quietly, sit. There is a time and a season for everything under the sun. Just remember, it’s your journey to the center of your birth. We all have an opinion and we all have a decision. Do what your Spirit calls you to do. Be well. Be loved. Love.

                Be the most authentic version of you you can be today. Don’t lose hope in a brighter tomorrow though. Hope is a vital supply needed for the journey. Find your hope, keep your hope. It’s our birthright. 

Nice To Meet You Authentic-Self

Sitting in a coffee shop recently, I watched as people passed me by. I wondered if they lived the life they would like to live, or the life others expected them to live.  How often do we curtail our own desires and self-expectations to fit the mold that we’ve allowed others to place in front of us?

This question becomes more and more important to me, as I myself, have decided to journey in search of my authentic- self. It’s only in my own decision,  have I come to realize my children need to choose their own path; and I need to allow them to. I’ve done my job.  I’ve given them tools and rules to live by. They should have become, now that they are grown, guidelines. But so often I think we parents have an expectation that the tools and rules equate to coulds and shoulds.

Are you offended when your grown children make decisions that are contrary to “how you raised them”? It’s only in the second half of my life, second marriage and second chance to be my authentic-self that I admit I’m that child. I did what was expected of me, as a child, young adult, wife and mother. But rarely was I my authentic- self. Was my life a lie? No. It was sincere. There’s a difference. I sincerely loved my parents, my first husband and my children. I loved my friends and my job. But, if I’m honest, they chose me, I didn’t always willingly choose them. Wait. That may need some explaining. Yes, I chose my husband by virtue of our wedding. Yes, I chose my children, by virtue of my birthing and raising them. I’m talking about how I lived my life during those years. I forfeited my own authentic-self; my hopes and dreams, my goals, my wants and needs. It’s a very costly life, that non-authentic self.

I’ve made the most wonderful friend in the past few months. My friend lived his life doing all the same things I did – what was expected of us. I’ve learned it was just as costly for him. I’m glad to see she is now living her authentic-self life. Our changes are not easy, staggering and polarizing sometimes. But, necessary nonetheless. Very few people from the old life understand the requirement to declare authenticity, and we don’t all declare it. Some fortunate souls make the transition gently and over time. Their metamorphosis is celebrated. For a great many of us though it is shattering to our non-authentic world.

I read an article recently about the suicide of college students at Penn State. The strive to perfection is depleting and harmful. As a Christian, I can assure you, we will never reach it. We were not created to, actually. There is only One who succeeded. For the rest of us, we were created to live life as our authentic-self, the life gifted to us by our Creator, and through partnership with him, we attain ‘life more abundantly’.

I’ve met a great many people in the last few years who, by sheer requirement to continue breathing, have declared war on their non-authentic- self. It feels like war too, as societal expectations help to keep troops armored down with weapons.  I have a quote that has traveled in and out of my life for the past decade:

“The chains of habit are too weak to be felt until they are too strong to be broken.”
--Samuel Johnson

How little we know the power of this quote as we follow the path laid before us. It is only when we get to the end of that path and realize we are not there. The body that arrives is oftentimes the shell of our authentic-self, the innards are of another being.  Change must come.  Our very life depends on it. Otherwise, we leave this world, often by suicide, and the space in which we once stood is filled with grief and void.

As I reach, scratch and claw my way through the muck and mire in the pond of my old non-authentic- self, I see light and life awaiting me on the other side. The harder I swim, strangely the more strength I gain. Yes, I lose a bit of weight along the way. This weight represents the expectations put on me, either by myself or by others. There is no shame in letting go, regardless of how it feels. Swim, swim, swim. Harder, with more veracity. Your life awaits you. Don’t spend one more day in fins that no longer fit. Declare life to your authentic- self, no matter the cost. Surely there is a cost, you will pay it now, or pay it later. Make safe decisions. Get help from trusted sources when needed. But always, always, listen to your inner voice. When it stops yelling, talking, whispering or squeaking you will expire. Your inner voice is your authentic self.  It may take some time, some rest, some partnership along your path, but as long as there is breath in your body, your authentic-self rents a room in your being. Our non-authentic-self rents a room also, work to keep it a broom closet.

Vernacular. Respect It Don't Correct It

I heard myself telling a coworker about some particular phrases a loved one uses. Every time I hear the phrase something in me twinges. Not because it is offensive, but because it is not what Webster would define as proper English. We, my coworker and I, were discussing vernacular in general and what peculiarities exist within an individual’s world view.

She told me a quick story about her dad’s favorite restaurant; it’s a Mexican place down the road called Sopapillias (soap-a-peeyahs). But, she explained, every time her dad wants to go there he says, “Hey, let’s go eat at ‘soppa-pillas’ (sop-a-pill-as)”. My friend just chuckles under her breath. Her dad is old, so she says it’s cute. We exchanged a few more vernacular faux pas and had a good giggle between ourselves. After the very short conversation, I had a very long thought. In my experience, to hear [what I perceive to be] a skewed version of a word catches me off guard and I sometimes think to myself, don’t they know how to say this correctly? I wonder if I told them the proper way to pronounce this if they would be offended. The more I thought about this, the more troubled in myself I became.

Somewhere in my mind it occurred to me that a person’s phrases are theirs, not mine. Proper English is a relative term. English is, after all, a bastard language. Not much comes up under “proper English” upon a quick google search. In America, we use slang a lot. Our slang is a reflection of our culture, our nature and our nurture. Where someone was geographically raised, the family dynamic in which they were raised and the environment of their community, all play a large role in acquiring their vernacular (i.e. slang). Life is also lived out in the story of our slang. In this instance, when I read between the lines of what I perceive to be improper English, I find that my loved one has seen, heard and experienced things I will never encounter. Much can be learned about life and culture by listening to stories. Stories are how we love our neighbor as ourselves. It’s how we learn to become a more intimate society.

In a continuous effort to live, love and laugh in our lives, we also must learn to respect each other in such a way that allows for the freedom to be different. Imagine a world where everything was a shade of blue. No red. No yellow. No black. No white. Just, blue. Eventually, we would run out of questions to ask. Eventually, we would run out of new things to learn. It is only through the lens of variety that we are able to see our differences and our similarities.

When applying this thought to vernacular, imagine a world where everyone spoke English, with only a northeastern accent. Bostonian to be specific (since it’s my home town…go Sox!). Seriously though, imagine a world where we all spoke that way. There wouldn’t be any “Hey, Y’all!” in the South or “Eh?” in the Midwest. There would be nothing to talk about after a while. No comedy, which we all use as a way to cover up the fact that sometimes we don’t understand what someone’s saying. Eventually, we’d understand each other perfectly and there would be no need to ask any more questions. Eventually, we would know all there is to know, and have nothing new to learn about a person.

We can say that it is only through the lens of vernacular that we are able to see our differences and our similarities. We can say that it is only through the language of vernacular that we are able to learn patience and kindness, and gain wisdom and understanding about culture and society and family and tradition. These social outlets are how we express ourselves and how we [again], learn to love our neighbor as ourselves.

Vernacular, whether understood or not, must be respected. It requires no correction. It desires acknowledgement and appreciation. It encourages friendship and intimacy. It is a catalyst for new beginnings and it challenges us to be a better, more enriched, more knowledgeable version of yesterday’s self.

So, the next time you hear what you perceive to be a grammatical faux pas, and are tempted to correct it, stop and appreciate the moment. For, it is in that very moment you have the opportunity to love unconditionally.

 

What Do You See

What Do You See?

What do you see when you look at me? Do you see the scar between my eyes or my curly brown hair? Do you wonder what I would look like with blue eyes, or do you notice my eyes are green and be satisfied with what you see? I wonder sometimes if people see the pain that I carry around. What color is my pain? Do you think you know? My pain is black, most of the time. Today my pain is red, however. It is red because my heart is broken and I’m lonely. I was hungry until I found a little bit of food in my refrigerator. Can you see that I am satisfied now?  What does that look like anyway?

I wonder what you would think if I told you I am gay, or that I had been emotionally abused in my earlier days. Would you still want to talk to me? Do I look like the kind of person who would allow herself to be abused in any way? Yes? No? What does that look like anyway?

Do you see that I’m struggling to know what to do with my life? Can you see God in me? He’s here. I assure you. But, I’m struggling to reach Him, and I know Him intimately. I wonder if you can see the scars from my past hurts. Hurts that I received from loved ones, well intentioned loved ones. Sure there are scars from those who deliberately used me and caused me pain. But, those don’t hurt as much as the ones that cut like a knife, straight through to the core of my person.

What do you see when you look at me? Do you see that I am educated? What does that look like anyway? Do you see that I want to become your friend? I would actually. I would like to become your friend.  It would take some doing on both our parts, however. We come from very different cultures. People would talk about us, maybe behind our backs. Maybe to our faces. Would you still want to be my friend, if it would cause you some grief? I’m a good friend you know. Well, you don’t know. But you could know. That would take more effort on your part. You would have to look deep inside me. Past my outward appearance, since today I am not looking my best and I’m not in the best mood. Can you see that I have had a hard day? What does that look like anyway?

Can you see that my husband is a different race than I am? Does that show in my wedding ring? Can you see that he loves me beyond words and that he calls me his “Queen”. Do I show that in my actions and attitude? Can you see from looking at me, and at my life, that I have a brain- injured brother? How would that make you feel if I told you outloud after the “retard” comment you made. Can you see my pain? What color is it? Where does it sit on my body? What does that look like anyway?

What do you see when you look at me? Can you see that my father is dying and I am sad because I live far away from him? And my siblings are far away too, and my mother. I live down here all by myself. Can you see that my children are all grown? And I love them. Can you see my grandson in my eyes? The twinkle he brings to my heart. And the sorrow of not seeing my granddaughter in over a year. Can you see my heart for her?

What do you see when you look at me? Do you see that I am angry? Can you see that I am lonely? Can you see that I am struggling to make new friends because all of my old friends have fallen away? What can you see in me? Do you see my joy? My delight? The passion I have for my man and the eternal love I have for my children? What does that look like anyway? What color is it? Does my love for others speak to you? What does it say? Does my curiosity about you show? Can you see that I want to know you deeper? Can you see that I value our relationship? Can you see that I want to know more about you, and to have you know more about me? What does that look like anyway?

What do you see when you look at me?