Suddenly It Dawned On Me...

So here I am, late on a Saturday night, sitting at one of the desks I make use of in my house. Yes, I said it, ONE of the desks. I have a lot of papers in a lot of places in my house - and I am not ashamed of it. 

At this desk, I am surrounded by journals and pens and colored pencils and crayons and markers and washi tape. Travel journals filled with receipts and maps and postcards and hotel key cards remind me of adventures and co-traveling adventurers that have changed the course of the life of my mind and soul. 

A watercolor painting with the words "Tengo que vivir en esperanza" (I have to live in hope) inscribed on it made by one soul sister and a hand-painted cross purchased in Haiti by another soul sister are on the wall in front of me. 

A red canoe from a writing group floats on one bookshelf and two bowls I bought at Le Pain Quotidien in Rome rest on the shelf above the canoe. 

A ziploc bag filled with coins recovered from a dramatic interpretation I did of the story of Jesus flipping a table in the temple sits precariously on another bookshelf. I flipped a table at Montreat Youth Conference two years ago - and I still have the coins that didn't roll too far under the stage there in Anderson Auditorium.

Next to my desk is a peacock feather, given to me at this year's Montreat Youth Conference by the same man who gave me a white feather from the juvenile stage of the same peacock at the Montreat Youth Conference two years ago. (I'm praying for his wife who is dealing with kanswer these days...)

Next to me on the desk is the program from my April 2020 seminary graduation. It was one of those early Covid online graduations. A couple of hours after I had to put on my own Masters hood that day, some amazing people from the church I served at the time drove past my house and left gifts, flowers, cards, balloons, red Australian licorice, journals, pens, and other delights on our front lawn in one of those early Covid drive-by parties. Those kind and generous Caldwellians loved me well that day, so very well.

Hanging from the bookcase on my left is the VIP credential that got me early access and a great seat at the Cece Winans concert I attended this past spring.

Here I am, late on a Saturday night, surrounded by mementos of joyous, love-filled, hope-fueled moments in my life. I am grateful, so grateful, always grateful. 

In the meantime, wildfires blaze out west. Floodwaters recede in some places and rise in others. Islands and cities and towns demolished by Hurricane Beryl are still without power and without prospects of timely restoration. Train derailments derail lives and topple businesses.

Politics in this country - and around the world - are an absolute, unmitigated, hot mess. 

Violent words are carelessly spoken, and then deadly weapons are intentionally fired. 

War rages. Innocent people are demonized, dehumanized, terrorized, targeted, displaced, disregarded. 

Those desperate for a better life discover that this is not a better place. 

Suddenly it dawned on me - it's not over. 

My story is not over. Neither is yours. Neither are their stories - whoever they are. 

There is healing to be experienced. There is hope to be shared. 

There is love to be offered. There are hugs to be received. 

There is forgiveness to be sought. There is grace to be extended.

There are sermons to be preached. There are prayers to be prayed.

There are blog posts to be read. There are books to be written. 

There is a whole new world to be dreamed. 

There is work to be done to bring that world to life. 

What world are you dreaming up? Who is with you in that world? 

Is everyone free and safe, fed and housed, loved and cherished in your world? 

What do liberation, equity, justice, and peace look like, smell like, taste like, feel like, and sound like in your dream world? 

Whose stories echo through your mind late at night, when you are trying to fall asleep but you can't?

What are you willing to do to make sure that their stories end well? Whoever they are? Wherever they are? Whatever they are going through?

Are you at least going to vote? At the very least??? 

Sugar and Ashes

Valentine's Day and Ash Wednesday coincide today. 

For me that has meant sugar in my mouth from the frosting on the lemon pound cake made by a dear friend - thanks, Yolanda. Sugar to remind me that there is still sweetness in the world - even though there are ashes in the air, ashes in my eyes, ashes all around me. All around us.

For me that has meant ashes on my forehead. Ashes I applied myself because I didn't go to church today. I haven't gone to church in a couple of weeks. I no longer serve as a full-time pastor - at least not at the present. 

Sugar from 37 years of life and love with my dearly beloved husband, Steve.
Sugar from 6 years of memories for our eldest child, memories of loving and being loved so well, six months after the sudden death of her beloved partner, Chris.
Sugar from watching our youngest child make a life with his beloved partner, Tarryn. 

Ashes from bombs dropping.
Ashes from buildings burning.
Ashes from dreams and lives and entire cities gone up in smoke.

Sugar and ashes coincide today as Valentine's Day and Ash Wednesday are one and the same today. But the truth is that sugar and ashes are our lot every day. Sugar and ashes are our food every day.

Because every single day, celebrations and parades are cut through with fist fights and gunfire.
Every single day, babies are born and grave diagnoses are given.
Every single day, new businesses open for the first time and old ones shutter their gates for the last time. 
Every single day, some partners get engaged while others separate and file for divorce.
Every single day, some words are spoken tenderly and others are spoken passive aggressively. 
Every single day, mean-spirited politicians spew rhetoric about the danger of immigrants at the same time that schools and libraries and playgrounds echo with the sounds of curious children speaking in many languages and their hard-working caregivers provide the aforementioned politicians with delicious food and clean homes and new roofs and manicured lawns and secret lovers. (Don't get me started on politicians and their smarmy, hate-filled, violence-inducing rhetoric. Deep sigh...)
Every single day, those "dangerous immigrants," serve as doctors and lawyers and bankers and teachers and interpreters and nurses and take care of their own children and their own neighbors - just like the rest of us. Because ultimately, there is no "them" and "us" - there is only us. We are all there is; all there is, is us.

Sugar and ashes.
The combination makes for a discerning palate.

The bitterness of unnecessarily sharp words spoken in a condescending tone of voice sounds nothing like the sweet sounds of laughter in the company of true friends.

The burning sting of tears in my eyes after seeing 36 Seconds: Portrait of a Hate Crime will soon be offset by the soothing tears of joy that flow after laying eyes on the faces of the members of my Hallmark Movie Club. 

The acrid taste of ashes in my mouth as I imagine the plight of grieving parents in the Gaza Strip is temporarily soothed by the sweet smell of the six month old grandson of the first woman who made me feel at home here in Charlotte more than twenty years ago. My friend transitioned to her next life more than ten years ago, but her daughter continues to shine the bright light of love and joy that my friend exuded so long ago. And that sweet, squirming little baby boy that I held in my arms a few days ago, he is the embodiment of joy.

Sugar and ashes.
Five years and seven months of service at a church I loved.
Sermons preached and lessons learned.
Sweet relationships and salty ones too.
Tenderness and tears.
Goodness and goodbyes.

I will take time now to rest, recover, heal, and be whole again.
I will take time now to sort through the ashes and savor the sugar.

Sugar and ashes.
Love and mortality.
These are two of the most abundant elements of life's volatile and beautiful, tear-soaked and love-fueled, bitter and sweet experiment. 

Dear reader, may your sugar outweigh your ashes today and every day.
May your ashes cause you to savor your sugar all the more, friends.
All the more.