Limping Along on Faith

The Toccoa river, Blue Ridge, GA (Credit: Brenda McWilliams)

We pulled our little travel trailer from storage and headed out for a four-week road trip.

After 10 months of no travel, we embarked on an approximately 3,000-mile road trip with planned stops throughout the southeast. Preparation required some seemingly minor maintenance and repair for both the trailer and our towing vehicle.

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Seeking Solace and Solitude While Working For Justice

Big Cypress Bayou

Tears welled up during a recent morning walk when Josh Groban’s song “River” came on the playlist.

I was not familiar with the song, yet the powerful lyrics and soothing melody delivered in Groban’s rich, self-described “tenor in training” voice transported me to a place of soothing peace and comfort – solace.

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Love Your God; Love Your Neighbors

My thoughts have been pinging on the phrase “your God.” More specifically, Matthew 22:37-39 has been on my mind: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. … Love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus proclaimed these…

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What’s Wrong with My Watch? It’s Dark in Here!

Throughout the first half of my life, I was told, and rightly so, that I was “much too serious.” During the latter half of this life, I have thankfully “lightened up” and learned that a good sense of humor is essential to maintaining a healthy balance in all of life’s complexities. It is also helpful if that humor is aptly targeted toward oneself when as we navigate all the silly, inane, and ridiculous things we often do or say. So I offer here a good laugh and a moment of gratitude — both on me.

I awoke in the late night or possibly the wee early morning hours.  Actually, I don’t know that I had yet managed a genuine sleep. What time is it? I threw my wrist across my face expecting an answer from the lighted watch face. Nothing! Black dark! What’s wrong with my watch? I tapped, swiped, and punched the button – still nothing. Is my phone working? Maybe the two had mystically, mysteriously, magically managed to un-Bluetooth themselves. Reaching for the phone on the bedside table, I repeated the tap, swipe, punch routine. Again, utter black!  Mumm! It is darker than usual in here. I wonder if the power is off? But the power being off would not affect my phone or watch. So, just what is wrong with my watch, and what time is it?

Falling back on my pillow in confusion and growing frustration, I threw my forearm across my face. What’s that? Oh, my! I have my eye mask on! No wonder it is so dark in here. Pushing the mask up, and again throwing my wrist across my face, my watch glows brightly. The phone is working as well, but I don’t remember what time it was. Ha! Yes, it is true!

So, what’s my takeaway from this midnight escapade other than a good laugh on myself. First, upon waking or near waking from a sound or near sound sleep, one’s mind – mine at least – is apt to be muddled and lack clarity regarding one’s current location and/or condition. In my case, perhaps even more muddled than it is routinely. Second, upon rousing, I might want to allow a few moments to orient myself before engaging in any earnest thought or movement. Finally, yippee!  After several months of trying numerous patches, guards, and eye masks, I have devised something that is undoubtedly comfortable – I can’t tell it is there – and protects my eyeballs.

After a couple of eye operations in the last few months, the need is not about blocking the light, but protecting the eye from pressure while sleeping. I have discovered that I often sleep on my face, and the resulting pressure on my eyeballs feels like a boatload of gravel in them the next morning. Not a good thing! A regular eye mask doesn’t provide the protection from pressure. The guards provided by the surgeons after the operations offer protection, but the globs of tape on my face is a sticky wicket.  

So, when nothing is working – create what you need. Using a discarded face mask – there are plenty around the house after Covid – and the surgical eye guards, I have been successful in creating a workable solution.  So successful in fact, that I couldn’t even feel it on my face!! I got a good laugh and a real moment of gratitude!!

Do Merton’s Observations on American Myth and Frontiers Apply Today?

 Asher B. Durand (American, 1796-1886). The First Harvest in the Wilderness, 1855. Brooklyn Museum.

Thomas Merton proposed in his 1965 book Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander that a widely accepted U.S. myth was that “America is the earthly paradise.”

“When a myth becomes a daydream, it is judged, found wanting, and must be discarded. To cling to it when it has lost its creative function is to condemn oneself to mental illness,” Merton wrote.

Read the Full Article at Good Faith Media.

What About “What About Easter?”

I wrote “What about Easter?” several months ago posting it to a local media blog The Tyler Loop Babble before posting it here. Not long after it went live on the site, probably within minutes if not seconds, I had this mind-rattling thought, Oh, my, what have I done! The thought was disturbing enough, but the accompanying feelings were downright unsettling.

The feelings of vulnerability and exposure surprised me. Those feelings had little if anything to do with the content of the piece, and a whole lot to do with the fact that I said it out loud – well, I wrote it down. I threw my questions, thoughts, and belief journey out into the ether world for all to peruse, analyze, criticize, and judge. Now, I suppose that’s not a really big deal since anyone – aka yours truly – writing editorial and/or opinion content knows that it’s the nature of the beast and comes to expect analysis, criticism, and possible judgment. Thus, the need for a “tough skin,” a steadfast stance on said opinion, and/or solid supporting empirical evidence where applicable and available.

So, what was the vulnerability and exposure about? Hum! Reflecting on that question, the best answer I came up with regarded cultural context. I/We live, work, and play in the East Texas Bible Belt where the faith tenets of traditional and evangelical Christianity abound. Texas as a whole ranking #11 in the 2022 Most Religious States with 64% of adults reporting as religious.

I doubt that my thoughts expressed in “What about Easter?” reflect those of most East Texas religious folks. Or I wonder? Does our fear of vulnerability and exposure when going against the grain of perceived or real public opinion thwart the expression of our genuine thoughts and feelings? Maybe there are more folks with questioning, outside-the-box thoughts and beliefs, but keep them to themselves. Does that fear shroud our genuine selves? If that fear did not exist, how many of us would risk stepping out and going against the grain for the sake of freedom of expression and an authentic life.

I found it interesting that not long after my bout of vulnerability and exposure, a group of friends posed the question, how do we help folks with different, against-the-grain, outside-the-box thoughts and feelings on any issue be able to step up and speak out? I don’t know. However, I do have an opinion on that: As more of us step up, risk the vulnerability and exposure, and respectfully express our against-the-grain thoughts and feelings, others will as well. There is encouragement, motivation, and power in knowing one is not alone.

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What About Easter?

NOTE: I wrote What About Easter? during Easter week some three months ago, but did not post it here. I did post it on a local blog, The Tyler Loop Babble. Why did I not post it here on my personal blog? What About ‘What About Easter?’ coming soon!

It’s Palm Sunday and much of the world is gearing up for Holy Week and various remembrances – Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Black Saturday, and the celebratory Easter Sunday morning.

 For those like me, and there are many, who have experienced or are in the midst of a spiritual shift away from the D’s & D’s – the dos and don’ts, the dogma and doctrine – of evangelical or traditional Christianity for that matter, Easter is a conundrum. What do we do with Easter? After decades of hearing, sincerely believing, and even teaching the Jesus story, we question, we doubt, we just can’t buy into the whole story 100% anymore. It’s like a suit of clothes that no longer fits, or maybe, new wine, bulging, ripping at the seams of old wineskins. Still the question – What about Easter? 

I start with Jesus. I believe, at the very least, Jesus was a man of God, called to preach, teach, and live a life exemplifying justice, mercy, and humility. According to Micah 6:8, that is just what the Lord requires of man. Jesus called out the unjust and oppressive practices of the tax collectors, money changers, and civic powers. He lambasted the legalism and ritualistic show and sham of the church hierarchy. He demonstrated care, compassion, dignity, and respect for lepers, children, the ill and infirm, beggars, prostitutes, and all sorts of marginalized folks. He lived humbly as an itinerant preacher with no property of his own and dependent upon the generosity of others for sustenance and shelter.

Jesus consistently and passionately bucked the status quo riling both civic and religious leaders. Feeling a threat to their authority and fearful of a populous revolt given Jesus’s growing influence with the people, they arrested him under trumped up charges, carried out a sham trial, convicted, and crucified him. They killed the man – a good man, a godly man, possibly the anointed son of God. Jesus was crucified because of pride, greed, and fear – the sins of the people of that day and particularly those in authority. Has our manner of sin really changed much over the centuries? They had power, position, wealth, exclusivity, and they wanted to keep it that way. Fearful of losing it all, they killed Jesus, period. Not going to wade into the theological weeds of sacrificial atonement here. That’s good Friday, on to Easter morning!

What happened that long-ago Sunday morning may be the prime example of God’s working in mysterious ways. Not to be flippant, but truly only God knows. I know I don’t know! I believe that’s a good thing, maybe one of a multitude of things that keep me mindful and in awe of the mystery of the Divine and tethered to him/her/it through faith. After all, if one is so certain one knows, there is no need for faith.

Whether one chooses to believe in Jesus’s physical resurrection or not is up to each individual. No need to get caught on the theological sticky wicket of resurrection. These days my takeaway from Easter morning is a renewed spirit. Regardless of what happened to Jesus’s body or whether his disciples encountered him in the flesh, as a ghost, in visions, or hallucinations after his death, we know what they did. They went from being grieved, dejected, and fearful to being excited, energized, bold, and committed in continuing to spread the message and do the work of justice, mercy, and humility that Jesus had begun. I can buy into the disciples having an emotional and/or spiritual experience resulting in a renewed spirit and greater focus and commitment to a cause – been there and done that, maybe you have as well.  No doubt, ultimately, the disciples walked away from Easter morning with some form of spiritual renewal. 

What about Easter? For my part I will remember the life and work of Jesus, grieve his death and the shameful manner in which it occurred at the hands of sinful men, and celebrate the hope of a renewed spirit. A renewed spirit that will lead and sustain in being and doing all that God, by whatever name,  requires – to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly. That takes care of the Easter conundrum for me. 

An Antidote for Our Ailments — Dig Deep!

I attended a meeting of our Tyler Public Library Board last Wednesday, June 1st, at Liberty Hall. The purpose of the meeting was to conduct a public hearing to discuss and consider a Library Patron Request for Reconsideration of Library Materials. The meeting turned contentious, with hostile comments and threats, verbal and possibly physical as I heard “don’t touch me” several times from an encounter which I did not turn to observe.

Library staff were accused of “handing out pornography to our children” which is blatantly false. The book in question, Blue is the Warmest Color by Jul Maroh, is classified as an adult graphic novel and is shelved on the second floor. All children’s books are shelved on the first floor.

Also, the library does not “hand out” books of any kind. Books are chosen and checked out by individuals exercising freewill and freedom to choose or not to choose — adults, young adults ideally with parental guidance, and children surely, hopefully with parental supervision and limits. I hate that our professional, dedicated library staff are being viciously maligned and caught in the crosshairs of our current cultural and societal chaos that is far more significant and way more insidious than any book – even this one, Blue is the Warmest Color by Jul March

The atmosphere and actions during the meeting were not shining examples of our perceived serene, congenial, and lovely rose and azalea adorned community. I was both appalled and deeply saddened by the display of toxicity and entrenched divisions. Yet, given the current political and social state of our nation, I can’t say that I was surprised. Whether we wish to face it head on or not, Tyler is a microcosm of all that is both ill and good with our nation politically, racially, culturally, and spiritually. Seeking refuge in our bubble of sweet-smelling roses and azaleas while ignoring the growing rot of division and its root causes is a hazardous path destined for debacle.

We are at a pivotal juncture at all levels of our being. Is it not time for us as individuals, a community, and nation to dig deep, take a long, hard look inward – individually and collectively — to discover and address the root causes of our anger, hate, and divisions? Can we the people not call upon our better angels for the courage to dig deep, the boldness of heart to transcend our differences, and the firmness of purpose — “to form a more perfect Union.”

I know, digging deep is hard. I hope we are up for it. I cringe to think of where we might be headed if we are not.

Another School Shooting — What now?

Maybe it’s the faces of hundreds of third, fourth, and fifth-grade students intruding into my mind’s eye? Maybe it’s their voices filled with joy, wonder, laughter, giggles, and delight as well as questions, fears, disappointments, sorrows, and hurts reverberating in my ears? Maybe it’s just them – children being children full of vitality, spontaneity, curiosity, vulnerability, and innocence all the while flexing and testing their limits of influence and control in and over their world? Maybe it’s just my memories – cherished memories – of those children and my experiences with them juxtaposed with the horror of 19 children just like them being senselessly, viciously gunned down that claw and rip into my heart today?

At this moment the lives of these 19 precious children of Uvalde, Texas, feel just as real to me as the hundreds with faces and names whom I experienced and often embraced, literally and figuratively, in my years as a school counselor. My sense of loss and grief is no less real. The loss and grief borne by their parents, family members, and community friends is unfathomable.

Even as I grieve the senseless loss of our children, I can’t escape asking, “How am I, are we, complicit? What have we, as a people, done or failed to do that makes us all complicit in their deaths? Will we once again point our fingers at a single, mentally ill, emotionally disturbed man – not much more than a child himself – and absolve ourselves of any culpability? Will we again, bemoan the abhorrent level of gun availability and lack of gun regulation in our nation railing against our government’s inaction and questionable, if not corrupt, lobbying practices? Will we continue to ensconce ourselves in our polar political ideologies and do nothing, claiming powerlessness?

Or will we garner the moral courage to come together regardless of ideology to stand up and speak out with such fervor as to truly initiate change on behalf of our children’s lives and the common good with both efforts to address our national mental health crisis and our epidemic of gun violence. I can’t help but believe that we, as a people, and a nation, are at a crossroads. I am reminded of Albert Einstein’s definition of insanity – doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. After decades of increased gun violence and school shootings, will we finally do something different? Or will we continue to spiral down into greater national insanity? We, the people, hold the answer.

Pull up, Level off!

I lay in bed this morning way too early to be awake, unable to go back to sleep, and taking a nosedive into a shit storm of shame and fear – to use Brene’Brown’s vernacular. Self-talk was descending, once again, into Why did you. . . why didn’t you. . . you should have known. . what’s the point?  During all that, I heard, “Pull up, level off!” We know the scene. The plane is going down and someone in the cockpit yells “pull up, level off.” Disaster is averted, and all ends well. Well, at least the plane lands and all appear physically intact.

Pull up, Level off!

The storm of shame and fear has been ongoing for several days alternating from tornadic intensity to relative calm. I’ve done the work — several years of it in fact many years ago — addressing the obvious anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts as well as the lurking, menacing feelings of shame, fear, anger, not good enough, etc. Yet, in some moments of conflict, personal fallibility, and disappointment, I find myself pommeled by the storm, again. I suspect all of us humans experience some levels of shame and fear from time to time, and I wonder if those of us with a long history of shame, fear, anger – all that stuff we don’t like to acknowledge or talk about – and subsequent mental health issues are more prone to the storms. That’s a hard reality for me.

At any rate, I do know the storm drill, and it does require pulling up and leveling off. Although, I had never thought of it in those terms. Pull up, resist and reverse the downward spiral of self-talk. Level off with some truths of my humanity such as I am human. I am both capable and fallible, I am enough and lacking at times. I am loved and loving. I am courageous and fearful.  I am a both/and. Fly out of the storm. 

For me, flying out is usually a bumpy, doable ride often made easier by sharing with someone I trust who will listen with empathy, compassion, and perhaps shared vulnerability. Heaven help us if we truly are alone in our experiences of the shame, fear, anger storms. Judgement and catastrophizing are not helpful – I’ve already done enough of that myself. Guidance for any next steps may be helpful.

As I said, I have done lots of work gaining insights into my shame, fear, anger, etc. Unfortunately, insights don’t necessarily eliminate the occasional storms. In this current storm I have been drawn to the image of a six-year-old little girl alone outside hiding, crying, trembling, and clinging to the corner of the school building. 

I say image because I experience this memory as if I am above it, watching it unfold. It was in the spring and our first-grade classes were dismissed at noon for Roundup Day – an afternoon for next year’s first graders to come register for school. I did not know what I was supposed to do to get home. The usual routine, walking home with my older sister or Mama picking us up, was not possible. My sister was still in class, and Mama was not there. I became a small speck on the yellow brick wall.

Someone found me and my teacher just hugged me. Surely, she said some things, but the scene I watch is silent. She took me back to the classroom, brought me a lunch tray, and let me show the rising first-graders around when they began to arrive. When Mama came to pick us up, my teacher told her what had happened. Again, from above I watch as Mama gives me a finger jabbing “tongue lashing” right there in the school breezeway in front of my sister, my teacher, and anyone else that was passing by. Mama grabbed my arm and walked-dragged me to the car continuing the scolding, finally with sound, “You should have known. . .” I still have no idea what I should have known.

As the current shame and fear storm has punched the “play” button on this memory, perhaps for the first time ever, I have connected viscerally, with the fear and shame felt as a child so long ago. Even though I lived in the shadows of those feelings for decades, it is painful to imagine the impact of these feelings on that little soul.

Now for the bumpy, but doable, ride flying out of the storm. I am human. I am enough. I make mistakes. I can and will own my mistakes. Mistakes do not define who I am. I am not a mistake.  

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