19 Kids & Counting - Their Rights, Our rights

I have an on and off again fascination with 19 Kids and Counting. Sometimes, I watch them in total dismay and am somewhat entertained by the absurdity of their gender roles, dating rituals and narrow worldview. Other times, it makes me sad because having also gown up Baptist, I understand the kind invasive condemnation, fear mongering and cult-like oppression that so often goes hand in hand with conservative evangelicalism.

But I also have a respect for principles lived out, in flesh and blood, even when it’s inconvenient or unpopular. I admire the laughter and sibling comradely that is apparent among all 19 of them, and it seems to me that Jim Bob and Michelle have a loving marriage that has somehow stood the test of time – so many children – and all the comes with that.

I also understand that some of their more radical, deeply ingrained beliefs come from a long history of exclusive doctrine and a very literal, biblical worldview. They live what they believe and are not shy about it. It’s a large part of why they’re on television in the first place.

Why anyone was remotely surprised or suddenly upset because they specifically vocalized their “biblical stance” and personal beliefs regarding homosexuality, the transgender community and gay marriage is simply, baffling. What in the hell did America expect? Almost anyone who watches the show does so with an odd mix of confusion, preposterousness and fascination. Nothing about them is “normal.”

What makes me sad isn’t so much that they disagree with the homosexual lifestyle; that was obvious after episode 1. Instead, what I find somewhat appalling is the reaction of so many people signing forms and speaking hate and threatening a network because these people executed their 1st amendment right to speak freely and uphold their constitutional right to their beliefs. Furthermore, TLC’s right to broadcast human beings in their natural element, is just that – the`y’re right. Our right is choice - to watch or not watch the show.  

I don’t agree with them. I passionately don’t. But I find it wrong that the work we do for equality, liberty and justice should only be for those we agree with. Hasn’t that been the motto of the LGBT community? People that are different are still people, worthy of respect - free, in a free country - to pursue happiness.

I have another secret; I sometimes watch the Kardashians. And I don’t agree with a TON of what those girls do, starting with Mom K herself.  I associate with no one who agrees in totality with the Kardashian message. But leaked sex videos, rampant divorces, naked Kim photos and a total disrespect for authority is E!’s right to broadcast.

It’s impossible to find two more different families on reality television today –Kardashians/Duggars. Both offend different subsets of American culture and both upset the moral compass of the liberal/conservative coin. But their right to be who they are, a network’s right to film within the guidelines of the FCC and our right to partake in their media presence or not is what makes me happy to live in this country.

I don’t want the gay communities rights threatened. And I don’t want all the evangelicals silenced either. We cannot as a society keep doing this picking and choosing of freedom according to our worldview.

A lot of people died in vain if this is what it comes to.

We always go too far.

These extremes are unhealthy. And pointless. Real people are really hurting all over the world yet we live in glass houses hypocritically throwing pebbles.

Can we just, stop? 

Drinking Sand & Confirmation Bias

It couldn't be more ironic as well as appropriate that I am writing this on election day, where so many confusing issues lie on the table, covered by a biased media and promoted by mud-slinging canidates (who "approve this message"). With such loud and divergent voices presenting their angle as the truth, how do you differentiate propaganda from the truth? Is anything absolute? 

Just yesterday I felt absolutely impassioned to comment on a few posts concerning this whole Sara Palinism nonsense that "Obama hates stay at home moms." I'm convinced, because I asked, that most of the people who seemed outraged by this concept didn't listen or read the entirety of his speech. The right-wing extreme, far too willing to jump on any perceived flaw in this American president, often without checking facts, took President Obama's statement, That's (stay at home motherhood) not a choice we want Americans to make totally out of context and lambasted him as anti-SHM without reading the entirety of his speech. OR just thinking through it. I mean, do we REALLY think Obama hates SHM so much that he went out of his way on a cool, October day in Rhode Island to bash moms? Or could there possibly be something he was saying about stay at home motherhood that affects us women, who by the way, make up more than half of the American workforce? 

What Obama was actually talking about was Moms, leaving the workplace to stay home with the kids, which then leaves her earning a lower wage for the rest of her life as a result. THAT'S not a CHOICE we want Americans to make because we don't offer adequate preschools, childcare options or appropriate paid leave. The context was all about how we as a society can give women more choices beyond to stay home or not stay home, without the emotional and financial pressure and hardship that comes with having babies in America. This administration believes women shouldn't be forced out of the workforce because they have babies; that women shouldn't have to choose between babies or a career. 

Most women I know agree with the President on this, on both sides of the political fence. 

But a lot of moms were raging yesterday about this (misconstrued) notion that Obama hates them. 

Why? Because they hate Obama and someone told them he said this. Blind outrage. Context be damned. It's what they wanted to hear and it's called confirmation bias.

It reminds me of a quote in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Indeed it is a strange-disposed time; But men may construe things after their fashion, clean from the purpose of the things themselves. (I.III.33-35)  We the people can be crazy. Because we want to hear what we want to hear, whether or not it's rational. We believe lies because it's easier than reading a fact that undermines our preexisting beliefs. We see what we want to see and ignore what we don't want to deal with. We construe whatever we need to feel empowered that day, to feel safe and in control. 

Like President Andrew Shepard said in The American President, People don't drink the sand because they're thirsty. They drink the sand because they don't know the difference.

I guess my question today is, do we know the difference? How do we know we aren't drinking water but rather sand when history has so often proven us capable of deluding ourselves? 

Back in the 1800's when slavery was legal and practiced by "God-fearing" people, their truth was that God had ordained and approved slavery. They took one or two verses from the Bible, out of context, in order to prove their "rightness." German citizens during the Nazi Regime, living a mile or less from Auschwitz, denied their knowledge of the Holocaust, dismissing Nazi words as just rhetoric and the smell of rotting corpses or crematoria as the cost of war. Churches divide and attack one another over the issue of homosexuality, conveniently ignoring other Levitical law. Left and Right wing political parties sell themselves with propaganda and prey on public emotion, and the American public unthinkingly reposts and retweets.

We believe what we want to believe. 

I've mentioned this a few times. The past 15 months (and counting) have been very, very difficult for me. One of the tragic, beautiful, frightening and necessary reasons behind this difficulty is the confrontation between what I desired to be truth and actual reality. Stepping outside of the safety of my construed political, relational world and faith views has shaken the foundation of my life. I know why people believe what they want to believe. It's so much easier to drink the sand and pretend it's water. Discernment takes effort, research, thought, tears, work, pain and constant intentionality. It takes flexibility. And the real kicker is, we never get there fully. The constant seeking is exhausting. 

So is it worth it? 

I think once you realize you've been drinking sand, it's hard to keep forcing the mirage. Accepting the complexity of reality takes time. The questioning begins - about why we ever construed this and that the ways in which we did in the first place. It's a lot of self-work to un-believe. And it takes tons of stamina to stay unbuilt and remain fluid, not believing what we WANT to believe but believing discerned, researched, thought-over, meditated in, cared-for, sensical and responsible truth. 

Is it worth it? Yes, I think it is. Our world, our country, our communities, our friends and families and marriages and children deserve the outcome of seeking and the humility of refraining from drinking anything less than real water. This is the gift of pursued truth, a witness to our belief in the meaning and dignity of justice and accountability and progress. Today let's stop sticking our heads in the sand and saying it's water. Let's face the often scary desert of life and politics and finances and relationships and search for pure-cold-real water, lest we return to the sad, toxic mirage and drink the sand.

Randoms (14) The Move Edition

• We moved. Michael started a job at American Petroleum Institute last week and just loves his new job. Washington DC is a crazy, busy, chaotic, well-oiled machine. After searching for places to live for a few months while we catch our breath and learn our surroundings, we decided to live just outside of DC. 
  
• We moved to Wheaton (Silver Spring), Maryland. We live in a tiny 2BR, 2BA apartment right above the Wheaton Metro, making Michael's commute that much easier - about 40 minutes on the Metro with a little bit of walking to API. 
  
• The kids started preschool at a local Jewish learning center this morning and seemed to settle in nicely. It was just simply time of them to spread their little wings and fly for a few hours a morning. 
  
• And boy was I ready for that too. 
  
• I started a new job, while I keep cityflicker Freelance on the side. I'm officially a Content Strategist for a small PR firm in Virginia, requiring lots of remote work and a few hours a week in the office. I'm just starting the position this week, but I'm hopeful I will be an asset as I learn and grow in my role. 
  
• After working a week, Michael leaves this afternoon for a conference in Houston. He's excited. 
  

Now for the how it's REALLY going!

• It's HARD. So much harder than I thought. These two weeks have really tested me as a mom and a wife and a person. I'm amazed at how change can just rock identity. But somehow it has. Asking questions about who I am outside of friends, family, church, community, area-awareness, etc. becomes exhausting and usually pretty impossible to answer. 
• I am learning to give myself a little grace - to fail and then try again. For instance, today I dropped the kids off at preschool and had some work to do. I wanted a cozy spot at a local Starbucks but the closest one is inside the Safeway. So I google mapped another one and drove a few miles to get there, only to realize that it was just a drive through one. So I googled another one, went inside with my notebook and laptop and, it was full to capacity. Not a seat in the entire joint. I'm not going to lie, I went back to the car and cried a little. Because I didn't know where to go. And I'm directionally impaired in general in life so this is just that much more frustrating. 
• It wasn't just the Starbucks location (just ended up at the one inside Safeway), it's sort of everything. Everything is new and confusing and I have to map it all just to get anywhere. I feel lost a little - usually because I am. 
• Michael keeps telling me to give it some time. And that's what I'm trying to do. Have grace for myself and keep trying. I'm sure I'll adjust. I always have before but, can I just say?, I miss some of the predictability and the safety of really knowing Pittsburgh and its suburbs.  
• And I miss my friends. Somehow just knowing that I could grab a drink with someone after a bad day, comforted me and helped me through even the worst of mommy days. 
• On the positive - I am so happy for this opportunity. It's what we worked for all those long days and nights of tiny babies and grad school and then the post-grad school trying and waiting. It's really, really what we always hoped and suspected would happen. So in some ways, DC was always "the thing." When you get "the thing," it can feel surreal. And it does a bit. 
• The children seem to really like it here, especially the Metro. I don't know why, but they're playing together so much more. Funny games of dinosaur and candyland and "you be the mommy and i'll be the baby kitty" type of things. They're growing and seem to have not really had a huge adjustment period. 
• There is so much opportunity here for us as a family - places to visit, groups to join, churches to try, work opportunties. It's almost overwhelming but at least there is little reason to ever be bored. 
• We got a weekly babysitter (every Saturday night) for a few hours. And I cannot WAIT to begin our foodie adventure. The options are endless and amazing. This is a great food town. 
• The diversity is incredible. Here in Wheaton, there are tons of ethnicities represented, languages being spoken, music being blasted and people just being unique and different. The world is here, next door and down the street, at preschool and inside churches. I love it. 

Signing off until next time. Thanks for following my randoms.

Ever Up And Onward

In a few weeks we will be relocating to Washington D.C. Michael accepted a position with the American Petroleum Institute as a Customs and Accounting Advisor.

We have NO IDEA yet where we are going to live, where the kids will go to school, where I will work and so on! Ya know, no big deal. (deep breathes!) But it's a wonderful opportunity and despite the stress and major upcoming decisions, it sits well with us.

It's been the craziest year. 

Lots of moves, struggles, climbing up and climbing through what felt like endless mountains, obstacles and traps. I imagined this move would have happened years ago but as fate would have it, the time is now.  

We climb on.

New adventures are amazing! And terrifying. We move forward together as a family, walking this journey - challenged and hopeful - inspired by a city we have yet to discover, friends we have yet to meet, work we have yet to accomplish, lessons we have yet to learn and memories yet to be made.

We'll be having a few farewell get-togethers in the near future for our fellow Pittsburghers, so pay attention to Facebook. We'd love to say our goodbye's in person. But it's really just a see-ya-later. After all, it's four hours away, we'll be home for the holidays, and I expect visitors! (wherever we end up)

Ever up and onward - Billy Strayhorn

Why We Need To Stop Saying, "No Church Is Perfect."

No kidding, no church is perfect. I fail to understand exactly why that's the first thing church members say regarding church failure (abuse, neglect, judgement, hate, fear-mongering and the like).

Let me be clear, there is no substitute for healthy confrontation and direct communication. It's always important for each individual to confront personal or witnessed abuse.

Presuming these matters have been confronted and then in response, ignored (as happens far too often), here are five reasons I PERSONALLY dislike hearing this phrase in response to church-perpetuated injustice and why I think Christians need to stop handing it out like a candy-antidote to poison.

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1. It's belittling and dismissive.  Aren't we all well-acquainted with human frailty and imperfection? Truly, there isn't a person on this planet who doesn't understand that pain and abuse are rampant. The news is full of horrible suffering at the hands of other people. Clearly, humans are capable of tremendous failure. It's belittling to assume we don't understand that.

Secondly, it makes an assumption that what's been witnessed is not fully relevant because it wasn't witnessed by everyone. It dismisses personal experience and takes away credibility - it questions the integrity of the person who has witnessed or experienced the hurt, disqualifying their ability to discern injustice.

2. It's an excuse to hide behind. If you've ever questioned God, faith or suffering, you've probably been handed a few cliché responses to that pain and doubt. Things like, "All good things work together for good," and "God won't give you more than you can handle," and my all-time favorite, "The Lord must have a special plan for you because Satan is really attacking you." I think we accept those responses sometimes because they're Scriptural or can be interpreted from certain stories in Scripture. Some are well outside of context and wildly misused, but they're still there. In the Bible.

But "No church is perfect?," is not Scripture. Jesus was about calling out bullshit churchy responses and setting people on a radical path toward unity, goodness, compassion and justice. He didn't allow His disciples to make excuses for themselves.  In response to injustices committed by the Pharisees - the church leadership of His day - He didn't explain it away with, "No Temple is perfect." He didn't let injustice perpetuate without confrontation and an invitation to change. He then instructed His disciples to leave a town if their radical message of Love was not received. 

3. It's #sorrynotsorry and skirts around the real issues. I had a close friend who was accustom to apologizig as a form of escape. Boy, an "I'm sorry" can really shut down a conversation and therefor the ability to work through an offense and grow the relationship. After a while, after the perpetuation of the offense, I stopped accepting the apology and we'd really dig in and talk. Because saying sorry isn't a true apology if the real issues aren't worked through.

"No church is perfect," is a blanket statement, a #sorrynotsorry avoidance and I'm convinced that the people who say this frequently, are trying desperately to overlook the pain themselves. (I know. I've been there.) It's an avoidance of the situation and never really digs in and deals with the root of the problem. "Sorry" with no goal of standing in the gap or struggling for reconciliation or invoking change isn't helpful. It stifles conversation, Christian community, transparency, trust and goes against everything Jesus told us to do and be for one another. It's relational suicide.

4. It's guilt-driven. If you really think about it, the statement is set up to accuse the wounded of being judgmental. Like somehow if a person takes issue with being hurt or witnessing injustices and decides to leave their church for said reasons (after confronting the offender and striving for reconciliation - only to be further marginalized), this phrase accuses them of unrighteously judging.

It plays on the heartstrings of the boundary-less and promotes duty over freedom. It seems like a bad idea to fill a church with the obligated abused, but that's exactly what this statement promotes. It lends itself to false-humility, fake-apologies and fucked-up theology.

5. It's sort of like rape culture. When "no church is perfect" becomes part of the DNA of a church member's consistent language they become part of the injustice. Remember when Jesus flipped out in the Temple and turned over some tables? He hated that people were abusing their power and robbing the poor of money and their rights to freely worship. He kicked out the sellers but he ALSO KICKED OUT THE BUYERS. Because when we enable people to commit injustices, to us and others, we become the buyers. Buying into a church culture that abuses its power and frequently hurts people, is an assault on all Jesus told us to model and be for one another.

Hiding behind *shrug* "no church is perfect," communicates a powerless Christ, an absentee Holy Spirit and a will-lessness among the church. It's saying that people can't really help themselves, so they sin. They assault other people with words and actions and the wounded are supposed to just ignore, self-blame or overlook in the name of well, we're all sinners!! This is rape culture; *shrug* "boys will be boys." Implying they can't really help themselves, so they rape. They assault other people with words and actions and the wounded are supposed to just ignore, self-blame or overlook. If that's not the farthest thing from what Jesus wants us to be to and for one another, I don't know what is.

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I do know this to be true. Most of the people I know who have left church, and then either seriously questioned their faith or walked away entirely, have done so because of one or all of these five issues. Furthermore, I don't think anyone even WANTS to go to a perfect church (because then we'd be the only sinners, and how boring, I mean, awkward would that be?). But I do really believe that people want to belong to a community that radically loves and takes responsibility and acts as a living organism that calls and adapts to healthy, life-giving change. No one wants to be belittled, excused, avoided, guilted or have their pain marginalized.

I really, really want Christians to stop saying this. Because it really, really makes me want to walk away. If you've found yourself saying this about your church (which I did for many years), please dig a little deeper. Ask the questions. Confront the situation.

Let's not be Buyers.

On Behalf of Suicide

I think we're all pretty blown away at the death by suicide of Robin Williams. How a person so contagious and so hilarious - filled with wonder and amusement could end his life - is beyond comprehension. Now we grieve, speculate and eventually some will accuse him of selfishness. It's hard to understand how such talented joy could ever feel such terrible sorrow. It just doesn't make sense. How could he take himself from us?

Sometimes there is harsh reality to the unspoken life - the sorrows unseen, the joys robbed by tragedy, addiction, abuse and chemical imbalances to name a few.

We're so public these days, with our instagrams and tweets, status updates and smiley selfies. The life we portray on camera can be such a far cry from reality. I have a friend who does something called, #showyourreal. It's an amazing concept. But sometimes I wonder as I follow along, if anybody really is, showing their real? Cuz let's be honest, when reality hits bottom, who the hell really WANTS to read a person's dark night of the soul and sleepless struggles?

We live in a culture of fake and sometimes the life we lead in public, is miles away from the truth of our hearts. It's a mistake to assume otherwise. Another mistake is to assume that Robin Williams, or anyone who has attempted or committed suicide, has implicitly done so as a decision to leave loved ones broken and spiraling. I don't think it's as selfish as we accuse it to be. 

We've all heard it; suicide is the single most selfish act a person can commit. But what I know about it is that sometimes, it's meant to be selfless. It's meant to protect. 

It was April 4, 1996, a month before my sweet sixteen, that I slit my wrists in my bathroom. The two hours of hell prior to that decision, and well, some parts of the 15 years leading up actually, were some of the bleakest. When all you see of yourself is the ability to hurt people and induce darkness, it's hard to find hope. It can be nearly impossible to see light. Very few people want to be around a sinking ship and so isolation and depression take root. 

For me (and those who've kindly shared their stories with me), suicide wasn't about trying to punish people, to die for personal benefit or gain. There comes a point when it's absolutely possible to believe that the world would be better without you. That family and friends would finally have peace without your presence; that you are so bad, so irreparable, that taking your life somehow seems a beautiful sacrifice. 

I can't explain it; deep depression un-dealt with is like gravity. It exists regardless of understanding or acknowledgment - insight or even desire. And it can pull anyone under and deceive even the steeliest of wills. Suicide therefore, is often MEANT to be selfless, to protect the world from the destruction and pain caused by that depression - a person in the midst of grieving tragedy, addiction, abuse or chemical imbalances can be hard to walk alongside.

I just want to say today that before we speculate and judge, before we call Mr. Williams selfish and shake our heads in confused judgment, can we try to see another side? He wasn't able to show his real; some people's stories are extremely personal and profoundly painful. Let's just be gentle with his life and with one another because right behind that hilarious joke, lip-stick covered smile or social butterflied persona lies a person with a history. A story. Real pain and radical significance. 

Let's love one another, especially those struggling in the darkness.

If you or anyone is struggling with suicide or depression - no matter what problems you are dealing with -  Lifeline will help you find a reason to keep living. Call 1.800.273.TALK. You are worth it. We all are! - http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org

Carrying Your Cross & The Myth of Meds

I think we all know those people who martyr. In small and big ways, they take on more than they should, seeking attention through false humility. These types of people are hard to be around in large doses because their anxiety and whoa-is-me/anything for you spiels are obviously suspect.

The evangelical church produces some of the worst of these types of people. I think it's because the concept of carrying your cross is wildly misunderstood. Somehow, this pervasive idea that following Jesus "well" equates chronic suffering and misery has eroded other, higher ideals like Love, Joy, Peace and just generally NOT acting like an asshole.

One danger I've observed in these misguided arenas of martyrdom and cross-carry is the denial of the very real existence of things like depression, anxiety and chemical/mental/emotional imbalances. Somehow, we've taken the Marilla/Anne of Green Gables, "to despair is to turn your back on God" quote as Gospel Truth. We've believed that deep grief should not be medicated lest we miss out on the blessing of our personal Gethsemane. We think mental illness is demonic and the antidote for these struggles is more faith and some thicker boot-straps.

Over ten years ago I was dealing with some personal stuff (shocking, i know!) and it was suggested that I start a mild-anxiety pill by my counselor. I was outraged, humiliated and totally confused as to why this Christian would suggest such a thing. After all, some of my anxiety came from poor life choices. Shouldn't I walk out my salvation, painfully? Isn't this part of the penance, I mean, repentance process?

I've come a long way since then and I've busted this myth of meds! I've come a long way this year, in fact. I've realized that the use of anxiety and depression meds boils down to pride vs. potential. I wouldn't go on a long night-hike without boots and a flashlight, just to prove I could. And more severely (because sometimes it IS), I wouldn't get heart surgery without anesthesia just to see if it were possible to go through it and live. Pride tries to prove something for the sake of martyred attention. Potential speaks to the hope of a full life.

Part of my current journey is admitting my need for boots - humbly accepting the tools needed in order to go on what may be a long hike up cliffs of confusion, through deserts of despair and across fields of failure. So for the sake of my potential, I recently went on some mild medications to help deal with my circumstantial depression and anxiety; it's helping.

The journey is long; longer than I realized and the path is as unclear as finding a pin on the floor in the dark. But now I have boots and a flashlight, and absolutely no Christian guilt. The burden is easier. And getting lighter.






Taking some inspiration from my girl, Tori Amos. Enjoy: Crucify.

Just Like When the Cat Died & Saying Goodbye

We just said goodbye to really good friends, one of which has personally seen me through a decade of life. Dear friends, that have walked us through marriage and babies and this past excruciating year of loss and heartache. I am happy for their new beginning and the adventure that awaits them but the process has been brutal, even though packing their truck and cleaning their house were simple (but sweaty) projects. It's the matters of heart that have a way of inducing exhasution. It's stuffing tears while trying to engage each last moment that takes its tool. 

I wake up today, without the torture of pending goodbyes but with an empty space I'm not sure how to fill. At the goodbye dinner, otherwise known to me as The Last Supper, my friend's mom had a complete breakdown and through tears and little comic relief, started talking about how this was JUST like when the cat died.

I couldn't help by stifle a giggle at the oddity of the comparison, but what she said gave me tremendous insight into my own sadness. She said that when her cat died, there was a lot of turmoil and grief in other aspects of her life. Turmoil and grief that hadn't quite been processed or resolved or fully healed. In that place of un-dealt-with sorrow, the death of the cat became an epically emotional moment. 

It was one more loss. 

Even if it was an old cat.

My friend's move is much more than a long-distance complication. It's not just the end of an era or a sad goodbye. For me, it's the cat dying - un-processed grief. It's one more loss. 

Uncontrollable public(ish) sobbing isn't my regular M.O. But grief doesn't seem to give a shit about running mascara or embarrassing sobbing sounds. If permitted, grief will roll out, on and over, every proper public persona and onto whoever and whatever it can.  Grief is leaky. And sometimes inappropriately epically emotional.

But it's a choice. Engaging is always a choice. So today, I sit in the sadness. And for once, I'll feel it without anesthetizing or dissociating. My friends are worth feeling for - they're worth rejoicing in and grieving over. I don't want to drown in a waterfall tomorrow what I am capable of bathing in today. I'm tired of giving dead cats more tears than they deserve.   

So today sucks. And I'm going to sit here for a while, in it. And just be. Sad.

And think about buying a cat.

You're Katherine Pierce

...suck it up.

I am an avid Vampire Diaries fan, all the thirteen-year-old girls and me. We love Stefan Salvatore and Elena Gilbert and love to hate Kathryn Pierce. She’s downright evil at times but when you know her story and her context as fifteenth century Katerina Petrova, compassion and pity washes over you. You want her to find redemption and you want her to make good choices to hopefully atone for all the wrong she’s done. It’s a long story, but in Season 4, she is forced to “take the cure” and becomes human after centuries of being a strong, brave, beautiful, intelligent and cunning vampire.

As she struggles with the vulnerabilities of humanity, she discovers in Season 5 that she is also progressively dying. With old age biting at her pride, she makes an extremely unlikely decision for a woman so strong. She makes the decision to die – on her terms. She’s narcissistic enough to choose suicide over a slow, unbecoming death. She doesn’t want to suffer powerlessly. She's overcome so much by the mastery of her will and the force of her stubbornness. There was simply no way Katherine Pierce would die of something as common as old age.

And as it turns out, she would not die from jumping off the town clock tower either.

Stefan, who knew her as the consummate survivor, saved her. He knew that when he said, "You're Kathryn Pierce. Suck it up," she would be reminded that her name alone held a steely fierceness even those more powerful than her respected. Reminding her of that, rescued her. 

On days that it’s really hard to claim the positive and hope for sunshine or at least an umbrella, I've had to humor my inner-thirtheen-year-old-wanna-be-actress and dramatically, with or without David Gray playing in the background (you'll only get that if you watched the clip), say the same words Stefan said to Katherine, only personalized.

You're Lindsay Louise, suck it up.

Sometimes when we go through heartbreak and hard times – times that make us question our faith, our personhood, our life decisions, what we’ve placed our hopes in – the fabric of our being, it becomes important to tell ourselves who we are and who we’ve been. Because before it started raining, we were somebody in the sunshine. 

We’ve all weathered storms and come out on the other side. We’ve learned from days spent drenched, that the storm does end and that it can't rain forever.  We’ve seen the best versions of ourselves and the worst. And even if the current version is far from who we planned to become, it's vital to hold onto core identity. Those amazing things that make you, you. Those things that make me, me.

Here’s the deal.  I’ve overcome a decent amount in my life.  More than some, less than others but enough to call myself a survivor. I’ve smiled through tears and chosen Love over Fear. I’ve pursued Truth and Justice and Forgiveness. And while I have some pretty significant weaknesses (McDonald's French fries, dark and brooding musicians, salted caramel, Pearl Jam’s song Black, and Vodka Tonic...in excess, just to name a few of the nicer ones), I know I am strong because my heart is still soft toward people, open and able to give and hope, again and again. I haven't fully surrendered to the trap of cynicism or the lies that come from failure. I know I’ll walk through this season stronger and wiser. A better woman, mother, lover, Seeker – I’ll be a better human.

Because, I'm Lindsay Louise. I'll suck it up.

I guess I just want to say today to anyone reading me on the interweb and those who've recenlty messaged me, that whatever you're going through, claim your core. Live to fight and love another day.

We're Katherine Pierce. We'll suck it up.

"If", Brand New, Pure at Heart (& crying at a concert)

 If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken   

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

______

My dear friend David, has spent a decade introducing me to good music. He's responsible for my love of many bands and artists, Brand New being at the top of that list. A few years ago, he bought me The Devil and God Raging Inside of Me. The minute I popped it into my sad little CD player in my old car, I was in love. 

Sowing Seeds leads off this album and is my favorite of all Brand New songs. For years, I thought it was really strange that I so thoroughly resonated with this song. There are certainly many others that could have been obvious choices. This is, after all, an album that sings and screams about the fallen Christian and the battle between good and evil and the loss and breaking of all the "yokes" church and Christianity places on people. (at least that's what I make of it but more creative and knowing minds may hear things differently.) 

Last Thursday, I went to see Brand New at Stage AE here in Pittsburgh. Mid-way through, they played Sowing Seeds. And as the lyrics, taken from a poem by Rudyard Kipling, melodically washed over me, I finally did it. I bore to hear the truth that I've spoken. I watched the things I've given my life to, break. 

And even more, I realized something frightening. Something freeing. 

I not only surrendered to the necessity of that breaking, I decided that for some things, for some people, I may not stoop and build anymore. Not with worn-out tools. Not with false pretenses. Not with fake smiles and empty promises.  I'm too tired to pretend to care about what everyone else wants me to give myself to and to sow seeds I'd rather not see come to fruition in the first place.  I spent years working at a church for Christ's sake - this girl knows how to smile, fake it and tolerate the suckling from the power-tit by those I was supposed to respect. 

A person can fake for so long, they stop realizing what is false and what is true - like being knocked over by a wave and becoming disoriented between what is up and what is down. I think that's been me in a lot of ways. And coming out of disorientation is tricky and blinding and amazing and beathless.

It's a really odd thing, to have been known as a truth-teller, but realizing all along - it wasn't all true. Since I was a tiny child, I really couldn't lie. And for most of my life, I barely even tried to. Later I became someone unafraid to confront and speak words that cut between honesty and deception. But standing at that show last Thursday, I realized that the truth that matters the most, is the very truth I've chosen to ignore. And since I'm still a recovering evangelical, I'll throw this out there too. The heart really can be, more deceitful than all else and beyond cure. (Jeremiah 17:9) 

_____

I have a pretty amazing therapist who confronts my black and white mind every time we meet, as well as my self-depricting humor and my boundary-lessness. When we first started talking about boundaries, I'm not to going to lie (ha!). I literally could not comprehend what the hell she was talking about, mostly because her questions always began with: 

Her: "....Yes. That makes sense. But what do YOU want?"

Me: "UMMMM???!!!!?!??!.... (long pause) Oh, that's not rhetorical? Shit, well. UMM." (insert blank stares and hard blinking while my 8 differing and conflicting personalities via for the "right" answer.) 

I AM learning to listen though, slowly. Because as my therapist explains (over and over), boundaries are mostly created by hearing your own self. And I'm finally listening and trying not to apologize for my truth. The truth that was there all along. The truth that isn't black and white. The truth that gives me the freedom to cry at a concert and see the light and promise to listen and to hear ME - to just, cultivate this garden with salvageable tools and brand new ones I'll acquire along the way. I want to sow desirable seeds that I'll water with joy and not dread and I want to watch those seeds blossom into something, simple maybe, but honest. 

Because I think that, that is what it means to be pure of heart.

Scarlet "A" & Un-sanctified

I was twenty-one when I was first told I had "lost my testimony." A trusted pastor from a neighborhood church heard rumors of an unruly night my friends and I had on the South Side. He made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he implicitly believed the rumors and that those of us caught in these acts of debauchery had lost "our witness." We had lost our testimony and therefore our volunteer roles on the worship team.

Unfortunately, I grew up Baptist. So I knew better than to begin to question my salvation but what I did begin to question, was Myself. And Grace. And God. I began to question the point of choosing right after having chosen wrong. What would be the allure of repentance without the potential of restoration?

Punishment hardly ever works because atonement by good deeds or shunning because of broken covenants, isn't convincing or inspiring. It's isolating.

The Scarlet Letter

I had walked the narrow plank to the alter time and again as a child. I wasn't the kid who needed convinced she was a sinner. (You don't lose your sexual purity as a child - irregardless of where responsibility lies - and maintain the kind of image necessary to belong to the good girl's club.) I wasn't the young adult who needed to learn how to take responsibly for my wrong-doings. It takes a coward to blame a child; it takes a village of assholes to brand a scarlet letter on the heart-broken.

I think a truly conservative thinker could make a decent argument for the "lost testimony"concept and the church discipline incurred by said rumors. Leadership needs to be pure and undefiled, yada yada yada. (Though truth be told, I have yet to find a leader even close to pure or undefiled, but that's a subject for another day.)

I don't know. I get it. But also?

I don't.

...It's not the hugest secret, or maybe it is, that Michael and I are going through a very difficult time. Without getting into the details, I'll just say it's been the most painful season of our lives and quite possibly the most difficult path to discern. And though we are striving and hopeful and doing everything possible to personally grow and fight like hell for our family, life has taught us over and over that even the purest of hopes can disappoint. And hurt people, hurt people.

I've observed recently how people in a current season of "un-struggle" often act in the same spirit as that neighborhood pastor from my early 20's. It's not really the obvious judgment or rumor mongering, it's the demotion and shunning that hurts and isolates - the disallowance of grappling and heartbreak that's astonishing. Like if one area of a person's life is out of control or in crisis for a few months or even a year (*gasp*), somehow the entirety of who they are becomes questionable, regardless of years of positive, selfless or life-giving "testamony."

It must be nice to have a perfect marriage and a perfect life with perfect leaders on top of a grassy green hill. I should know - I used to live there (or so I thought. Or so I wanted to think).

Having believed this place was an empire, I now know illusions when I see them. The fall from grace can be quick. And the vultures don't waste time.

Drawing hard-lines for struggling people takes some balls (perfect ones, I hope...are there such things?!)  But I'm not convinced hard-lines and isolation are the best ways to love people. Jesus asked, especially, to see Peter, post-reserection. Because second (and third and fourth and seventy-seven) chances were important to a perfect Savior. Peter denied Jesus. He messed up in one big area of his life, but he wasn't lost in totality. And the time between dishonor and restoration was a matter of days - not years - and certainly far from a lifetime of distrust and shaming.

Why do we write people off just because they struggle in ways we do not, or in ways we are just afraid to admit? Why is it so easy to proclaim punishment and isolation and time-outs but not invite restoration, hope or forgiveness? It's timeless - the allure and ease of pointing fingers vs. sitting across from a struggling friend and together, as equals, breaking bread. Did we learn nothing from Hester Prynne's life?  Do we take nothing from the teachings of Jesus?

Choking on Change

....and how ninety degrees is a lie

My dad has this saying that he finds pretty funny but I'm fairly certain it contains layers of truth. People (who party) don't stop partying. They just get tired.

I was talking to an old friend recently. We were reminiscing about our "old times;" the parties, the bars, the crowds, the prayers, the booze, the worship, the friendships, the boys, the girls and the energy. All that energy given to exploring ourselves while we were young. We discovered a lot and despite teetering on the edge here and there, we all survived. Somehow. And live to see another day. And tell another story.

But how different is that story, really?

Don't get me wrong, people make different decisions either based on circumstance, religion, reputation, obligation or just pure exhaustion. But if at the depth of our core we are all uniquely bent in certain ways, where does the deep go? Do we trick ourselves into deep's disappearance? Or will what was always there inevitable come out, simply transformed into something more palatable?

I've noticed that all kinds of people, even "the redeemed," try really hard to hide the deep. We force its energy elsewhere and give them face-lifts. We find new ways to get attention and more mature words to express our tantrums. We drink wine instead of shots of tequila; we obsessively rub our kids with coconut oil instead of doing lines of cocaine. We watch porn instead of having affairs; we write blogs instead of going to clubs. We join church groups, the PTA, play softball or take cooking classes to distract us from what lies, just beneath the surface. But the deep is still there. With layers and layers of light piled high on top.

Is this change?

Or is this how we choke on change, harnessed by the demeaning way in which it condemns us for everything we were and the shades of deep we wish we could still be.

I'm reminded of a different conversation I had recently on a Sunday morning. We called it our church and drank a lot of Bloody Mary's and 60 minute IPAs. We talked about evangelicalism and its detrimental view of humanity - that even our best is His worst, being primarily taught the evil of our brokenness. How fundamentally worthless we are in our own right.

I have a different theological view on that, being made in His image and all. But that's for another day. This is really about being human. Christian or Muslim or Agnostic. We're all just, trying. We want to be better. We are moving in small degrees, evolving into the most beautiful version of ourselves. But the process is brutal and isn't graciously done if its mixed with impossible expectations. (Trust me, I know. I grew up Baptist.)

I guess I just don't want to be lied to anymore. And I don't want to ignore reality. My deep is there, despite all of my "changing." Palpable and dark and alluring and full of wonder and poison - shades of shame, intoxicated intelligence - creative expressions that will not be locked away without keys. All any of us can do is be who we are,  a few degrees away from wherever we started.

Ninety degrees is a lie. Maybe we're just tired

(and then we get our second wind!?)

I got 99 problems but an itch ain't one

...PERSPECTIVE IS EVERYTHING

The human body is amazing. I recently had to go to a new doctor because I had several problems, including a bad rash around my neck and a nodule on the left side of my throat. I suspected I was dying but turns out I had a very swollen gland, due to the severe eczeme - all brought on by stress.

In my previous post, I did my best to capture how shitty 2013 was and as a result, my body was screaming for some relief. It reminds me of that Scripture in Luke 19,  Jesus answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”  - (If the people didn't worship, the earth would.) Kind of like if we don't deal with our stresses and anxieties, our stresses and anxieties will deal with us. Something has to give.

When 2013 started taking a turn for the worse, and then the much worse, I had to get a grip on my overwhelming emotions. I had to gain some perspective. At points, I lied to myself to keep me sane for the day. At other points, I anesthetized with wine or food or the escape of a good book. But in the process, I started to gain the ability to take a step back and focus on what's the most important to the least important; things I could change and things I could not.  I learned and am still learning what's really a problem. And I started humoring myself with this song.

"I got 99 problems but an __________ ain't one." I started filling in the blank with whatever the presenting issue was that was not in my control to change and in the grand scheme of problems, not really that big of a deal. Sometimes, I made a slight variation - like, "I got 99 problems but _____________ is only ONE of them." And I'd fill in the blank with an actual problem, but a problem that could be tempered with perspective.

Maybe I'm going crazy or maybe I just like inappropriate rap songs a little too much, but it's helped me stay sane. For instance:

• I got 99 problems but your parenting style ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but my church attendance ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but where I put the Christmas tree ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but an acquaintances gossip ain't one.
• I got 99 problems but Nico jumping off the couch 400 times a day ain't one.

It's also helped me gain the ability to prioritize my world and set boundaries for what I can give my energy toward. For instance:

• I got 99 problems but grieving Allegheny Center Alliance Church is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but the sale of my house is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but a friends' heartache is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but an argument in my marriage is only ONE of them.
• I got 99 problems but what we are doing in life is only ONE of them.

I know that still may seem a bit depressing but perspective has been everything; I'm still smiling and engaging and pushing forward and let's be honest, a little rap makes my world bouncier. :) And....I'm happy to say, after medication, blood tests and a little lecture from my doctor, I have 99 problems but an itch is no longer one. (and I no longer have a giant lump in my throat.) I'm hopeful for the day that I only have 72 problems or 11 problems, but as long as I stay focused on the priorities and let the rest go, the perspective will give me hope. And hope sustains all.

Here's to 2014, a year of perspective and hope!