On the Edge

I have been quiet during this election cycle…  not silent, but quiet… certainly quieter than usual.  There are many reasons for this, ranging from my current vocational position in higher education, where I have always praised the merits of teaching students how to think as opposed to what to think… to my general dissatisfaction with the options on the ballot… to a certain degree of loss of relationships in some of my most politically minded circles… to the political divisions in my own family, which sometimes suck the life right out of me. 

I have been dwelling deeply on some words from the Talmud: “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.  Do justly, now.  Love mercy, now.  Walk humbly, now.  You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”  As an empath, I am, self-admittedly, often daunted… even overwhelmed… by the enormity of the world’s grief.  I feel it deeply in my bones, and it can threaten to consume me.  This sounds awful, but it beats the alternative.  The other day, as I was feeling this pain, I thought to myself, “This is uncomfortable, but I desperately need to feel it.”  And I do.  Because not feeling is so much worse.

I have big emotions.  Big.  Big.  Emotions.  For that, I am unashamed. 

And so, in the midst of this election week… after I had taken care of those who needed me to the best of my ability, nearly consumed by the grief but, nevertheless (she persisted), desiring to give all I could… I found myself gravitating toward the pull of the ocean, as is my modus operandi. 

I sat down on a rock, and the winds blew and beat against my face, and I wrote: I am currently sitting on a mass of land that will literally be inaccessible when the tide comes in.  There is an end to national power… an actual, physical end.  This is the eastern border, beyond which we have only wind and waves.  And they are subject to only One.

I am not free to abandon the work of healing… of peacemaking… of loving.  There is no scenario in which I would want to be free of this work.  We are called to this work… to this life… and it is not passive.  It is also not boundless, but concrete.  Cliché will no longer do (if it ever did), because by definition it lacks originality.  We can no longer throw our hands up in the air and shout, “God is in control!” without essentially spitting in the faces of the bereaved and naming their narratives as worth less than our own… as worthless… No, cliché will never do, nor will sweeping gestures and vague promises.  But maybe anecdote will.  Hear me out.  Today is a day when the big picture feels too enormous, but within that we’re all living smaller stories.  Things will change when justice, mercy, and humility permeate each of our narratives.  Please don’t mistake this for submission but subversion.  I learned a long time ago that the loudest voices are merely the loudest.  And they fade.  That’s not power.  Not really.    

Do not lose heart!  “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”[i]  Count on it.  Rise up.

L. 

 

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[i] Matthew 5:4

I Voted Today…

… and the honest truth is that I feel crappier about it than any other vote I have ever cast (and that’s saying something).

Take a trip with me, back to 2008.  If you’ve known me that long, you may recollect that I was a lifelong registered Republican, but I had bought into “Hope and Change.”  However, on the precipice of casting my vote for Obama, I waited with hopeful, bated breath for his VP pick.  And when it was Joe Biden, I said, “Oh, heck no,” and this voter swayed right back to the party she was registered to support (even though I didn’t have a lot of love for McCain, either). [i] 

Fast forward to the past year…

Much in the same way, I critically viewed all of the democratic debates and felt fairly sure that a candidate I could live with would emerge.  Having voted third party in 2016, and having decided (and declared fairly publicly) that I would never do that again (unless we come to some sort of ranked voting system at which point I will claim it is my prerogative to change my mind, given new parameters and information), I had essentially already decided that I would vote for whoever’s name graced the ballot for the democratic party this time around.  There were a few candidates I didn’t like, but I was fairly sure they would drop off in the early dropping off days (most did), and there were a few candidates I liked a great deal.  None of them were perfect.  I hold some positions that are apparently mutually exclusive with actually becoming a democrat (although, in full disclosure, that is how I am currently registered).  But looking at the wide field of possibilities, I felt pretty good about where things were headed.  At some point, I told my kids that it would be alright, because the only candidate left that I just couldn’t vote for was Biden, and it was never going to be him…

And then I found myself in an impossible situation, because I am 100%, without a doubt, a “nevertrumper” for life (please note, the very definition of never means never), I had made a really big deal about never voting third party again (see: definition of never), and I had also proclaimed that I would not vote for Biden and had backed that decision with my voting record, in the past.  Because I disdain lying and/or going back on my word; for the first time ever, I seriously considered not voting, but it didn’t sit well with me. I’m not a real fan of letting other people make decisions for me and living with the consequences.

There are many things I would like to say about politics.  There are many things I would like to say about my positions and how I justify the decisions I make.  I could go on for pages and pages, but I suspect this wouldn’t make much of a difference, because the vast majority of us are reading and listening to the biased sources that we think are most legitimate, and one more liberal leaning, pro-life, doctoral student, pastor, mama of many[ii] isn’t going to sway anyone in a blog post.  However, if you legitimately want to engage in a dialogue, I am always willing to do so.[iii]

I recognize that no one has to disclose who they voted for, but my MO is to do just that, with transparency, in hopes that we can have that charitable discourse and also in hopes that we might recognize that voting doesn’t always fit neatly into some predetermined box and it’s OK to cast a vote for someone who doesn’t meet all of your expectations or for someone whose ideals and policies don’t align perfectly with your own.  Just keeping it real, how many people are there out there who would meet these standards?  If I made this my baseline, I could probably vote for something like two people on the face of the planet, and neither of them is running for anything!

I voted today.

I voted Biden/Harris, because it was the best I could do.

I feel kinda crappy.

I still hope you go do the best you can do, too.   

L.  

PS  I have a whole roll of "I Voted Today" stickers for those of you who are voting by mail, like me!  Just send me a message and I will get one out to you!

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[i] Actually, these were probably not my exact words 12 years ago, although they would be close, today…

[ii] Oh wait, just me?

[iii] By this, I do not mean if you want to make attempts to trip me up or change my mind.  What I mean is that I am willing to share my reasons for my decision, and I will listen to yours, if we can talk charitably with one another.

The World Has Shifted

 “Do the best you can until you know better.  Then when you know better, do better.” -Maya Angelou

It’s a bumper sticker on my vehicle, but it’s more than that, too. 

For a variety of reasons, I have written and said precious little of consequence over the past few months.  To be honest, a great deal of my silence is simply due to my current position in life.  I’m a PhD student.  It’s exam year.  I am basically maxed out.  The other day, I told my kids I think I have crammed so much in my brain that it is starting to dump details that are no longer important or at least that are not vital in the given moment.  This life doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for engagement, and I’m OK with that, because I know it’s temporary. 

But there’s something I need to say now.  The world has shifted.

It’s certainly not the first time, and it won’t be the last.  If you know me, you know I like classic TV, and I can tell you that you need look no further than an episode or two of Leave it to Beaver, The Andy Griffith Show, Happy Days, The Brady Bunch, or Full House (whew… showing my age if that’s now a “classic”) to see how families and worldviews and entertainment choices and relationships have changed from decade to decade.  And while I would not recommend trying to emulate the cultures of any of those sitcoms, I do find them an interesting study.

Many years ago, when my oldest kids (now adults) were little kids, I can remember my dad saying, “Well, you’re not raising them like you were raised, but you’re doing a good job.”  Not long ago, I heard a sentiment (paraphrased) that you can’t raise your kids the same way you were raised, because the world is not the same world it was when you were growing up.  It’s true.  It’s all true.  In fact, the world shifted again between the early childhood days of my oldest two children and the early childhood days of my youngest three.  It’s almost as if I could physically feel it.  And now, it has shifted once more. 

I suspect that the years between major world changes are getting shorter.  I could speculate on why this is, but if I do, I’ll never finish this post, and it will end up in the scrap heap with so many other ideas that I have never shared.  For the purposes of today, I don’t care so much about why the world has shifted but that it has.

There are basically two things you can do when you feel the ground move beneath your feet.  You can adapt… or not.  Both choices come with consequences.  I love the Maya Angelou quote, because I think if offers a certain degree of grace to everyone involved. 

Do the best you can…

I want to believe that everyone (or, at least most everyone) is doing the best they can.  It’s really hard when that’s not enough.  But for the sake of charitable discourse, let’s hold back on that for a moment and extend the benefit of the doubt to human beings, assuming that we are, indeed, doing our best. 

Until you know better…     

This part is tricky, too, because it requires teachable hearts.  It requires us to take a good, hard, long look at the things we believe to be best and to accept that they might not be.

Then when you know better…

But I believe in the resiliency of the human spirit, and I believe we can learn and deconstruct and reconstruct and accept that sometimes we were wrong, even when it was the best we had to offer at that particular time.

Do Better…    

I often say, “We have to do better,” but I have recently come to realize that, actually, we don’t.  We don’t have to do better, but we really should.  We should at least try.

It’s really hard.  It’s hard enough to transform and evolve when the people with all the power dig their heels in.  It’s harder still when the people we love do the same.  I get it.  I’m over her playing this very dangerous game of survival, just like the rest of you, and it’s terrifying, because I don’t claim to know what that even looks like for the coming days.  But I desperately want to be on the side of history that does just a little better than yesterday.  And even though it is my deep desire and a strong temptation to drag others kicking and screaming along with me, I think I’m at a place where I have to look at them, doing the best they can, even if they don’t want to know better, and wish them well, as I adapt to the earth moving beneath my feet.  Let's not dig our heels in.  Let's soar.

L.

Trump’s Reality TV Show

Sometimes I need a night to “sleep on it.”  When I finished watching the State of the Union address, last night, I turned to my sons (one daughter is away at school, the little one was asleep), and I said, “Well, Trump just produced an excellent episode of reality TV.”  That’s what it felt like, perhaps mixed with a little bit of game show.  But seriously, what else would I expect?

If you know me, or if you’ve read me, you have no question regarding my stance on Trump.  I am not a Trump supporter.  I was among the first to proclaim, “Never Trump.”  But, I was a registered Republican until almost four years ago.  And then I wasn’t.  I won’t hide that, and I won’t lie. 

Almost four years ago, I walked into a republican primary and cast a vote, too late, for John Kasich (I think… now I’m second guessing myself.  I suppose it could have been Christie or Rubio, but I don’t think so, because I’m a philosopher who likes bridges…).  In November, at a complete loss for what to do, I walked into another booth and cast a third party vote for Jill Stein of the Green Party (ostensibly throwing my vote away).  I have regretted that vote ever since, and I said I would never vote for a third party again.  But more on that later… back to the State of the Union…

Overall, it was appalling. 

I was appalled that the first third of the speech was devoted to money and power.  If that’s all you care about, Donald Trump is your guy. 

I was appalled at the way in which children were manipulated in the gallery.  I was appalled that babies were expected to have particular reactions to the return of their father and that a thirteen-year-old had to say, “Mom, are you OK,” over and over and over again on national television, as Trump went on and on about the death of his father.  I was appalled that a little girl was used as an example of exactly what it looks like to choose one child over another for a decent education as opposed to fixing the schools for all children. 

To be fair, the unprecedented (in speech) awarding of the Medal of Freedom to Rush Limbaugh as well as the promotion to Brigadier General of 100-year-old Tuskegee Airman Charles McGee were brilliant and beautiful moments, regardless of what you may or may not think of the recipients.  I guess if you’re going to gamble with people’s lives and use their stories for political gain, you’re going to strike out sometimes and also hit some home runs.

I was appalled that the one issue that received a widespread bipartisan, positive reaction was the killing of terrorists.  To be clear, I want to see the end of terrorism as much as anyone, but the very fact that the only thing the president could unite the entire country around in a standing ovation was death was unsettling.

I was appalled that the President of the United States didn’t shake the hand of the Speaker of the House, and I was equally (if not more) appalled that the same Speaker ripped up the President’s speech upon its completion.  I have frequently seen preschoolers engage in more respectful social behavior.  At Pelosi’s temper tantrum, I exclaimed, “That was completely inappropriate!  She’s going to get him reelected all by herself!”  Unpopular as it may be, I’m going to stand by that.  Fire away.

I was appalled by the President last night.  I was appalled by the Speaker.  I was appalled by the collective understanding that the only thing that might unite us is a common enemy, and even that is tenuous.

I have always taught my children that voting is an essential right that should be exercised by every American, and at the end of the night I looked at three of them after a great deal of consideration and admitted that I am unsure of whether or not I can vote in the upcoming election (this was certainly not only about the events surrounding the State of the Union; it has been percolating for many weeks now).  I am tired of voting for candidates who do not give a crap about my vote or my convictions.  I have made many concessions in recent years in order to vote for those whom I have found to be the best among bad choices.  I have long since ceased to “vote my conscience,” a phrase that was so important to me as a new voter at age eighteen, because there is literally no one whose policies would allow me to justify a vote of conscience.  I am sick and tired of voting for people because I think they might throw the least amount of fuel on the fire, and I actually want to be able to live with myself at the end of the day.

I was appalled, because I am not a republican and I am not a democrat.  Mostly, I was appalled, because I love people.  Maybe love doesn’t mix well with politics. 

L.  

Can Anything Good Come?

On Thursday afternoon, I had literally just finished a podcast recording about social justice (which will air tomorrow), relying heavily on the upcoming lectionary Scripture that includes the phrase, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” when I received a message directing me to the latest derogatory comment about immigrants, made by Donald Trump.

As a preview (and a jumping off point for further discussion), these are my opening words for the show:

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“‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ (John 1:45) 

These are words that were spoken about Jesus, himself, probably based in expectation and prejudice against a geographic location that just didn’t measure up or produce anyone noteworthy.   

In this narrative account, Philip invites Nathanael to ‘Come and see’ (v. 46), and Nathanael does, but it seems that we are often so grounded in and distracted by our own biases that we rarely reach this kind of charitable exploration and beautiful conclusion anymore.  Whole people groups are marginalized, and we miss out on the good that comes from the least likely places.”

***

Of course, I am upset.  In fact, I am upset enough that I have posted and deleted and reworded and reposted to social media (and apparently I am not alone in this effort).  I am upset enough that I recognize I still do not have sufficient words two days later.  I am upset enough that I need to both say and do something, even if it’s small.

So I’m about to say something that will probably make some people angry.  What’s new?  Story of my life…

The potential good that I see coming from this deplorable, offensive, intolerable phrase about “s***hole” countries and their people is that maybe #45 has finally said something strong enough to unite the least likely allies. 

WHAT???

Stay with me… or don’t.  You may also take this moment to unfriend me, if that seems more efficient.

Y’all…  There have been numerous occasions on which I have thought… hoped… wished… maybe even prayed… that a phrase was enough to leave the vast majority of people without a motive to continue to defend this administration (remember, “Grab them by the p***y”?), but where other horrific words have failed; these seem to offend almost everyone in some way.  

It has often been the most conservative, right winged, fundamental evangelicals who have sustained the justification for this kind of leadership.  This is mind blowing to me, but I do recognize the ways in which one issue voting has effected this phenomenon (I don’t agree, but I cognitively understand).  However, many of these same people, groups, denominations, etc. are now forced to reevaluate, because the truth is that they are also people who have reached out in mission, love, and relationship, time and time again, to the wonderful people of Haiti and African nations.  Because of this, I would imagine that there is some internal tension and struggle.  It’s not cut-and-dried.  Let’s be real, it never was, but today this has become more obvious.

So I’m angry.  I am so incredibly angry that anyone in a position that has historically obligated us to show extraordinary respect and honor has severely diminished the Imago Dei in whole marginalized people groups and, consequently, devalued their lives.  And I totally ‘get it’ that this is nothing new.  But for some factions, this is only becoming very real and relatable right now.

I’m angry, but I want to use that to fuel unity and reconciliation.  I want to reach out to those who are just now realizing the vast extent of this dehumanization, not by saying, “I told you so,” but by saying, “What can we do together, now?”

Perhaps this is the remark that will finally allow us to band together and agree that enough is enough.

Also…  I don’t always know what to do to offer immediate, practical solutions, but today I’ve got something… which is better than nothing… 

A friend of mine runs a 501(c)(3) called “Compassion for Africa.”  Because I know him personally, I also know it is true that every penny received (100%, no overhead) goes directly to the projects for which funds are designated.  They are doing some great work in Ghana, particularly in the areas of medicine, clean water, and education and business programs for young girls.  I’m going to link that information here, in case you’d like to be a part of the solution for these people who matter deeply:

Compassion for Africa

May something good come.  May it begin with us.

L.

Why I Didn’t March Yesterday

And…  Here we go…

Up until about a week ago, I had every intention to march.  I had every intention to go to Washington, D.C. to march.  I really wanted to be a part of this, primarily because I am a woman who believes in the equal rights of women, I know what it is to work and live life in a male dominated field (truth: most of the time it’s great, but sometimes it isn’t), I am raising two spit-fire daughters whom I hope will be stronger than me as they grow up, and I am also raising three sons who understand what it is to love and respect women and to advocate for equality.  Just a note…  Sometimes I think we forget how important our sons are in this whole mess.

At any rate, I knew we had a family schedule conflict yesterday, but I was still pretty sure I was going to march.

Originally, I had a ride to D.C., but that fell through when my friend and her family came upon a truly unavoidable scheduling issue.  She didn’t march, because she needed to be somewhere else, making the choice that was the very best for her family and life.  That’s sort of what this is about, right?

Plane tickets kept escalating, because, of course, inauguration weekend is not a cheap time to fly to D.C.

I thought I would just drive, but I really didn’t want to go alone.  It’s not that I couldn’t go alone.  The trip is about 550 miles (each way) for me, and I drive long distances alone, rather frequently, but I felt as if this particular trip required community.  On short notice, I just couldn’t find anybody who could make it work.

Now, here’s where I legitimately messed up…

Somehow, until I scanned my FB newsfeed yesterday afternoon, I didn’t realize there were several opportunities to march closer to home.  Had I known this, my day might have looked differently.

It might have, but there was one thing about the march that started to irritate me a little bit as it drew near.  It seems that in the days leading up to the march, one pro-life women’s organization was excluded from official partnership, simply because they are pro-life.  And here’s where I get in trouble with everyone… again.

About a year ago, I wrote a piece describing how very pro-life I am.  It can be found here, and I would highly suggest you read it… actually, I beg you to read it… if my being pro-life is offensive to you in any way.  Although we may not agree when you finish reading, I do think we can live with one another and maybe still be friends.

Even though I am vehemently feminist, I can’t stand on a pro-choice platform.  I can march side by side with my many friends, relatives, acquaintances, and colleagues who stand on a pro-choice platform, but my choice… every time… is life.  I need that to be clear, but I am concerned that this point may have been a little muddled yesterday.

I can’t tell you how happy it made my heart to see pictures of my friends and their children marching for equality all over the country.  Many beautiful words were penned, and I tried to ‘like’ all of them… until my FB app stopped working right.  But my heart sank a little bit at the thought that I don’t count, simply because of the different values I hold on one issue.  May I express to you how very difficult it is when you don’t fit neatly into any one camp?  It’s ironic, really, because these are the people for whom we’re supposed to advocate, right?  And yet…

Well, wouldn’t you know it, there are a few words from Scripture that seem to speak to this:    

I Corinthians 1:10, “I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought” (NIV).

This is a hard teaching, maybe especially right now.  I don’t think Paul is actually suggesting that we become like the aliens in “Buzz Lightyear of Star Command” and submit to the ‘unimind.’  We’re going to have differing views on a plethora of issues, and I want to be exceptionally clear that I think it is completely appropriate for all of us to protest peacefully and certainly to step in passionately to defend the marginalized!  But could we maybe, just maybe, begin by agreeing to offer love and hope at all costs?  Don’t we all want that?  I’m going to choose to believe that we do.

 
L.