A New Hope (not Star-Wars-related)

I'd really forgotten a lot.

It was likely a self-preservation tactic my subconscious exercised on my behalf.

In preparing for an interview, I went back and for the first time read through the blog posts I made during 2010-2012. 

I have a few thoughts, and they're all over the place. So in no particular order:

1) Holy cow, I cringed so hard so many times. The things I said as a youngster (pre-40s, but barely)! Your girl has changed A LOT in 15 years, and that's, to borrow a probably-copyrighted phrase from Martha Stewart, a good thing. If you read my blog back then, and you rolled your eyes or gasped at anything I said ("Thanks, Feminism," I'm looking at you), WE ARE IN AGREEMENT. And I'm so sorry. It's bad. It was very, very bad and re-exposing myself to... myself (not in a dirty way, perverts) created quite a rip in the time-space continuum of who I know myself to be.

2) It's easy to believe the people can't or won't change. Good gravy, have I ever changed in the past decade. I like to think it's for the better. I do probably cuss more than I used to. But getting off of social media was a huge improvement. I feel like I am much more accepting and less judgmental than I was back in the day. I definitely don't obsess over my body or my hair or anything the way that I did 14-15 years ago. I'm pretty sure I am NOT maturing, though, so don't worry about that.

3) It was a complete surprise to me to learn that I kept two concurrent blogs during 2011-2012??! I had "Trailer Trash and Proud" for fun stuff like reviews, things we did, stuff I baked, etc. and I kept my older one for all of my angst and preaching and Deep Thoughts™. That one is very barfy and I only read it to make sure that I was remembering timelines and events correctly. But it was a painful read. Bleh. The stuff about my cool pancakes and all of the chocolate I bought in Dallas was a lot more on-brand and enjoyable.

4) After all of the stuff happened in the early 2010s, it was like I was running out of a burning building and didn't have the energy or desire to look back. Now that I have, I feel a lot less... well, just a lot less about it. The feelings aren't a big deal. I'm over it. Things didn't go the way they would have if they'd happened the way I wanted, and apart from my self-esteem taking a huge hit (but refusing to stay down, which actually would have made it easier), it was all really fine. Better in the long run, in fact. Much better.

5) Things I should have done differently: a) Immediately left my church. b) Moved to Austin a year before I did. c) Been more proactive in helping D deal with the huge changes I, too, was finding difficult. It SUCKS as a parent to be barely treading water and therefore not fully notice that your kid is struggling probably worse than you are. A lot of the issues D has had are because I was not thinking properly and didn't notice or realize things I should have noticed and realized. We both have a lot more perspective on this as adults, but it doesn't change that I messed up. I missed a lot. And I can't redo any of it.

6) That said, reading about where I was back then really makes me more hopeful in this part of my life! I was worried about the same things: finding a job, having enough money to make it, where would I end up if I couldn't afford where I was living anymore? Etc. At the time, I had a friend who compared it to swinging on a trapeze and how, for the trapeze to work, sometimes you have to let go and fly and trust that the other trapeze will be there to meet you when you get there. Right now, I have a whole other adult in this with me, and we have more resources than I did at the time. So it helped kind of jolt me out of some doldrums and I appreciate that a lot!

In 12 years, none of us has aged, including the kid. Which is weird. ;)

Spilling Some Tea (it's old, but it's still hot)

This morning, I remembered something that unlocked a deep resentment I'd forgotten about, and it is just another thing I look back on and wish I'd done differently.

First, I have MANY regrets about how I treated people, and I know I owe a lot of people apologies. If you're one of those people, please feel free to reach out to me. I am not reaching out to some folks because I don't want to reopen wounds that might have healed. But believe me, I know a lot of the junk from my life is my doing.

THIS EXAMPLE is not, and I regret so much that I did not stand up for myself at the time.

I filed for divorce on March 14, 2011. At the time, I was going to Sherman (TX) Bible Church. They found out almost immediately and pulled me off of a project I'd been working on for the Easter service. I had written a script and was supposed to be in the film for the weekend. The church said that they were giving me "time off to concentrate on your marriage" (they pulled my ex-husband off of his weekend camera service, too) but it was really because I had been too visible to be allowed to continue while going down the path of leaving my husband.

I'm going to address what I wish I'd done here in a moment, but I have to tell you the part that REALLY bothers me:

The short film that the team produced was based on something that really happened to the pastor of the church at the time (Dennis Henderson, who is currently serving in a support ministry role to his son's church, which just happens to be a few miles from here) who had been a police officer in Dallas and had sort of "befriended" a woman he'd arrested multiple times for prostitution. He and his family had welcomed her into their home and really extended the love of Christ to her. She kept telling him that she was going to leave her pimp and live a "clean" life, but in the end, she was murdered before she could get out.

Obviously, the Easter story didn't include the part about her killing. He wanted it to show that Christians could win people over just by loving them, no matter who the person was. Not a bad message, and honestly we should just extend love to people regardless of whether they ever believe in a god or not. But our task was to create a 15-minute video that would be shown at the Easter services.

At the time, the church did quite a lot of video production and live "skits" during church. I had been on arts planning teams for about a decade at this time. The arts minister; a lady I thought was my friend until my life got too "messy" for her; and I came up with an outline to the story we wanted to produce, and I went home and wrote it.

Not including listening to Dennis's story and collaborating with the arts team, I spent probably 20 hours at home working on and polishing up the script, then editing it after feedback.

Fast-forward to the part where I get kicked out of the process. They started filming it on a night when I was out of town with my kid at a gymnastics meet, anyway. I was texting with a friend who was involved in the filming and it sounded typical of shoots: fun. But not for me.

In the end, the project was completed and shown on Easter weekend, and people loved it. They made CDs of it available and gave them to the people who had been involved. Someone who was truly a friend, Randy Sedlacek, made sure that I got my copy, and he even invited me to the party the church was hosting to distribute the copies of the video. I couldn't bring myself to go, even though he encouraged me to ("you earned it!") because he's a solid guy. I'll always remember him fondly.

Here's the kicker: I found out that when people would ask Dennis who wrote the script, his answer was, "It wrote itself... it was a true story."

Now, if you're my mom and you're reading this, maybe close it out. Because I'm about to use a very un-Christian phrase: That dude can go fuck himself because what did he mean "the script wrote itself"?? Even if he DICTATED IT to someone, it had to be typed up and formatted. But he didn't. He gave us an idea and a partial story-line, and we turned it into something. Using my words. I was the conduit that took his words and stories and translated them into a film-able format. That is an art and a skill, and the absolute lack of respect for it and for me is astounding.

I'm literally shaking right now, just thinking about it. This guy who told me to stay in a doomed marriage because "what if Jesus is going to save your marriage tomorrow and you gave up one day too soon" wanted so badly for me to disappear when I didn't submit to the benevolent and wise male leadership of that church that he actually made me invisible. I wasn't someone who contributed heavily to the aesthetic appeal of that church for years. No. The stuff just wrote itself.

WHAT I DID: Nothing. I mean, I complained to close friends who were in the know. But at that point, I'd already been made to sign a thing that I wouldn't blog about what was going on between me and the church vis-à-vis my divorce. And I wanted them to realize that I was still the exact same person I'd always been and approve of me and accept me SO MUCH that I tried my absolute most sincerely to comply. To kowtow. To crawl through every single hoop they put in front of me to prove my worthiness of continued participation in the church. UGH. I did basically NOTHING. And they were still very angry with me about it.

WHAT I WISH I'D DONE: Revoked my permission for them to use my script. At that point, they probably already had it. But I wish I'd written certified letters to every member of leadership demanding that they write another script and not use mine because if they didn't want me involved, that was the only honorable thing to do. That they would use my work that was invisible while making sure my face didn't show up anywhere is vile. 

I don't think it would have changed anything, but I wish I'd expressed my anger and wish to be absolutely removed from everything. And then when they used it anyway, I wish I'd written about THAT. I wish I'd written about EVERYTHING in REAL TIME. I wish I'd had the strength to say,"If you don't like what I'm making public, then maybe don't do it in private."

They were a bunch of bullies who genuinely thought they were shepherding me in God's will. This is one reason that I will never EVER spiritually submit myself to another human as long as I live. It's one thing to make stupid decisions for yourself and get hurt, but to think that you can try to persuade someone else to made bad choices because YOU feel like there's some edict from above that it's your calling to enforce? No. I'm sorry. Not this lady. Never again.

Get Out

Although I have screwed up on the job plenty, I have never been fired.

Even when I was going through a very messy breakdown of my marriage, divorce, and the aftermath of that, the community theater let me do all 4 of the shows I auditioned for and got parts in.

Over the years, I have acted harmfully in many ways, but my family of origin never once said, "We are done with you. You need to move on."

I was young and stupid during the years I volunteered for Greyhound Pets of America, but they appreciated me and let me do whatever I was willing and able to do.

My best Vegas friend, Adrienne, and my sister, Sarah, have both walked with me through a bunch of hot mess express action, lending nothing but support in the moment, even if they admitted later, "I could not believe you were doing that."

But you know what? I've been "invited" to leave two Christian churches.

The first, when I was going through my divorce. The invitation to leave was framed as the fact that coming to church seemed to be traumatic for me. It was true that I broke down most church services; music has the ability to open up places in your heart that you've tried to lock shut. I was going through a lot. It was presented to me as a mercy, but I know why they wanted me gone because they'd told me as much: They saw my struggle with the church leaders through my divorce as "divisive." They monitored my social media and blog to make sure I wasn't making them look bad. They had people express concern that I was being used as an example, since I was so visible in the congregation. They were worried that, in trying to show that the church really supported marriage, they were scapegoating me and hurting me as an individual. 

Several years after I left, most of the people I was close to there left and started their own church, a kind of reboot of the church we'd attended together. I hope it works for them.

The second time I was told, "If you won't submit to our shepherding in this, I'm not sure what we have for you here." It was because I was marrying James, who isn't a Christian. Unequally yoked and all of that. I stayed at that church for another 3 good years. I wonder now why.

This week, I got kicked out of my third organization, this time before I ever even showed up.

There is a homeschool group that has been meeting weekly in Lago Vista. It's been on Wednesday, when we already have a weekly event, but they recently changed it to Monday, so I was excited to take Mal. They have free play for one hour (outdoors usually, but not now during the five months of climate change hell that is Austin in the spring and summer), and then an organized activity like art or a science project. And someone usually reads aloud. It sounded really cool.

Last week, someone had asked a question and I mentioned something about being "an LGBT family" and how sometimes that means we're not welcome in some homeschooling spaces (which I can usually sniff out and avoid). No one responded in any way to my particular comment, so no biggie. But yesterday, I received a notice that said, "Since the group is growing so quickly recently" -- I'd been a part of it for probably 6 months -- "I just wanted to remind you that we are a Christian group. We are so fortunate to meet at *XYZ church* and we have agreed to them not to say or do anything in the building or on this page that is contrary to the gospel of Jesus Christ." Um, okay? So what exactly IS contrary to the gospel of Christ? Like what are the rules? I mean, I 100% know how my son will respond if he's asked if he has any brothers or sisters. And it's simple. He'll say, "I have a sibling." Does this make the baby Jesus cry?

So, anyway, short story is we are out of the group.

I have concerns about this "keeping the group pure from messiness" and avoiding addressing the realities of the world in which we live. When the ancient Israelites were in captivity, God told them to live their full lives and work for the flourishing of the country around them. I feel like Christianity has more of a "circle the wagons" mentality than a "throw the doors open, you'll be at home here" ethos. It is not difficult for me to understand why church attendance has declined precipitously over the years. There's no place for people who are perceived as "dangerous" because their lives don't align to a pretty Puritanical lived experience that many families and communities want to cultivate. "Protect the children" only applies to THEIR children. If the heathens' children have to suffer, well, I guess the Holy Spirit will take care of it? 

I think that a lot of church-going folk interpret "They will know we are Christians by our love" as love for each other, for the ones who look and think like they do. For the people who don't challenge what they think they know about what the Bible says or means. For people who are easy, who don't have messes out in the open, and for the ones who don't drink, smoke, or cuss. I'm pretty sure Jesus loved everyone. He surely hung out with everyone. 

And, honestly, I don't care at this point. I don't care what those "Christians" think about anything or whether they're right or wrong. I had a very comfortable home in the christian culture when I was naturally just doing stuff that the church liked (like not having sex when I was in high school... which was 100% about self-preservation on my side, but it looked "pure" or "holy" or whatever). When that's not how you live, christianity is quite ostracizing, othering, and unwelcoming. So I'm not wasting my time worrying about it anymore.

A Random Encounter a Decade Later

You didn't even recognize me. I mean, it's been exactly ten years, but we were kind of involved.

You once sat across a table from me and asked me, "What if God is just about to do a miracle, and you give up now?" You invested a lot of your time and effort in keeping me from leaving an unhealthy marriage because it was what god wanted me to do, and it was your job to hold me to this personal holiness. The church that you lead called men with whom they saw me talking and asked if I were involved in a sexual relationship with them. You pulled me off of my ministry of writing and film production "not as a punishment, but so you can focus on your marriage." As if that wasn't all I had done for the better part of the previous decade.

And then you just went on with your life and I slipped from your memory altogether. How nice for you.

Believe me, I know that you had good intentions. I worked with you for more than six years, and I saw your heart for people, and for unity. I know how much you worked, and how you put your whole heart into everything. I admired how you reached across denominations and cultures and wanted to gather everyone together. You even stood up for me the first time you met with my ex-husband and me. After I'd told my side of the story, you asked, "What is wrong with you, man? Don't you have any balls?"

But then you expected me to stay the course, as this was the first you'd heard of it, completely disregarding the fact that both I and a whole other church had been trying to fix things for years. I had changed so much, and given up so much of my truest self, trying to placate a person who demanded more than it was possible for me to give. It was never enough. I was always too much or too loud or too involved with my larger family or too fat or too out of control.

"I just wish you guys had come to [the church] earlier. Now we're at this precipice, and we could have helped."

I'm not sure what else I could have done. Literally everyone else knew. My ministry team, especially your staff member with whom I worked the closest, knew about the strain in my marriage. My writing partner once commiserated with me saying, "When they know you won't leave, it's like permission for them to treat you like shit." She's a better person than I am, I suppose, because... I left. I did not deserve to be treated like shit.

Exactly one year before, I had written an Easter segment for "The Bridge" about a marriage that was falling apart. My ex-husband, who was on the camera team that week, told his ministry team that the script was taken directly from our marriage.

I hadn't meant for it to be a cry for help, but maybe it was? Or maybe it was wish fulfillment? At the end of the service, it became clear that the husband had drastically changed tack and the couple ended up having a long, loving marriage. One of the choir members cried as he prayed before service, saying, "Let people hear this and be encouraged; there are a lot of people whose marriages are on life support, and they need to know that there's hope."

I mean, four months or so after that, there was a HUGE incident that several people witnessed, and it bothered one of them enough to reach out to church leadership. You met with us then, and... what? Like just assumed that because we went quiet again that this incident wasn't important? 

There was one other time, toward the end, that I saw a spark of compassion from you. After many meeting with elders, you were in one and perked up when I mentioned a mental disorder. I know what you've been through with your daughter. I know you understand that there are things you can't love someone enough to fix. You said, "You've never mentioned that before." And then you were never in later meetings. I assumed it was because you were at risk of being "too empathetic," which was a charge lain on one more friend who asked to sit in an elder's meeting with me as an advocate, and who broke down crying as a bunch of men came down on me and made me sign an agreement not to share any of what I was going through on social media.

Sir, there were people from your church who followed me on social media and read my blog just to make sure that I didn't speak a word of anything. When other church members called you because they knew me and saw what was happening, I was accused of being "divisive." 

I was in an emotionally abusive relationship, and you all cared more about saving my marriage than saving me. I was pushed out of the church home I'd had for six years, after working so closely with everyone who was making that decision.

Maybe you guys thought that I was being a jerk. I probably was. Another former preacher, Kevin Odor, used to say, "Hurt people hurt people." I'm sorry about my part in those things. Maybe, as one friend expressed concern, you were trying to make an example of me, to let everyone else know that marriage was so important, you couldn't tolerate its dissolution. I know you genuinely believe that you were trying to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Writing about these times brings everything back to the fore for me. And you clearly could not place me, even when I pulled my mask down, and said I'd been in Sherman when you were there.

You said, "Oh, things have changed since then..." then you told me about the church you'd pastored after the one I attended, and how now you're here, in my back yard, on staff with your son's congregation. I introduced you to my husband, and my child. I said, "He looks a lot like D at this age." Of course, you didn't know D as "D." And you probably wouldn't remember them, either.

"My wife's around here somewhere," you told me. I said I'd keep an eye out for her. And I did. When I saw her, I made sure my mask was up, and I averted my eyes. I could be polite and chatty with you, but not her. She said two of the worst things anyone said to me during my divorce, and I don't believe that the second one is forgivable, frankly.

The first thing: "Well, he's not hitting you, and he's not cheating, so you're kind of stuck." No, I was not. The law doesn't care why I wanted out; I was free to go. And if there is a god who expects women to tolerate every single thing that is not hitting or cheating, then that is not a god I am interested in following. I didn't have the guts to say it then, but I do now. I do not believe that. I absolutely do not.

The second, worst thing she said, though, after telling some anecdotes, was, "And, you know, most people are pretty miserable, anyway, so..."

What kind of "Christian" advice is this? Your marriage sucks? Well, guess what? NO ONE IS HAPPY so just give up dreaming! I mean, is Jesus supposed to make up for this? "Sure, your life sucks but one day, you'll die and be in heaven as long as you stay in these parameters!"

I'm not talking to her.

Anyway, my mood tanked for much of the event, because it was quite a surprise to see someone I thought was way back in the rear-view mirror. But, I have to tell you, as hard a time as I had, and as much as I struggled with the loss of my church family and friends, I probably should have thanked you.

"Oh, do you go to church here?" you asked about the congregation that hosted the event. I told you no, that I go to church in Leander.

What I didn't tell you was that I would never go to that church, and that was before I knew your son pastored it or that you worked there.

The reason is largely because of what I learned in my experience with your old church. My old church.

As I mentioned, I have no doubt that you and most of the men involved in pushing back on my divorce meant well. As you saw it, God demanded that divorce not happen, and therefore divorce is sin, and it was your responsibility to prevent my sinning if it were within your power.

The same thing happened, though less dramatically, with the church I attended here, when I was engaged to James, an "unbeliever," and the leadership stepped in to discourage me from marrying him. When I said I was going to go on with it, the preacher told me, "If you can't submit yourself to leadership in this way, then I don't really know what we have for you." I told him that wasn't the first time I'd been asked to leave a church, and that it's very demoralizing. We're still on okay terms. But what the hell, man?

Writing this, I think one might, perhaps rightfully, be tempted to say, "They were all right, and you're just a rebellious freak." I mean, maybe I am.

But I happen to believe that rebellious freaks also deserve to feel loved and accepted by their creator (if there is one, and in the context of the church, there is).

I have absolute confidence that the "church discipline" I received was done in genuine love.

And IT SUCKED. It felt awful. It felt invalidating, and humiliating, and made me feel like a problem child. Even knowing I was loved.

If this hadn't happened to me, I might not have thought about that in the context of the LGBTQ+ community. I'm embarrassed to admit that, but it's true. I've gone to church with gay people who were welcomed to the congregation but not allowed to serve in positions of leadership. I've also gone to churches where a gay member would have to keep the gay part on the down-low.

Because of my personal experience, I know that being loved and also seen as a problem doesn't feel like love. It's very "othering." It's condescending. It denies a part of who you are as being unseemly or sinful.

I never want anyone who steps into a church to feel that rejection, and because of that, I'll never attend a church that isn't open and affirming. I might not have come to this decision if it weren't for the way you cornered me and tried to shove me into a mould that I could not inhabit anymore.

So, really, thanks. Thanks for making me a more compassionate person.

If I happen to see you at the store or local events in the future, I'll keep my distance. And I won't let it ruin my day. 

I'd love it if you and your wife could know that you were wrong, though. Sure, there are days in my life that are stressful or monotonous. However, I'm happy. It's attainable, and I hope you guys aren't settling for "pretty miserable." But if you are, it's not my problem. And I'm not yours.

Rejecting rejection; excluding exclusion

Have you ever experienced rejection or exclusion?

I have. So many times. And it hurts just as badly the 85th time it happens as the first.

I've been excluded from friend groups because I wasn't enough of whatever they were looking for.

I've been rejected by crushes because I didn't look a certain way.

I've been denied acting parts for which I auditioned for the same reason.

A client has told my boss to fire me because he didn't like my basic attitude in my work for him.

I've been told by a recoiling schoolmate, "You're so fat," accompanied by a disgusted look that told me my fatness carried with it my entire unworthiness to be in his sphere for any reason at any time.

I've been resented and ignored for weeks at a time by the person who was supposed to love me most.

I've been invited by church leaders who'd known me and worked with me for six years to leave the church because the means to my emotional wellbeing conflicted with their vision of God's holiness in my life.

I've been invited by a different church's leaders to consider leaving the church if I wasn't willing to submit to their teachings on not marrying an "unbeliever."

Those all hurt, but it's even worse to see my kids experience rejection and exclusion. 

With my older kid, I saw it in gymnastics. D was talented, but not "the same" as the other program participants. Their arms'-length treatment was overt.

With my younger kid, I see it when a potential new friend's parent asks me, "Oh, is your other child a boy or a girl?" and I can't give them a simple answer to their seemingly simple question.

Or when a woman at a playground asked for our phone number so her son could play with "your daughter," then I had to explain that he's actually a boy with long hair. She made no attempt to quiet her nonverbal "I'll never use this phone number."

To watch another human totally write off one of your kids is excruciating.

Everyone wants to belong somewhere. Everyone wants to be accepted for who they are. Everyone, even the most introverted, wants to have someone they can talk to, with whom they can be their genuine selves, and not have to filter out bits in order to avoid rejection.

Except for a couple of the examples above, most of the incidents I relay took place in "Christian" circles. At a private Christian school. In Christian churches. Christian parents trying to raise Christian children.

Of all of the places in the world, the safest should be someone's home. The next safest should be the church, if you choose to attend a church.

This weekend, our church's online service was one of the most comforting and indicative of who we are as a body that I've experienced in a long time. I'm going to share it here, because I think it's important. 

Some churches repeat the phrase, "God accepts you where you ware, but he doesn't want you to stay there." That's not unconditional love. You can get into the nuances about how, sure, ideally people grow and change and become better versions of themselves. But if God truly IS love, then that love is eternal and unchanging and complete and transcends any of our brokenness. 

Also, I'll be frank in that I used to know very securely what I believed, and I don't anymore. But if I believe anything, it's that everyone deserves to know that they're valuable and valid and welcome and cherished. And I know I can guarantee that for anyone who ever wants to visit our church (hopefully in person at some point next year, but you can join us online until then). 

For the rest of my life, I'll err on the side of love, if it turns out to be an error. I don't believe it is. 

I'm just gonna zoom... away

You know what has been reiterated in my brain the past few weeks? I am NOT a video call person. I have never enjoyed them and I continue not to enjoy them, even as everyone is going to them as a way of connecting face-to-face.

I decline.

I don't need to see someone's face in order to feel their presence. When I'm on the phone with someone, I usually do things like cleaning the kitchen or sweeping or taking out the trash. These things are neither visually stimulating nor easy to accomplish if you have to hold a device and keep it trained on yourself.

When you add in more than two people, it just goes straight off the rails.

I know that people use Zoom and other conference technology for work. I think it mostly works in that way, because it is assumed that there is an agenda and people are mostly orderly in their input -- although James told me today he also eschews most "let's just get on a quick Zoom call and wrap this up" invitations because he prefers email, where both parties can think about their words and present a coherent, complete thought that will also be in writing.

But my church is trying to keep people in touch with Zoom and every time I've participated so far, it's been awkward. Either one person just talks more than everyone else, or when people try to chat, three people start at the same time... then stop... then start again... and it's just hard. There's a difference in person, where you can kind of feel the timbre of the room and tell by someone's body language that they're about to launch into a story so you don't interrupt. As much.

Also, it still doesn't "feel like" getting together. If you get together with a group of 12 people, there might be three active conversations going on at once. You can't do that if you're on a Zoom call. And hearing. Maybe it works for people who use sign language, but, again, you'd have to maximize the right window. Ehh.

THEN this week, they did a virtual happy hour (which James's work is also doing) where they were going to have a sing-along. Oh my word. My sister and I were talking about this earlier, how Zoom emphasizes one single sound source. It's kind of neat when someone starts talking and Zoom identifies who it is and highlights their window so you can tell who you're listening to without having to scan thumbnails.

However, this means that whoever sings loudest in a sing-along will be the main thing one hears, even if that's not the person with the accompaniment... or pitch. It just sounded like an awkward disaster waiting to happen, so I begged off. Well, it *was* my anniversary. And I also decided that a sing-along like that must be total hell on the other people in the house who are not participating. Especially if the user has earphones, as I would have.

So if you want to get in touch, feel free to call me! On a voice call. After you've texted me to warn me. And maybe I'll answer. Miss you all, though! Really!

The Perfect Guy

Literally every day of my life, something happens that makes me think, "Thank God I married James." James has said to me enough times that I remember it a lot: "I know you're not perfect, but you're perfect for me." And that's exactly how I feel about him. He is *the* partner for me. I tell him this, but probably not enough. It's really quite spectacular.

So to the men (yep, multiple) who tried to change me, and to the church people who tried to steer me straight on more than one occasion... I'm really sorry you wasted your time and energy. Turns out I didn't need you or your "helpful" advice. I am actually fine, and all of the decisions that I needed to make to end up where I am now were fine. I just needed a few years to be truly myself, accepted for what I am, in order to realize who I was, absent other people's approval-based persuasion.

Not a day goes by that I do not marvel at the match James and I make. There have been so many changes to my life and my worldview that would have made me completely unfit for anyone else I might have ended up with. There's a whole laundry list in my head that I can't detail here without insulting people or telling others' stories, but... I heard this on Saturday Night Live a couple of weeks ago, and it will always make me think of my amazing husband. He's pretty easy to love, too.

Women of Faith?

My pastor, Ryan, asked me if I'd be willing to speak for a few minutes in church about a woman who had helped shape my faith. I told him I'd think about it and get back with him.

Looking back, the first and most obvious choice would be my mother. She has always been a devout follower of Christ. She reads and rereads scripture like she's poring over an intimate letter from a dear friend. She finds such encouragement and hope from her faith, and it shows. My mom's spiritual gift is... hand-written cards? She sends cards to people who are sick, who are celebrating, or who might just have crossed her mind on any given day. She is an encourager. She wants very much to please God.

One time, we had been in a bookstore and as we made our way through the parking lot, Mom said, "Did you hear that girl crying?" I hadn't. Mom had asked her what was wrong, and had gotten the girl's whole life story in the end. This struck me and made me more intentional about noticing other people who might be hurting. I've now approached numerous strangers, awkwardly asking, "Do you need anything?" with no idea where to go from there. But I've never regretted it.

Yes, my mom was the earliest and most earnest example of faith in my life. And it might not be the case, but being "good" always seemed to come easy for her, as though she didn't experience many of the temptations that mere mortals like I did. So, in a way, that faith also seemed inaccessible at times. In fact, my sister and I used to quote a friend of mom's, just to annoy her, who called her "God's perfect person."

So, upon further rumination, I realized that there is one woman who shaped my faith as it is today even more than my mom did...

She was Billie, the pastor's wife where I attended church and served in various positions of lay leadership for the better part of a decade. We weren't close, but when it became clear that I was divorcing my husband of thirteen years, she was called in to "counsel" me against pursuing the separation.

She said many things that day with which I took issue, but two things she said forever changed how I would look at what I believe:

1) "Well, he's not hitting you and he's not cheating on you, so you're pretty much stuck."
2) "... And, you know, life kind of sucks, anyway, so..."

"You're stuck, and life sucks."

As it says in John 10:10: "I have come that they might have life... which pretty much sucks."

This well-meaning woman was feeding me propaganda from centuries of fundamentalist patriarchy: The one and only way for you, a woman, to bring glory to God is to surrender to an untenable situation. The end.

The thing is, for all of the problems I had with my church during this time, I never doubted that the hand of God was on it. I believed that he had a way for my child and me to enter into a more full existence. And I was right.

But because of Billie, I was able to see something in stark daylight that had never occurred to me before: I could not be part of any faith that discounts someone's pain or truth and tells them the only way to please God is to continue to allow themselves to be hurt or marginalized or discounted.

I would never have someone look back on a conversation with me and call it "spiritual abuse."

I wanted to love, genuinely, on behalf of God. If a religion told me to do otherwise, it was not the worship of the God I believed in.

I'd rather have the faith of... well, here we are: back at my mother.

We do not agree on the letter of the law when it comes to what God says, but I do know that my mom's faith informs her desire to see people who are hurt, to hear their stories without judgement, and to try, in whatever way she can, to shoulder some of their burdens.

She believes it's possible to achieve what Romans 15:13 says: "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." And so do I.

For the love of all that is good and holy...

There was an interview with the cast of Arrested Development that was very difficult for me to read/listen to. There was a lot of clapback and Jason Bateman has issued an apology, which is the right thing to do, but if I had been planning on watching, I'd not be able to now because I know the hurt that was involved, and I can't suspend my memory enough to enjoy the program.

In thinking about why I reacted so viscerally to this, I realized something: It's pretty much a replay of my meeting(s) with the elders of my church when I explained why I'd chosen to divorce my husband. I was sitting in this room, outnumbered by men, all of whom attempted to convince me that my reality wasn't significant enough to justify my feelings.

EFFFFFFFF THAAAATT!

Breaking from the world of entertainment and focusing on religiosity, here's something that seems blatantly obvious in retrospect but is not a thing I'd really considered before: If you, as a lady, are a sincere Christian attempting to devoutly follow the teachings of the modern evangelical church, you can get caught between The Rock (not Dwayne Johnson; the earlier one) and a Holy Hard Place.

Typically, you're in a heterosexual marriage following the alleged biblical mandate that there is a divine hierarchy (benevolent, sure -hopefully-, but a hierarchy nonetheless) in which the husband is the head of the household and, as such, has extra accountability and responsibility. That can look a lot like power, and where there is a power imbalance, there is always the opportunity for abuse.

My first husband took this all seriously, but was generally kind. My second husband likely had good intentions, but was consistently unkind and extremely low key controlling.

The same thing can be said for submitting to church authority, the vast majority of whom are men. When someone, be it a partner or a leader, claims to be speaking on behalf of God, what is a well-meaning woman supposed to do?

I actually heard from my husband, "I'm making this decision for our family, and if I'm wrong, then I'll have to answer to God about it. But I'm trying to do what's best." This was in regards to excising my sister and her family from our day-to-day life. WWJD, right?

And from a preacher's wife, who, yeah, is female but definitely a tool of the patriarchy, "Don't you trust God to protect your child?" Anyone who knows anything can tell you that this is emotional manipulation of the most blatant kind.

In both situations, I had the choice of complying and staying in good favor or of saying, "No. You're wrong" at the expense of implying that God is the one who was wrong. I have been dis-invited from two congregations for doing things of which the leaders disapproved (because, in their defense, it said so in the Bible), even though I didn't feel in either situation that God himself was displeased (or dishonored, as I was told my actions necessarily did).

This never entered my conscious brain until this morning, and I'm sure it had zero to do with my decision-making when it came time to get hitched to my non-believing husband, but I have to say... It's super empowering to be in a relationship where one side cannot appeal to a God-given authority to mandate the other's behavior. Instead, when James and I disagree, we come together and talk, we reason, we work together. I get that many Christian marriages operate this way, but I know a lot that don't.

Also, I'm so grateful for women like Sarah Bessey, author of "Jesus Feminist;" Rachel Held Evans, author of "A Year of Biblical Womanhood;" and other female Christian voices who are out there spreading the news that we can have an egalitarian outlook on life and still love Jesus. Women (nor anyone) should never have to endure any kind of abuse. Period. Hard stop. I'm committed to calling it out where I see it. I hope you'll join me.

This Week in Review

So, hey. How's your week been? (Pretends to listen intently for about four seconds.) Really? Great. Mine's had some ridiculous ups and downs, plus womanly hormones, and... well, I'm just ready for a new week, frankly. Here's a roughly chronological review.

We started the week with the SUV we'd just bought in the shop for a repair. We knew it needed an EGR valve replacement, but found out when we took it in Saturday that it actually needed the valve AND a whole new fuel tank. Since salvage yards aren't open over the weekend, and the repair shop really wanted to save us some money, they asked if we could wait until Monday when they could call around. (Shout out to Klingeman Car Care on this front. We used them in Oak Hill, and are fortunate that there's one even closer to where we live now over in Cedar Park.)

Sunday morning, Mal and I were going to visit a different church than we usually attend. It starts a half hour earlier than our home church, and since Mal is such a late riser, we pretty much had to throw his pants on and get him immediately in the car. The old, boring car, because our new (to us) car was in the shop. Do you remember that part? Yeah.

We drove way out into Leander, which isn't too far, but feels like another planet because we rarely go that way (we need to; there's a Bahama Bucks pretty close by!) and found the school where the services are held. But the only vehicles there were 3 cars and the trailer ubiquitous to haul-in churches. It was right at 10, so the only options were that they'd changed their service time and hadn't updated their website, or that only three cars' worth of people go to that church, which means their website is misleading and we're not interested because I'll explain why we were even visiting a different church in a minute.

A less introverted person would have gone in to see what was going on, but instead, I sat in my car and sent an email. I have not heard back from anyone. Thanks for making us feel welcome, church!

We ended up going to our church, and for the second week in a row, Mal was the only kid there. We love our church. We love the kids who go to our church. But none of them come regularly. Ever since school started back in the fall, it's like if there's a special thing, everyone shows up. Otherwise, it's Mal and maybe one or two other kids, but 3 weeks out of 5, it's just him.

The past two weeks, he's declined to go to childcare alone, and so the week before, we just left after the children's message. This week, he was interested enough in some magnets that we stayed. But he was so happy to go to McDonald's after and play with some kids.

In case you're wondering, I went through the drive-through at Taco Bell first and got two orders of nacho fries with two sides of cheese.

Do you realize we're only at lunch on Sunday so far?

Anyway, after we got home, I researched some churches around here, and that got really depressing. Here's the thing: I know exactly what I want in a church. Obviously, the very first and most important thing is what they teach, and what they believe about the Bible, and how that informs how their church works. I can tell from about 90% of the websites I look at that it's not for us.

Another way I can tell it's a big, fat "no" is when they have 40 staff. I have done megachurches. I'm over them. I want a smaller church. But smaller churches usually mean there isn't a lot of programming. And apparently if there isn't programming, busy-busy stuff, parents aren't super motivated to bring their kids. Especially since we homeschool, I need my kids to be able to make connections anywhere we spend a chunk of our time.

Monday, we had fun. Mal and I went to Jump Street and he played for a while with some rando kids who were there, then his friend Alexei met him and they had a good time. While we were there, Mal asked if we could use the photo booth. We usually do that at Chuck E. Cheese, but it's only 2 credits, or about $.50. It was $5 at Jump Street, but he was so excited. And here's what he had in mind.

He picked the frame, too.

On Monday, the car people told me that they'd found a fuel tank at a salvage yard, $400 cheaper than buying a new one from the dealership. They still needed several new parts, but we were grateful for the break. Also, we'd actually paid enough less than the couple was asking for the car that even with the more major repair, we were only out $100 more than we had initially thought we'd be paying for the car itself.

Also, we're getting quite a bit of money back from the IRS, mostly because James's old office withheld at a ridiculously high rate when they paid him out for his PTO. When we asked them about it, they said that was normal and it had to be done that way. It made that payment less than two-thirds what we were expecting, but I guess it all worked out because we will be able to use the money to pay off that repair. And some others, but we'll get to that. We're still just on Monday!

Incidentally, I'd had to contact the person who sold us our SUV because I needed her to sign the Texas title transfer. She was really weird about it, saying she'd signed over the (out of state) title and that meant she didn't own the car anymore. I further explained that we could not title the car without her signature, so she agreed to come over and sign it, which she did Monday morning. Then after Jump Street, Mal and I saw her again; she's a cashier at a dollar store. It was weird. Maybe I've seen her there before. She left a CD in the player of the SUV. It's labeled "Travel Music." The first song is "Margaritaville," and the second song is country, which Mal demanded I stop and turn on "the real music." That's my kid!

We got some Orbeez I'd ordered in the mail, and on Tuesday, we played most of the day with those. Mal even took a bath with them, and I have to tell you that it was a lot harder getting them out than I'd anticipated.

Even Carol is intrigued. 

Tuesday, I spent most of the day on standby mode, waiting to hear from the auto shop. I downloaded Lyft (which I've never tried; we did Uber a few times before they left Austin several years ago, though I suppose they're back now) and saw that it'd only be $8 to get a ride to pick up the car and save James that trip after commuting like he does.

I stress eat a lot when I'm restless, so that was the theme of Tuesday.

Wednesday morning, I called to check on the car. They said it was going well, but they hadn't gotten all of the parts in until Wednesday, and that they'd be done with the car that day.

Oh, hey, it was also Valentine's Day. We got the kids a couple of little treats, but James and I didn't do anything for each other. I got all sentimental about how fortunate I am to have James, and was going to write a thing about it, but have realized that I don't love writing as much as I used to at this moment. I will say this: I've been in several relationships where things similar to what have happened this week were sources of stress and blame and punishing. It's so nice to be able to be frustrated about a circumstance, but not have to worry about the reaction if I am to be the bearer of unexpected inconveniencing news.

At 5:14, 15 minutes before the garage closed, they called and said they were done with the repairs. Mehh. I told them I'd get it the following day.

Thursday, I was taking D and Mal to the Austin RV Expo. I figured we'd just get a Lyft to the garage, then go on from there. But James was home pretty late Thursday morning, so as soon as Mal and I got up, we got him to take us in to get it. I noticed from the street that the hood was released, and mentioned that I didn't want to forget that when I was driving home.

After James dropped us off and left, I found out why the hood wasn't secure: They were having to jump start the car every time they needed to run it. Apparently, he'd called to tell me about it, but 1) I never have my ringer on and 2) in this case, my phone was all the way off and I hadn't looked at it since the day before. He suggested we take it in and have it warrantied out because the battery was pretty new. I explained that we'd gotten it from a private party, and he shot out a couple of things it could be, one of which was a "phantom drain."

That reminded me that James and I had both noticed a green light on the tow wiring glowing all of the time at the back of the car. Although the gentleman offered to try to diagnose the battery problem, I wasn't in the mood to deal with it, and said we'd try to figure it out later.

Outside, though, while the guys were jumping the car for me, I mentioned the tow wiring again. One of the guys brought me a fuse and said he'd unplugged it. That was apparently all it was. It's started for us every time we've tried.

Oh, but it looks like they disconnected the gas gauge. I called to let them know, but I'm not emotionally able to take it back in for a few days. I told James I should take the bill from the rather hefty auto repair and write on it with a Sharpie, "Here's your CD," then wrap the CD in the bill and mail it to the lady who sold us the car. I have many passive-aggressive ideas I do not act on. You're welcome.

Thursday, I woke up early and bought airline tickets for a trip we have planned for the fall. Southwest just released the tickets yesterday, and I'm hoping that having bought them the day they went on sale AND purchasing the auto-check-in will mean we can at least have some choice in where we sit. After that, I went back to sleep for a bit.

Later, we woke D up and drove downtown to the RV show. It was fun. The trends I noticed (since I bought my RV 7 years ago) were: Outside kitchens pretty standard, fold-down patios as an option, and electric fireplaces. D is thinking about purchasing an RV in a few years, so we scoped out some possibilities and got some budgeting ideas. It was nice, but I could tell that after about an hour, we'd reached D's limit.

We passed the AAAS annual meeting setup on the way in and out, and really wished we were signed up for that! It looked super cool. We also passed this, just sitting in the middle of the big lobby of the Austin Convention Center.

It's a breast-feeding/pumping hut.

Interesting. There are two bench seats and one little table area, and a tiny mirror. Mal and I both fit in there, and it was cheery enough for such an apparently claustrophobic pod.

When we got home, it was gorgeous out, so Mal and I spent a couple of hours in the yard, and I totally forgot about fixing dinner until James got home. Fortunately, we had some tasty left-overs.

It was too pretty to stay inside

This morning, I woke up earlier than Mal again. It's interesting. He's been sleeping 6-8 hours straight the past 3 nights. He starts waking asking for "nursies" between 5:30 and 6:30, but then will usually sleep until 9ish.

Today, while I was eating breakfast and waking up, D came into the kitchen to report an apparent roof leak. There was water pouring out of the light fixture. Fortunately, our electric system worked. As soon as the water started pooling, the breaker had tripped, shutting off D's noise-maker fan. That woke D up, and revealed the leak.

I was about to call my friend Jacob (at Birdcreek Roofing) and decided to see if I could tell what was going on first. I climbed up into the attic -- which was dark because the power was off to that part of the house -- and could first hear and then see that it was the water heater. Steam was shooting out from the top of the unit.

Here's my scientific way of choosing a service provider: Open Yelp! and look up the category. Pick the first one near me with mostly all-5-stars. If they answer, they win. If it goes to voice mail, hang up and call the next person.

I ended up speaking with Blue Dragon Plumbing. When I described what was happening, he pretty much nailed what was wrong. He was on the south side of Austin but said he'd make his way up and call me after an appointment he had.

It's interesting, I was too distracted to be icked out by the attic, and then later James advised that I not try to shut off the water to the house (which I'd done hours before) because our inspector said we had black widows in the box. Fortunately, I didn't remember that particular bit of information at all, nor did I see any spiders.

The dripping slowed once I'd shut the water off and emptied (I thought) the water heater. I called ServiceMaster to get them out and drying everything, but it went to voice mail. They were our first pick because James used to work for them, and they're recognized nationally as experts.

But I moved on because I needed speed! Tetris Cleaning Service answered and was at my house within the hour. He had a neat water-vision camera (I don't know what it's called, but it's so cool). He was able to see that we had some water at the seams of our bathroom walls/ceiling, and then D's whole ceiling was just a wet mess.

I don't know if you can see, but pretty much the whole ceiling is damp. But the water was only dripping through at the light fixture, and that one big bubble at the drywall tape.

He was able to verify that the water was clean, and that the stuff in the middle was still HOT. It had absorbed into the fancy new insulation we just had blown in a few months ago, and was holding heat. He removed all of the wet insulation (which we're still paying for, because 2 years was zero interest, so why not?), put two fans in our bathroom, and put 3 fans and a dehumidifier in D's room.

D's room is shut off now, and so D will have to find somewhere else in the house to crash. But the fact that it is closed off means that the rest of the house isn't too loud; it just sounds like when the dishwasher is running. The fans in the bathroom aren't any louder than a box fan, either.

The cats are kind of freaked out. They won't use the two litter boxes in the main bathroom because it's so close to D's loud mystery room, and because the dehumidifier drain hose runs through there and into one of the sinks. The litter boxes are surrounded. But hopefully they'll get over it and get used to it soon. We should have the fans until Monday or Tuesday, and they have to run constantly. He said "24/7," but he meant "24/4."

We filed a claim on our homeowners insurance (shout out there to my agent, Moses), but will probably end up closing it out, since it's likely we'll spend just under our deductible, anyway. I need to remember to call the adjuster tomorrow.

The water heater guy got here while the water damage mitigation guy was still here, and they both left around 4. When James got home, we were trying to decide what to do about food, and I couldn't help him decide anything. He kept talking about going somewhere, but I was so gross. I'd gone to sleep with Mal last night, deciding I needed sleep more than a shower, but then missing out all day when I couldn't catch one this morning.

James would suggest going out, I'd blanch at that, he'd say he'd go into town and get something, and I didn't like the idea of his leaving again, or of his having to drive more after his commute.

Finally, I realized I was being a giant poop and just put on some different clothes and a baseball hat, and we went to this place that has an outdoor playground for Mal... Only to find that they are permanently closed. So we ended up having dinner at Freebirds, and I felt tons better after getting some veggies and cheese into myself.

We went to Walmart after dinner and finally found Mal the only 3 color-change Hot Wheels they had left. They were only $3.50, which is anywhere from 1/5 to 1/10 the price I've found for the color-changing Cars cars he's wanted. When we go home, he played with those for a good hour, going back and forth between between the colors.

Now I'm ready to go to bed. I've done 3 loads of laundry and a dish-washing load since the water came back on. Mal's been asleep for almost 2 hours, which is an early bedtime for him. James is on the phone with his brother. D is in our room enjoying the big brown recliner. I'm tired. I'm glad James has 3 days off, and hopefully when he goes back to work on Tuesday, our house will be back to "normal." And our car will stay fixed. And things can go back to being normal.

Have a good weekend, friends!

Oh, and here's a tip: WHEN YOU LEAVE YOUR HOUSE FOR A FEW DAYS, TURN OFF THE WATER AND DRAIN THE WATER HEATER. You might never have needed it, but you do NOT want to come home to a week's worth of what we had 12 hours' worth of today.

"Marriage is Hard"

More than a decade ago, I read a story in a Christian book about marriage. This guy, Gary Thomas, was talking about how frustrated he got that his wife never refilled the ice trays. He said that every time he had to refill them because there wasn't enough ice available when he wanted it, he got more and more resentful. One day, as he was slamming stuff around and mumbling to himself about the whole thing, he thought, "Why can't she just do this thing? It only takes about seven seconds."

Then it hit him: It only takes seven seconds. Why was it such a big deal that he had to do it? Was he so selfish that he was willing to strain his marriage for something so small? He went on to talk about how being in such proximity to someone really shines a light on our "sin" and that maybe that's by design.

It's a convicting story.

It's also a tiny part of a bigger problem with the way the Christian church treats marriages. I've had many friends whose marriages were in crisis, including myself, be told, "Yeah, that's rough. But you know, marriage is hard. You just have to keep at it and trust God to work a miracle."

Which, I mean, is great advice if your marriage's problem is that your insensitive spouse doesn't refill the ice cube trays. Or forgets your birthday. Or if you're in a rut. Or if your kids are gone and you don't know each other and can't figure out what to do next. Or if you've allowed hurt feelings to fester and have covered them over with a veneer of carelessness.

But there is a difference between "He knows I wanted that cereal for breakfast, and he always eats the last serving," and "He took my phone when I got home because he said I didn't know how to use it properly as I texted him instead of calling, as he demanded." There is a difference between "She said she'd pick me up from work, then she forgot and went out with friends, and I can't get a hold of anyone," and in your wife talking on the phone to her paramour while she's taking a bath, and then gaslighting you when you explain that it's disconcerting.

There's a big difference between the myriad of "people brushing up against people in close proximity" problems that are common in the world and in consistent, repetitive, unaddressed habits that stem from chronic infidelity or undiagnosed mental illness or controlling and manipulative personalities. 

There are ways to abandon your spouse that don't include physical abandonment or sexual infidelity or violent abuse. There are ways to slowly destroy a person from within that might not be overtly visible.

And when the church tells these people, "God hates divorce" in an effort to strong-arm them into staying in an unhealthy situation, I believe they are incorrectly using the scriptures. When every single person and healthcare (physical and mental) provider says, "You need to get out" but the church says, "You need to stay and bring honor to God," it can't always be just that everyone else doesn't take marriage as seriously as they should.

There is a level of dysfunction that should never be summarily dismissed as "you're just selfish and you're not trying hard enough" by spiritual leaders. This, to me, is not only spiritual abuse, but it also does one of two things: Further batters the spirit of the person being advised, or pushes that person away... from that church, and maybe from all churches and even God. And maybe a combination of those two.

Here is something I've learned that I hope you can believe me when I tell you, because, really, I don't want anyone else to have to learn this through experience: Marriage isn't effortless. It takes attention and intention and sometimes just going through the motions because that's all you can do. But, you know what? There might be moments when it's hard... really hard... but it's not difficult. And it's not always easy, but sometimes... it is. If there's never a moment where you can rest in your marriage, then just know that's not how it should be. And if you're being told you're at fault for realizing there's something very wrong, then go somewhere else and get better counsel.   

Is It Going to Hurt?

I've signed up for the membership class at the church we've been attending since the beginning of the year (literally; we went the first time on New Year's Day). This is a big deal. I have been invited to leave the last two churches to which I belonged (and left the one before that because of a big split down the middle that was a fight in which I was not involved and did not want to participate).

What does one have to do to be invited to leave a church? In my specific situation(s): carry on with an "unscriptural divorce," and marry an "unbeliever." The situations were vastly different, with the first being "you have to do XYZ and if you do any other letters, you have to go" and the second being, "if you can't trust leadership on this issue, I'm not sure what else we have to offer you." But both hurt.

Am I more rebellious than the average church-goer? Do I not value the guidance of the Lord and wish to obey him? Actually, that second one is a question with which I have wrestled most of my life, and most intensely in the past seven years or so.

I realize that the Bible mentions specifically only one reason, sexual infidelity, for divorce (so when my church offered "physical abuse" as another out, they were being every bit as "unscriptural" as I was, in my view). It also says not to be "unequally yoked" to an unbeliever. It (the New Testament, specifically) also tells women to cover their heads when they pray; and not to braid their hair or wear gold; and not to speak in church, but to ask their husbands questions at home. It talks about how all Cretans are liars and gluttons. And that we should keep the Passover festival. And many people take those literally and observe the commands, while many people are of the opinion that there are things, even in the New Testament (because I'm speaking to Christians, who largely see the Old Testament as Judaic law and history, which does not apply to them/us), that are not literal but illustrative; that are cultural notes not intended to apply widely to all people in all times; or that were included as a personal note from the writer and not a command from God.

So a lot of times, when people who genuinely love Jesus and want to bring God's kingdom to earth, say or do things that they feel justified in doing without compromising their faith, a common question is: If you're going to pick and choose what to believe, where do you stop? And that's a valid question. For everyone. Because we all do it. Every single one of us. I can't tell you which parts of the Bible you should literally apply to your life because I'm not the Holy Spirit. And if there were only one "right" answer to that for everyone, I don't think there'd be a need for the Holy Spirit. Because we'd all just "get" what the Bible meant, and we'd all agree.

But I digress.

My point is that joining a church is an invitation to be hurt, honestly. Yes, it's an invitation to join with others to do some good in this world. I looked carefully before choosing a congregation, and am confident that this is one where I can help make a difference here and now. (Or in a few months/years when Mal will let me do stuff.)

And I don't think the Christian faith should be "easy." But there is "difficult" and there is "something is wrong here."

For instance, when you go hiking, it's not easy. You have to work. You have to push yourself. You have to make adjustments. Sometimes, you think, "Blehh; it's too hard." But you persevere. It's different if you're wearing ill-fitting shoes on the hike, and every step is painful and damaging.

Basically, I want to be somewhere that I can appropriately submit to the church authorities while still being able to make some decisions that might cause tension, without being seen as "in rebellion."

And, heck, in the first instance, my "rebellion" was largely just acting out of a horrible place where I wasn't sure how to proceed. The second time... well, it was just the right thing to do, no two ways about that. I'm more "equally yoked" to my current husband than I ever was to the Christian one... And maybe that *does* say a lot about me. But I'd rather be tethered to someone who has empathy and extends love without judgment than not. *shrug*

Wish us all luck, I suppose?

Journeying Onward

Something pretty amazing happened at church today.

First, it is Super Bowl Sunday, so we had Souper Bowl Sunday, where everyone brought soup to share, and chipped in to send extra funds to a soup kitchen we support.

Well, you know me. I can't be normal, and I made a very beautiful, quite delicious pink berry soup.

The thing is, no one got it and it was put with the desserts and, heck, even I wouldn't have chosen it over (or with) the iced chocolate chip cookies if I hadn't known what it was. So we have a lot of this left over, in case anyone wants to come over and have a fruit smoothie (because I froze it, so we'll have to blend it up and you can drink it).

But that's not the thing.

If you've been following along, you know that Mal has gone into childcare for services ever since we started here at the beginning of the year. It's so chill now that I don't even give them my cell number.

Today when I picked him up, he was trying to climb out the window, but that's because there's a fun playground right outside, and also for some reason, the heat was set to like 80 in that building (they did turn it down and open a bunch of doors).

Then last week, he sat blithely in my lap for the children's message... and did the same thing today! That's totally new!

But THEN... During the lunch, Mal decided to play with some other kids instead of sit with me and eat.

This sweet older girl was so good with Mal, making sure he didn't get into anything he wasn't supposed to, or hurt himself. Her dad even thanked ME, saying that she never gets to be the older sibling at home, so she was having fun.

After I ate, I had dessert. Twice. And ended up in a conversation when I realized that the kids had disappeared, and I didn't know where. For a good half hour, I had no idea where my son was. But I wasn't worried. That used to happen with D at church all of the time, but it's the first time Mal's just gone off and done his own thing and I wasn't worried or suspicious.

When it was time to leave, I found him in the rec room with some older kids. They were being so sweet to him, and he really wasn't ready to go.

If I weren't convinced that I should place membership there, today's lunch probably did it. Meals eaten sitting down and in peace are a big deal for this mama!

We might still be nursing full steam ahead, have zero interest in the potty, and still not ever sleeping through the night, but in other areas, we're gettin' somewhere, people! That's worth celebrating! Can't wait to dance with Lady Gaga in a little while...

A spiritual crossroads?

The other day, Mal wanted to do the Bible App for Kids, a great program from YouVersion and Life.Church. As we were going through the story-- I think maybe it was David and Goliath? Anyway, whatever it was, I was thinking, "When D was this age, we were already doing Bible stories every night..." When Mal was little, I read through the Jesus Storybook Bible (one, if not the best, of the Gospel stories EVER) two or three times; now he's too impatient to sit through a whole "chapter," so the app is about the only Bible he gets, unless he's paying attention in church, which he does not appear to do unless there's music or communion.

Anyway, while I was considering all of this, a few things crossed my mind: 1) With all of my intentional and careful input, Daphne couldn't care less about church and maybe God and spiritual things right now (or maybe she could, but just doesn't discuss it with me). On the one hand, I get it: I wasn't extremely interested when I was her age. The main difference is that it wasn't an option not to participate in church. Daphne probably thought so, too, until I cut her loose. 2) How much of the Bible do I want to expose Mal to as a youngster? I mean, what do I think it's important for him to understand and believe? Which led me to the million dollar question: How much of it do I understand and believe?

Over the past ten years, many of what I would say were my "foundational" beliefs have changed. That was after they'd changed drastically, becoming much more fundamental, probably fifteen years ago. For example, when D was born, it was very important to me: that there was a literal 7-day creation that happened within the past ten-thousand years, that homosexuality was wrong (but God love 'em!), that the Bible was wholly inerrent, that husbands were in a benevolent hierarchy over their wives (and with good reason), and that scripture interpreted scripture so that the whole Bible was understandable on its own, with no outside cues or context.

I don't know exactly when this started unraveling, but all I know is that when a friend of mine posted a "proof dinosaurs roamed the earth with man" conference the other day, I just sighed and thought, "Who cares?" I mean, ten years ago, I would have gone. I would have been so excited and interested. "Billions of dead things, buried in rock layers, laid down by water all over the earth" and all that. Now, I just feel like God has more on our plates for us, here in the world, than convincing ourselves (the ones who allegedly believe in the Bible) that the Bible is correct. I love science. I believe that all scientific truth is God's because he designed everything. But I don't see anymore how it's necessary that the flood was worldwide to continue believing in God.

And there's another thing: The flood. Awful. It's difficult for me to live with this near-complete destruction of humanity as coming from a loving Creator God, and I start to wonder if people are right that we borrowed the flood story from other cultures, and that it's been tweaked to be a morality play, enticing us to believe or else.

I really toed the Beth Moore line of "If there's something that seems off when we read the Bible, there must be something else going on underneath that, because God doesn't ever do the wrong thing." That's a paraphrase, and she said it about the guy who died when he tried to steady the Ark of the Covenant with his bare hands. But now... I think it was Daphne who really opened my eyes to this, actually. She asked me once about the Egyptian first-borns who died. She had tears in her eyes, and asked how God could kill innocents like that. I explained that he'd warned the Pharaoh, and tried to make her understand that sometimes people pay the price for immoral leaders, parents, etc. But she was insistent that God could have freed his people any way he wanted to. He didn't have to murder children to make a point. And as I thought about it, I could understand her anger.

This doesn't sound like the loving, caring Father I want to know and worship and have as a deity. I have come to want to believe that this was also a story people put in to serve their own purposes. That's manipulative, but it seems better than the alternative to me.

And I get it, I've even said it: God doesn't have to explain his actions to anyone; He's God. But if he's a God who routinely wipes people out, including little kids, is that someone I can sincerely trust and respect? If the Bible is inerrent and tells everything exactly as it is, then God not only allowed but commanded his people to commit genocide, kill the wives and children of criminals, and keep some foreign women as spoils of war, in order to rape and maybe marry them against their wills.

These are things that have always been in the Bible, and when, say, my daughter was younger and asked about them, I had answers. Things like, "God is God and he's holy, and so the things he does are holy, even if we don't understand them with our finite brains." But that just feels like garbage to me now.

Another thing I've heard, and probably said, was that the times were much more brutal back then and God's law and ways still showed more restraint and were more humane than the barbaric culture of the day. Well, humans might have evolved since then, but my God, the one I believe in and want to believe in, doesn't change. I can't believe that the Lord I serve was at any point and for any reason less ethical than the Geneva Convention.

A few years ago, I read this article by Zack Hunt, formerly of American Jesus, I guess now he just uses his own name to blog. It's on how the Bible isn't perfect and doesn't have to be. You can read that if you want; it really stuck with me and I've thought about it ever since. I feel like most analogies break down at some point, so comparing the word of God to the word of his mom might not work for you, but overall, I thought this was very respectful and well thought-out.

There are a lot of Christians who will say that you either take the Bible as it is, or don't take it and, honestly, I'm at a point in my life where if those are the only two choices, I have to leave it. I can't explain why this didn't hit me sooner, but I can't serve a master who would allow anyone to throw rocks at their own child until that child was dead, much less prescribe it.

I have to believe that there are portions of the Bible that the authors put in there, and I can give them the benefit of the doubt in saying maybe even with all the best intentions, maybe even thinking that they were speaking for God... but they can't have been. Not the God I talk to. Not the God who loves me and whose Holy Spirit indwells me and tells me (as Jesus did) that things like murder, retaliation, and abuse of authority are wrong, while forgiveness and love are right.

I think that when I married an unbeliever, some people worried that my faith might suffer. But I'm going to be honest with you: my husband is supportive of my faith as a valuable and inseparable part of who I am. Do you know what has caused me to rethink so much of this stuff lately? It's the very vocal and visible "Christian" response to many social and political items of the day. I see mocking and anger and suspicion and hatred coming from people who are supposed to be known for our love (at least according to that pesky New Testament).

The fact that I don't like their means is one thing, but then I started realizing that I didn't really like what they were saying. I don't agree with a lot of the things they say that are based on the Scriptures, or their interpretation of the scriptures. I don't appreciate the way that a lot of "us" parent our children. I chafe against the way "we" stand up for our rights, when I don't see any new covenant example of that at all.

We can't all be right about what the Bible means. Maybe I'm wrong and those people up there have it right. If so, I can't and won't be a part of that belief system.

It's funny; at first, I wondered whether I was having a crisis of faith, but even as I was ruminating on that, I found myself praying a lot during the night as I woke up, or during the day as I thought about people. I am confident that there is a God. I believe that the Bible is important, and has much to say about who God is, and why we're here. But there are things, mostly from the Old Testament, but really even some things in the New, that I think just don't apply across the board to everyone's lives the way that the "one another" commands do.

If you want to get really specific, I'll tell you a couple of them right now: I'm not a complementarian; I'm an egalitarian. I believe there are numerous valid, God-honoring reasons to get a divorce besides just sexual infidelity (though I get why he hates it; it's awful). I don't think homosexuality is a sin - and if you're going to ask me how I can believe that when it's in the Bible, just take whatever answer you'd give as to why you're okay with women dressing up fancy or not covering their heads in church or having short hair, or why you think it's okay for people to divorce if there is physical abuse or why you don't give to anyone who asks, or how you justify praying in public, or why single people seek out mates, or how you can say the Pledge of Allegiance, and assume my answer would be something along those lines. Even more, you can figure out why you're not a Calvinist if you're not, because a pragmatic reading of the entirety of Scriptures allows nothing else. Heck, guys, I might not even believe in Hell. I'm chewing on that one right now. This post has some good thoughts, and I actually have "Love Wins" on hold through the library at this very moment.

None of this is really earth-shattering, but I realize that parsing it out like this means that many people I love and admire will probably think now that I'm not truly a Christian. But I still *feel* like a Christ-follower, and know God understands where I am and where my heart is. Also, the more I come to grips with these thoughts and beliefs, the BIGGER God is to me.

So there you have it. Wading on, wrestling on...



Edited to add: Thanks for walking with me, and thanks for caring about me. If you're concerned, you can pray for me, but you don't need to contact me to give me other things to think about because, I promise, I've probably held the same kind of views in the past... things about the sovereignty of God; about how we, as ants, can't expect to understand a concept so big as God so we shouldn't try to shrink him by making him make sense to us; about how all of those horrible, violent stories are a picture of how awful sin is to God, etc. The fact is that I believe in Jesus, and the God he is and the God he represents. So for now, I need to reject anything that seems inconsistent with that. There's plenty of "bad news" to offset the good news of the Gospel without it.

Another thing I've thought a lot about lately is the verse about how, in the future, people will reject sound doctrine for whatever tickles their ears. We hear that, and we shake our heads sadly, and we assume that "those churches" or "that preacher" with "that congregation" is doing that. We never assume that we are the ones having our ears tickled. Like we think if we hear a convicting message and say, "That's a hard teaching, but yes... yes..." that means we're not just sinking in to an easy belief system. I want to do the hard work of wondering, "Is my faith a little too comfortable?" every once in a while, and then parse that out with my very understanding heavenly Father.

Failed Sabbath

Today wasn't a bad day, but, man, am I weary.

Mal slept "in" both days this weekend, meaning just past 7 instead of his usual hitting the ground running at 6 deal (which I hope sticks, because DST ends soon, and I won't want to be up and at 'em at 5!). I had planned to get to work on some of James' grandma's sausage balls first thing today, but Mal needed some attention.

First, he'd consumed a lot of liquids overnight, and just before we got up, his diaper must have reached critical mass. I grabbed him and pulled him into the bathroom and changed his diaper, and we got started on our day.

After spending some time playing in Mal's room, we went into the kitchen for me to start on the sausage balls. I also decided to make some chocolate chip pumpkin bread to take to the potluck. In the meantime, James got up, and we took all of the sheets and the mattress cover off of our bed because they needed a wash, thanks to Mal's little incident.

When the sausage was cooked, I put the pumpkin bread in, but it became obvious that it wasn't going to be ready before I left. I asked James to take it out when it looked done, which made him nervous, so I set the timer. It turns out I didn't set it for long enough, but that wasn't apparent until later.

I moved the first load of laundry into the dryer and started the second, then got enough stuff together to (hopefully) keep Mal entertained while we went to the last New City service.

Actually, Mal did great. The music was louder than he's used to at our church now, so he was kind of clingy during the song service and even a bit after. When he started to get restless, we just sat down on the floor in the back and he did fine. He was getting more bold about going to see people and wanting to run around just as the service ended, which was perfect.

At that point, it was time for his nap, but he was doing well enough that we stayed for the pot luck.

First, I'm glad James had the idea for me to make his grandma's sausage balls (which weren't actually balls, but mounds because I was running short on time and lazily used the cookie scoop, which led one guy setting out the pot luck food to put my sausage with the desserts) because there were chips and some fruit and a salad and only one other meat item and then plenty of sweets. Incidentally, someone else made chocolate chip pumpkin muffins, so my bread wasn't missed at all.

We left at about 1:30, and of course Mal fell asleep in the car. When we got to the apartments, I stopped by the office to get Daphne's tablet, which had come in the mail yesterday but apparently was too large for the boxes at the mail house. There was only one person in the office, though, and she was in the middle of selling people on renting here. I waited seven minutes and didn't feel comfortable leaving Mal in the car any longer (even though I could see him where I was standing).

Once I got him upstairs and settled on the couch, I asked D if she wanted to go down with me to try again. Mal's been having some great naps; Friday, he even slept well over an hour before he woke up the first time. Saturday, he slept two and a half hours, only waking once. I felt confident that, given his level of exhaustion, it'd be fine for me to step out for a few moments.

We went back to the office, and this time she was out. We ate some Starbursts and I used the restroom and finally she came back and unlocked the door so I could get the package. Then we headed back and... as we rounded the corner to the apartment, James was out on the stoop with Mal, getting ready to put him in the stroller. Ugh. He woke up while I was gone and was hysterical, so James was bringing him to find us.

I brought him in and tried for half an hour to get him back to sleep, but he wasn't going. He slept only an hour, and I knew then it was going to be a long afternoon. When Mal is awake but should be asleep, he cries at the drop of the hat, even if there's no hat or no dropping. He just weeps. Sobs. Fusses. It's exhausting.

I'd taken him outside to have Naked Patio Time, but Daphne needed help with her tablet, so James played with Mal while I went to help her. Mal didn't like this and would come to the baby gate and cry, then let James distract him, then come back to the baby gate. After a while, I let Mal into Daphne's room because I couldn't take it.

We realized she needed a USB extension cord, so ordered from Prime Now. While we waited for that, I dried the second load of laundry, emptied the dishwasher (with help from James, who'd run the dishwasher for me because he's awesome), and put the pumpkin bread, which I'd realized was still liquid in the center, back into the oven.

Mentally picture all of this happening with Mal happily playing at my feet, then crying or biting me or screaming every, oh, two minutes or so, for two hours. I tried several times to lay him down and nurse him to sleep, but he kept wanting to get up.

James and I teamed up to make the bed, and I put away the other laundry. After a while, James, exhausted, lay down for a nap and I just took Mal into his room to give him undivided attention for a while. He is really raw in the diaperous region, and he was very busy on that front today, so... good times. Good, good times.

But he was sweet... he's trying to figure out kissing, but right now, there is a lot of teeth and some tongue stuff going on. So there's room for improvement. Anyway, he was blowing zerberts, trying to bite my nose, and attacking my face like a monster some of the time. Then he had me get out the "James, age 5" doll his grandma made, and we put clothes on it and set it up in his room... but he wanted it to play with him, so I got to be a puppeteer for a while.

Finally, James got up and joined us and I can't remember being more happy to see him in a long time!

When the USB extension cable got here, we were still having problems with the tablet not showing graphics, which is the whole reason we got this one to replace the one she had before, on which she could use a stylus to draw, but the picture would only show up on the computer, not the pad. After a little research, we realized that she actually also needs an HDMI/DVI adapter. So I ordered *that* from Prime Now and we're still waiting on it.

Meanwhile, Mal was in Daphne's room while we worked on the tablet issue, and he was just crying nonstop at this point. It was about 6:30, but I decided that his day was over. I brought him to bed and nursed him to sleep, then I was able to get a shower and help Daphne some more before he woke up the first time. He's awakened two other times, but now that it's actually a little past his regular bedtime, I'm hoping he'll just stay asleep.

At some point this afternoon, I told James, "I think I tried to do too much today." He asked, "You think?" It didn't feel like too much when I was setting out to do it, and I hadn't planned on the two loads of laundry that had to be done or else we'd have been sleeping in pee tonight, but I was also counting on a good long nap for the boy. It's crazy how much the day is changed when that falls apart, isn't it?

Aww, but look at him... So, so worth it.

Now I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and just staying home, and not having to do anything on any given time frame. Hoping Mal sleeps well tonight, and we'll try getting our Sabbath rest tomorrow.