What Am I Doing Today?

Crying. Smiling. Breathing. Laughing. Hoping. Preparing.

I know that presidential elections are not the whole story. I know that there is work to be done. I know that there are people I know and love who thought Trump was their answer. I don't understand it, I don't agree, and it makes me a bit devastated. However, I know that all of those people are not monsters.

I refuse to say that someone is a garbage human being if: XYZ. Because as naive as it may be, I'm backed by the saints and prophets of nearly every religion and philosophy when I say that we are all connected, we are all valuable, and we are all worthy of love. So I will continue forward with that because it feels right in my body and soul. It is the one truth that has never changed for me- and many things have changed for me.

Today I cried big fat and small streaming tears. My body released a small portion of four years of stress, anxiety, and the strain of the struggle to hope.

My child said "Yay!" and then he quipped: "And we get a woman too, right?" This is the innocence I want to keep. We don't demonize our political opponents here. We don't sugar-coat our disagreements with them either. We simply state what we think is good and right and what we hope for. My child still hopes. Because we have created a home where hope is still alive. 

Today, for the first time in a while, I felt a little less like our hopefulness was a strain on reality.

Like I said before, we have a lot of work to do. This is not an easy flip of a switch where everything is OK now. No political person is the savior. But I do believe the work has a chance to get done now. There's actually a chance that the debates could become conversations and collaborations. There's a chance that the trajectory of hate and anger can shift to reconciliation and facing the hard stuff with integrity and hope. And compassion. 

Friends: do not demonize the other. We HAVE to figure out how to build relationships. If you hear me saying this as some white girl trying to get us all to get along, don't. I have ulterior motives. Relationships were what helped me grow as a human. It's how I became less bigoted, racist, patriarchal, homophobic, ethnocentric, etc etc. Only when faced with a human being (or a force of nature) who was not like me that I still connected with- that is when change happened. I want this to keep happening to me until all the shit has been burned out of me by love. I want the same for all of you, because how else can we be fully and beautifully human? 

This is how we're made. We're all connected because that connection is the maker and savior of us all. The earth, and all living things are connected. I don't care what religion or non-religion you are. This is a universal truth. The more we are in relationship with all that moves and has breath, the more we all will recognize the divine in ourselves and each other. When we see this divine spark in each other: we will be forced to change what we thought was divine and good. We should face this continually until we can't help but see the divine. We recognize it everywhere. It should blind us.

This world is not dual, binary, or flat. Our universe is profound and gorgeous. Why oh why would we want to miss out on experiencing it? 

Let's get to work. Go.

6 Reasons Your Pastor is About to Quit- Revisited

An article by Thom Rainer made the rounds in my pastor circles a while ago, titled "6 Reasons Your Pastor is About to Quit" and the six reasons listed are all related to Covid. The author alludes that these issues have been there, and this is just a boiling point, but I was hoping the author was going to go a little deeper and explore that point.

I felt inspired to write this not as an argument against the article, but sort of an attempt to unfold some of what's underneath it all, to go a little deeper.

Thom Rainer gets to it here:

Why has this period of great discouragement ensued? Of course, it is connected to COVID-19, but the pandemic really just exacerbated trends already in place. We would have likely gotten to this point in the next three to five years regardless.  

I also want you to know that these pastors do not think they will be leaving ministry. They just believe the current state of negativity and apathy in many local churches is not the most effective way they can be doing ministry. 

This is the real stuff. I am going to springboard off of Rainer's points and offer some insight based on my own experience in ministry. I've held a few jobs in the local church (youth minister, congregational care), my husband is a pastor, and I have a LOT of friends who are in ministry, as well as membership in some online groups of clergy women. Not all of what I have to say stems from my specific personal experience (some does), but all of it stems from real experiences of people I actually know. 

1 Pastors are weary from the pandemic, just like everyone else. 

Rainer states this truth, reminding people of the humanity of pastors. I want you to take it a step further. What do we do when a major transition happens, or something traumatic in our lives? We tend to have some serious introspection. Many clergy (and I'm sure many others) have been confronted with their mortality, the meaning of life, and all the other existential stuff that a pandemic stirs up. You are not the only ones having that conversation with yourself.

When that happens, you start to ask questions that our busy life didn't allow, like: is this what I'm supposed to be doing? Is this what I *want* to be doing? Could I be doing more in a different setting? All of a sudden, we see the ways we are spinning our wheels. 2020 has offered a stark background for our questions. The weight of our questions (and their answers) seem much heavier and more important than before. Our calling actually feels heavier, and we are asking ourselves: are we spinning wheels here or getting somewhere? We think to ourselves: the world needs help, and I feel like I'm working overtime and not even making a dent!

Right now it doesn't feel like we're getting anywhere, which leads to the next point...

2 Pastors are greatly discouraged about the fighting taking place among church members about the post-quarantine church.

Bingo. In the midst of the existential questions, we look at our "office," which is the church for clergy, and see some really terrible (and ineffective) behavior. There are businesses that are completely re-writing the playbook for their future (do we even need an office building?). Clergy are trying to do that with their churches, but the Church has been in fight or flight for a while, and right now a lot of them are choosing to fight, with the pastor and each other. 

I am a part of an online group of clergy women, and trust me when I say that people have been behaving badly for a very, very, very long time. You probably already knew that, but you may not have known they were behaving so badly to the pastor. Let's go ahead and exclude the crappy Pastors who are abusive and power-trippy. I would venture to say most pastors are actually just trying to be good people, and help other people be good and connect to God. The conversation around whether their theology or methodology is good, we can save for another day.

When Covid hit, a lot of Pastors knew they were walking onto a minefield with every decision they made. Church people can be pretty awful to their pastors. It's not the exception, it's the rule. 

So if you think you have something to offer the world and your response to that is being a pastor; there's nothing like a pandemic to make things bad enough for you to look again and say "maybe there's a better way, a way that doesn't kill me." And yes, we're talking life and death for some of these pastors. Pastor suicides are not uncommon, and if they don't do it intentionally, they do it by overworking and becoming so unhealthy that their bodies give up under the strain. 

It's hard for pastors to prioritize their own mental health when their congregations demand they sacrifice it for theirs. And time and again, the pastor obliges, putting their lives on the sacrificial altar for the church. The tragedy is that this is entirely unnecessary, (and actually terrible theology) but a pastor often stops just short of helping themselves, because it is their calling to help others, and in their minds the sacrifice is a necessary one. I'll get into that more later, but this may be one of the most toxic and prevalent behaviors I've seen in pastors today. They tell everyone to rest, to prioritize family, etc, and forget that they deserve the same basic human rights and privileges. 

3 Pastors are discouraged about losing members and attendance. 

This might seem, like the author said, "all about the numbers," but he's right, it's not. However, he talks about pastors worrying about losing friends in the congregation. I don't think it's about losing friends either. Not to burst any bubbles, but pastors are learning that church members make for very challenging friendships. There's always a line and boundary when you cease to be a friend and become their pastor. This is not an equitable relationship, no matter how hard you try. 

Many pastors confess just how lonely they are, making the irony of being surrounded by people that much more painful. I have learned first hand just how fickle church friends can be. There's a reason why seminary talks a LOT about boundaries and the importance of having social connection outside of the church. Unfortunately, the pastor's schedule makes it challenging to be social outside of church. You can't even go visit family for the weekend because you have to be home on Sunday. 

So many pastors are trapped in one-sided relationships with people whom they love and would do anything for, with no real commitment on the other end. The needs of these people are so consuming, that it leaves very little time for the pastor to invest in more genuine and mutual friendships, so they are often left either very lonely, or in forced ignorance that the relationships are mutual. This ignorance is often burst by some tragedy or event that leaves the pastor even more heart-broken when they realize just how conditional the friendship was. 

The other part I want to note is that the numbers are important to some extent because that is how your efficacy as a pastor is measured: NUMBERS. It's also the determination of whether you have a job (or get paid). And I don't care how committed you are to your job, you need to be paid to live. Most pastors don't expect to be millionaires, but it would be nice if they could pay their bills, which many cannot. I feel the need to reiterate this: many pastors struggle financially. I'm talking people with 3 higher-level degrees struggling to pay rent and medical bills. 

So the question returns: do I want to continue to use my gifts in such a way that will be measured (incorrectly) by numbers, at the price of my social and mental health? Do I want my livelihood to be attached to whether my "help" is attractive enough to people? For pastors who live in parsonages, the job is more than just a salary, it's your home too. That's scary. Our entire financial security is owned by the church. Those numbers are scary. It's why many have stayed, not knowing if they can make it outside the church. "Hi, I'd like to be your newest account manager. I have three theology degrees."

4 Pastors don’t know if their churches will be able to support ministries financially in the future. 

This is basically the same thing as number 3. Less people, less money, less ministry. Which staff person do you have to cut? Do you offer to cut your own salary? Many do, and many have it cut for them. If you are faced with the survival of your church (and staff) or your salary, it looks un-Christian to say "I need the money." Aaaaand now you can't pay your bills. But you can't ask for help, that's tacky. God provides, and all that.

But deeper than that: is the church even effective? See number 2. A pastor is thinking: these people are arguing over the color of the walls, the quality of video, the mandate of masks; they are not making great disciples. Maybe, just maybe, the Church (universal) is changing to something new? Maybe the pastor is being called to do ministry in the New Church, and let go of the four walls and toxic dynamic. Maybe these pastors have all felt a calling out of the church, and the pandemic just made it even more painful to stay. Maybe the pandemic finally put even the minuscule safety net of the church at such a risk that they have nothing left to lose. 

They have been trying to bail out a sinking ship, and the pandemic has shown them that maybe the ship sank a long time ago and they've been drowning with it. Or, more optimistically, they've reached shore and it's time to move on to discover what's ahead. 

5 Criticisms against pastors have increased significantly. 

So this is a follow up of 2 for the most part. All that fighting is mainly directed at the pastor (with some exceptions, of course). And all that fighting does not effect lay people's livelihood. A pastor who loses half their church in some uproar: they may lose half their salary or all of it. They certainly lose sleep and sanity.

In normal times, a pastor's patience has to build up enough stamina that you can mostly handle the people behaving badly. This is not always true though. Before the pandemic, there were plenty of pastors leaving toxic congregations because no amount of resilience and thick skin could withstand it. Plus, most pastors have families, and it's hard to ask that resilience of your entire family. I for one have zero patience for bullshit when the health and wellbeing of my family is in jeopardy. 

Female pastors and pastors of color who do not look like their congregation have been disproportionately bearing this burden of congregational (and colleague) meanness. It gets really ugly. Now that the pandemic has added some fuel to that fire (forget the already insane political climate), and you're reaching the boiling point. A pastor is smart to get out of that pot, and fast.

And while I'm talking about people being awful to their pastors and church staff, it begs the question: Why should we expect pastors to endure this abuse? Many pastors have deluded themselves into thinking this is their "cross to bear." (I mentioned this earlier.)

Hear me pastors: just because God calls you, doesn't mean you're immune to trauma (or your family). It doesn't mean you're literally immune to this pandemic. It doesn't mean that God gave you some magic potion to make all the emotional and physical stress roll off your shoulders. Enduring trauma is not an item on a gold-star chart that God has, saying "Oh she survived that traumatic experience and then stayed there, she must love me." 

No. Full stop. No.

We shouldn't expect our pastors to be martyrs AT OUR OWN HANDS. Martyrs are for tyrannical governments, not pissy people. 

There, I said it. Go read that sentence again if you need to. 

Sometimes blazing a trail means leaving the trail.

6 The workload for pastors has increased greatly. 

Last but not least, because everyone else is exhausted, the pastor picks up the pieces like the infinite source of energy/love/spirituality robots they are asked to be. Churches are generally understaffed with volunteers and overworking staff. Also, pastors aren't trained in AV/internet/whatever. Most of them figured it out, only for people to have an opinion on how it could be done better.

But here's the deeper part. They were already working too much. They were already working weird schedules. And I'm not just talking about the time clocked. I'm talking about the mental load. The emotional load. A pastor's job is so fuzzy in terms of what is "work" and what isn't. It can be all-consuming if a pastor doesn't set proper boundaries. And pastors that set proper boundaries? Yeah, the church doesn't usually like that. 

Now it's like the pressure has increased on every part of what made their job hard and defeating.

The knot in their shoulder has a giant fist grinding into it. They can't miss it. What is it? It's that final recognition that none of this was sustainable. It's realizing that this is not working. This is not what I want. This is not what anyone should want. This is broken. 

Much like many systems that have crashed under the pressure of a pandemic, pastors can see that the church is in some serious need of reformation. 

And the only way they know how to help is to leave.

So, this was all up-lifting. 

What can you do? 

If you are a pastor: follow your call, but make sure it's not the calling of fear and scarcity, but rather the calling of God who literally made stuff out of nothing. 

Set boundaries for yourself and stop trying to be Jesus. In the words of my new favorite theologian, Tricia Hersey (the "Nap Bishop"): "lay yo ass down and take a nap." This comes from her very serious, very deep understanding of who God is, and who we are as humans. You are not a sacrificial lamb. You are not a martyr. You are not a part in the production line of human productivity. 

When you act like that, you actually diminish the Kin-dom of God and feed into what Hersey calls the "grind culture" (which she will point out has White Supremacy at its foundation). Stop doing that. Stop modeling that kind of behavior. It's not healthy for you or anyone else. 

You as a pastor, by resting, you are resisting the very culture and systems that threaten to undermine the Church and Kingdom of God itself. Rest is holy resistance. And for people of color, rest is OWED you; rest is reparations. (Seriously, follow The Nap Ministry on instagram.)

Clergy: you are a fully embodied and complex human with needs, hopes, dreams. Listen to those. That's the magic God works with. Do some inside work if you haven't already. Go to therapy, meditate, sit outside and stare at the trees. 

And if you need to hear this: it's OK to leave.

If you are a member of a church: maybe just start by taking a little more responsibility for the future of the Church. And I'm not asking you to be a martyr, we're changing that dynamic, remember? It wouldn't hurt to show your church's staff a little love (especially the pastor/s). Treat them like the full humans they are.

But more than that, I'm talking about thinking of your role as someone who can support and move with the Spirit. Someone who feeds and waters the dreams born of the Spirit. Don't be afraid.

Start thinking about what a sustainable, inspired model of God's Kin-dom looks like. If your pastor has mentioned some ideas that actually make sense: publicly throw your support at it. Think communal, collaborative. Think rest, repair, healing, wholeness. Dare to imagine and engage in creating something new.

Stop trying to be right or look right. 

Start trying to be loving. 

Do some inside work: go to therapy, meditate. Remind yourself that your staff with years and education experience might know something. Remind yourself that you have gifts too, and it might not be running a religious institution. This is OK. Very OK. Good. So let it go. 

We need you where you're gifted. Hone those skills.

To all of us: we MUST remember that we're all human. Not machinery. We're all connected. Not islands. 

Re-assess our expectations. Are they healthy, helpful, and do they help others thrive? Do they help you thrive? 

When we start to answer those questions honestly, when we start to rest and love, we might get to follow our prophetic leaders into the next iteration of Church. We shouldn't be running off a burning, sinking ship. 

We should be following a light.

Last but not least: we may not all be going to the same places. This is also OK. Let the people go. Pastors, congregants, neighbors. Let them all go. Let yourself go.

Maybe we're being led to the promised land. 

4-6 Weeks

Now that many of us have been in this quarantine for over a month, I feel a shift in the way we're operating. It's not the best shift. The grace and forgiveness that flooded our veins in the beginning of this when we were all figuring out our "new normal" has started to subside. I'm not saying people are being less helpful or kind, but we're ramping up our expectations of normalcy. We are sure that it's time for things to be OK (whether or not they indeed are).

Some of this is evidenced by states and localities who are planning to open up despite evidence that this is unwise. Some of this I see in work places when folks are now expected to go back to their usual work load (or be able to increase it), as if now is the time when we should have this work-from-home thing figured out. (Thank God not my work place, but I have friends who are back to the grind times ten!) Some of this I see in ourselves, where before we said "it's OK, I can be gentle with myself in this time," we are now saying "well, I really should have this figured out by now, why am I so stupid?"

I don't know what the science or sociology is behind all of this, but I suspect that there is something empirical about 4-6 weeks as the amount of time humans expect to adjust and be back in business. I wonder if this has anything to do with how long we expect mothers to be able to adjust before rejoining the work force, as 4-6 weeks is often the amount of maternity leave offered (if they are lucky enough to be given the time and rejoin). That time frame is also a pretty common time given for healing from surgeries or broken/sprained body parts. About 4-6 weeks after a death, we find it sort of uncomfortable if someone is still raw with grief. Again- maybe the science is against me on this, but I have a feeing there are some correlations between that time-frame and our patience level for adjustment.

After 4-6 weeks, no matter what is actually happening, something in our brain says "This should feel normal now, all unrealistic expectations are invited to return!"

We're at that mark, when folks are antsy, what was good-enough is now not. What was reasonable is now ridiculous. What was above-expectations is now sub-par. But here's the problem: just like a mother in week 6 postpartum, we're not fully adjusted. We're not fully healed.

Also, I don't think we're ever supposed to be fully adjusted to a pandemic. Just sayin.

So instead of being fully-adjusted and completely ready to move into this new way of being, we're actually losing it. We're less adjusted because what we've really been doing is holding our breath. We've been holding it as long as we could, still functioning and moving around, but knowing that it was weird. We've just all finally broken and taken a collective breath of pandemic and I think all of us just went "OH Hell no. This cannot be what it is."

So we close our eyes and walk off a cliff.

Sorry, no, I mean, we close our eyes and just imagine that it is in fact, normal. That this is all fine, we are fine, you are fine, it's FINE. And in order to fuel our collective delusion, we just will normalcy into being. I am now fully functional, and so are you. So help me God, or I have to open my eyes to see the truth.

I believe that there is a new normal in all of this, but we're not there yet. It's going to take a little longer, and it's OK if you are not feeling OK yet. It's going to take a lot longer than 4-6 weeks. We are doing good work, we have made lots of adjustments. Now we need to give ourselves some time to adjust to the adjustments.

It's OK if this is still hard, or actually harder.

Sleep Is Special

First: I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person in my entire life. I had to be woken up every Christmas, and nearly always would have chosen more sleep if I was given the choice.

This morning my husband shakes me awake around 730am. This is not a terrible time to be awake, but in our quarantine time, my night owl tendencies have increased (bed by midnight if I'm lucky) and sleeping in has become a pastime rather than a luxury (up and at em by 9am, maybe).

He asks me: "Would you mind getting Luna (our St. Bernard who is whining to pee)? I've been up in the night with Kenzie (our storm-fearing shitzu-yorkie mix who barks at thunder), and I'd love to try to get some sleep."

Me, the loving wife I am: "huh?"

He repeats himself and I am now slightly more cogent and respond "yeah, sure."

I woke up, let the beast out and fed her. She falls immediately back to sleep on the couch and I can't go back upstairs for fear that Luna will suddenly wake up and then wake the sleeping house. I decided that it is a lovely time to be awake and I shall enjoy this peaceful morning! No one is awake, I can drink my coffee, eat my breakfast at leisure, and enjoy playing some word games on my phone. Delightful! I should do this more often! It's like getting an extra hour with no obligations!

My youngest comes down, looks at me in shock and asks why I'm up (even at 830, it's a valid question). I chat with him, we look at his birthday wish list, and it is a lovely time.

Once the rest of the house starts waking up, I make my way back upstairs to shower, get the laundry running, do little odds and ends before I start another weird day of work-from-home-in-a-ministry-job.

I'm thinking, maybe I should really try this morning thing!

1130am. I've done some work, I've run the dishwasher and *boom*. I remember why I don't start the day so early.

It's 1145am and I'm ready for my nap. I fixed myself tea to try to hold it off. And now I'm typing this because I'm entertaining myself and trying to stay awake. My eyes are dazed. I feel that feeling like when you move your head from side to side and the room is delayed. You know what I mean? Your vision and brain aren't as fast. It's like when the sound is a second or two after the mouth moves. You think I'm exaggerating, but this is my body on less sleep (which admittedly is enough for 95% of people, me excluded).

This is not a pleasant feeling for me. I don't like fuzzy brain and loopy eyes. I don't like looking down the barrel of a full day into the night when I finally get to sleep again. I don't want to muscle through and get used to that feeling for one or two measly "free" hours in the morning. It's not that special.

Sleep is special.

I'm going to sleep in tomorrow.

I'm Sorry Elizabeth

I voted for Biden in the primaries. I said my apologies to Elizabeth as I did it, and I meant it. I was sorry, but not for what I did, at least not completely. I was sorry that the world isn't fair.

People have been so upset that a well-qualified woman will not win the democratic nomination. I am upset. I am also not surprised. Should anyone be? But I am also part of the reason it happened. The reason: I've learned a very humbling, hard lesson. That is that the world really isn't fair, and I cannot always have what I want, and that sometimes (many times) I have to put others before me even if it looks like I'm submitting to the status quo. Sometimes progress isn't always for me right now, but it's the long game that counts. Others who have more to lose than I do showed me Biden was their best shot. So I fell in line.

Before Super Tuesday, there were articles swarming everywhere, all saying basically the same thing: "She can win if you vote for her!" But the problem was, she had already lost. Not in the numbers game necessarily, but if people are writing articles trying to convince me not to count someone out, the truth is that the unfair world has already done so. My submitting to this truth was, in my opinion, a smart move in potentially unseating the current president. Our current president is not in office because of fairness, intellect, capabilities, debate prowess, or anything else other than pure corruption and racist hatred.

It makes me laugh when people say Biden can't win because he'll lose a debate or not be able to speak intelligibly. Um. Do you see who is in office now? Wisdom and eloquence was not his path to the position. Intelligence has only been a small part of the political process, a fact that has not changed since the beginning of politics. Intelligence helps, for sure, but it's not the only tool.

I saw that candidates were backing out and endorsing Biden, I saw that the governor of Virginia endorsed Biden, I heard from a well-connected political person that they were supporting Biden. It was clear that the party was bolstering Biden. My experience as an educated woman who likes plans made me love Warren, but my experience is not everyone's.

What really hurt was when I texted my Dad, a lifetime Republican, and basically your typical old white dude (sorry Dad). My Dad is not a fan of Trump, he is a member of the old guard Republicans, with Reagan and George Sr. as models. I asked him: in this election, would you vote for Biden and/or Warren against Trump? Then I asked in parentheses, because I already knew the answer, if he would vote for Sanders. His answer: "Sanders: definitely no. Warren: probably no. Biden: it's a toss up."

Then I kept hearing from black women that Biden was their pick. Here is a quote from one woman who explained why Biden had proved himself for her:

Let me explain something to you about Joe Biden and why some of the shit that he’s done in his past doesn’t matter. This old rich white man played second fiddle to a black man. Not just any black man, but a younger black man, a smart black man. Not just for a day. Not 1, not 2 but eight years. He took his cues from this black man who had more power than him and was virtually unknown when he took the presidency, and Joe Biden had been around forever. He was willing and proud to be his wing man. Not once did he try to undermine him, this black man. Instead Joe walked in lockstep with him, he respected him, he loved and trusted him. He was led by him and he learned from him. And Joe did not have a problem with it. You tell me what 40+ year “establishment” white politician has ever done that. Joe Biden is cut from a different cloth. And black folks understand that and for good reason. He has shown it. This is what showing up and being an ally looks like. When black people say they know Joe, this is how we know.- Laurie Goff

So there it was: the old white dude and black women had spoken. Biden was the best shot. I listened to the women who had everything to lose, and took heart that the old white dude could potentially be convinced to vote blue.

At 38 years old I hated asking my Dad who was more palatable to him so I could have that nugget of information going forth. I wasn't asking for instruction though. I wanted to know- who has a shot? When we have the luxury of choice, we can write in our candidate and feel proud to vote our conscience. When we have the luxury of choice, we get to choose from a list of highly qualified candidates and hope, even expect that the best person wins.

That's not where we are today. The luxury of choice is gone. The choice is cake or death. I choose Not Death. In 2016, our collective liberal and moderate conscience decided that we had luxuries. My Dad, not liking his choice (knowing Trump would be a disaster), wrote in his choice to keep his conscience clear, assuming he didn't need to "hold his nose," that the work would be done for him. Others picked their favorite progressive candidate because luxury. Still others held their noses to vote for Trump because of one issue they really wanted to have power over, even though they knew that he would be a disaster otherwise. But for them, they didn't have much to lose either, so luxury again. And here we are. Luxury got us here. I can't lean on my luxury anymore. Not even if I'm a woman. Especially not if I'm a white woman.

There are much bigger things happening behind the scenes than most of us (including me) know. So when I, a regular citizen, can see that there is purposeful movement to bolster Biden, I take notice. I can probably survive another Trump term, many cannot. So for those who cannot (and then for me), I will fall in line. It sucks not to vote for who I loved, it hurts, it feels like submitting, but in this moment, I don't want to lean on my luxury and pick the underdog. I want to kick Trump out.

Everyone has been saying that the Democratic Party needs to band together, fall in line, unify. Then when it happens, everyone gets mad. Obviously, we hoped to fall in line behind whomever was our favorite choice. I know. I did. I wanted to vote for another woman in the 2020 elections and have Trump's ass kicked by a school teacher. But it wasn't to be.

Biden is not a bad choice. He wasn't my first choice, but when it comes to my future, my children's future, and the future of the country: I choose democracy over Trump. Every damn day. And Biden was where the cards were falling.

I really am sorry, Elizabeth.

Interruptions

My sisters and I have been talking recently about the idea of interruptions. I mentioned that I was almost late to a dentist appointment because I was so wrapped up in a good conversation with my husband.

My older sister thought that perhaps it was completely worth being late to my appointment to have that conversation. She talked about how relationship never really seems to know what time it is. When we want to celebrate a special anniversary, the relationship doesn't feel all that special, but at 945am on Tuesday before a dentist appointment, a beautiful connection happens. 

I thought about how profound that truth really was, and how it applies to just about every relational or emotional process. Grief, for example, never cares what time it is. It will show up in the third aisle of a grocery store on a Wednesday afternoon with far more zeal than the day of the funeral. 

My younger sister, who is a therapist for individuals who have experienced trauma, mentioned how this happens for people who have trauma in their lives- the effects of the trauma don't know the proper time and place to show up. 

We all excitedly wondered out loud: what would life look like if our sense of time and routine prioritized the things that give life meaning? Like connection, grief, joy, inspiration, and all the other parts of relationship that make us human.

What if the dentist appointment was second to a deeply connected conversation? What if being on time for school gave way to that rare moment when your child opens up? What if swim practice gets skipped this time because your family and the other family are making really lovely memories? 

You're already setting boundaries, aren't you? "Well, that sounds nice, but we can't go avoiding all of our commitments just because we're having fun!" Sure, I hear that. But why do we make these commitments? What is the purpose of swim team, but to have exercise and community? If your child is happily running around with her friends - isn't that fulfilling the same goal? Yes, I know- we want to teach our children to honor their commitments. But why? SO that they can be trustworthy, and dependable in relationships. If they choose relationships over timeliness- maybe that's the best kind of trustworthy there is? 

I know that it's uncomfortable, but I wonder if we just experiment in trying to prioritize what we usually call interruptions. What would it look like if we re-framed these holy moments as being our real life, and the routines and check-ups as the offending interruptions? 

It dawned on me that when we get so locked in to our routine and daily "to-do" list, it seems as if we are bombarded by interruptions. Perhaps that is just life saying "you have interrupted me long enough with your routine, I'm going to have to barge in if you won't make me a priority." So our beautiful conversations have to sneak in edgewise, our children have to come talk to us while we're pooping. You have to run into a friend at Costco. But life can only work so hard, if you keep blowing it off, it might not visit for a while.