in the midst of metamorphosis

I desire open, honest, and nonjudgmental communication from all people and all views and all ideas. The words of my posts are simply my own thoughts on how the church* can fully be operational in Love. My first post on racism and the church (found  here ) was written two years ago, and yet it is still relevant, still truth, still a problem. Though I am no longer a part of the church, I have been observing her, watching...waiting...hoping for her to stand up and take on this devil, this time. Here are a few of my observations on the three camps that have formed within the white church: "All lives matter" is the acceptable motto of the first camp. Here, its members are intent on proving that the church loves all people. While waving this sign, personally and on social media platforms, endears them to their fellow campers, they are either blatantly ignorant to the troubling implications of this mindset (honestly, in this day and age, ignorance can no longer be an excuse

Several months ago, I shared about my walk away from religion (you can read that  here ). Looking back, I realize that the path away from organized religion had really started years before. Back when I was a teen questioning the black and white rules. Back when I was an idealistic new wife and mom questioning the patriarchy within the church. Back when I dared to voice my belief in a large gray area where grace resided and love covered all. Every one of these thoughts, and more, was conceived inside of my heart before I ever gave birth to their words aloud.. As a (former) people pleaser, I didn't want to offend, to alienate. I didn't want to be different, the outsider. I wanted to belong. I wanted acceptance. I wanted love. And the price tag for that was the silence of my truths. Can I just tell you how very damaging that silence was? How every time I swallowed down what my heart was telling me, another piece of me was buried? Another facet of  who I am  was layered under

doors. Life is like a series of doors and hallways leading towards, away from, and in between the rooms they guard. I've heard all of the analogies that say : when one door closes, another opens every closed door has helped make you into who you are you suppose that you are the lock...but you are the key  love opens the doors into everything* but, honestly, doors intimidate me. What awaits me behind them? Are they entryways into rooms where I am at ease? filled with objects that support who I am? where I am comfortable to walk in my own skin? I have walked through a variety of doors in my lifetime. Some were perfect for that time, some were wrong from the start, and others were like Cinderella's stepsisters trying to force that beautiful slipper that brought the promise of a different ( better? ) life onto feet that were created for a separate path. I wanted that room. I thought that I needed that room. Life though, she had another plan for me but that didn't e

Remember the movie Freaky Friday   in which the mother and daughter inhabit each others body and chaos ensues until, finally, they have a deeper understanding of the other? Anyone else feel like they are living that right now? No? Just me? Okay. I have been using this time of Covid-19 and quarantining ( I talk about that here ) to delve even deeper into this new direction that I am headed; to sift through the pieces that no longer serve me and to gather the ones that will; to draw closer to those that support my goals and to become aware of those who don't. My dreams are big and new and intimidating at times, and I am discovering a fresh determination welling up on the inside. This time has been good and necessary. And here is where the freaky friday reel begins to play, except there is no one else. Just the me before the corona virus and the me during. It's like I know who I was then, and I can see the shift into who I am now. and there is a gap that I am unsure of how t

" But there never seems to be enough time To do the things you want to do Once you find them..."     ~ Time In A Bottle by Jim Croce Time. How many of us would wish for more time? I would. At the end of many days, I wish that I had just a few more hours, or one more day, or to somehow stop the world from spinning by so quickly so that I could accomplish more, do more, be more. But, it doesn't work that way. We are all given the exact same minutes in a day to decide what is important, who and what holds our attentions, our hearts. If, at the end of today, I am wishing for more time, it is because I chose to mismanage the gift of time that I have already received. I found out Friday that my job would be on a 2 week break due to the corona virus. I am an aide/occasional driver on a school van. It takes less than 4 hours out of my day, but my mind started immediate calculations about how I could spend these extra minutes. I spent wasted time dreaming about sleepin