What's on your mind?

That is the question asked of literally billions of people multiple times a day on facebook. What's on your mind? It's an invitation to share, vent, exclaim, announce, teach, and even grieve. Some choose to share every move they make, even change of socks, every meal, every thought. Some choose to share very little. Some, sadly, just use it to gripe and tear others down.

Social media platforms can be tools to make the world seem smaller and the people we miss feel closer. Friends and family can be reunited and loves rekindled. I love twitter mainly for connecting with people I admire and how fast news spreads. If something happens we need to know about - or even stuff that we really don't need to know about - go to twitter. You'll get information faster than cable news. Unfortunately, these platforms can reveal things about people we thought we knew and love very much that we don't agree with or like very much. It's my belief that real friends and secure people that agree to disagree and move on, but some just enjoy the luxury of hiding behind a computer screen to spew their venom.

We're entering two seasons that are ripe with opportunity to build up or tear down. One is political. One is holiday.

As the presidential election gets closer - and God help us, it's not even 2016 yet -  people seem to get meaner. Not only that but so many fail to check simple fact before posting to social media. I have no problem debating issues or or flat out disagreeing with a candidate or a party line. But one thing I strive to do is 1) never make a friend feel like they are less of a person for having a different opinion, and 2) never making racist or disparaging remarks about a candidate. Every one of the men and women running for President, for the most part, are standing for issues in which they truly believe their position is the right thing for the country they love. I may not agree with them, but I don't think that makes them a bad person. Do I  think Donald Trump is a viable candidate for the highest office in the land? No way. Do I think he's evil? Well, not yet anyway.

We the People are never going to form a more perfect union if we don't talk to each other - and more importantly - listen to one another. Forming an opinion and getting stuck there doesn't help anyone grow or learn. Being willing to open one's mind, listen to differing opinions, and perhaps learning and growing from them, is the only way we are going to continue to progress. And calling everyone from one side of the aisle or the other 'idiots' or 'morons' or 'evil' does nothing for politics, not to mention the harm it causes to relationships. Instead, why don't you ask your different thinking friends and family why they think or vote the way they do and see if you can learn something or, at least, end up in a place of understanding and not anger.

Secondly: the Holidays. This is a busy season of celebration for people of many faiths and backgrounds, and there is room for everyone. Some of this goes back to educating ourselves on the similarities as well as the differences between Christians, Jews, Muslims, and even those who choose to focus on the more secular aspects of the season. Each group has a story they follow as truth. Each group has a right - a RIGHT - to express that story as their tradition dictates. And, even some of those traditions will be open to interpretation based on family and cultural backgrounds, area of the country or the world, and simple personal preference. Real tree or fake tree or no tree at all? Menorah or Muslim prayer cloth? A star or an angel? A baby in a manger, three kings, or a jolly man in a sleigh? There's room for all of it. We all hold on to what we believe is truth and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It should never close off your brain or your heart or your ability to listen, learn, and experience new things, or even choose a new path.

Of course, it's not just this time of year that we should try to uphold this attitude. Wouldn't it just be nice if it was the norm?  This life is too short and to scary for us to help the bad guys tear each other down. Have a different opinion or a different desire and different interest - that's great. It would be boring if we were all the same. But, encourage each other to embrace the differences, and learn from them. If you just can't do that at least be kind in your disagreement, or perhaps just be quiet.

Build up.
Don't tear down.

Work on  it. I will, too.

It's a coffee cup...

Here we go again.

The commercials have started. The music is already playing on some stations (and they really should be ashamed of themselves...it's November 9). And, now...oh Lord, now...there's a red cup with company logo on it instead of a tree or a nativity scene or a star. Christians are livid. Seriously? It's a coffee cup. 

I know the theories of the date we celebrate Christmas. I know Jesus was likely born in May or March and I know that the date is celebrated around the winter solstice. The retail season has lumped all of the expressions of faith and celebration, (Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah) together and THEY call it the "holidays"  and they have capitalized on that. As a Christian I'm not thrilled with the phrase "Happy Holidays'. I don't say it. If I know someone is Jewish, I will wish them a Happy Hanukkah. If I'm not sure of someone's affiliation I wish them the happiness of the season, or, *gasp, I just say "Merry Christmas". You know what I usually receive in return? "Merry Christmas". Shocking. Remember that phrase wasn't considered offensive until just a few years ago when someone in marketing decided it was. I will admit to getting a little miffed when I hear that a Christmas tree or a star or some other expression of the Christian season cannot be displayed or spoken of but it's acceptable and expected for another faith or no faith at all to have the same right. It's not fair, and it does make me a little bit angry from time to time. 

What it does NOT do is take away the meaning for me. None of society's and retail's so called political correctness changes the fact that what we celebrate on December 25 is Christmas and it's a Christian celebration.   

Let's see Christians get riled up about refugees or hunger or discrimination or homelessness or animal rights or being stewards of the environment or disease or maybe just not treating each other the right way and living the way Jesus expects us to. Let's get loud about things that matter. 

Here's another thought. Just slow down. If you're going to get ready for anything get ready for Thanksgiving. The smells and tastes and family time and counting your blessings. Get ready for that. And, then, take a breath. Light some candles. Embrace the anticipation and holiness and gentleness of the season. The tree really doesn't have to be up before December 1. And every gift doesn't have to come from the mall. You can avoid the parking lot and the lines. It'll be here soon enough, and I can tell you without question that whether or not you kill yourself getting ready for it, the Christ Child will be born again in the hearts of Christians the world over. Frankly, whether you keep it holy and actually enjoy the season is completely up to you. 

Or, you can gripe about a coffee cup. Your choice.

People of good will

Tomorrow we mark 14 years since the attacks. 14 years. While most of us will pause and remember, in the wake of this Syrian refugee tragedy I've been thinking about the way other countries reacted and even assisted those stranded outside the US in the days following the attack. Never in my lifetime have I know the world to feel so small. Because, it wasn't just an attack on America. It was an attack on humanity and people of good will. So when planes were diverted to Canada, the people of tiny towns and big cities came out to feed and shelter and comfort those that couldn't get home because of men and an ideology that had caused pain and fear. Whether it was a hot meal, the playing of our national anthem, the hoisting of a flag, or a place to take a shower or a nap, people came together to help however they could. Now, we are watching a mass exodus of a people who are escaping a horror that we have, thankfully, never known. All they are looking for now is a place to be safe. To know that their children and old ones are safe. And because of money and politics they are not only not being allowed in many countries, but are actually being beaten and treated like a stray dog that no one wants. I don't care about administrations and party and religious differences or ANYTHING other than the fact that these are beautiful, sacred, human lives that are asking for help and a safe place to sleep. It is horrific that this is happening, but even more shameful that the natural order is simply not to open the door and say come in. I don't care who you follow - Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, the Great Spirit, or the gingerbread man - they are all weeping for this incredibly sad and broken world we call home. If you can do nothing else, pray - to someone or something - for these people. And tomorrow, for the love of all of those men and women of good will, at least for a second...stop...and remember.

Katrina

I love New Orleans. I always have and have loved it more since my sister moved there more than a decade ago. Every morning I put my fleur de lis around my neck - a gift from Jess a few years ago. She said it was because of my love and support of the city especially since Katrina. What a horrific day and night that was. But here's the thing...the levees and the flooding didn't happen until the next day. Meanwhile, the rest of the Gulf Coast - the entire coastline of Mississippi and some of Alabama were devastated. I was 120 miles off the coast, and it was no picnic; no power, separated from my family, dealing with my own anxiety and fear that stemmed that other hurricane: listening to trees snapping outside in the dark and having no idea what direction they were falling. A day or two later when the mall was able to get power, some friends and I went just to have a little AC for a minute. Radio Shack has all of their tv's on. We stood with people - evacuees - and watched the 9th ward fill up with water. I heard people say "i think that's my house". The friends I was with were both clergy and immediately went to work. Shortly after, I stopped by the Methodist church downtown where another friend was the youth minister and that was also a shelter. I walked into the family life center - the gym - and immediately felt like I had stepped into that military hospital scene from "Gone with the Wind" - you know -when Scarlett goes to find the doctor and the camera pans back revealing a sea of bodies. These bodies were not broken and bleeding, but it felt like the same kind of desperation. After a few days of working with the church and the Red Cross I needed to see my family. I went home to Mobile, where Jess still was obviously, and watched my baby sister weep as I stood feeling completely helpless while her city flooded and turned in on itself. A few weeks later Curt and I drove to NOLA to help gather Jess' belongings for storage in Mobile. It took a while to find a gas station with diesel fuel for the moving truck - at least one that was open and didn't have bullet holes in the windows. We were in the city long enough to load the trucks and leave before the sun went down. It took 45 minutes to get back across the twin span. The destruction was evident all the way home. When we got home and the neighbors came out to help unload and asked what it was like, all Curt and I could do was shake our heads. There were no words. The heartbreak was everywhere. Y'all know. We lived it together. And most of us were extremely lucky. But, there are still people who suffer from PTSD and anxiety and haven't regained their lives. So, beyond all the ceremonies and speeches and great things that have happened since then across the gulf coast, I guess I just hope we all remember that there are still folks that suffer. We are still rebuilding. And, it's not all about the Big Easy. It's about us all as humans and as a region. How we fail each other and how we rise up together. Turn off the drama, and hold out a hand. That's how we remember without standing still. That's how we continue to grow.

Catching up...

Well, it's been a while. I think life has been moving at such an insane pace over the last few months that I haven't been able to really settle and process everything enough to write. This post isn't on anything in particular really...just catching up on life so that maybe I will write more often that I have been.

Looking back my last post was in September, 2013. In my mind's eye that was the month before my own train sort of jumped the track and it took a while to get back on. October was a difficult month. Somewhere along the way my job fatigue, the feeling of being trapped on the island and in life in general finally caught up with me and I found myself running into a very large, very hard wall. What seemed like a night of simple sleeplessness, which I'm not completely unfamiliar with, turned into two nights, and then three. Silly, irrational fears began creeping in and taking hold. I didn't feel comfortable in my own space, Chester's presence as he tried to comfort his human was more of a nuisance than a comfort. That just made me feel guilty which piled on the rest of the crazy range of emotions that were crashing in at one time. I felt like I was a walking panic attack nearly all the time. Even Grayton and Henry's precious, happy energy was more that I could handle. The only place I felt safe was in my parent's house, so for about a week my apartment was a place I stopped by between Dauphin Island and Fairhope to change clothes and feed my little guy and then get out of there as fast as I could. It was, in a word, awful.

Have you ever been that scared? God, it's just terrible. I was so lucky that I had a small group of friends and especially my family, who saw me through these few weeks of hell, all of them with their own unique gifts and ways of pushing or pulling or talking or laughing our way through this while life went on around us. I saw my doctor and started seeing a therapist, got a double diagnosis of General Anxiety Disorder and PTSD (damn hurricane...), and a lovely little green pill that just levels everything out...that is...once the 2 weeks of feeling completely flat wares off and the goodness kicks in. The sun started coming up, and my own space wasn't so scary anymore.

But. Nothing else had changed. It was becoming more and more difficult to even tolerate my work life. But a few weeks later, in early November, that all came to an end as well. Even thought it wasn't with me finding the perfect job and walking out with a plan, the morning Dauphin Island and I parted ways was probably the most liberating of my life in recent years! I had no clue what was next or where the rent was coming from, but I knew I didn't have to go back there. ever. again. I could have thrown a parade I was so happy. I can't say that my parent's were as excited, but I think that once the shock wore off and I hit the grown running with a new lease on life and a spring in my step, even they knew it was going to be ok. The debt of gratitude I have for them is so enormous I'm not sure I'll ever be able to show them, not to mention the practical help they gave me as well. I spent the end of November thru mid January working in retail while seeing what else was out there, and after a few mis-steps, an opportunity arose in Destin.

Within a month of the first conversation with my new company, I had a job, a new apartment, was moving out of Mobile, and away from everything comfortable to work in a 3 story building, overnight, all by myself. Now, the girl that was afraid to sleep in her own apartment less than 4 months prior would have laughed in your face if you'd told her that was her next gig. Is it ideal? Not in the least. But, it's a step. And, it's not on Dauphin Island. Praise God.

Of course, in the middle of this Curt, Sellers, and family were making seminary decisions, there were other health issues and major sadness in other parts of the family. Thanksgiving. A traumatic Iron Bowl. (ugh). Christmas. Life.

So, here I am. Almost six months into a new job. Company benefits have kicked in (first time I've ever really had those). Potential is there for mobility. My space is new and fresh and mine. I'll explore Destin more in the fall when all these people go home. The Curt Kennington's move to New York City in less than a month, and there are all kinds of emotions and realities that go with that, but it's exciting and a dream come true for him, so we celebrate that.  A new little life is growing in New Orleans. More celebration. Life goes on.

If we seem a little worn out, this is part of the reason why. But this family does what we've always done, and what most of you do as well. We hang onto each other, walk through the hard stuff, celebrate the good stuff, and remember who were are and whom we represent. And, we look forward - to whatever comes next.

Love.

12 years later.

I remember.

I woke up this morning a little earlier than I did 12 years ago today. Some things are similiar. I'm alone in my apartment. I'm not working today. My family is spread out in various cities. It's a warm, sunny day. And in a little bit, I'll go to the church to do a little work. God willing, that's where the similaries end.

I remember that I feel asleep on my couch with the TV on. When I was aware of that fact it was early on September 11, 2001. I could hear Matt Lauer talking and breaking some news about an explosion in one of the towers. I sat up and rubbed my eyes and reached over to pick up my glasses. It seems as though as soon as I put them on and could see clearly that my first image of that day was the same as many others: the second plane.

I sat captivated and horrified for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, I had the need to speak to my parents, my siblings, and my then-boyfriend, who was across the country serving in the Unites States Navy.

Dad was on the road to Pensacola. Mom was in the doctor's office with my Grandmother. Jessica was at work. Curt was at home. Everyone said the same thing. "I'm ok." But we weren't. No one was ok. My brother was the first to really express this. I remember him saying that he just didn't want to be alone. Neither did I. I checked in at Trinity to see if anything needed to be done, but they were in the same shape as everyone else at that point. I forced myself to get up and get dressed, get food, and go meet Curt as he opened up the fly-fishing shop he worked in. Even that early in the day flags were flying. On every house and building. Little flags were stuck nearly any thing that would hold one. They were everywhere. I spent the next couple of hours with Curt and a few other folks that came into the shop. I don't think anyone bought anything. Just came in and talked and cried and shook their heads and watched the TV that we'd rolled into the store from the office.

After some of his fellow workers came in and we'd forced down some food, I drove to the church. By that point Dad had called and ordered the church doors open and said he was on the way back and there would be a service that evening. I went home and helped with the phone tree to get the word out. Along the way, more flags. More churches with their doors wide open and signs saying 'open for prayer'. And, later that evening, Trinity, along with every other church, synagogue, temple, and mosque were full. And it would stay that way for days.

I couldn't go to sleep that night. I think I was afraid to close my eyes. I checked in with the folks I loved one more time for the day and lay there fighting sleep, until it mercifically won and that horrible day was over.

I don't remember what I did 12 days ago. But I remember every minute this day 12 years ago. And I know my story and my memories are not unique. As I write this I can hear the names of the more than 3,000 people being read again from the site of the attacks. My parents woke up this morning in New York City. The rest of us are still spread out. In Fairhope, getting ready for a morning at pre-school, there are 2 little boys that have no idea why this day is important, and thankfully have never seen such horror. Facebook is flooded with pictures, stories, and rememberances. And there's some football and cartoons and birthday wishes thrown in as well. And that's good, because we do more forward. But, this day and those images are burned in our memories forever. It doesn't take much for the tears to flow. Emotions remain raw and at the surface. And, in my opinion, they should.

We can't forget. We just can't. 12 years ago there were words and names like Al Qaeda and Hamas and Hezbollah that we didn't know how to pronounce much less know what they are. We've seen over a decade of war. The flags went back inside. Church doors are not open day and night. We're back to fighting among ourselves. But today, somehow, even if for just a moment, we are united again. In pain. In resolve. In growth. In determination. In prayer. As humans. As Americans.

Sometime today, do something in honor of those who died and worked to save others. Take cookies to the firestation. Plant flowers in your neighborhood. Give blood. Stop work a little early and go on a picnic with your family. Laugh, alot, with children who don't know yet why today usually brings tears. Say a prayer. Light a candle. Make something beautiful. Cry. Read the names. Watch the footage.

Remember. Always remember.

 "Almighty God, who brings good out of evil and turns even the wrath of your children towards your promised peace: Hear our prayers this day as we remember those of many nations and differing faiths whose lives were cut short by the fierce flames of anger and hatred. Hasten the time when the menace of war shall be removed. Cleanse both us and those perceived to be our enemies of all hatred and distrust. Pour out the spirit of peace on all the rulers of our world that we may be brought through strife to the lasting peace of the kingdom of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen." (Collect for September 11 from the Diocese of New York)

Turning left

I was on the campus on Springhill College tonight for a program of the Christian Jewish Dialogue. Springhill is a beautiful campus at the highest point in Mobile. I was looking for Byrne Hall and entered the campus as I normally do, from the Dauphin Street side, and began to cut through the golf course. As I began to pass by familiar buildings in a direction that used to take one across campus, I discovered a parking lot and sidewalks. Hmm. I backtracked and began a journey to the other side of campus and the Avenue of Oaks where I knew that Byrne Hall was. Past the baseball field, through the dorms, past Stewardfield, and down the Avenue, where I could see the hall across the soccer field. But I couldn't get to it. So I backed up. This went on for about 20 minutes. Finally, when I found myself at my starting point, I asked a student where to get to my destination. He directed me back around the ball field and dorms and said "when you get to a point where you either have to go left or right, turn left...and then keep going." Just before I drove away, he repeated that sentence. "When you get to a point where you have to go left or right, turn left." As I drove away, I chuckled and thought to myself how many times in my life should I have just turned left?

I love being on college campuses. That strikes me as funny since college was not the greatest experience for me in the beginning.  I went away too soon to the wrong school with no clear direction. Small town. No car. Knew no one. Painfully afraid and unsure. It was a miserable year.

The rest of my undergraduate career was a series of mistakes and misturns. Two transfers, 3 major changes, and a lot of heartache. When graduation finally came I swore that was it. I was finished with school. Well, that was two Masters degrees ago. And if it didn't cost so damn much, I'd probably pick another subject and do it again.

Some of this is a love of learning. But as I was driving thru the campus tonight, I saw students playing soccer, walking to the dining hall, digging thru backpacks. I looked thru the lights of the windows covered in fraternity letters and purple Badger banners. What I realized was that I envied them. For them it's all new. All out in front of them for the first time. And I really, really wish I had the ability to go back to start college again for the first time, and get it right.

I wonder. Where would I be if I had taken my parent's advice and stayed home for a year and got my feet wet? Where would I be if I had listened to my English 101 professor's suggestion and majored in Journalism? Where would I be if I had gone to a school and experienced college and all it's supposed to be instead of taking a full load and working all the time? Would I be married or have a family? Would I have a more fulfilling career? Where would I be if I'd just closed my eyes, and turned left? 

The answer, of course, is that I don't know. And the rest of the story is that there are people and places and experiences that I would not have had if any of my life had been different.  And I know I can't live a life of regret, although I'll admit that's a tough pill to swallow when I look at my student loans and degrees that seem to be getting me no where. Of course I wish that I could quit my job and decide tomorrow that I'm just going to write, or bake, or go back to school for something really cool like historical preservation or anthropoghy or religion and start this trek all over, but unfortunately bills and responsiblity will not allow, and the department of education and South Alabama won't let me trade in the degrees I have. So I guess I just keep moving forward and try to get to that place that fulfills me, whereever that turns out to be. But oh, to have a chance for a do-over - to have it all in front of me again. To have the chance to get to that point where you have to turn right or left...

I found Byrne Hall. Once I turned left and followed the road to the end, instead of stopping when I got uncomfortable, I found I was right where I needed to be.