Moving In

The modern house of 1980, complete with harvest gold and avocado green.  Ah. Lovely.

But there's lots of room and some hidden surprises.  Like the old record-player-tuner hidden in the corner end table.  Open the doors, and it slides out.

My children had never seen such!  Oh yes, they'd seen turn tables, but nothing like this, complete with record changer.  I told them that we may not have had "6 CD changers" in our cars, but we were not without entertainment.

I put several records (LP's) on the changer and showed them how they dropped one record at a time, the arm with the phonograph needle moved into place and slowly lowered itself.  Amazing!

There are some beautiful hydrangeas in the yard, as well.  An ample kitchen, and lots of room.  New adventures.

Moving

Through some interesting turns of fate and providence, I will be moving.  A house has become available through the kind generosity of some of my constituents.  I'm invited to live there, paying only utilities.  My [one-way] commute to work will be 2.2 miles (instead of 18.6 miles).  Instead of a 30 minute drive, it will be 10 minutes, on a busy day.

Enlarged to show texture.

There will be room for my genetic offspring to visit, spend the night, make a meal, watch a movie, and have good daddy time.  Important stuff right now. 

And,  this means I will have lots of room for company, too.  So plan your visit now.  I do love hosting folk.

C&S, my gracious hosts for the last two years (and several months) have been the most wonderfullest folk I could ever imagine living with.  It has been an easy thing.  We've gotten along well, been very compatible, and enjoyable.  They will still be around and always be friends. Thank you, boys, for so much love and kindness, fun and good meals, hugs and understanding.  You're the best!

So, this will be a new chapter, in a way.  I need to add I am adding new disciplines to my life: walking more, cooking, balancing my work and personal life, getting finances organized and under control.  Frightening thought, doing all that.

One day at a time.

telling stories

Stories define us, in many ways, telling us who we are, giving us history and rootedness, helping us know about our people.

Scripture is (broadly speaking) telling our story - reminding us who we are and to Whom we belong.  It is way bad that some folk use scripture as if it were the answers in the back of the algebra text book (do they do that any more?) [Long ago, in a school system far away . . . . the algebra textbooks had, in the back, the answers to the odd numbered problems.]

Stories remind us, recall the great events of life, and the tragedies, as well.  They help us know how to act, give us a frame of reference.  They help us remember and recall the past but also live into the future.

But there may be many stories for each of us.  Which ones we listen to makes a big difference.

I have been struggling with depression and many demons.  All the 'not good enough' tales, the 'just work harder and move faster' sagas, the 'you must earn it - you're not worth it' stories.  Sometimes I listen.  Bad move.

Recently, I was asked to be part of a panel discussion about welcoming and affirming religious non-profits (of the sort for which I work).  (Part of our small-time community effort to stand against the Exodus conference going on nearby.)

My part was to tell the story of the last seven or so years of my life.  Recalling some of the details, the twists and turns, the ups and downs, the sadness, grief, and joy of it all.  Telling my story makes it real again - the grace and the details that remind me how many folk gave support and love, how Love overcame fear, how surrender and trusting were the only avenues that made sense.

I need that trust, grace, surrender, Love, support . . . . . I need it still.  And telling my story helps make them real again.  It really is the Truth that sets us free.

I feel better now.  Which story are you listening to?

Raindbows over 'Exodus'

Those sad folk who call themselves "Christians" and believe that gay folk can be turned from their evil ways will be gathering near my town of residence next week.  Needless to say, some queer folk in our town are setting up some events to counter said gathering.  How this odd city with so many queer folk can exist in the midst of such unbelieving "christianists" never ceases to amaze me.

Reading some of their entries about freedom, grace, compassion, etc., I must admit that I could say many of the same things about my experience of coming out!  Dig deeper blinded ones - the Truth is out there.  The Deeper Reality of Grace is that God loves us as God made us: queer.  Love Wins.

Through forty years of deep struggle, the depth of Grace has accepted and embraced me.  And called me into Love.  Yep.  Love wins, indeed.