Since I Heard That I Was Dead

It’s been a hard five days
since I heard that I was dead.

So many people dream
of being at their funeral,
well I heard about mine
second hand and I am haunted,
underneath dark skies and dusk
by those deeds done distant,
done in his name
by those who do not know me
or have ever even met me.tumblr_m9yv6hMj3R1rtitxmo1_1280alas, there lies that caterpillar
faithful in the inches
and persistent in the scrunches
when life was deaf to all request
and death carried school lunches.
And silken shrouds so empty,
that chrysalis completed,
a parachute no longer needed or desired
has been laid to rest so gentle
in my mind and heart and soul.

But what is that small worm to them?
A giant? Tall and towering?
A person real and powerful?
Or personage unworthy
who must be tolerated
until the 18th birthday
when silence can take shape
and lay down thick on all?Molly MendozaA funeral…I thought those things happened
to those of brilliant value,
to those who are missed greatly
and mourned so in their absence…
certainly that news of loss
comes at me with such great surprise
because long silences took over
space and time so long ago
when conversation died and lives
were lived beneath unknowing clouds
of mute decisions made in secret
and consequences suffered
in pig styes in strange lands.tumblr_mfhgssIGJl1qjr7k7o1_r2_500I guess it leaves me rivven most,
the fact that I am not yet met,
or even known, or even thought worth knowing.
Nay, as I flutter on this twig
and let my wings dry out and strengthen
in the niggling sun, I am accosted
by their past and held accountable
for the willing spinning
and cocooning of my future
that the inchworm made for me.tumblr_n5s4s9FkHc1tq7o0to1_1280And in this time
my throbbing heart
was struck a blow
surprising and so shocking,
and she flew to make things right.
But while I prayed for her,
I found it beyond comprehension
that I would ever be seen
or noticed as the wonder that I am,
or even noted when I am
at last released from these bright wings…
even a shrug is more
than I can conjure up in hope so unrequited.

Five days…hard.
since I heard that I was dead.tumblr_nf93uaLmkp1qzcq51o1_1280

 

Fresh Washed Sheets and Yeasty Bread

a bed of fresh-washed sheets
and smells of fresh baked bread
waft yellow down my hall
into my twitching nose.tumblr_n12khuWFgT1s6nbxco1_500I find more nakedness in those comforts
than in the brothels of the Romans.
They strip away my cloaks of fear,
they dissolve my masks so carefully applied
and let my face lay fallow and unharrowed
while I am carried off across the gulfs of time…

Another me, both proud and vulnerable
and peeking thru my fingers at my stomach
and those fine glistening hairs white
in the morning sun beams refracted
thru the window pane
while birds sing lazy and slow trilling
on the outside.tumblr_ni6om40Znw1s1gcxio1_1280My bedside table has you there
in memento and framed, still
but straining at the edges
with that unrestrained smile.

My thighs are creamy white
like fresh bread broken
and awaiting new churned butter
still wet with milk and clotted cream.

That red affection and connection
and there like butter yeasty bread
and crusty breakfast wait
with a warm and singular
latte on my swelling hips.tumblr_ni9d4cbqhI1so83hto1_500I let go in strength, and feel
weak and without grip
and without need to grip
because my core is not containable
or needing a container
because it is me, and home…
every curve and crevice,
every speck and scar.

The tinkling jangle of
forks and dishwasher racks
jettisons that lovely past
and I am here again
in that bed of sheets
and baking bread
and serrated knife
that goes right thru that loaf
like it’s butter beneath
burnished bronze edges
and steady fingers.

Those scents will not flash forward,
but I dream of a day
that I might be unmade,
fresh sheets shown beneath,
yeasty bread laid bare
beneath a faithful blade.tumblr_njgj2kmduC1r2zs3eo1_1280

Shouting Into The Wind: Words From The Hearts Of Christian Moms With LGBT Children

Constance: this.
THIS.

Read these things written here…each one I could have said myself, written myself. Each experience I have had.

I think of the ones who said that I had crossed rivers that were beyond where they would go because of the immorality of my transition would read this. I wish the ones who label me demonized and deceived, rebellious and unsubmitted would have the callouses of self-righteousness dislodged from the eyes of their hearts so they could see these words and hear these hearts.tumblr_lojcwnx4at1qknvf5o1_1280

I wish they could see the gigantic scales of judgement they wave, but they are blinded because these scales obscure true vision and choke compassion.

Dear Reader…it is not your place to do anything but love…just love. There are sooo many things for us to work on in our walk with God besides something that is mentioned around 6 times in the bible.

John, I am so thankful for you…bless you, and may the Lord protect and keep you and make Their Face to shine upon you always.
Do Justice. Love Mercy. Walk Humbly.

john pavlovitz

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Five months ago I sat down on a quiet Wednesday morning to write this blog post, sharing how I would respond if I found out that my children were gay. My hope was to try to humanize an issue that my fellow Christians have largely dehumanized, and to try to set the table for productive new conversations, using the commonality of love for family, as our starting place.

I couldn’t have imagined where those eleven hundred words would take me, both literally and figuratively since then. They brought me into the homes and iPhones of millions of people throughout the world in a matter of weeks; to CNN, and Atheist radio shows, and coffeeshop tables across from Southern Baptist pastors, and Gay Christian conferences, and living rooms of local families, and to all sorts of disparate, yet equally holy patches of ground.

This week those words took me to one of the most sacred spaces yet; a private online support group for…

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I Squint At Light

Will you look into the sun?
Squinting, leaning sideways
so that the razor shards
can’t slice your sight so tender?

I want to remind you, darling
illumination still
begins with Light,
God Unobscured
(though cloaked in clouds
of Knowing Dim Unknowing)
Incomprehensible and Present.tumblr_mh7hnhHp7L1qlp8dho1_500Bathed in brilliant living light
I see my true identity fair
yet so different than common stories
of princesses soft and helpless in a castle!tumblr_njff6q44p51rv2dfko1_1280I dwell in soot and ashes low and dusky
but live inside a towering castle bright
where I imagine happy ever after
is more than just a jump-rope chant in time.

I am a treasure hidden in these ashes
and swaddled in the sackcloth of life’s sorrows
I am much more than currently imagined
and I transcend the myths of their assumptions!
Because I squint at light and still believe
in magic and in happy endings bright
and evil queens who fail to taint my beauty
because against their twisted schemes I fight
until they finally fall to fates deserved and serve them right.Image 003Because I still am glad I fell in love
and so will never fall upon death’s sword
(though I will suffer sword stroke fell and final
but not so final in that Final Throw!)

I will sit tall today and dream in color
because my dreams are valid and enough
and that enough depends upon my Mama
and my persistent buzz of joyful trust.tumblr_na1ju1FKtL1t00v8po1_500

Disruption in Gethsemane

Disruption
confusion and disorder
(or merely interruption)
come fatal and so final.

Belief is baffled, battered
by numbing contradictions,
and competing experiences
storm our sunny smooth white walls
with scary scrabbling quick movements
and alternatives quite shocking
come compelling in assault.

Disrupted
we encounter mirror faces
and radical indifference
we’ve never known before
never anticipated,
afraid there, we are frayed
and fractured and
disrupted.

our brittle self-sufficiency
illusory, confused,
our “self-control” confounded
our trust and self-reliance
confabulates with darkness
in that Gethsemane
of dread disruption beating…
and all our treasure hauled away
dispatched midst scattered plans
and strewn cross ruined hopes.

And we at last are laid to rest
beside the ancient stony press
our sweat run red like blood upon
our faces taut, abandoned, wrenched…
and finally alone with God…

the Disrupter
of our plans
of ideas
entire lives
turned topsy turvy
in the current of the common
and expected day of life
come in the chaos of the moment of
disruption.

They alter every altar
They smash down every idol
that sits so still and solid
but quiet in the night,
and far more so than silence
that roars without a word.

Unnerving and unsettling
toppling the familiar
overthrowing order
to bring a lasting Kingdom
run on Unexpected Love
peaking round the corners
into every heart,
and contradicting all
we blithely take for granted
as absolute in history
and real enough to trust
midst diamonds and rust.

But then They get quite cheeky
and mayhap downright rude!
They talk as if the dead shall rise,
returned again to life, what does that mean
about realities and rules for our lives
we take for granted as the order
and the way of everything?

Well, some think that disruption
plays teeter totter games
with resurrection on the other end
and our soft hearts their fulcrum
and God the Gravity so constant
prevailing over all!

But me?
Well, what do I know
in the tidal changes constant
and the ebb and flow
of people never here but never gone?
It’s a landscape of adventure
navigated by a compass
marked by faith and pointing true
at the lodestone thick with grace
and crystal clear in brilliant love,
crystal clear in brilliant Blue?

No…that is not quite accurate,
not “what I know”, but Who…
the Disruptors of my tragedy
the Resurrectors Kind who Love me
and in this I find that this disruption
is a start of something permanent
and lasting so much longer
than my ebullient grin.tumblr_njcs3jXOCs1qzif7oo1_1280