Hieronymo's mad againe.

Invalidated wedding reflections? Part 1

2012-01-10T10:36:00.000-08:00

In the last few days of break, I've been wrapping up some of the leftover odds and ends from our wedding. I've blogged about it before, and not terribly long ago, our wedding was featured on my favorite wedding blog.

It's interesting to me...that in all the note-writing,photo-album building,and smiling acceptance of congratulations,there are only certain reactions that are acceptable. When you talk about weddings,it's acceptable to lightly dance over the stress of planning,but to suggest that anything was difficult or unpleasant about your wedding? Well, that makes you a bridezilla, unless your wedding included some you-tube worthy disaster, in which case you're allowed to tell the story to a room full of people simultaneously laughing and cringing. To say "my wedding was really hard,and I don't think I'd do it again" isn't allowed. That's considered the height of selfishness. I find this even more intriguing after reading a recent column about how women's emotions are often dismissed out of hand.

For whatever it's worth,I'm going to attempt to talk about the ugly parts of our wedding, and the wedding planning process. Because, guess what? They hurt! And they hurt far less when they are acknowledged, considered, and learned from.

**********
We disappointed people.
Six weeks after we got engaged, we finally picked a date for our wedding, after choosing a location, adjusting for the impending due dates of a potential photographer and my closest friend (yep, two different people, two babies), and dodging a youth conference. What we didn't know: My cousin's wedding in Oklahoma City was scheduled for two weeks before ours in South Carolina. Her sister called me to express concern over this, particularly out of her fear that because of the closeness in dates, some family members would choose to come to our wedding instead. Then, my aunt sent a panicky email, informing me of my cousin's terror that our wedding was going to change her catering numbers. So I assured both aunt and cousin that my partner and I would be at my cousin's wedding, and told them that I didn't expect them to be there. I didn't hear from anyone on this side of the family for another two months....when my dad forwarded an email from his sister's husband telling him how hurt and worried his sister was because she hadn't received an invitation yet (This was the end of March. We were married in July....this was THE WEEK BEFORE we sent out invitations).

My sister showed up in early January for a weekend of "wedding planning help." Pretty much the first thing out of her mouth on arrival was "But it's not a diamond!" (I think my reaction was pretty much "yeah, so? Diamonds are evil.")She then proceeded to list all sorts of stuff she wanted us to buy or do, to which my response was basically "Nope. Can't afford it" or "Nope. We think that's dumb."
Then, the crowning indignity: she dragged me to David's Bridal. And started to CRY when some pushy bridal consultant stuck a veil over my ponytail while I was freaking out over being immobilized by a heavy train. Ultimately, I managed to convince pushy bridal consultant and my sister that I was NOT wearing a long dress,pushy bridal consultant asked if I needed my MOTHER to see a dress before I could purchase it(I managed a blunt "she's been dead for ten years"), and eventually left the store, with my sister whining over my inability to afford a $500 dress.

Crohn's costs more than money

2011-12-23T10:08:00.000-08:00

I'm sure it's not just Crohn's disease...most of the things I'm itemizing are probably things most people with a chronic disease have felt. In all fairness, it's only been four months since I've been diagnosed ("only"? It seems like a lifetime some days)and maybe some of these things will change or become easier, but I can't see that now. And some of the things you can't put a price tag on are the hardest.

1)I have less time with my husband.
Because he's been picking up odd jobs to pay for my meds, I see less of him. And he's more tired when I do see him.

2)I'm never going to feel pretty again.
Seriously, I spend three times as long as I used to getting ready in the morning, just to feel normal. It's not just how I feel-I was going through some photos my husband took from a recent day trip to Charleston and I look...colorless, dull...like a dead fish really. "Like butter spread out over too much toast" as our friend Bilbo Baggins would say. If I'd known this was how things were going to go, I would have just gone ahead and sold my soul for the dream wedding dress, because it would be really nice to at least have memories of feeling like a princess.

3)I'm never going to feel comfortable in my body again.
(Very closely related to #2) My body has both failed me and attacked me...I am living inside my worst enemy.

4)It's yet another reason not to have children.
Both because I'll automatically be considered a high risk pregnancy and because of the possibility of passing the disease on to another generation.I'd have to actually talk to medical providers, but it's likely that I wouldn't even be considered a candidate for a birth center or home birth. You shouldn't breastfeed on the meds I'm presently taking, other Crohn's meds can cause birth defects.

5)My possibilities are limited.
I went from "I can do anything with my life" to "I can do anything...as long as it includes really good group health insurance and there's a gastroenterologist nearby." I'm naively still planning to do my dissertation research in Belize....without thinking through how I'm going to make sure I have meds onhand for six months and what will happen if I have to be Medivaced out. We'll see how that goes...I'll have to have a long talk with a couple medical providers, at least.

6)I have to balance my health and my quality of life.
My doctor says I have to take two giant monster pills three times a day.
According to the books, I shouldn't have my caffeinated tea, my glass of wine, pomegranates, raspberries, strawberries (my favorite!) or anything else with insoluble fiber. This doesn't work for me. Sometimes I choose to actually enjoy my life, and I wind up feeling crummy.

7)I'm less available to my friends and family.
A good chunk of my "free" time this past semester has been spent having blood drawn or in the doctor's office. Then, there's the amount of time and energy I've spent processing and dealing with this emotionally/physically/financially/whatever. Some days it takes a lot more work to make myself be a decent human being than it used to.

When everything changed.

2011-12-21T08:17:00.000-08:00

Six years ago today...

It was a few days after I'd arrived at my parent's home from college. I carried with me a purple sticky note with Scott's phone number. I missed him, needed to talk to him, sensed that he needed to talk to me. But I had responsibilities- family and picking up my job at the wretched grocery store around the corner. I sold cigarettes and beer, was yelled at by customers and ignored by my managers, my breaks were skipped and I worked late.

Things were tense at home, to say the least. I found myself teary in the bathroom, a razorblade digging into my skin, searching for rest and quiet. Blood flowed, and with it a measure of calm as I cleaned it away and rejoined my hectic family. I tumbled into bed that night exhausted, certain that I was alone and failing at everything. Scott showed up in my dreams that night, and we talked. I don't remember much about that dream...just that we talked, I laughed, I cried, I tried to hold onto him and he faded away, and I woke, calmed, cheered, and with my pillow wet with tears.

Just a few days later I would learn that he had taken his own life that day. I cried until I found myself in that bathroom again, my head aching and at the verge of throwing up. That was only the beginning of feeling a loss that will follow me my whole life. How much difference would that phone call have made - to me, to him? I always understand how this could happen, I will never understand why. Through it all, I carry that dream,keeping it held close with the hope that it was more than a dream. That hope is what makes the rest bearable.

Schism

2011-12-09T10:54:00.000-08:00

I am Anglican, and proud to put my roots down into this tradition. It is the branch of the Church where I belong, the heritage that shaped my thoughts and imagination before I knew its name. There are few things more precious to me than those things that are central Anglicanism- Worship focused on meeting Christ in the Eucharist, the via media, a willingness to admit that not all pious beliefs (e.g the Ascension of Mary) are necessary for salvation, and a resistance to splintering over theological nuances.

There are few things that hurt me more than watching Anglicans rage against each other. It is excruciating to me that I can't even use the term "Worldwide Anglican Communion" anymore because so many of us AREN'T in Communion with each other....that we have begun to split hairs in determining who we are willing to break bread with, that we have started attacking each other. I'm not sure where *I* fit in this dizzying landscape; I have friends who are a part of the Continuing Anglican movement, which broke off in the 1960s, friends who are Episcopalian, friends who have found their way to the ACNA, and AMiA friends. They are all good people, good Anglicans, and lovers of Christ, and honestly,once we start teasing out the concerns about hierarchies, tradition, authority, and social justice, I can't tell you which group I agree with more.

Right now, it's my AMiA friends I hurt for most. There's been some ugly news lately:
http://www.standfirminfaith.com/index.php/sf/page/28164
http://treadinggrain.com/2011/mass-resignations-of-amia-bishops-from-rwanda/
http://www.virtueonline.org/portal/modules/news/article.php?storyid=15284

Adding more confusion is that when these bishops left, they apparently didn't take their provinces with them - i.e. life continues on as before for these congregations, beyond the fact that they must make a decision about which Anglican province they're going to be a part of now. Which is a much better place than many congregations found themselves in upon choosing to leave ECUSA.

Even so, it's hard. Pray for your AMiA friends and clergy - that they will know peace, that they will have wisdom, that they will be led by the Holy Spirit during this time of decision. If you don't have AMiA friends, pray for mine.

In Christ there is no East or West,
In him no South or North,
But one great fellowship of love
Throughout the whole wide earth.

In him shall true hearts everywhere
Their high communion find;
His service is the golden cord
Closebinding all mankind.

Join hands ,then brothers of the faith,
Whate'er your race may be!
Who serves my Father as a son
Is surely kin to me.

In Christ now meet both East and West,
In him meet South and North,
All Christly souls are one in him,
Throughout the whole wide earth.

- John Oxenham.

Grad school doesn't sound so bad.

2011-12-08T14:14:00.000-08:00

It's finals week, and I've just uploaded my second-to-last paper. I've spent the majority of my days just writing the past couple weeks and it hit me....

If some ambassador from the future had told ten-year-old me that "One day, when you grow up, you're still going to be in school. You're going to get paid to go to school, and you'll get to study whatever you want. You'll spend most of your time reading and writing about things you choose yourself and think are important" I probably would have thought this was a pretty great deal.

And it is...at least the part of the time when you're not completely malnourished (since you haven't had time to make it to the grocery store) exhausted (since you have bizarre nightmares every time you sleep) and crazy (due to the malnourishment, exhaustion, and stress).

I don't even know what to say about this semester. It's been hard. Starting a marriage, starting a a doctorate, and starting life as someone with an autoimmune disorder- that's too many new beginnings at once. The doctorate and the marriage have been much easier transitions than the autoimmune disorder. It's been hard...and by many standards I haven't performed as you would hope a first year doctoral student would(on the other hand, I have 3 out of 4 committee members lined up, and I've already had one "I don't know where my dissertation is going" meltdown). There have been outstanding moments, as I've rocked a midterm, written a stellar essay on disparities in infant mortality, delivered a dazzling presentation on public health leadership in an emergency, and hammered out the first draft of a manuscript. It's becoming apparent that being sick doesn't mean that I can't do good work. That's the biggest lesson I'm taking away from this semester - in spite of everything, I am still competent. I hate the demands Crohn's makes on me (I know, it's silly that taking medicine three times a day makes me angry,I get unreasonably perturbed every time I choose not to order my favorite sandwich on a whole grain bagel, and there are days I'm convinced that my GI's goal is to make my life miserable). But at the end of the day....I am still me, and I still have every ounce of skill and passion I've always had. This is very good news.

When healthcare reform becomes personal to you

2011-11-05T11:19:00.000-07:00

...you start forgetting that for a lot of people, it's not personal. Or, at least I do. I catch glimpses of the Republican primary candidates campaigning on repealing health care reform and I wonder "Why do they hate sick people so much?" I see the occasional facebook post bashing "Obamacare" and screaming about being penalized by "having to pay for someone else's life choices" or all the rhetoric about "personal responsibility."

And then there's the conversations about drug companies- the "we want to encourage innovation" business.

It's become really hard not to be hurt by it. I've started wondering why this country hates sick people so much. Or, really, why it hates sick poor people. And why, since the US hates sick poor people so much, why it doesn't make it easier for poor people to have a medical home and access preventive services so they'll be less likely to get sick.

I suppose just by making these comments I'm asking for criticism- clearly, I'm biased as someone who has a chronic disorder and inadequate insurance, and why on earth should I demand that other people pay for my poor life choices and bad luck?

Maybe it's self-righteous, but I don't think my life choices were all that bad. I don't smoke, rarely drink, ate out once a month maybe (before this semester's craziness, anyway), walk almost a mile a day, ate whole grains and lots of fresh or frozen fruits and vegetables (do I get extra points for growing my own kale and basil?). I went to graduate school because I wanted to make the world a better place through health education and disease prevention - which apparently was my major crime here. My graduate student stipend simply won't stretch to cover a decent health insurance policy, so I have the school policy. Since I went to graduate school in a poor state that only has a handful of major universities, our student insurance is basically just adequate for healthy people. And then, while in school, I had the audacity to develop a chronic autoimmune disorder (oh, and by the way, the medical community is still very unsure of what the causes of Crohn's disease are).

So I'm sitting here, getting ready to refill a prescription, which is going to have a couple hundred dollar copay. This refill will exhaust my prescription coverage for the year. So, thanks to my "lousy" life choices, and the fact that liberty is prized above all else, I'm sitting here debating my options. I can continue taking my prescribed dose of medication, in hopes that healthcare reform will roll out as promised and internal plan limits on coverage will go away in January, despite resistance from health insurance companies, US taxpayers, and the entire Republican party. I can disregard my doctor's instructions and reduce my dosage in hopes of making my medicine stretch out longer. More drastically, I could just quit taking my medicine altogether and see what happens. Obviously, my doctor would not be a fan of the last two options, and I could get very ill. "Very ill" is an understatement - the husband of one of my friends has a different variety of Crohn's. He quit taking some of his medications because insurance wouldn't cover them, and wound up having emergency surgery to have several feet of his small intestine removed.

Is this what "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" is all about? Do I have to accept that following doctor's orders and being healthy are luxuries only available to those who can afford it? Is it just supposed to be okay that many people in this country (including my friends and family members) would rather see me physically and financially devastated by a treatable disease than contribute to my healthcare costs through their taxes?

I don't think so. But what would I know? After all, I'm just a sick, poor, bleeding heart public health doctoral student. Asking my opinion would send America straight to hell - or Socialism, which is apparently worse.

What if Christianity worked like public health?

2011-10-30T20:22:00.000-07:00

In his homily today, the bishop said "Evangelism is one hungry man telling another where to find bread." This basic statement triggered a series of flashbacks to my Baptist church evangelism days (which merit their own post. Gosh,there are a lot of things I'm not proud of. But it made me wonder...what if churches(and other Christian organizations) went through the same steps and procedures outlined for public health interventions? I have a lot of ideas about how this might work, and I want to take some time to bounce some of them off a priest-friend of mine who is actively planting churches.

But the main point: in public health,our goal is to make communities places where it easy to be healthy. What if, in Christianity, we aimed to make churches places where it is easy to love Jesus? I don't mean haphazard trying, I mean systematically following an established process.

*Disclaimer*: Chaos reigns in plenty of public health ventures too- often due to having insufficient resources, time, and trained personnel. But the discipline acknowledges that's far from ideal.

*Additional Disclaimer*: I have not yet read The Purpose Driven Church, which delivers a formula for how churches should approach the future. It's entirely possible that everything I'm pondering has already been said. Depending on how serious I get about this project, I should probably do that. (However, I'll mention that I watched my father try to "do" The Purpose Driven Church in three different churches for a period of 10 years, and he was less than thrilled with the results. "Results" happened to include being run off from a church. So I have a generally negative view of the book.)

The alternative to breaking noses

2011-10-13T15:34:00.000-07:00

The alternative to breaking noses: a blog post about STUPID things people say (or publish!) about inflammatory bowel disease.

Counter to typical practice, I'm not citing these,because I don't think it's good manners to point fingers.

1)You might be gluten intolerant.
Do you want to SEE the photos of the ulcers in my colon? It's pretty disgusting. I get that food allergies are a big deal for many people, including some with IBD. I'm not one of them. Oh, and food sensitivities generally don't need surgery, or steroids, or immunosuppressants or....

2)Often, if Crohn's patients are not hungry, it's better for them not to eat, because it gives the intestine time to heal.
(In all fairness, I understand this one a bit better). I weigh 115 lbs on a good day. I'm always hovering right around the low cutoff point for normal BMI. If I don't get some sort of nourishment,particularly protein, my body is not going to be able to maintain normal functions, let alone repair itself.

3)A colon is not a necessary organ, just a highly convenient one.
I hope that's self-explanatory? I consider this Exhibit A of why people who do not have chronic diseases should be extremely cautious of writing books for people who do. NOBODY wants to lose body parts. ever. And you're not going to help anyone come to terms with losing a body part by telling her that it's not important. My colon doesn't work perfectly, but it's my colon, and I'd like to keep it. It's special to me in a way that a J-pouch or ostomy bag never could be. I'm hoping I'll never have to have that conversation, but no doctor will convince me to have surgery because my colon isn't important.

4)You need to look for good sources of calcium, like canned salmon with bones. If the bones bother you, you can smash them with a spoon, or put it through a blender. But you'll probably start just eating the salmon, bones and all, once you realize how much work crushing the bones is.
Why am I supposed to get excited about eating bones? And if whole grains, nuts, and seeds can irritate the ulcers in my colon, I have a feeling bones will do the same. It seems rather presumptuous to make judgments about my food preparation priorities, especially when I'M the one with the diseased colon.

Sigh. I have a feeling that I should title this "The alternative to breaking noses" part 1, since it's likely to become a regular feature.

Something.

2011-10-10T20:50:00.000-07:00

Falling back on youtube videos, since I can't think clearly at the moment.

These both have something to do with my Belize work (which I seem to have committed the next four years of my life to. Pretty excited about that.) and something else to do with feelings about living in the U.S. at the present moment.

That is all.

Gratitude

2011-10-07T08:17:00.000-07:00

Perhaps someday gratitude might become forgiveness.

My alma mater broke my heart over and over again during the four years I was there.On a bad day I might contemplate whether or not this was an abusive relationship, though most of the time I know that's an exaggeration. That place left me questioning my sanity and certain that I was failing horrendously at being a Christian, a student, and a woman (and I will never come near their ideal of that mystical intersection of scholarship, femininity and faith).

But I've been digging through reports lately (this one , for example). And I'm remembering that Christian college I resent so much has sent spring break mission teams to Belize. I don't remember what those teams did, and I'm fairly certain I don't actually know anyone who took those trips. But I'm hopeful they did something good. And it's possible that someone, somewhere, who works(worked?) for that institution or graduated from there loves Belize as much as I do.

Because I have a relationship with that country that is unlike anything I've ever experienced. I read numbers and I see and hear things. Statistics are situated by the unbelievable blue of the Carribean sea and the view from the top of Xunantunich. Survey results sound like a Creole woman singing along with the radio while she chops vegetables, the Garifuna boy who told me he'd fallen in love at first sight, a surgeon next to the fan in his office. And I will be going back soon, though not soon enough.

Sigh.

2011-10-04T19:26:00.000-07:00

I don't want this corner of the internet to be solely about my disease. But there's something safe about this little monologue, and it seems to be worthwhile to try to package my thoughts into a conversation, one-sided as it is.

Honestly, I don't want to admit that Crohn's disease is a big deal or that it changes my life. Enter Episcopalian Mom Former Boss telling me that "Denial is not just a river in Egypt." She's right- and she wouldn't be that blunt if she didn't love me. I have a chronic disorder that can be downright dangerous if not managed properly (my new favorite potential complication: sometimes in Crohn's patients, ulcers can burrow into blood vessels in their colon and cause hemorhages), and it's not going away. But at the same time...I don't think she's right. People with Crohn's disease have a life expectancy close to that of the general population. I'm fortunate to have one of the milder forms of Crohn's. When people are dying of cancer, starvation, HIV, war, violence...my whacked out immune system isn't that big of a deal. There's a part of me that feels that it's selfish to acknowledge (even to myself) that my disease matters, never mind that maybe, it matters a lot.

If I look inwards, even for a moment, I see fear. Fear of the things that could go wrong. Fear of potential treatments and their side effects (immune suppressors? During FLU SEASON ?!) and their cost. Fear of what I might have to give up (in spite of the ulcers, I'd very much like to keep my colon, thank you just the same, and I really don't want to have to live under a bridge). I'm afraid of not being able to do my best, not being able to attack life (and research and writing!) with the same fierceness. I'm afraid of needing to rest...and paradoxically, of not being able to rest. Now, any change in appetite or bit of nausea makes me panic over what might be happening.

And then there's blame. Why doesn't anyone else in my family have this condition? If it's a combination of genetics, environment, and some sort of bacterial trigger, like my GI says...then what did I do, where did I put myself, that made this happen?

I am ashamed of not being adult enough to control my emotions. I am ashamed of not being scientist enough to comprehend that life threatening complications are rare. I am terrified that someone else will be hurt by this- that I will be inconsiderate of others or neglect my responsibilities because of focusing on my symptoms and inner chaos.

Y'know....let's go back to Egypt. Denial seems to work better than acknowledgement. It's less scary, anyway.

Thoughts

2011-09-28T19:47:00.000-07:00

It's one of those days when I'm tossing thoughts around like darts at a target, wondering if the connections (commonalities?) I see in them are real.

And today it's this odd sense of things happening at the wrong time. The right things, sometimes the right things done the wrong way, but just the oddness in the timing.

Part of my thoughts are around this conversation : http://rachelheldevans.com/ask-a-gay-christian-response . It's remarkable how many of my facebook friends (from widely varying convictions and backgrounds!) have posted it. And it's a great conversation, and I think Justin and Rachel (and/or whoever is moderating her blog) have done an amazing job with it. But why now? Where was the grace at Bishop Robinson's ordination? Where was the willingness to listen and dialogue then? I'll out myself here- I'm a clergy kid, and I will ALWAYS side on giving grace and respect to pastors/shepherds/priests/overseers/ term of your choice. There are few things in this world that make me as profoundly sad as the fact that Gene Robinson's tenure as bishop was marked with threats and violent hate...to the extent that he battled dependence on alcohol (for which he received in-patient treatment) and chose to retire early. This hurts me more when I acknowledge that even though I don't closely follow his work, I am so often delighted by what I find in it- wisdom, grace and a love for God. (His book has a pretty high spot on my to-read list).

And then there's healthcare. I was responsible for showing this documentary to a class while their professor was away at a conference. And...I don't know what to say. Ted Kennedy's death was such a profound moment. That sounds stupid, but I can't think of any way to put it. Did health care reform cost Obama his chance for a second term? I hope not. Oh, good heavens, do I hope not. Was it the right thing to do, regardless? YES. Is the Affordable Care Act the reform I'd like to see? Are you kidding? There's funds for abstinence-only sex ed in there. And I want a public option- I think a public option ought to be the centerpiece of healthcare reform, actually. But it's a step... A step Ted Kennedy worked so hard for.

Then...there's me. I cried when President Bush vetoed the SCHIP expansion. I cared about health care for years before I was diagnosed with Crohn's. Not that long ago, I didn't know what it was like to be prescribed a medication for which a 30 day supply (without insurance coverage) costs as much as my rent. I've burned through over half of my prescription coverage for the policy year less than two months into it. (Now, I'm also on student health insurance, which is a conversation in itself). And, frankly, if it comes down to it, it's way better for my health to not be homeless than to not take my medicine. How did I care so much then, before I knew the fears that come with living in the United States as a person with a serious chronic disorder?

And I do feel a need to put a disclaimer out here...things aren't that bad for me. The medical profession knows what this disease is, and how to treat it. I likely will have as long a lifespan as someone without the disease, and I think I have reason to hope that I won't live many more years disabled than someone presently in good health.

But what makes things salient? Why am I lost in a slew of figures nearly as old as I am when I'm trying to find the context for my work in Belize? Why do we ask different questions at different times, and why do people yell so loudly I can't hear what they're saying? I have a priest friend who tells me "Don't waste your anger." I think I do an okay job most days... I manage to stay out of Facebook flamewars, and I know that sudden punch of urgency when you realize most people don't get it yet (latest openmouth shocked moment: 34% of women in the Toledo District of Belize believe that a man is justified in beating his partner, as of 2006). But it's whatever that "next thing" is that I'm struggling to find...and I think, in some way, my dissertation will be "that next thing."

Our new normal

2011-09-09T10:41:00.000-07:00

Which is still rather abnormal to us.

I got married in July, started my doctorate in August, and was diagnosed with Crohn's disease in September. That's a lot of new beginnnings, I guess. And really, there's just something beautifully ironic about being diagnosed with a chronic disease that is aggravated by stress and causes fatigue at the start of a demanding doctoral program. Well done universe!

I'm adjusting....or not, depending on the day. First bit of good news in a while came yesterday- the contrast CT I had to undergo Tuesday (when I learned to NEVER go in for unfamiliar medical procedures alone- ugh) came back clean, which means the disease is just in my colon (Crohn's colitis) . It's hard to know what this means moving forward. In the words of one person I've talked to this week "We never manage to balance. Life is always a juggling act, and we have all these balls - our career, our relationship with our partner, our kids, everything. And occasionally, it's time to let one of them come down. But the ball you absolutely must keep in the air is your health- because that's the glass ball, and if you let it drop, you don't get it back."

That said, I'm grateful to be here. And it's when things are craziest and worst that I realize that there are people committed to fighting for me and for my wellbeing. Thank heaven my department is an example of academia at its best.

It is what it is. Yes, there are some pretty hideous possible complications. Yes, I could be in really big trouble if healthcare and insurance reform in this country is not implemented. No, it won't kill me, and if I can figure out how to manage this, it shouldn't slow me down too much (heck, Dwight Eisenhower had Crohn's disease and he managed to run a country). No, I'm not alone in this- thank heaven for my wonderful husband, and for mentors who care about *me* more than my work.

Horror

2011-08-31T08:32:00.000-07:00

A recently tenured young professor at my university (not in the school of public health, but in a closely related area) was stabbed to death by her boyfriend this week. News reports indicate that she had confided to her friends that she was "worried" about him. In this state (or perhaps county, I'm not quite sure of the level of the regulation), you cannot get a restraining order unless there's been a previous incident...well, it's easy to see that sometimes, like in this case, you can be killed in that first incident. This state constantly ranks in the top 10 for most murders of women.

What will it take for this to change? It's a widespread, heartbreaking problem. I have ached as my former students have told me about the violence and abuse they've experienced from their former partners. These young women inspire me in so many ways- as African-American women, as single parents, in having the courage to leave violent relationships and fight for their education, for a better life for themselves and their children. Unfortunately, the risk of being injured or killed by a violent partner increases when you leave that person - they've lost their control over you, and you've lost your ability to observe, and know what they're up to. "Just leave" is not the answer.

And yet...this is intensely personal. I didn't know this woman, and I can't begin to imagine the pain felt by her friends, family members, and students. I know the university intensely feels this loss- the loss of a scholar, mentor, friend, teacher. We are a community that works to prevent intimate partner violence- by trying to teach men and women a healthy perspective on what masculinity is, by trying to create a culture that refuses tolerate violence, by raising awareness of what happens on this university and in the state around us. To lose one of our own this way is devastating.

Admittedly....

2011-08-28T12:47:00.000-07:00

it's a little scary. What started out as a normal visit at student health turned into a referral to a gastroenterologist, and perhaps a cardiologist, depending on how the nurse practitioner feels at my next followup visit. 3 appointments later, and all I know is that no one knows what's wrong with me. It's been a week of tests, and there are more to come. That first visit at student health I weighed in at under 110 lbs, for the first time since 8th or 9th grade. I've been sick for a long time, and it's probably been a month since I've slept through the night. I want to be well, but the simple approach of "rest, and let my body fight off whatever this is" is obviously not going to work. And, y'know, when a doctor says that what I thought was just me aggravating a high school injury looks like rheumatoid arthritis to him, well, that's scary too. Particularly when he follows that statement up with a barrage of tests he wants run, including one that's normally done on people TWICE my age.

And then there are those other questions...questions that result from being a US citizen, in a time when healthcare reform is not yet completely realized. What if this turns out to be some chronic condition, requiring treatment for the rest of my life? What would that do to our ability to pay for health insurance? I've planned my entire education in a way that prepares me to work in the foundation/nonprofit/NGO world. A chronic, serious illness would make that impossible (Yes, I'm also a pretty darn capable social science researcher, but believe you me, academia is not some place I want to be if there are other options).

One of my girlfriends who's been through something similar (and is doing GREAT now) remarked on how humbling this sort of thing is. "Humbling"- I wish I'd thought of that word. It's remarkable...that no matter how educated I am, no matter how educated and smart the healthcare professionals I'm seeing are...there's no way to know how long it will take for me to get better. I'm more or less confined to the couch these days when I'm home. I'm giving class my best shot, and trying to work on GA stuff, but it's different. I usually work at a furious pace, but right now I take a lot of naps. It's remarkable when you come face to face with your limitations. I shouldn't be allowed to wax melancholy or insightful right now- I haven't been sick long enough, and I'm hopeful that in another 2-3 weeks, I'll be back to 100%.

But we do a fair amount of whistling in the dark here these days, and a whole lot of laughing at my decrepit duck waddle.

Sickness

2011-08-26T13:26:00.000-07:00

This is my momentary pity party. I'm presently facing a rather unpleasant health challenge which has culminated in: two trips to student health this week, a round of antibiotics, 4 separate bloodwork orders (3 trips to the lab), and a trip to a specialist, who tentatively scheduled me for a colonoscopy next week (about 20 years early). I'm exhausted. I have 100s of pages to read, writing assignments to complete, and students to find service learning placements for. It feels completely unfair to get hit with this at the start of a demanding program, when I need to be building momentum and making progress (and getting things out of the way before the semester becomes completely unmanageable).

If you know me in real life- please keep this bit of information to yourself. I've shared it with exactly: 2 classmates/colleagues, 1 friend, and 1 family member (in addition to my husband). I'm trying to not turn into "the sick girl," especially when new doctoral students are starting to get to know each other and are at their most competitive. I also don't think it's any of my professors or supervisor's business until it starts interfering with work.

Which is neverending, and I need to return to it, rather than wallowing.

decisions

2011-08-18T18:54:00.000-07:00

In January of 2009 I moved here and enrolled in an MPH program, in Health Promotion, Education and Behavior. I didn't really have a clue what I was doing, except that I had to do something, and it had something to do with this. I was scared, unfunded, gutsy, terrified. Social science wasn't an easy transition. It's fascinating, and I love it now, and I think "heath decisionmaking" will ultimately be the one overarching theme through my body of work. But at the beginning....I would have told you there was no objective way to measure things like that, and people who thought they could describe/influence those processes were crazy and arrogant. I vaguely remember saying that "qualitative research" was an oxymoron - that qualitative work was the necessary, preliminary work people did as a precursor to real research, which is controlled and experimental. When I started, I didn't know what would happen, how long I'd stay, what degree I'd get (MPH, MPH/MSW, MSPH, Dr.PH or Phd. There's a lot of choices!). I knew I couldn't stay where I was, and I wanted to make the world a better place, and I had a sense that was what public health did- especially this university and this department, and good things happened here. That wasn't so vague. I did scour the school's publication and funding record and stared at faculty CVs for hours, looking for something to verify whatever force was pushing me here.

I landed. It was a disaster, in the worst way. An assistantship did not materialize (though my department did, slowly, take action to ensure that I was charged instate tuition) Schedule got deleted, loan funds got returned. I missed a week of my online class because I had been dropped from Blackboard and had to chase down all my professors in order to re-enroll in classes. It was exhausting. It was lonely. It was life.

Months passed. I got to know my cohort- the group of ten or so of us who started in January (not a common choice). Then those who had started ahead of us in August, and those who followed along afterwards. I made two amazing priest friends (sadly, one now lives on the other side of the country) and started hanging out at a student ministry. I went to Belize (and fell in love).

I came back, and took harder classes. Got the hang of looking for money here, and either had a whole bunch of crazy responsibilities dropped on my head, or some wonderful opportunities fall in my lap (TA, qualitative program evaluation, virtual women's center, PTSD research, helping an academic program through the institution-required self-study, instructor of record). I acquired a graduate certificate in Women's and Gender Studies, fell in love (with my now-husband!) and went back to Belize, to do my own beautifully planned (less beautifully executed) primarily qualitative study. And, y'know, got married.

So I'm here. Still. Beginning again. For more quantitative reasons this time- I have a husband with degree in progress, and the public health job market is hideous in this state. I can't guarantee that I'd find a job in commuting distance (or, that I'd find a job at all). With two graduate student stipends, things aren't great, but we won't be living under a bridge. There's a skill set I have and want to build on- program planning and evaluation, developing and carrying out interventions, working with community partners. And this program is the best way to do that. I want a terminal degree one day, and the "rights and privileges" that confers -expertise, authority,independence. There is no guarantee I'd be able to replicate the mentoring and community (and funding sources!) I have here at another institution at another point in time.

I'm here. Surrounded by new faces, when most of those (students) I care about most have left- for Texas, for Iowa, for a job at the Historic Black University on the other side of town. I love it, and this is my home. This lovely 210 year old campus, with its hideous parking and oppressive heat, and most particularly a building with lead-soldered copper pipes, mold, peeling paint, asbestos insulation, and a freezing computer lab. I'm walking these halls surrounded by people who have not slaved, laughed, and cried in them the same way I have. It is familiar, and it is lonely, and it is where I need to be.

Irony

2011-08-07T15:48:00.000-07:00

I'm in the kitchen, spreading basil from the pots on the front porch onto paper towels to dry in the oven (my hope is that by starting to harvest + dry basil early, I'll encourage the plants to produce more, and there will be enough to share with my husband's mother and grandmother) and hovering over the washing machine, to dump vinegar (fabric softener) in as soon as it hits the rinse cycle, while my husband is assembling the particle board "organizers" we picked up at Target. After perusing thrift stores in the area, it became clear that our graduate student income wouldn't stretch far enough for secondhand furniture.

We do our best- cloth napkins and cleaning with vinegar and baking soda. I've successfully grown a couple herbs for cooking, and removed pretty much all phosphates and sulfates from my daily hygiene routines. We don't cook with meat- not so much because I don't believe in eating it (though I do believe everyone should incorporate at least one meatless dinner into their week), but because we can't afford the meat I do believe in (local, SC farmed, or shrimped). And local, organic produce? I love our farmer's market, and we're lucky enough to have a small corner market that's sourced from local farms. But probably less than 10% of the produce we eat is local or organic. I get what mass production is doing to the world, but yet I've not figured out how to manage without it.

Reading

2011-07-31T18:36:00.000-07:00

I've finally gotten around to starting a couple of the books on my to-read list.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A year of food life, by Barbara Kingsolver
"We're raising our children on the definition of promiscuity if we feed them a casual, indiscriminate mingling of foods from every season plucked from the supermarket, ignoring how our sustenance is cheapened by wholesale desires."

Episcopal Women: Gender, spirituality and commitment in an American mainline denomination, edited by Catherine M. Prelinger.
"Religion, in every important respect, is a game for men, and men make the rules. Changes in perceived power have to do with power shifts among white men. What is suspect here is not simply the exclusion of white women, and minority women and men, but the conflation of leadership with the entirety of the church. Conclusions are drawn, which indeed may be accurately inferred from the leadership, but say very little about the power and preference of those in the pews. . . .
What is ...surprising are the many instances of vibrant denominational loyalty among women who either feel they do not recognize the church of their youth, or who feel abandoned by new directions in the contemporary church. They would neither join a different denomination,nor leave the church altogether.... Denominational loyalty has often been achieved through a kind of ironic accommodation on the part of women, a conscious willingness to shut their eyes and ears to certain aspects of church life that men dominate, and to develop their own forms of institutional expression, confident, rightly or wrongly that they represent the church in fact if not instrumentally."

I have a sneaking suspicion that what draws me to both books is the same thing, though I'm not quite sure what words to put on it.Unrest? Dissatisfaction? Ecofeminism? Justice (social or environmental?) Hope? Ambition? Audacity?Abundance? And, given the second excerpt, it seems worth pointing out that I am not (and doubt that I will ever) considering leaving the Church of England, either for Rome or Protestantism. The via media may be overgrown and filled with treacherous steppingstones, but I am still certain it is the best way. Though, given the large splinters in Anglicanism in the US,(and the surrounding hostility) perhaps the most confusing and dangerous path.

Our Wedding

2011-07-24T19:03:00.000-07:00

It's hard to figure out what to say, or what even needs to be said. And somehow, it seems frivolous to spend so much effort, over the course of 7 months to plan JUST ONE DAY. And again, to spend that much money on JUST ONE DAY (that being said, I know we had a relatively short engagement and low wedding budget, and I'm very impressed with what we were able to accomplish with that. But still).

I can't say the day went like I expected. I can't even say that I enjoyed most of it.Y'know, during the 7 months leading up to my wedding, I can't say that I pictured staying up til 1am the night before making flower arrangements, or driving to the church with 160 sunflowers and some greenery in tow at 8:30 the following morning, or all the frantic setup that happened. For probably about 3 days all I heard was my name being called incessantly , and boy, for it being "my day" A LOT of people had A LOT of opinions about things I needed to rearrange. Sometimes these were helpful, sometimes they weren't. About 11:30 the day of our wedding my husband's grandmother entered the church hall, saw me in the kitchen and proclaimed "You can't be working your own wedding! That's not allowed." She didn't have anything to say once I explained that things weren't going to get done if I didn't do them. The day's schedule (particularly the reception) went wildly offtrack, and I was completely horrified when I realized that the sunday school classroom we'd been storing things in DID have to be emptied before Sunday and all the mess would be coming back home with us (I ended up getting up at 4am the morning after the wedding to start cleaning because that mess was driving me crazy).

We wanted things to be simple, sustainable, affordable, and "God-honoring" (the quotation marks are there, not because I'm mocking, but because that's such a huge thing, I'm not sure anyone knows what it would really mean, or look like.) This meant that pretty much everything for our wedding (except the organ playing, which was the major fiasco of the day) was done by us or someone we love (this includes our wedding photographers- we hired friends of a friend, and made lifelong friends in the process). Which meant a lot more work, stress, and tricky situations for us. And so much thought went into every decision.

But it's hard to even start to describe the serendipitous things that happened. There was the fabulous green floral brocade fabric I found at Joann's on clearance -which became 3 bridesmaid dresses, my husband's tie, and a jacket for his mother, all at $5/yard, plus love and labor from one of his grandmothers (not the one complaining about me working too hard). My dress- an under $200 Ebay find. I'd determined that as far as dresses went, I only had 4 requirements: ivory (so I wouldn't look like a ghost), tea length or shorter (so I could actually MOVE on my wedding day), as close to $200 as possible (so I wouldn't be paying for it for the rest of my life) and not brand new (I would not have been able to enjoy my wedding thinking of women in Bangladesh paid $0.35 to work 20+ hour days, falling asleep by their sewing machines. I realize this is a very, very sticky set of dilemmas, but I just didn't want my dress to be a part of that). Enter Ebay, and a vintage Harry Keiser dress-1950s ivory lace tea length, and my exact measurements. It fit like a glove straight out of the shipping envelope. Absolutely unbelievable. One of my cousins wound up getting married in Nashville 2 weeks after our wedding date, so my grandmother was able to fly out from CO for my wedding, stay with my uncle and go to my cousin's wedding before going home. So wonderful. The bishop at the church we were married in (yes, stuffy Anglo-Catholic cathedral) gave us the key to the church, so we had the run of the place for setting up and tearing down. Our couple photos morphed into a five hour adventure around our favorite places in Columbia, and involved climbing over fences and trees and jumping into a fountain (good thing I had a dress I could move in!) ending with cupcakes at our local cupcake shop.

I was more than a little nervous about how our Bible Belt Protestant family members would deal with our Anglo-Catholic wedding. But I introduced my dad to the bishop, and within 5 minutes they were swapping church planting adventures. Both the bishop and assisting priest (who's a chaplain at school, and a dear friend) came to the rehearsal picnic and laughed and feasted with our family, and while I won't say that "walls came down", everyone realized the other people there were human. And I didn't hear anyone accuse our wedding of being "an empty ritual." Communion was another thing that made me anxious (since this Idea of consubstantiation, i.e. feasting on Christ himself strikes many people as cannibalistic and/or idolatrous). We'd chosen for only the two of us to recieve (primarily because I wasn't about to try to explain Why We Have Wine in Church to our families), and it was probably one of the most profound moments in the day for me. The realization that we had made this incredible commitment...and the only way it can be kept is through perpetual, constant feeding on Christ.

And this is dragging on way too long....but. Some of the things I thought we did especially well:
- Choosing hymns. Come Thou Fount as the offertory (which got horribly mangled by the organist. Sigh. One of my highschool buddies played a lovely rendition of it on his guitar at the reception though) and Adoro Te Devote (Thomas Aquinas's realization that logic and reason weren't enough, and faith is what takes us past reason, into knowing God) for the Communion hymn. Perfect.
- Choosing disposable party goods. We went for corn-based, biodegradable products (with recycled paper napkins, printed with water based ink. May have cost us a few pennies more, but we minimized our wedding's contribution to the Pacific Garbage Patch.
- Choosing to buy preowned items and/or reusable items as much as possible. Best find: 6 square sheer yellow tableclothes for $3 each, thanks to a wedding catering company going out of business. (Thank you, again, ebay).
- My necklace, our sisters' and mothers' jewelry, and gifts for our dads were purchased through the Greater Good Network or Ten Thousand Villages - allowing us to contribute to huger relief, children's literacy, and/or support fair trade and skilled craftsman around the world, in addition to buying crap for our wedding.
-Finding things for people to do. This is partly my skill in managing my to-do list in such a way that when I had 20 people surrounding me looking for projects to do, I could pretty much immediately hand them tasks. And also things like the fact that both of our fathers are ordained ministers and neither performed our ceremony. But my father-in-law did the Epistle reading, and my father read a chunk of one of our favorite children's books (The Little Prince) at the reception. For my dad, this was one of the most meaningful things we could have done, because it reminded him of how much he read to me as a little girl.
-Splurging on wedding photos. This was close to half the cost of our entire wedding. But our photographer and his wife were everywhere...helping pin my veil, tying my husband's necktie, unloading wedding crap back at our apartment at 10pm, and bringing peace and happiness everywhere they went. We have beautiful, beautiful photos (better images than I've seen from weddings that were obviously much more expensive than ours).

It is good.

2011-07-11T19:44:00.000-07:00

My husband is showering....I'm sitting here at the laptop, nibbling on lindt raspberry truffles and sipping a bit of sparkling white wine, trying to figure out how to manage our drive back to South Carolina, and plotting a half-day trip to Richmond. It's been a good week for us. Choosing to come to the Chesapeake Bay was brilliant- I don't have *one* home, I triangulate home from a number of places I need to go fairly often - the Pea Patch (my mother's family's farm in CO), Shawnee, OK (where my dad's parents, and my grandfather's parents are buried), Belize, and MD. It's an ever-changing list, but it works. And the sight, sound, and feel of the Bay is always greatly soothing to my soul. It's been a time of rest for us, so terribly needed (The morning after our wedding, I woke in the wee hours, and couldn't get back to sleep thanks to the mess moving and the wedding created in our apartment. At 4AM I crawled out of bed and started cleaning compulsively. By 8:30 AM I was crying from exhaustion). I'm not entirely sure how we'll manage to piece the chaos together at home, but it will be done.
There's more to be said...about the wedding, about family and expectations, perhaps about Crown Royal whiskey...but for now, we're going to collect our thoughts and things and head back towards our own little place, to move on quietly with our lives together.

news-ish

2011-05-25T13:46:00.000-07:00

Had a productive meeting with adviser last week She found me money to finish up my Belize project well, and to provide support/make connections for service-learning projects both in a class that she's teaching and a course that's being taught by another professor, who I don't know personally, but would like to (she's brilliant, works on amazing topics, and is incredibly personable and confident/outspoken, particularly given that she's a young PhD and a minority. But I guess if you're brilliant, self-assurance eventually follows?). Adviser is also discouraging me from teaching until I'm done with classes, because it's such a timesink. Absolutely valid, though I have a feeling I'll find myself adjuncting summers when I'm not taking classes (and probably some when I am - need to eat). Also good conversation about how the areas I focused my masters' work on are productive, growing, and there's interest in them (which is important for me graduating and being able to eat later). However, right now, my major reaction is "I'm going to get paid to work on my own projects! I might actually be able to make progress!"

Got an email from my adviser...she seems to get that I want to continue working with my master's adviser, and I'm not sure whether she's trying to hint that Brilliant Young Professor should be one of my other committee members....we'll see how we fit. Need to have this settled by the end of this year, so good to be thinking about.

We signed a lease on a new place yesterday. Plan is for me to move in on the 1st (yep. That's next week). Apparently there was a lot of interest in this place, and I think the main reason the property management company went with us was because we'll be in and paying rent before anyone else interested would be. And J. has rented from them for 3+ years. It's a great place...close to campus, nice windows, GREAT neighborhood (we'll be less than two blocks from a stunning stone Presbyterian church), close enough to where we live now that we'll still go to the same grocery store, enough space for us to have a combination study/guest bedroom, and there's a washer&dryer, so we'll actually be able to do laundry in our own home. Amazing. (And rent is going to be noticeably less than our current combined rents on separate apartments).

Meeting with church organist tonight, hopefully to finish hashing out wedding ceremony music. He's been decidedly difficult. Or maybe we're being decidedly difficult, because we have Protestant Evangelical Bible Belt families and backgrounds, and because we're really not interested in having a mini- Royal Wedding, much as that's every Anglican church organist's dream, I'm sure. I probably should not say too much else about the wedding til it's over...would hate to jinx my current faint optimism.

Source for current faint wedding optimism, oddly enough, is the Orthodox wedding we attended Sunday. It was a couple of friends of ours, who attend the Anglican student ministry on campus. And it was adorable. Like, the wedding party wasn't quite ready, so a priest jumped in to give a homily while the guests waited. It was a relatively small building for the number of guests, so it was hot and crowded, and the standing for nearly 1.5 hours (remember: wedding was running 15 minutes late) was a little tough, but it was great. Lovely, and meaningful, and it was obvious that in spite of the fact that the bride's father is an Orthodox priest, many of the guests didn't have an Orthodox background (the priest who gave the last-minute homily offered to give explanations to anyone who might need one. He said his 2nd language was Southern Baptist). And even given the relatively large difference in marriage theology between the East and West, there was a lot that was familiar, and lovely, and the obviously non-Orthodox guests seemed to appreciate it. So maybe...that's just how weddings are?

Or, on the other hand, I could be completely wrong, and one of our guests, upon entering the church might announce quite loudly "Why is their Jesus still on the cross? Don't they know He rose from the dead?" We shall see.

Little Gidding

2011-05-13T14:06:00.000-07:00

Maybe the thing that keeps me Anglo-Catholic is that T.S. Eliot is so ingrained in my soul that I hear his words cascading through my thoughts as they begin to converge into something that starts to make sense (Note: that's not the thing that keeps me Anglican- that has more to do with simply being unable to breathe when I step outside of the bounds of the Church of England, as odd and Provincial and Uppermiddleclass and White as that sounds).

And in the end of Little Gidding (itself the ending of his magnificent Four Quartets), Eliot somehow manages to hit one of his most bewildering, obscure, truthful moments:

What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from. And every phrase
And sentence that is right (where every word is at home,
Taking its place to support the others,
The word neither diffident nor ostentatious,
An easy commerce of the old and the new,
The common word exact without vulgarity,
The formal word precise but not pedantic,
The complete consort dancing together)
Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning,
Every poem an epitaph. And any action
Is a step to the block, to the fire, down the sea's throat
Or to an illegible stone: and that is where we start.
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.

We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.

There have been a few moments to pause in the past week, and much to reflect over. My father delivered my diploma (it had been mailed to his house) last week, I was hooded, inducted into the honor society for my discipline, my students took their final exam, I graded it, and picked up their course evaluations (not in that order, necessarily). We're looking for a new apartment- our first home together. I'm preparing (bracing?) to start my Dr.P.H. (and constantly having to explain the choice *not* to do a Ph.D. to people - somehow "this program is more applicable to what I do and the skill set I want to build" doesn't seem to get across), finishing jobs, trying to find time to finish old projects...and getting married, and adding a name to mine (yep. Hyphenating: it seems the best of both worlds). Many, many things to call forth Eliot's words from the scattered corners of my brain.

But they're most connected to my teaching right now. I recycled some essay questions from the first exam on my final, and I was SO thrilled to see the growth over the course of the semester. They LEARNED. Somehow or other, through all of my stumbling naivety and clumsiness, they realized that our lives and health are shaped by the places we live and work and who we interact with, and that it matters what people's rights are, because we have the responsibility to defend the rights of others. These were the core principles of my class (and my professional work, really), so it's pretty great to see that.

Their evaluations- well, one student was rather critical of my teaching (just criticisms, though unhelpfully vague). Several of them ranked the class roughly average, and some of them raved about my teaching, intelligence, and how much I cared about them. General observations- they all hated the text, some of them remarked on how softspoken I am (not meek&mild, it's just hard to hear me if you're sitting in the back of a room of 40 people) and inexperience (and some observed growth throughout the semester). One complained about the depressing nature of the course, and that's something that needs to be addressed (Oddly enough, I think I can start to remedy this with a change of textbook). But it's prompted a lot of thinking about what I brought to the classroom, what they brought to the classroom, and what all of us took away.

A book one of my mentors loaned me when I started teaching was Parker J. Palmer's The Courage to Teach . I've had time to pick it up again, and it's been encouraging (in the true "strength-giving" sense of the word) and reminescent of the handful of good things I picked up in my undergraduate education, and Eliot too.

At the moment I'm soaking in one quotation:

"As a young teacher, I yearned for the day when I would know my craft so well, be so competent, so experienced, and so powerful, that I could walk into any classroom without feeling afraid. But now, in my late fifties, I know that day will never come. I will always have fears, but I need not be my fears - for there are other places in my inner landscape from which I can speak and act. Each time I walk into a classroom, I can choose the place within myself from which my teaching will come, just as I can choose the place within my students toward which my teaching will be aimed. I need not teach from a fearful place: I can teach from curiosity or hope or empathy or honesty, places that are as real within me as are my fears. I can have fear, but I need not be fear- if I am willing to stand someplace else in my inner landscape."

Teaching, because of the subject matter I taught and the different students in my classroom, made me more aware of my inner landscape than I had ever been before in my life. And that daily choice- to position myself, to select what to give them- has hopefully made me more deliberate and conscious of everything I do. That inner landscape will change. It is my responsibility to both explore and craft that landscape, in a way that is honest, humble, fierce, wise,compassionate - in order to bring those qualities to my students and to everything I do when I'm not teaching.

This series of thoughts can only be laid aside (half closed, ready to be picked up again) with another few lines from Eliot:
With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this
Calling

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time

Beauty, Epilogue

2011-05-07T15:07:00.000-07:00

This article fits somewhere in my musings about beauty, body image, food, and what religious traditions that espouse fasting teach young devotees. It doesn't really provide any answers, just a picture of people living with these issues. And maybe that's enough for now.

and still...

2011-04-25T13:46:00.000-07:00

I don't yet know what (or how) to think about Greg Mortenson. Nick Kristof's column was thoughtful, at least. And I love his title..."Three cups of tea spilled" sums the whole thing up remarkably well.

There are a host of voices out there- those who are wholeheartedly on Mortenson's side, claiming he's been unjustly framed by accusers who should be using their time to focus on corrupt politicians. Those who claim to have known he was a phony the entire time, and that the rest of us are hopelessly naive. These two groups are the loudest, and the people in the middle, except for Kristof, who's voice is powerful enough to be heard (aside: Nick Kristof is possibly the best example I can think of of a privileged individual who uses privilege to empower others) are drowned out, likely because of that uncertainty.

And honestly....all the fury in the media and blogosphere makes me more lost and confused. And dumb- how come everyone else is always so convinced about everything? Am I the only person in the universe living in a hopelessly grey muddle?
Did ALL the smart people really know Mortenson was a fake? I kind of doubt it. Vultures come out at the smell of weakness...and international confusion/outrage/disillusionment at someone who supposedly helped thousands of people? That's a lot of weakness.

And those who insists that Mortenson is still a hero, and everyone else is out to get him? Given allegations this serious, that seems delusional to me.

What does CAI and Mortenson mean? As I briefly pointed out to my students, he's changed how we think about Afghanistan, and Pakistan, he's shed light on the critical importance of education. Will potential donors write off everyone building schools in remote corners of the world now? Will people ignore Pakistan even more (remember the remarkably absent charitable donations after the devastating floods last summer?)? I don't know. I hope not. I'm afraid so.

Mortenson was doing work he wasn't trained to do - as someone who's spent roughly a gazillion hours working on program planning, evaluation, community organizing coursework and projects , do I think that could have made a difference? Maybe. Yes...if you don't know what you're doing, hire someone who does. But do I think anyone else would have done a better job, or would they just have screwed up differently? I don't know. I'm not sure it matters. Maybe it's the only thing that matters.

Do I think we're all doomed to mediocrity? I don't know. Do I think we're all doomed to being misunderstood and misrepresented? Absolutely. Do I think there's some truth in those misrepresentations? I don't know.

In a little over two months, I'm getting married in a gorgeous Anglo-Catholic church. A couple weeks ago, the bishop who pastors this church sent out a church newsletter/calendar, with a senseless rant against the "feminization of politics" (a few gems:
" The more men turn away from their God-given responsibilities, the more women take over. “As for my people, children are their oppressors, and women rule over them. “Behold, thy people in the midst of thee are women: the gates of thy land shall be set wide open unto thine enemies: the fire shall devour thy bars.” (Nahum 3: 13, prophesying the fall of Nineveh) Over two generations of all-pervasive gnostic feminism in the West mean that the culture now tends to: *Modify the English language to remove or neutralize masculine references, for a “unisex” modality, thus depersonalizing society. Steward – stewardess become flight attendant. The Biblical understanding of all life subsumed under the masculine is eliminated in language and life. *Avoid hard, tough, costly decisions and emphasize “therapy.” * Downplay sacrifice and heroism. “Feelings” are what matter. * Downplay, and soften, the military. Emphasize domestic spending and safety nets at home. Urge a soft foreign policy of appeasement with enemies. * Legalize death for all unwanted life, so that men can shirk their responsibilities, and women can pursue careers and power, unfettered by children and the aged. *Watch as marriages disintegrate, boys fall behind in school, prisons burst at the seams and more women become impoverished.

(That last is particularly infuriating- all the feminists I know are actively working against those things)
I read this as being angry, prejudiced, ill-informed. I don't know whether he personally wrote it, or if was copied+pasted from some parachurch organization. What I do know is someone who I like and deeply respect claims that I (and people like me) are destroying the world. Is there truth to these allegations? Maybe it depends on what you want the world to look like.

Maybe another example could help....my academic adviser has worked all over the world for women's reproductive rights. This means improving access to family planning knowledge and services (including hormonal contraceptives, and beads for women in villages to track their cycles) and access to safe and legal abortion, access to quality post-abortion care. Some see this as work that's seen as good, important, life-saving. Others (the circles I grew up in) would label her an assistant to murder, someone who destroys life, who has launched war on human sexuality and good and beauty everywhere.

Who is she? Who is the bishop? Who am I? Who is Greg Mortenson?

humanity - depravity or frailty?

2011-04-19T09:38:00.000-07:00

Two degrees ago I started blogging - as a place to throw half-formed emotional musings I wasn't sure how to process otherwise. Putting things out into a world where you're dying to know you're not crazy, but don't trust the people you know in real life to come to that conclusion. I try not to do that anymore. But right now, this is how it is.

Because of the odd mix of devastation,betrayal,suspicion, hope, sympathy, and fear swirling around my head and heart thanks to Greg Mortenson. Or- more accurately, the media storm around Greg Mortenson.

Monday AM I logged into Facebook to see Nick Kristof linking to a NYTimes piece. And then there was CBS, and finally, offering some faint hope for redemption, Outsider Online.

And maybe it's just a mark of how young I am that I've never been devastated by a public figure before...I was a middleschooler who was raised to despise the Clintons, Jimmy Swaggart and Jim and Tammie Faye Bakker were well before my time also. But Mortenson....is one of my clan. He's an MK, and was a nurse. Three Cups of Tea isn't just a book about him, it's a book about me. What drew me to the book wasn't so much the story as it was the goal- to change society by empowering and educating women. And I was pulled in by his humanity- how Mortenson freely admitted his failures and struggles, and the toll this work took, the damage it did to his health (mental and physical) and his family.This confession of frailty was married to a fierce belief that the dream Mortenson had taken on was worth the sacrifices and struggles.

I copied a sentence into my journal in July 2008: "Together, the two began the kind of conversation that flows seamlessly, unstoppably, each fork begetting another branch of common interest, a conversation that continues until this day." It's a description of Mortenson's first interaction with his wife, and for me, was one of those thoughts that made me pause and say "If I ever choose to be partnered with another human being again, this is what it's going to have to be like" (Nearly 3 years later, it's possibly the perfect description of myself and my fiance').

Memoir is a strange genre- it's somewhere between biography and fiction, and can't possibly be objectively true. (Much like research can't ever be unbiased, because there are people doing the research...we all bring our own prejudices and preconceptions to our work, be it science or storytelling). I'm okay with the events being "compressed" or some degree of literary license taken (however, this accusation that Mortenson claimed to be kidnapped by gracious hosts- that goes FAR beyond making the story easier to follow).

The far more serious aspect of this is Mortenson's alleged mismanagement of funds and misrepresentation of the work of his charity- the possibility (probability?) that the man got too caught up in his own celebrity status to actually see and serve the people he was supposed to be helping. That in spite of his early devotion and enthusiasm he became materialistic and self-serving, narcissistic, dishonest. Because if Mortenson isn't who he claimed to be, who he thought he was, who he once was...what does that mean for who I am?

If Greg Mortenson, through stress, selfishness, mental illness, workaholism, poor judgement, (whatever mechanism you want to propose) did this great damage to himself, his family, and the cause he was working for - what does that mean for me? Does the "mechanism" even really matter? Regardless of the truth of this matter, Mortenson's reputation is going to be deeply damaged, and this is going to have a devastating impact on charitable giving and people's interest in Afghanistan and Pakistan. What am I capable of, and will I someday sabotage (deliberately or not) everything I'm working for right now? What if the real lesson of the story is that there are no heros, and no one ever wins?

A dear grad school friend and colleague who's religious background is similar enough to mine (rather conservative religiously/liberal socially Church of Latter Day Saints), with my same research interests and ethics is having some of these same issues right now. We were musing on these a bit during class yesterday evening, and instead of offering anything helpful, the professor tried to take another hero (Nicholas Kristof) away (while simultaneously stating the importance of having these heroes and role models).

Part of me wants to shake this off, and say it doesn't matter so much in the big scheme of things...my usual response to questions, challenges, melancholy brooding. But this is bigger....it's wondering whether human beings are EVER capable of doing more good than harm. Because from where I'm sitting right now, I can't see a single person or institution who is NOT open to the charge that the inadvertent (or deliberate) damage they are doing to society/individual people is far greater than any good they may be doing.

Beauty, Part II

2011-04-03T14:05:00.000-07:00

I'm hesitant to share much about my students in a public forum- mainly out of respect for them. But it seems worth noting that eating disorders and beauty were one of the things they couldn't leave alone. I can't even count the number of response journals I read saying "I never felt beautiful, because I was too thick/skinny/whatever," even from the stereotypically beautiful girls in my class. Which makes me so incredibly sad, because my students? Not only are these girls gorgeous, they're tenacious, insightful, smart. Maybe I'm a little biased because they show up in class on a cold, rainy Monday for a lecture on cancer- but maybe that's precisely my point. I've taken them tough places with this class, and they've been more than willing to go, and to look at how their lives play out surrounded by the tough issues- including how they look at themselves.

And...I'm realizing now how responsible we can be for how other people perceive beauty, how they perceive themselves...and how devastating the merger of those things can be when it leads so simply to eating disorders with long term, potentially fatal consequences. The way we talk about food, the way we talk about how great women look when they lose weight, how we would like to lose weight, how we shouldn't eat X...And I've started to wonder what children learn when we give up favorite foods for Lent. I don't have my own children yet, so I'm less directly involved with this...but we associate food with sacrifice and celebration so easily. It takes kids so long to understand church, tradition, etc, and they imitate so much unconsciously and unquestioningly (I'm remembering an episode when I was about 9 when my friends and my parents flew into a fit because we were baptizing each other in a swimming pool).

When I was a senior in high school, we had to read a Sylvia Plath poem, titled "Mirror":
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see, I swallow immediately.
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike
I am not cruel, only truthful –
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me.
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

The teacher...who, I suppose, was in her mid-late 40s told us, with disgust, that she'd learned to empathize with that last line that year, as she'd watched new wrinkles creep in. And she asked us to let her know when we started seeing our faces change daily...something about acknowledging mortality and the shortness of our life, I think?

I remembered that statement somewhere mid-2009, because after that first grad school semester, my face did start changing. Partly because I've lost ~15lbs since starting school (mostly due to lousy graduate student parking),the crinkles at the corner of my eyes and mouth when I smile have become a bit more pronounced, and the angles of my face have taken on a different character. But it's a change that I love - because I'm not the same person I was two years ago. I've met new people, seen new places, taken on more challenges, worked harder and been more wildly successful and happy than I could have imagined (and, honestly, it's a lot easier to teach undergrads when you don't look quite so much like one yourself).

And I think maybe that's what gets missed somewhere....that what we see in the mirror reflects the choices we've made and the things we've experienced in our bodies. And if we'd focus on the real things rather than the reflections, maybe we could learn to love them both.I believe that young woman in Plath's poem drowned herself in the mirror- by choosing to stare at it rather than go live her life. So...how do we teach *that* to college students, highschoolers, children?

Beauty: Part 1

2011-03-13T10:53:00.000-07:00

So, it's taken some time to manage some quiet moments when I can write about this, and I'm not sure I can pull my thoughts together completely, but still.
One of my friends and mentors guest lectured in my class about eating disorders.
She showed this video which is pretty terrific, btw.
I has response journals due that week, and I got overwhelming responses from students. An athlete who had been pressured by his coach to lose weight. Students who had watched family members struggle with eating disorders, students who always considered themselves too thick or thin to be beautiful.

We later watched Naomi Wolf's The Beauty Myth (since the school's copy of Becoming Barbie was too damaged to use). The book was published in the late '90s, and Wolf's thesis is that whenever women achieve major gains in society, the ideal of beauty becomes something almost unattainable, in order to undermine the power of women. Her examples: The right to vote, followed by the Flapper ideal, the birth control pill shortly followed by Twiggy, and today's women...educated, liberated, and paralyzed by the images on magazine covers. She posits that three major industries perpetuate women's insecurities in order to profit: dieting,plastic surgery, and cosmetics.

Almost immediately following these discussions, Rush Limbaugh hit the news for some incredibly disparaging comments about Michelle Obama. In particular:
"What is it - no, I'm trying to say that our First Lady does not project the image of women that you might see on the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, or of a woman [professional baseball player] Alex Rodriguez might date every six months or what have you. I mean, women are under constant pressure to look lithe, and Michelle My Belle is out there saying if you eat the roots and tree bark and the berries and all this cardboard stuff you will live longer, be healthier and you won't be obese. Okay, fine, show us."

So...Michelle Obama looks unhealthy and overweight to him? And he's saying that a 47 year old lawyer should look like a surgically enhanced, airbrushed, quite possibly eating-disordered 20 year old? Sheesh. Two kids and a career as an attorney mean a couple things: 1)you have a few crow's feet and stretch marks, and 2) you have better things to do with your time than spend 4 hours a day at the gymn (and better things to do with your money than plastic surgery). I happen to find something incredibly beautiful and powerful in both of those observations.

I think my favorite Barack Obama quote ever is his musings about his wife in The Audacity of Hope: "Most people who meet my wife quickly conclude that she is remarkable. They are right about this--she is smart, funny and thoroughly charming. She is also very beautiful, although not in a way that men find intimidating, or women find off-putting; it is the lived-in beauty of the mother and busy professional rather than the touched up image we see on the cover of glossy magazines. Often, after hearing her speak at some function or working with her on a project, people will approach me and say something to the effect of "You know I think the world of you, Barack, but your wife...wow!" I nod, knowing that if I ever had to run against her for public office, she would beat me without much difficulty."

The first time I read those words, I was in my early twenties, and not terribly long out of a disastrous relationship. I latched on to that quotation- as an indicator of the person I wanted to be, and the respect I wanted from any future partner. Four years later, I think it's becoming my reality.

Thoughts on teaching

2011-02-11T13:12:00.000-08:00

I'm a third of the way through the semester, and teaching is starting to feel a little less like being on heroin. Seriously...I think about it ALL the time,and there is NOTHING like the high when things go well in that classroom. Or the crash when they don't.
We're settling...we've made it through the first exam. They laugh when I say nerdy things in class. I've learned many of their names, and some of their personalities. And this group of 38 young women and men...they light up the room, with their passions, their insecurities, their trust, vulnerability, laughter.

Today we talked about HIV/AIDS. I was tired, they were tired, but we thought and learned together...and talked about female condoms and dental dams, and some of them got a little squeamish.

I can't even start to explain how much I've learned about myself, and how I feel about undergraduate education. Lately I've been appalled remembering literature from small liberal arts colleges "If you come here, your classes will be taught by someone with a terminal degree, and you'll learn so much more than you would from a graduate student." Yeah, well....I'm a graduate student, and I'm a pretty decent instructor. I'll be better after a few more years in the field and a few more courses. But I've taken classes from faculty (some tenured!) which were taught more poorly than mine. I believe firmly in the power of constructive criticism, and the importance of trying to find something good in every (nonplagarized!!) assignment I grade. I have better things to do with my time than to make their lives miserable, and my class WILL NOT cause anyone to drop out of college (or consider it). (There are a handful of at-risk students in my class, making this last observation especially poignant.)My classroom is to be a safe place for my students.

One of my college professors once told me that the main point of teaching was to catch students as they're running through their lives and to hand them the tools they'll need to finish the race. It's an analogy I appreciate so much more, realizing how infinitely valuable, talented, amazing, my students are, how busy they are, and what a short time I have them for. And this is what I want for them- to give them a way to identify the effects of injustice, to see the complexity of the world we live in and how it shapes our health and bodies, to be able to start to think about how to make the world a better place.

And I'm grateful for the freedom I have to teach this class in my own way. Yes, there are SO many challenges with developing a curriculum as I go. Lots of important stuff has gotten left out, and I still have to acknowledge that in terms of content, this is a 500 level course, not a 100 level. I'm absolutely not telling my students that, and I try to adjust for this in grading. I've also realized that if I taught at an institution like the one I graduated from, I could probably be fired, or at least severely disciplined for some of the things that have happened in my classroom - e.g.watching a film about reproductive rights in Ethiopia, telling my students buying condoms is admirable, and they should feel pride rather than shame, and, oh, yeah, the conversation about female condoms and dental dams. But at the end of the day...my students know how to protect themselves and their partners. They know South Carolina ranks in the top 10 states in the US in rates of HIV patients, that rape has been used as a war tactic in Africa and 70% of the women who survived the Rwandan genocide are HIV positive. They know that when breastfeeding is considered a "choice" rather than a right, it means it's not an option for many women. And some of them are wrestling heavily with the balance between community and individual responsibility (one student told me she was having some moral issues with my class). All in all, I'm giving them something I never received as an undergrad and that I would have desperately wanted, had I even known it could exist.

Keep your students...I love mine.

2011-01-30T21:38:00.000-08:00

After a bit of agonizing, I chose to bring this piece to a lecture on Maternal Morbidity. I wasn't sure whether it was the most appropriate choice, given that I teach at a large state university, and in general, I don't think my students have the same issues I do with trying to reconcile God, Justice, and the Church (let alone the apostolic succession). At one point I said "If I were teaching this class at [institution I have a B.S. from] I would absolutely use this, because I think it's something relevant, that needs to be discussed there.

Which suddenly made me realize, again, how awesome my students are and how much I love them. A realization that was accompanied by a flashback from a postaccredidation chapel, in which the college president said "All these visitors raved about our students, and asked what they could do to get you guys at their schools. And I said 'We're not giving our students away. Sorry."

I'd imagine that the typical student at said institution would be rather uncomfortable in my class. I started a lecture on sexual health with a blatantly misogynistic quotation from a Focus on the Family publication: "Many, perhaps even most, men in earlier times avidly sought sexual pleasure prior to and outside of marriage. But they usually distinguished, as did the culture generally, between women one fooled around with and women one married, between a woman of easy virtue and a woman of virtue simply. Only respectable women were respected; one no more wanted a loose woman for one’s partner than for one’s mother....Once female modesty became a first casualty of the sexual revolution, even women eager for marriage lost their greatest power to hold and to discipline their prospective mates. For it is a woman’s refusal of sexual importunings, coupled with hints or promises of later gratification, that is generally a necessary condition of transforming a man’s lust into love.”-Leon Kass, 2006

In a matter of minutes they pinned down that beyond endorsing a double standard for men and women's behavior, and validating gender stereotypes, this quote objectifies women and reduces the value of women to their sexual status. I was well out of college before I sorted that out.

In the same lecture I had students mention their single mothers, and how these women who had become pregnant in their teens went to great lengths to ensure that their daughters did not. My kids told me how uncomfortable they feel buying condoms, and how they frequently feel judged by people who witness this...And I encouraged them to take pride in the fact that they were choosing to protect themselves and their partners.

A friend of mine who works for a nonprofit focused on preventing teen pregnancy guest lectured...a part of her job includes helping make clinicians' offices more friendly to youth. My students told her about awkward first gynecologist visits and how some medical professionals assume that they have STIs just because they're college students.

I spent a healthy chunk of this weekend grading response journals, and I'm so impressed with how they put things together, how they can put things together and describe why a topic covered in class matters, and what should be done about it. They're amazing.

And I can't help being rather awed and proud that somehow, I've managed to help give them an environment in which they can both think critically and feel safe.

Epiphany

2011-01-06T19:00:00.000-08:00

My new discovery: there are few things that will teach you as much about yourself and what you value as teaching and planning a wedding.
There's something about limited resources (time,money,students' attention spans in my cases) that forces you to realize you can't have everything. Which leads to pondering about why you want those things.

And you wonder...why you care about the things you do. And lots of times, there are really good reasons. You wonder why those things aren't important to everyone and if you're crazy.

Then you see the light at the end of the tunnel and take off over the desert. Not sure how it's all going to play out, but you've got a couple friends with you and you're smart enough to ask for directions.

Which is how the Magi did it. So maybe you're going to be okay too.

New adventures

2010-12-16T18:04:00.000-08:00

Since last writing, I've (in chronological order): gotten engaged, finished my M.P.H., and agreed to teach an undergraduate women's studies course in Spring semester.

I'd be lying if I said I weren't a little terrified right now.

There will be more of substance later.

Touchstone

2010-11-12T11:19:00.000-08:00

In the past week, due to class conversations and recent events, I've been hovering around the two memories that most defined my time in college.

The first was a few weeks after the start of my freshman year. Just after Bishop Gene Robinson had been ordained as the bishop of New Hampshire (Side note: what does it say about the Church that Bishop Robinson is retiring early because he's tired of death threats?). The speaker was someone working with a ministry to distribute Bibles throughout sub Saharan Africa. In his presentation, this man displayed a photo of some leaders of the Anglican Church in Rwanda accepting copies of the Bible. He turned away from the photo and said "See, the Anglican church in the rest of the world isn't like this lily-white fagot Episcopal church in the US." As my mouth dropped open in shock, applause resonated through the auditorium for several minutes.
A few weeks later, an ECUSA bumper sticker turned up on my truck.

The second? My junior year, in a religious studies class. I have to give the instructor credit for talking about race at all. He made some comment about the failure of Conservative Christians when it came to minorities. And he asked "Martin Luther King Jr was a Communist. Why was he a Communist?" My response "Because he saw that the system we have in the US wasn't working for everybody, and there were problems with it." He shouted me down, in the most undignified way I've ever seen in a classroom. "No! It's because he could only get accepted to a liberal seminary, and that's what they taught!" In an instant, he tossed aside both my comment about inequality in the United States (which seems to have been what MLK dedicated his life to fighting!) and the idea that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. could think for himself. No...of course, he just absorbed whatever ideology he was taught in that evil liberal seminary.

Chastised, by the instructor, I shrunk into my seat and tried to disappear. I...assumed he was right, because he was the authority figure, and the institution was on his side. It was years before I saw...beyond the attack on what I assumed was my stupidity to the disrespect expressed for the perspective of a man who changed the world.

Even, writing this now, I'm trying to excuse that instructor. "He was young. He got carried away by a flight of rhetoric." But regardless, I'll never forget.

Neither will I ever forget that a Christian institution affirmed the use of a gay slur in chapel.

I wasn't able to confront the powers that be at the time. I'm ashamed of that- even at eighteen, twenty, it should have been clear that this behavior was unacceptable, and it was my job, as a tuition-paying student, to speak up. But never again will I let incidents like these go unchallenged.

On educational institutions of different sorts.

2010-11-05T11:41:00.000-07:00

I had to start this post with a reminder to myself that it's wisest not to name names and point fingers here. If you're reading, odds are you know where I did my BS degree,and that it wasn't a good fit, for numerous reasons. There's no need for me to plaster that information on the internet to be found by search engines- While my experience at said Small Christian Liberal Arts College wasn't exceptional, it was hardly typical either, and I won't depict it as such.

However.
Their quarterly update came in the mail this week, complete with a piece welcoming the class of 2014. It included statements from faculty and convocation speakers such as "I'm interested in giving students a vision of how to live well, not just for the next four years but for the next 60." and "You are being prepared to live in these times and shape these times...a [name of institution] education does equip you for future careers. But its major purpose is a development of the whole person and preparation for the life of Christ to shine in the midst of a society with all its challenges."

All good and lovely sentiments. But. I'm in the process of wrapping up graduate work- an MPH in Health Promotion, Education, and Behavior accompanied by a graduate certificate of study in Women's and Gender Studies. I'm contemplating remaining at my present institution (state flagship university, big research school,football) for a doctoral degree, and one of the reasons that comes up is "I'm a better person because I chose to get this degree." Followed by "Why can't I say that about my BS from Small Christian Liberal Arts College that just about required me to get a minor in Bible courses?" A hugely obvious part of the explanation is that this is part of the intrinsic difference between Biology and Spanish and Public Health and Women's Studies. I'll own that. Then, after I've respected the differences in the disciplines, I'll point out that our WGST faculty here includes a woman with a PhD in biology, who is responsible for masterminding our undergraduate women's health course, and contributes greatly to the discussion on inequality and its effects on wellbeing.

There's a difference in culture here. What I learned in undergrad was that consequences and principles come first, at the cost of humanity. That a fetus is more valuable than its mother, that starving people in Africa matter more than those in the US. That we can blame the AIDS epidemic in Africa on the failure of the Africans to embrace biblical teaching about sexuality and that condoms have just made the situation worse. I learned that the God-honoring thing to do is to talk about the importance of family, raising children, caring for the elderly but breathe fire at the mention of any government policy that might make it easier for people (most especially lowerclass minorities) to do such a thing. I finished my undergrad degree broken hearted at all that was wrong in the world, angry at all that was wrong with the Church, and completely and totally lost.

That's how I began my graduate studies at the Big Evil Secular University. In a degree program (which then led me to a certificate program with similar values) infused with hope and the idea that change is possible, and making a difference, however small, matters. I learned about community organizing and advocacy, I learned about the importance of qualitative research and the opportunity it affords to give a voice to those who don't have one. I made friends and met mentors, and learned that the Church can be a powerful vehicle for the good of a community, when it's properly engaged and encouraged (note: I feel that just about any mention of the Church as a force for justice needs to include a shout out to President Barack Obama). I've had a thousand difficult and worthwhile experiences as an MPH student- from trying to evaluate a new program providing cardiovascular disease/diabetes screenings and a lifestyle intervention to low income women, to traveling to Belize to conduct interviews about family planning choices and obstacles to family planning in the community, to learning to deal sensitively with veterans while testing nondrug treatments for PTSD to assisting in the launch of a virtual women's center. This is work that I fully believe in some small way has helped make the world a better place.

My undergrad education didn't bring me to this place. It was my graduate studies. This is a big part of why we /have/ graduate school and why it's a good option for many people. But my point? Don't expect four years at the Small Liberal Arts College to teach students how to live their lives. Don't assume that all the students studying under the "biblical worldview" banner have all the resources to learn the skills they need, don't assume they're getting remotely all their questions answered. Life and learning continues far beyond college, sometimes in processes that look far different. No. Christian college is not the answer to the world's problems, and no one should pretend that it even comes close.

jigsaw puzzle

2010-09-12T20:34:00.000-07:00

It takes a while for me to piece things together. Or things that I see and read fit together in odd ways.

Today I was handed another piece of a puzzle, and I don't particularly like how it fits. A priest-friend was telling me about his "bring an atheist to church" day planned for next week. There's an atheist gentleman in town attempting to raise money for the local free clinic. He does so by agreeing to attend a religious service/event for a $20 donation. I'm a little floored at this, because it sounds to me that this gentleman is trying to "trick" Christians into doing something I think they should be doing already. *Long sigh*

A couple weeks ago, I was in church, and one of the readings was the parable of the Good Samaritan. I mused that the Good Samaritan was an interesting metaphor for social workers and public health professionals - condemned by the vocal, prideful, self-righteous religious people. Likewise, the social workers and public health professionals care for the needy the religious people overlook. Passing random observation. Huh- didn't really give it much thought.

My last Sunday in Belize, I attended a service at St. Andrew's Anglican Church in San Ignacio. This was Emancipation Sunday- the celebration of the end of slavery in British territories. The reading was instantly familiar to me- Luke 4. Jesus is in the temple, and he's reading my favorite passage from Isaiah.
“ The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me,
Because He has anointed Me
To preach the gospel to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives
And recovery of sight to the blind,
To set at liberty those who are oppressed;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD.”

And then Jesus says "Hey guys, this is me!"
For the past ten years, this has been the Scripture passage I've identified with most strongly. If we slip into the goofy Christian college lingo- this is what I see as my vocation. Liberty, healing, caring for the poor, speaking truth: these are things that come together, in Christ. That this is how Christians should spend their time. That Sunday's homily mentioned Wilberforce, and hopped over to Philemon, and noted the admonition to love the slave. I left with the sense that it had been a watershed moment, showing how deeply intertwined my passion for the rights and well being of others and my faith are.

It seems like an obvious connection to me. Why is it not obvious to others? If it is, why am I not seeing it? Why can I think of so many examples of people who act as though the lives of some people are more valuable than others?

a transcript from my journal

2010-08-07T19:35:00.000-07:00

Maybe the biggest thing I've learned from this time is how thankful I am not to be a Belizean woman.

The stories of the women in my focus group were of emotional abandonment and bullying husbands (and other relatives).
Ms. Else's story- that she's finally leaving the man she's been with for the past 19 years (who's been married to someone else that entire time.) "I swear to God, when I got pregnant and found out he was married, I was going to have an abortion. But he wanted this baby...he wanted a son, so I stayed. He never disrespected me, and he cared for my kids, so I stayed, because he already had use of my body." 19 years...of watching your partner have a family with someone else and trying not to interfere with that family...of settling for scraps of attention and money in order to raise 8 children. "he came to me twice , back to back with no money, and I told him 'we can make love on an empty belly but your son can't live with an empty belly."

The way she looked at me and said "We need people like you here to tell women that when a man is taking advantage of you, not supporting you, not helping you out with the bills and the kids, that's domestic violence too. And we need people like you to teach women in Belize how to think for themselves and stand up."

Ms. Anna today- visiting the doctor with complications from diabetes. "I've been dieting the last week, but my husband says 'I don't want you to start reducing your weight, because then people will say you have HIV/AIDS."

The conversation she had with her daughter: "I don't regret you, because you're mine and I love you. But I wish that I hadn't had so many... because I wasn't able to give you what you needed, or what I wanted to give you."

Questions about family planning ...very quickly became questions about whether relationships are healthy and whether people's rights and basic human dignity are being respected. I don't think I completely realized that before.

Tikal and Flores

2010-07-29T17:12:00.001-07:00

Last weekend I opted to play a bit- which meant joining my housemates for a random jaunt down to Guatemala to visit Flores and Tikal.Somehow, I managed to be the person with both the best Spanish language skills and best sense of direction, which made for a slightly less restful trip than I would have liked.

While crossing the Guatemala border, I received a nasty bite on my right toe from a giant red leafcutter ant (not the scientific term). Yet another reason Chacos are wonderful....when my toe swelled up to nearly twice its original size, I simply could adjust my shoe.

We planned to take the 5AM shuttle to Tikal, in hopes of catching the animals out and about. A brilliant idea, except that as of 4AM there was an intense thunderstorm happening. One of my housemates wakes up, and we question the wisdom of heading off to see a (rather tall) Mayan ruin in the middle of a storm. Stumble to the hostel desk and try to explain to the clerk that we'd like to cancel our shuttle reservation, due to the storm. The clerk tells me this isn't possible, my housemate suggests we try to call the shuttle driver, which we do,but the phone line is dead. Now, this doesn't sound like a big deal, but I'm pretty incoherent when I first wake up, at 4AM is probably my absolute least favorite hour of the day. Trying to speak two languages at this point was more than a little taxing. The other housemates started waking up, and the storm is slowing a bit, so we decide to chance then venture anyway.

Onto the shuttle, and everyone goes back to sleep. About 5:30 the overenthusiastic tourguide starts yelling. He informs us that about to stop at the restaurant where we can get water and sandwiches, and we can take absolutely 15 minutes max. At 6, we get to the site, hordes of tourists descend, and swarm the restaurant in an attempt to get coffee and sandwiches, tourguide barking the entire time. We don't want a guide and do want some breakfast, so finally manage to discover that there's a restaurant across the street that serves real breakfast. I find myself explaining multiple times to my housemates that "mantequilla" is butter, and is not an actual meal. By perhaps a bit before or after 7 we made it into the actual park, and did see several monkeys.

Against my better judgement, I scrambled up a "staircase" more accurately resembling a ladder to the top of Temple V. Was very nearly sick. Manage to get myself down....later discovered (at the top of Temple IV ~230 feet) that it's not nearly so much heights that bother me as it is narrow ledges high up.

Once getting back to the hostel, we had lunch. The one meat-eater in the group complained multiple times to the 3 vegetarians that her burrito was missing the taste of meat (Los Amigos Hostel in Flores has a vegetarian restaurant). Slept much of the afternoon....

Saturday was spent wandering the market in nearby Santa Elena and then swimming in the lake. Between the two days activities, I picked up a moderate sunburn, and opted to spend Sunday in the shade, reading Alice Walker's "We Are the Ones We've Been Waiting For." (Which I may write about at some point). Ironically, the housemates wound up more sunburned than me....

Trip back to Belize was uneventful. Upon arrival we discovered the door to the house unlocked. It seems someone on staff had been around doing laundry (and neglected to return the key to the laundry room). Rather disturbing. Nothing was missing, and appropriate action has been taken to limit weekend access to the house to people who actually live there.

When it all comes together

2010-07-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

T. and J. were doing HIV outreach at the market on Saturday. Afterwards, J. was telling me about a young man, obviously gay, who approached them. She mentioned his false guilt- "I heard it started in the gay community" family stigma- "if my family found out I was gay, they'd run me out of town" and the vague "I don't really know you, but I had some rough stuff happen as a kid."

I growled about the fact that this community doesn't have many resources available for people like this man, and said "I'm sure he's seen some horrible stuff. Think about the numbers for domestic violence in this country (close to 50% of homes. Keep in mind that domestic violence is underreported, because it's a socially undesirable behavior). J. mentions the violent drawings produced by kids in summer camp, and I snarl for the women in my focus group who were bullied by their husbands and in-laws and for Friday's experience in the park and the fact that men here feel it's okay to treat a woman in that manner...and suddenly I'm shocked to find tears in my eyes.

It's impossible to separate the questions I'm asking or my experiences from a larger conversation that's not happening. One about gender and power,autonomy, family, fear...what happens to people too weak or terrified to speak up for themselves. It's something to be cried over.

Things that make you think twice.

2010-07-18T20:49:00.000-07:00

I can't not talk about Friday morning...
Having spent a couple mornings at the park by the police station, I decided to try my luck at the park across from the market. I got there, and found a parkbench, and started scoping the place out. Pulled out my journal, jotted a few notes. Random guy on a bike comes by, says "I don't mean no disrespect, but I think you're incredibly gorgeous. Just wanted to make your day." Okay...whatever, I can deal with that. He comes by a second time, and says something else...I decide if I have random people approaching me, I need to ask them to do a survey (seems reasonable, I've had decent success with this tactic dealing with tour guides downtown) Well...I start my survey, and I get to the question on marital status, and he asks if I want to marry him. I....remain as professional as possible, smile, and inform him that my boyfriend would have some issues with that. I keep going, and get to the question about "do you intend to have any more children?" he tells me "write that it depends on you." He leans towards me, jabbing a finger at the paper, and I get a whiff of the contents of his metal cup he's holding. Rum. Oh shit- not a good situation.
I finish the survey, get rid of him as nicely and professionally as I possibly can (did I mention that it came up that he'd been deported from the US, and used to sell weed in Los Angeles?)
He then proceeds to send his buddies over to talk to me (not bad data-wise, I got about 4 surveys total, I think). One was a former Navy guy from the US (went to school in Atlanta, on disability now)...a few weren't terribly savory characters. I did about 3 surveys, then the whole thing dissolved into a complete mess (not that it wasn't one beforehand). One fellow is questioning me about religion, asking whether I believe we're still subject to "the moral law." Another guy, smelling of rum and urine kept lurking around. He gave me a pen, told me he loved me, showed me the form he got at the drs office with his name on it, gave me his phone number, asked for my address (I wrote down a garbled mess roughly resembling an SC address with a TN zip code) and then proceeded to take a grubby ring off his finger and informs me that it's for me, "white gold and diamonds, because you're my queen." Meanwhile, the other guy is giving me a lecture about God and Moses and Jesus, while I'm trying to come up with an adequate response to the Mayan gentleman who just told me that his wife died after they'd been married a short time, and now he's 80 and alone in the world except for a sister who lives with him.
Finally I say something about leaving for lunch (yes, this all took place in broad daylight, in a park, between 10 and 11:30 AM) and retreat to Cornerstone.
Don't think I'll be going back to that park.

Another day, another scramble for data

2010-07-16T14:22:00.000-07:00

Lately it seems I have more stories than time for blogging.
So...yesterday, I went back to stalking the OB-GYN.
It seems we had a miscommunication. I assumed that because I called him on his office phone to set an appointment, we were meeting between 8-9 at his office. He assumed that I knew he'd be at the hospital, and was meeting him there.
Well.
Regardless, I caught him yesterday morning, on his way to the hospital. He asked me if I wanted to come along with him, and I agreed. Hopped in the car, and started the interview....we arrived at the hospital, and I stopped the recorder, as he gave me a tour...emergency room, labor and recovery, and then the maternal and child health hall, where his office is. People lined up literally up and down the hallway. He shows me into his office, where we're suddenly joined by a medical student from the UK who's shadowing/assisting for the day.
I continue my interview, he's rather unhurried, despite the throngs of patients sitting just outside the door.
Student expresses interest in my project and gives me her contact information.
And I hike the 1.5 miles or so back into town.
This is where I get points for:
1) wearing my chacos everywhere
2) being adaptable
3) working in a country where it's safe for young white women to walk around alone.

Made it back to Cornerstone to find warm chocolate cake (with gooey green icing vaguely reminiscent of marshmallow cream) ready. Very exciting.

The focus group that almost wasn't.

2010-07-15T12:34:00.000-07:00

So....I pitched my project to the women's group last week. In two languages, with a cutesy handout. N. made reminder phone calls today, telling women that group starts at 4:15. We wandered down about 4:30 (this is Belize). I'm braced to lead a bilingual focus group, if need be.The women's computer class is finishing up, and suddenly, a woman we'll call Miss Faith (not her real name) wanders in. And her intentions are mutinous. She informs N. that she's not coming, not this week, and not next week, because she's not interested in the group topics. She doesn't care about poetry or abortion (?! N and I are still confused as to why she thought group was about abortion). And family planning is good for young women to talk about, but she's already done with that, and they need to learn about cooking and how to make money. Miss Faith continues with hardly a breath - the group needs to decide what to talk about, Nora shouldn't be calling people about meetings, that's the president's job, the group needs to be more organized, what happened to the money from the bake sale?! She's a part of a group at the library and other groups in town and they all work and this group doesn't and she knows how groups work and people help each other out and....

The tirade lasted a good half hour. After a while she turned away from N. and addressed her comments to the two other women there, who were sympathetic. At this point, N. and I are both really concerned that tonight's meeting is going to be shoved for organizational details, but finally, Miss Faith runs out of steam and informs N. that when the meeting is held, she will pay what she owes the group (for earrings at the bake sale).

So, now I get to introduce my project and try to lead a focus group- with three participants. My demographic/background questionnaire and the invitation letter took about a half hour. The president informed me that they knew how this worked, they'd had a group to talk about domestic violence and had helped a volunteer with her study before.

I start with my questions, and it's a little awkward the first ten minutes or so. I'm jotting a few responses on the chart paper, verifying answers with the group....
and then suddenly, something happened, and the three women weren't talking in terms of generalities anymore, but about their stories, their husbands, parents, in-laws.
N. diligently takes notes for me, as I move around the room, trying to keep eye contact with the woman speaking, moving my tiny digital recorder next to the speaker, trying to get the best recording possible with fans and traffic in the background. We both thank them, sincerely for sharing their time and stories, and N. tells them she's learned so much in this conversation. The tape recorder is off, and they keep talking to N. and I individually for another 10 minutes or so...about their experiences, why it's important for teens and parents to talk etc. It's a peaceful, quiet, intimate atmosphere. Someone realizes they've been at women's group for an hour and a half, and the group disperses. N. and I retreat upstairs, bewildered and frustrated at the beginning of the evening and awed at its conclusion.

continuing

2010-07-14T14:23:00.000-07:00

You'll be happy to know that the plumbing is working.
And that today I was able to turn two solicitations from tour guides into surveys (without booking a tour).
It's funny....I was concerned about the fact that I wasn't offering incentives for this project, and how that would affect participation. (Being a young woman traveling alone, it just struck me as rather unwise to offer incentives. Kind of like an invitation for a mugging, y'know?) But for the most part, all I have to say is "hi, I'm a student from the US trying to learn about your community, do you have a couple minutes to answer a few questions?" People often volunteer more information than I ask, and expect me to sit around and listen to stories...about their son in Chicago, their brother's custody hearing, plans for a spouse's education...and they're full of advice.

Some serious excitement over the world cup here. Neighbors blasted music into the early hours of the morning for two consecutive nights. Between the three fans in our room we managed to drown most of it out. And- just because it's too weird for words, I'm writing from the balcony of a combination tacky lingerie store and coffee shop.

Tales of Belizean plumbing

2010-07-10T16:33:00.000-07:00

You knew it couldn't be that easy, right?
The plumber came, about noon on Friday. He left us a bathroom covered in raw sewage. T. cleaned the bathroom....and a couple hours later we discovered the toilet is still not working. Then SA went to take a shower in the bathroom with the working toilet. And the shower wont't catch- it insists on coming out as bath water. We don't even have a bathtub stopper here. J. attempts to resurrect the shower, no luck. It is 8pm on friday night, and we are down to one working toilet (in a bathroom with a broken shower and half-draining sink) and one working sink (in a bathroom with a half-draining shower and a broken toilet). For eight people. Attempted to go to the store to put credit on the volunteer cellphone, and Cost Less Mart was closed. This morning....well, Cost Less insisted that they don't sell phone credit. Phone credit was purchased elsewhere, the director was phoned, and she very casually said that she'd let the landlord know. Not anticipating a change in circumstances any time soon.

I can't possibly describe how much I love Belize, or how crazy it makes me. Whatever nutcase called the US a "melting pot" has obviously never been here. I'm a native English speaker and conversational in Spanish, so one would think I could manage....but frankly, speaking someone's 3rd or 4th language is less than ideal. Why does the US act as if it's normal to only speak one language?

The languages of Belize are Maya, German, Creole, German, Spanish, English, Lebanese, Hindi, and even more I'm sure....
Belize is Maya and Mennonite, Creole and Garifuna, British Colonialism, retired expats and college kids from around the world. In setting appointments I'm honestly not sure when people expect me to show up- it depends on how Western they are! And I can't tell by looking at anyone whether or not we'll be able to understand each other.

The adventure of a lifetime-with the mosquito bites thrown in for free!

Progress?

2010-07-09T08:17:00.000-07:00

I was supposed to do my first interview yesterday, which didn't quite turn out to be a complete bust. The interview subject had no real experience with my topic,but gave me a referral that might pan out. Also, I took a wrong turn and in wandering around spotted a women's health doc who may be worth talking to.

That was about 3PM- while I was out T(the one male volunteer presently in the house) managed to stop up one of the toilets. He ran up the hill to the store to get a plunger, which quickly inverted, proving useless. Supposedly Cornerstone called a plumber who was supposed to come yesterday evening....but this is Belize. So it's 9AM and we're still down to one toilet for 8 people in the volunteer house. Still have two showers though, thankfully. The one fully functional bathroom requires a treck through my current bedroom- which has four girls sharing bunkbeds and little space (I should post pictures). We've spread out, because getting dressed, showering, teeth brushing, etc. requires being able to access your stuff relatively quickly. So trying to pass through our room is potentially dangerous, particularly if the lights are off.

In other news, you can find pretty decent tea in San Ignacio (the lemon jasmine green tea I thought I'd packed in....could be anywhere. Between the whirlwind trip to TN before leaving, the 13 hours traveling and the chaos when I got here, I have no idea.) Cost Less Mart has an assortment of organic tea from Sri Lanka, and I snagged a box of green jasmine tea yesterday.

I have a couple interviews scheduled for next week, a focus group scheduled, and some phone calls to make. Progress? Baby steps.

Ojala

2010-07-07T19:03:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm sitting at Flayva's (which used to be Eva's, if you happen to be checking a Belize tour guide). Just polished off an awesome lime juice, and am making my way through a plate of nachos. Ah well...I'll burn those calories in the hike up the hill.

I was supposed to run a focus group today. It's M's (the program coordinator here) birthday. And she was supposed to be leading women's group. So N (the main volunteer working with the women's group) and I thought we'd give her the evening off. Women's group was supposed to meet at 4:30, and, this being Latin America, no one showed up until 5. And in comes M, with a folder. She does a lesson on self esteem, self confidence, public speaking and poetry reading (involving US pop songs, of all things) and doesn't finish up until 6:30. I laugh, and introduce myself and my project to the four women there. One of whom only speaks Spanish. And- even though M is a native Belizean, who grew up in Benque and San Ignacio, my Spanish is better than hers. Yep...even though it's been three years since I've spoken it. The women seemed interested, and we'll see how it goes.

Of course, this is after several hours today spent trying to create a readable information sheet (in English...) and translating my focus group questions into Spanish (Dr. Pascucci, if you happen to be reading, I love you).

And it's okay. This is a perfect case of why Spanish has subjunctive verbs- sometimes things don't work, or you're just not sure. I've taken to laughing to myself and just saying "ojala." Which is the greatest word ever. It's a holdover from the Moorish invasion of Spain. "If Allah wills it." Ojala, I will do a focus group next week. Ojala, when I talk to M. tomorrow, she will have gotten in touch with a couple of the health care providers on our list. Ojala, tomorrow I will print off surveys and start doing those around town (Flayva's, Mr. Greedy's, Cayo Twist?).

And if not? There's another word for that here. Mañana.

It's 8pm here, and it's been dark for a while. Probably time to hike back up the hill to Cornerstone (and that's one steep hill!!) The catcalls have been a lot less present this year (gloria a Dios) but even without that reminder....I'm trying to be aware that I'm a young woman alone in a foreign country.

Though San Ignacio is becoming so familiar...

here!

2010-07-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

And have arrived.
Cornerstone's relocated, to a much nicer facility. I'm almost in shock at how nice it is. No AC and no hot water, but otherwise, pretty much comparable to my apartment. Well, minus the sharing it with 7 other people part.

Right now I'm running through previous women's program projects, trying to get familiar with what other Cornerstone volunteers have done.Orientations to the town, staff, culture to come.

I've established a pretty good rapport with the office staff here. Showing up with craft supplies and condoms helped with generating goodwill. Thankfully, their schedule for me looks about like what I had envisioned- a week of getting my feet on the ground+prep work, and then roughly 3 weeks to do everything I want to.

And so it begins.

And we're off....

2010-07-05T07:33:00.000-07:00

Blogging from the Dallas-Fort Worth airport, with the help of wi-fi (that's a little pricier than my Scotch genes like) and the tech support of my significant other. Flight to Belize leaves at 12:30 Central time, so I've got a couple minutes.

And so far, so good.
Granted, any day that starts with kissing your best friend and the partner in the majority of your life's adventures goodbye is less than great.

Made it to the Columbia Airport in time to check in for my 6AM flight. This was also well before the security checkpoint opened (someone explain that to me....) so I had some quiet, slow moments. If you've ever been around me in the early morning, you'll be as grateful for this as I was.

Once in security, they confiscated my jar of peanut butter. Seriously- airport personnel were not sympathetic to my complaints about how expensive it is in Belize. They offered me the option of checking my bag, which I was not about to do on an international flight. (And yes, I am living out of a carryon and a backpack for a month. I /should/ have laundry facilities available...if not, there's going to be some interesting improvisation). Security guy then proceeded to scan several innocuous items - my medicine bag, audio recorder, flashlight and safety pins. He then left me to repack my bag and head on my way....

Nearly at the gate I realize I have no clue where the keys to my luggage lock are. I race back to security, look around....start opening pockets in carryon and backpack and the keys are not there. I conclude that I've locked them in my suitcase, and mutter several choice words. At which point the airline security lady comes by to calm me down, and let me know that it's a good thing my stuff will be safe til I reach my destination, and then I can have the travel safety people cut the lock. So I sigh, and progress back down the moving sidewalk....I get to the end, and look!!!my keys are trapped there.

So, like any reasonable human being, I fish out an inkpen, and try to remove my keys from the grate (while the sidewalk is moving). Another random airport lady wandered over asking if she could help me, and decided this incident warranted stopping the sidewalk long enough for me to get the keys and move on.

And so I left Columbia- peanut butter-less, but happy that when I need to unlock my suitcase, I will be able to do so.

I'll arrive in Belize City at 2:20 Belize time- that's 4:20 for you Eastern Standard people. From there, I have a 1 1/2- 2 hour shuttle ride to San Ignacio. I gave the shuttle people the address to Cornerstone that I have (that's on the information packet they send volunteers) and the shutttle response was "That's the address we have on file, but we've heard that Cornerstone moved. Don't worry, we'll get you there one way or another." So here goes....

Thankfully, the security people left me my mug and tea bags and ibuprofen (and razor blades, even). I'll most definitely need tea when I arrive in San Ignacio. Hoping I won't need the ibuprofen yet :)

Travel

2010-07-04T16:10:00.001-07:00

I'm....leaving in the morning. In the insanely early hours of the morning. To Belize, for 30 days of doing research...interviews, surveys, a focus group....trying to find out a little more about what it's like to be human, to have a family in Belize.
I hesitate to write more than this for confidentiality purposes.
But I am hoping to be able to jot down some stories and general impressions here.
For now, though, I'm going to enjoy my last few hours with someone incredibly dear to me, who I can't wait to see on the other side of this month.

Abstinence-only Sex Education, Part 3

2010-07-01T09:38:00.000-07:00

Continuing on....trying to write up a fair history of the high points of the religious abstinence-only movement. As seems to be typical (just a general observation, no stats to back this up) the Southern Baptists and Roman Catholics have been the big players in this movement.
Much of this is taken from the website of Lifeway, the Southern Baptist publishing company (http://www.lifeway.com/tlw/history.asp)

In 1987, the Christian sex education project began, led by Jimmy Hester. He and Richard Ross successfully pitched the True Love Waits project to the Southern Baptists in 1992. From a 1994 article in First Things it seems that the motivation behind True Love Waits was to increase teens' perceptions of peer support for abstinence. True Love Waits launched in 1993 in Nashville, TN. By 1993, 100,000 virginity pledge cards had been signed as part of True Love Waits. Personally, I tend to remember True Love Waits more for huge symbolic demonstrations ("Let's stack virginity pledge cards all the way across the Golden Gate Bridge!" "Let's pile pledge cards to the top of the Georgia Dome," etc.) than anything else. True Love Waits seems to have focused on providing churches and youth conferences with pledge cards and jewelry and left the actual teaching up to individual youth leaders and congregations, from my impressions at least. I haven't heard much from True Love Waits lately (though, no longer a teenager and no longer a Southern Baptist, I'd be out of the loop anyway.). I have heard "Silver Ring Thing" lately, so maybe it's the new Christian trend? Seems to be pretty similar.

I'm going to date the start of Roman Catholic sex education teaching and advocacy with 1968 and Pope Paul VI's encyclical Humanae Vitae . Not being Roman Catholic, this decision is a little arbitrary, and I haven't read the encyclical in its entirety. From my understanding, it affirms the goodness and holiness of sex within marriage and goes on to condemn all sorts of artificial birth control. (Brief aside here- Not really seeing any nuances in the Roman Church's position. Apparently, it's bad to use condoms if you're a married couple trying to prevent the transmission of herpes or HIV, or for a woman suffering from endometriosis or PCOS to take birth control pills. Someone correct me if I'm wrong here- really hope I am.)

Roman Catholic bishops approved Human Sexuality, A Catholic Perspective on Education and Lifelong Learning in 1990. This pastoral document provided guidelines for sex education in Catholic schools, however, there was a strong negative response from parents. The Roman church presently seems to emphasize the importance of "positive chastity education" by parents, and doesn't seem to have any sort of recommendations about health issues to be included. Interestingly, the Roman Catholic Church aligned itself with the Southern Baptist Convention's True Love Waits campaign.

Apologies for this segment being a bit rushed/incomplete, but I have a number of pressing tasks. Margaret Whitehead has dealt with the Roman Catholic side of things far more thoroughly than I could ever hope to.

Abstinence-only Sex Ed, part 2

2010-05-04T12:38:00.000-07:00

Okay. Now that we all know what I think about abstinence-only sex ed, it's time to backtrack and talk about the history of the sex-ed movement, and some of the things that have happened there. This post seems to have gotten bewilderingly long somehow, so I think I'll keep this limited to a brief overview/explanation of history. Part 3 will deal with the evaluation and effectiveness of teen pregnancy prevention programs and part 4 will be centered on my personal response (or, alternatively, part 4 will describe what I believe to be the more typical evangelical response, and part 5 will elaborate on my own views). I reserve the right to change the outline of proposed posts as content gets overwhelming.

Health educators became concerned about teen pregnancy in the 1970s (Kirby,Barth, Leland,Fetro 1991). Additionally, the HIV epidemic of the 1980s heightened awareness of the importance of using sex education as a tool for reducing risky sexual behavior (Kirby,et al., 1991). In 1991, Kirby and colleagues grouped pregnancy prevention programs into four generations. (Note that while I am extremely interested in sexual health, I am a generalist as far as public health goes, and have only been dabbling in this for the past semester or two- A LOT of people know a lot more than I do! For those outside the field, Doug Kirby is considered pretty much THE leading expert on teen pregnancy, and I will cite his work heavily)

First Generation:
Focused on teen's knowledge about risks and consequences of teen pregnancy (Kirby, et al., 1991). These programs basically took the position that if teens knew about sex, pregnancy, and contraception they would avoid risky sexual behavior. Well....the first thing that gets drilled into your head as a public health student now is "Knowledge alone is not enough to change behavior," so, you can guess how well these worked...

Second Generation:
Added an emphasis on values-clarification, decision-making and communication skills (Kirby, et al., 1991). Evaluation of 2nd generation programs showed mixed results (Kirby, et al., 1991).

Third Generation:
It's important to understand that the third generation of teen pregnancy prevention programs did not stem from lessons in the first two generations of programs, but rather, in opposition to those programs (Kirby, et al.1991). Out of concern that teens were being given a "values free" education, a different group of people, with religious rather than health concerns launched a set of programs that were focused on teaching teens not to have sex before marriage (Kirby, et al., 1991). These programs typically presented no information on contraception in order to avoid being seen as self-contradicting (Kirby, et al., 1991). Not many of these programs have been thoroughly evaluated (Kirby, et al. 1991, Santelli,et al., 2006, www.advocatesforyouth.org). I personally would like to think that this is because for the most part, these sorts of programs are led by well-meaning religious folks instead of public health practioners and they don't know how important evaluation is, or what the parts of a good evaluation are. On the other hand, I know a number of professionals who have spent decades in the field of sex education and believe that the reason abstinence-only programs are only half-heartedly evaluated is that if you only measure certain things, you can do a bit of handwaving and make it seem that an ineffective program actually did some good. This will be discussed further in part 3 of this series of blog posts.

Fourth Generation:
The fourth generation of teen pregnancy prevention programs attempt to build on the first three (Kirby, et al., 1991). These programs attempt to be neither values-free nor moralistic and focus on increasing teens' knowledge about risky sexual behavior and its consequences, teaching teens skills for delaying intercourse, and changing social norms around early sexual activity (Kirby, et al., 1991).

Abstinence-Only Sex Ed and Federal Funding
(fact sheet:http://www.acf.hhs.gov/programs/fysb/content/abstinence/factsheet.htm)

Federal funding for abstinence only sex education was created by Section 510 of the Federal Social Security Action, first created in 1996 (Clinton Administration), established under Section 912 of the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996 (Public Law 104-193).

In 2004, the Bush administration moved the program out of division of the Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) to the Administration for Children and Families(ACF) and tightened funding regulations. In order to receive section 510 funds, programs had to adhere to all eight points of the federal definition of abstinence-only education:
According to federal law, an eligible abstinence education program is one that:
A) has as its exclusive purpose, teaching the social, physiological, and health gains to be realized by abstaining from sexual activity;
B) teaches abstinence from sexual activity outside marriage as the expected standard for all school age children;
C) teaches that abstinence from sexual activity is the only certain way to avoid out-of-wedlock pregnancy, sexually transmitted diseases, and other associated health problems;
D) teaches that a mutually faithful monogamous relationship in context of marriage is the expected standard of human sexual activity;
E) teaches that sexual activity outside of the context of marriage is likely to have harmful psychological and physical effects;
F) teaches that bearing children out-of-wedlock is likely to have harmful consequences for the child, the child's parents, and society;
G) teaches young people how to reject sexual advances and how alcohol and drug use increases vulnerability to sexual advances; and
H) teaches the importance of attaining self-sufficiency before engaging in sexual activity.
(U.S. Social Security Act, Sec 510 (b), cited in Santelli et al. 2006).

Federally funded abstinence only programs use behavioral terms such as "postponing sex," and "never had vaginal sex." These programs often do not include information about touching, kissing, anal sex or oral sex (Aside- one of my professors observed that this can be seen as a reflection of Bill Clinton's stance that "Oral sex is not sex." Unfortunately, much of my generation, and those younger share that view).

Especially in the 2000s, federally funded abstinence-only programs discuss sex in moral terminology, using words like "chaste" "virgin" "making a commitment."

President Obama attempted to end section 510 funding, however, it was included in the health care reform bill in an effort to secure support from Republicans (http://www.tellthemsc.org/headlines.aspx?article=358)

Works Cited:
Kirby, D., Barth, R., Leland, N. Fetro, J.V., (1991). Reducing the risk: impact of a new curriculum on sexual risk-taking. Family Planning Perspectives 23: 253-63.

Santelli, J., Ott, M.A. , Lyon, M., Rogers, J., Summers, D., Schleifer, R. Abstinence and abstinence only education: A review of U.S. policies and programs.(2006). Journal of Adolescent Health 38: 72-81.

detour

2010-04-23T10:27:00.000-07:00

Stepping away for a moment from orderly thoughts on health, education, life and faith. I need to talk for a few minutes without carefully choosing my words- because this is one case where caution and logic may completely obscure what I have to say.

In January of 2009, I began an MPH program with eight women who were strangers to me. Just over a week ago, we turned in comprehensive exams, and in a matter of days we're going to arrive at a new place in life- one in which we don't run into each other in hallways in between classes, without group homework and exam sessions,and no place for panicked phone calls because some professor's directions weren't clear. I'm shocked at how differently I feel now, compared to finishing my B.S. So many of my emmotions are a blur of confusion, fear, loss- as compared to the sense of freedom and relief I felt at the end of my time at my undergrad institution. Those eight women are the reason for my current vague emmotional disarray.

It's been a year and a half- we've gotten sick, family members have died, we've stayed up way too late, killed a forest of trees writing papers together, and baked entirely too many cookies for class. There's a realness as we struggle with our broken and blended families, learn what we care most about, and try to figure out what "making a difference" really means. I've learned so much from these women-about how to dress like an adult, how to talk to people, how to organize and present ideas, and just how to be a decent human being. Of course it hurts to realize that there will be days...weeks...months...perhaps even years when I do not see a single one of them. What hurts more is the realization that as we leave this place of togetherness, the odds are that I will have a better life, just because of the color of my skin.

Six of this cohort are African-American, three Caucasian, and one Latina. Just to start the list- African-American women are less likely to be employed, more likely to be single parents, more likely to recieve HIV from their partners, have much less wealth on average than the average Caucasian female. It's been documented that African-American women have greater rates of low birthweight and preterm births than White women with the same education and socioeconomic status- likely because of the stress caused by systemic racism.

When I walk into a store or an office, odds are the person in charge looks like me. When I take a class, chances are the teacher is someone I look like. If I turn on a tv, I can flip through channel after channel packed full of shows showing only (or primarily) people of my race. I don't make people uneasy walking down a sidewalk and people don't mumble nasty comments when I move into their neighborhood.

Nothing about this is okay. This is nowhere near a complete list.

One of the things I am grateful for about our president is that on the inside, he is someone who looks like me (the Third culture kid, the outsider who's had to make sense of an entirely different universe than your classmates) and on the outside- someone who looks like my friends. And he and his family prove to this country that we have a place in it. Many good things have happened since his election, and I hope that as we watch our president strive to lead well, as we watch his wife raising awareness of childhood obesity...perhaps some in our country can learn to be less afraid of those who look different than they do. I am hopeful that perhaps, more things in this country can begin to change. That we will begin to realize the gifts and potential of individuals of different races and ethnicities, and work to enable them to use those gifts. So that my grandchildren and my friends' grandchildren can expect the same sorts of difficulties in life.

Abstinence-only Sex Ed, part 1

2010-03-28T13:27:00.000-07:00

The post that follows is a piece written as an Op-Ed sort of assignment for my Community Health Development class. There are some (many?) health issues on which my position is rather different than that of the Religious Right/Evangelical crowd in which I grew up. It's intriguing that my own deeply held Christian faith drives me in radically different directions than what is typically considered "orthodox" by the loudest Christian voices out there. This is something I'll be exploring in this space for a while.

It is nearly universally agreed that some sort of sex education is necessary for teens. According to a poll by the Guttmacher Institute, 90% of parents of middle and high school students believe that sex education should be taught in school. The ongoing conversation revolves around what sort of education is appropriate, what topics should be included, and how it should be carried out. Not all sex education programs are equally effective.

Ideally, sex education programs should be chosen based on whether they have been shown to be effective, but this is often not the case.
Abstinence-only education programs have been shown to have only limited, short term impacts on teens’ attitudes and intentions towards sex. However, in 1996 President Clinton established funding for abstinence-only programs in Section 510 of the 1996 Social Security Act. President Bush later increased funding and tightened regulations on what these programs could include.

This legislation has been loudly supported by conservative groups, and a thinktank known as the Heritage Foundation has been particularly vocal in lobbying for federal funding for abstinence-only problems. Unfortunately, they have resorted to mental gymnastics to defend their position. In 2002, Robert Rector, senior research fellow in domestic policy at the Heritage Foundation praised abstinence-only programs saying:
“Abstinence programs also can provide the foundation for personal responsibility and enduring marital commitment. Therefore, they are vitally important to efforts aimed at reducing out-of-wedlock childbearing among young adult women, improving child well-being, and increasing adult happiness over the long term.”

Rector insists that programs that are abstinence-based do not provide these same benefits, because information about safe sex practices is included. However, after an Add Health study showed no significant differences between STI rates between individuals who made virginity pledges and teens and those who did not, Rector and collaborator Kirk Johnson claimed that the Add Health findings (that there are no statistical differences in STI rates among virginity pledgers and nonvirginity pledgers) are inaccurate because, when the final interviews were conducted, respondents were no longer adolescents, but were young adults aged 19 to 25. According to Rector and Johnson, “Many years may have passed since an individual made his or her virginity pledge. Thus, the Add Health data provide an imperfect basis for measuring the link between pledging and STDs.” This statement directly contradicts Rector’s previous remarks on the long term benefits of abstinence and abstinence education.

Furthermore, Rector and Johnson question the scientific validity of the Add Health data, saying :
It is true that, using the urine sample measure of three STDs, the differences in STD rates between pledgers and non-pledgers are not statistically significant at the 95 percent confidence level. But the differences in STD rates do fall within a hairbreadth of the 95 percent significance threshold. Multivariate regressions (presented later), using the three STD's in urine sample measure as the dependent (predicted) variable reaffirm that pledgers have lower rates of STDs; this finding is significant at the 91 to 94 percent confidence levels.

Rector and Johnson fail to mention that the 95% confidence level is the standard long held by the scientific community for interpreting scientific significance. While a 91-94 percent confidence level may suggest impact, it proves absolutely nothing.

Voters and policy makers need to be aware that advocates for abstinence-only sex education are contradicting themselves and distorting scientific evidence. These actions are not the result of a concern for teens’ welfare, or wellmeaning ignorance but of an obsession with power and control. Policy makers should refuse to condone these tactics by continuing to provide funds for abstinence-only sex education.

Heritage Foundation documents consulted:
Rector, R.(2002) The effectiveness of abstinence education programs in reducing sexual
activity among youth. Retrieved on March 20, 2010 from the Heritage Foundation
website: http://www.heritage.org/Research/Reports/2002/04/The-Effectiveness-of-
Abstinence-Education-Programs.
Rector, R., Johnson, K., (2005) Adolescent virginity pledges, condom use, and sexually
transmitted diseases among young adults. Retrieved on March 20, 2010 from the Heritage
Foundation website: http://www.heritage.org/Research/Reports/2005/06/Adolescent-
Virginity-Pledges-Condom-Use-and-Sexually-Transmitted-Diseases-Among-Young-
Adults.

a word from Thomas (Aquinas)

2010-03-08T11:03:00.000-08:00

While I haven't read terribly much written by the good church father, he has influenced a huge chunk of what I've read both on natural law + ethics and the sacrament of Communion. I'm not entirely sure about this natural law thing and all the stuff about reason....but I do wholeheartedly agree with his sentiments about Communion. And several of my favorite hymns are translations of his work- including one we sang in church yesterday.

Now, my tongue, the mystery telling
of the glorious Body sing,
and the Blood, all price excelling,
which the gentiles' Lord and King,
in a Virgin's womb once dwelling,
shed for this world's ransoming.

Given for us, and condescending,
to be born for us below,
he, with men in converse blending,
dwelt the seed of truth to sow,
till he closed with wondrous ending
his most patient life of woe.

That last night, at supper lying,
'mid the twelve, his chosen band,
Jesus, with the law complying,
keeps the feast its rites demand;
then, more precious food supplying,
gives himself with his own hand.

Word-made-flesh true bread he maketh
by his word his Flesh to be;
wine his Blood; which whoso taketh
must from carnal thoughts be free;
faith alone, though sight forsaketh,
shows true hearts the mystery.

Therefore we, before him bending,
this great Sacrament revere;
types and shadows have their ending,
for the newer rite is here;
faith, our outward sense befriending,
makes our inward vision clear.

Glory let us give, and blessing
to the Father, and the Son,
honor, might and praise addressing,
while eternal ages run;
ever too his love confessing,
who from both with both is one.

My favorite verse is the fifth and due to whim of choral director, priest, or organist, church stopped with the fourth verse. Thus this post- a quick reminder to myself that the Old Testament blood sacrifices were fulfilled and replaced by Christ's oblation and that our own rites are merely a shadow of something greater. In heaven, the intimacy I have with Christ for a few moments in the Eucharist will be perpetual and unending. Praise God!

Chiaroscuro

2010-02-28T08:36:00.000-08:00

Really the only word for the juxtaposition of a couple recent pieces in the NYT....

First off, Nick Kristof's awesome column today, calling out liberals for our snootiness towards evangelicals and pointing out the incredible humanitarian work carried out by religious institutions (yes, in spite of my theology/religious beliefs/practices, in this case it probably is more honest to identify myself as a liberal. Though I'm really part of the tiny demographic caught in the middle.).

Follow that up with a news piece from yesterday about how the anti-abortion movement has been targeting African-Americans with conspiracy theories and emotional manipulation. Rather than addressing the reality of higher teen pregnancy rates among African-American teens, and trying to prevent teen pregnancy, the response is "shut down the abortion clinics." I don't care if your manipulative, scheming tactic works to accomplish what you want ("saving lives" in this case), the ends do not justify the means.

I still don't know quite what to think of Right Wing Evangelical Conservatives (and their nearly predictable voting block) and the above examples explain why. Yes, this is worth far more thought and commentary than I'm giving it, but I don't have time at the moment.

Of Cults and Evangelicals

2010-02-18T18:51:00.002-08:00

A little gem I caught on the radio on Ash Wednesday, of all things.

Initial thoughts are that there seem to be some serious human rights issues with the original Unification folks. Personally, I'm rather fond of my right to not be coerced into sex and my right to choose my partner. I understand that these people were acting out of faith and voluntarily surrendering those rights, but in my mind, it's still not okay (I also note NPR's commentary on the younger generation having more control over who their spouses are, which may mean the leadership has understood/acknowledged this concern). Also, from the brief news story, it seems that they don't believe one can be single and not go to hell. Yikes. Singles are ostracized enough without the religious overtones.

So many of the quotes in this piece- about family, about relationships- could have been lifted straight out of the Southeastern US Protestant Evangelical Subculture I grew up in.Even Schanker's quote:
"Although we talk universal love and the value of the family, we sacrificed our families to the extreme, and that was Rev. Moon's emphasis. He saw himself as a person who would sacrifice to create a family and gather followers, and then he asked them to sacrifice. He put his kids through hell — like Gandhi. Gandhi did the same thing in order to move India. Rev. Moon is trying to move the world."

describes something that happens every day in clergy families-certainly the families of Protestant Evangelical pastors, and likely of Orthodox and Anglican priests, though I've not witnessed that personally .

And as they've been able to model themselves on the megachurch evangelical model,it's really not surprising that the Unification Church looks and sounds so much like the Protestant Evangelicalism of the Bible Belt.

In Jin Moon's approach of making people "feel" like they've had a conversion experience also resonates with that perspective. The core of that mentality- that in order to go to heaven you must have a conversion experience that is so dramatic and emotional you will remember it your whole life- is why I am no longer a Protestant Evangelical.
Could it be said that Anglicans, with our incense and bells are doing the same thing?

(That's Healey Willan's Gloria , and I feel vaguely heretical posting this during Lent. It's remarkably difficult to sing,especially for a congregation, but I think it's one of the most beautiful pieces of music I've ever heard.)

I would say that we're not...because there are reasons for our rites, liturgies and observations: the practice of the early Church, honoring the Eucharist, honoring the Incarnation. And because honestly, sometimes it does get monotonous saying the same words, in the same order, every Sunday in church. However, we do this because it's about who we are-not how we feel. If you're going to live like the Creed matters, you need to hear the Creed every week in church. Yes, I do get emotional in Mass at times. Nearly every single Sunday, when I see the priest add water to the wine for Communion, in honor of the fact that Christ had two natures and both are present in the Eucharist,a single tear will come to my eye. I am awed that God himself took on human frailty to become man, and that Incarnate God makes himself (both human and divine) present in a piece of bread, in order to nourish me and be a part of my life. That strikes me as a little different than "OMG, my skin is tingling, the Holy Spirit is HERE!!!!!"

And really, I wonder....how do Christians who aren't Catholic (Roman, Anglo, Orthodox)deal with groups such as the Unificationists or the Church of God of Latter Day Saints? If you can't say that the core of your spirituality is grounded in the Incarnation and the Eucharist, what do you stand on? The ecumenical councils were vital for hammering out what Christianity is. If you don't know them....what ground do you have for saying the Mormons or the Unificationists aren't Christians? And why don't Bible Belt Evangelicals teach the Creeds and the Ecumenical Councils of the Undivided Church? (at least the first six...I understand why they have issues with the seventh)

2010-02-15T07:49:00.000-08:00

You know you're doing what you're supposed to be when on a holiday you find yourself perfectly content in your pajamas at your laptop with a nasty cold, pecking away at a funding proposal.
So much to do. So much that deserves reflection and words.
Looking forward to Lent.

Anamnesis and Alzheimer's

2010-01-10T13:13:00.000-08:00

Anamnesis is a big, churchy, scary word. It's an important word though,referring to making something present through memory. In particular, it is used to refer to the Mass, as a means of remembering and uniting with the sacrifice made by Christ. (per 1928 BCP "Wherefore O Lord and heavenly Father, according to the institution of thy dearly beloved Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ, we, thy humble servants, do celebrate and make here before thy Divine Majesty, with these, thy holy gifts, which we now offer unto thee, the memorial which thy Son hath commanded us to make; having in remembrance his blessed passion and precious death, his mighty resurrection and glorious ascension; rendering unto thee most hearty thanks for the innumerable benefits procured unto us by the same." Verbose, but lovely)

The orderly procession of the church year is an extension of this thought- Advent, giving way to Christmas and Epiphany, Lent, Easter, Pentecost, Trinity. Feasts,fasts, colors, images, all accompany us on a journey through Scripture, following the life of Christ and the Church. We remember and in remembering, we re-live. In The Irrational Season Madeleine L'Engle takes the concept of anamnesis beyond church and into literature, stressing the importance of being able to not just remember being fourteen but to actually *be* fourteen for a writer in creating characters.

But anamnesis isn't just about faith and literature, it's about life(and, as usual, we can't really separate faith and literature from life). In order to continue being myself,I have to remember and continue to tell stories- the time we fixed Uncle Glenn's hair so that he looked like a rock star, the pranks pulled on a certain high school teacher, the Episcopalian shield on my bumper for the purpose of antagonizing Conservative college students, road trips, hikes, fights and 3AM phone calls have made me who I am. When I can no longer remember or talk about those, I will start to become a different person.

This is what has happened (or in one case, is still happening) to both of my grandfathers, one deceased and one still living, both victims of Alzheimer's disease. It is a disease that has attacked their memory, identity and essence. Alzheimer's is a threat to everything I hold dear and I find myself wondering who will be the next person I lose- my father, a beloved aunt or uncle, a sibling?

In one of her books- I think The Irrational Season, though I can't find the passage- Madeleine L'Engle reports that in the Eastern Church worship is viewed as communal...and that one person is not at complete attention in a service is compensated for the fact that another person is...that in our attention and efforts as a congregation we are truly one, the sum of all "efforts." This is the only thought that can make dementia tolerable to me. That although my grandfathers have lost themselves, the rest of us remember. As my aunt retells the story of my grandfather's model train tracks running throughought the entire house, and his attempt to build a spiral to the ceiling being squashed by my grandmother when the track reached her height, that man exists once again. Sleepovers in the barn and the pounding of my grandfather's hammer are real when we speak of them. We must remember, whether we are a family or a Church. Because unless we remember, actively, with our entire selves, we can be neither family nor Church.

Pause.

2009-12-14T14:16:00.000-08:00

I don't typically play music obsessively....but lately I've latched onto Sting's If on a Winter's Night, perhaps because it's emphatically not Christmas music. I've rarely been running the heat...leaving as much of a chill in the apartment as is really possible in a South Carolina December. It somehow seems important to burrow into winter, to wrap the darkness and the damp around me. Which would be much easier with the quiet hush of snowfall.
My instincts are to slow down before Christmas....I have no shopping, wrapping, cardwriting impulses at this time of year. The whirl of school activity becomes draining and often I finish semesters dragging and exhausted. I used to think this made me horrible person, but lately, I've decided it's just that I have Advent built into me.

While I was in Belize, I learned that the Mayans didn't believe in endings, simply in new beginnings (particularly interesting and disturbing was that this was part of the rational for human sacrifice). However, it seems far more truthful to say that nothing can begin without something else ending. My favorite Christmas carol has always been "O Little Town of Bethlehem," especially the line "the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight."

Christ's first coming was disruptive...hope led the Magi to travel thousands of miles to worship, while fear led Herod to slaughter a city of innocent children. His second coming promises to be more disruptive as he comes as King, bringing with him the power he laid aside in Bethlehem, and coming to the entire earth rather than just Israel.

In an Advent homily a couple years ago, my priest said "In Advent, we celebrate the three-fold coming of Christ: his past coming in Bethlehem, his present coming by the Holy Spirit, and His future coming as King." It only makes sense that if Christ's past and future comings are disruptive, his present coming is also. Here in Advent, I prepare to celebrate Christ's coming to Bethlehem, and I prepare for his future coming as King...but what am I doing to prepare for his coming into my daily life? I've said before that Advent and Lent are really where we live, as we prepare for Christ's kingdom....but just how does one go about living in Advent? Perhaps acknowledging every day's beginnings and endings.

Or, to quote the inimitable Joni Mitchell- "something's lost, but something's gained
In living every day"

On an unrelated note....this blog was started in Advent a year ago, in anticipation of graduate school and needing someplace a little more "grown up" for my musings. It's been a very hard and very full year, so much more than I could have imagined.

Why Contraception?

2009-11-29T14:04:00.000-08:00

Since the question's been raised, and because contraception takes up significantly more of my time and energy than most peoples', we'll talk.

Because it should be said- I am fully aware that my ability to study, travel, write and advocate is contingent upon fact that I, as an educated western woman have complete and total control of my fertility and how my sexuality is expressed. I'm willing to acknowledge my bias and admit that if I lived in another place or time I might be a different person and feel differently, but I'm incredibly grateful to be a woman in the United States in the twenty-first century.

With that disclaimer-
Why do I believe contraception is so incredibly important?

1) 68,000 women per year die from complications of unsafe abortions.
2) 536,000 women per year -approximately 1 per minute-die of pregnancy complications and childbirth (90% of these are in Africa and Asia).
3) Globally, 50% of pregnancies are unplanned and 25% are unwanted.
(All statistics from UNFPA)

And then there's nutrition.... For one thing, as a fetus's bones are developing, it will leach calcium from its mothers bones and teeth if necessary. The ability to space pregnancies far enough apart that a woman's body has time to replenish calcium stores is important to both the pregnant woman and the fetus. Even in the U.S. we have remarkably high rates of spina bifida, because women of childbearing age don't consume adequate levels of folic acid- can you imagine how much worse this would be without the ability to control when pregnancies occur?

Contraception saves thousands of lives and prevents disease and disability around the world. Thus, it's critical. End of story.

Additionally, another huge effect of hormonal contraception is the impact of powerful estrogenic/antiestrogenic compounds on fish and amphibians, and what's being theorized about their impact on humans. It's going to be vital to find a way to control fertility without using powerful hormones. Yet another reason condoms are one of the world's greatest inventions.

The post we'll pretend doesn't exist

2009-11-22T08:16:00.000-08:00

I typically choose not to delve into my personal life here. However, this is important enough that I'm going to break protocol....and you, dear reader, take whatever's helpful from this, but we're all going to pretend I didn't write it, because I don't want to have the conversations it could initiate.

Previously, I've briefly touched on my history of self-harm:
Here, and here

Nov 13 several of my Facebook friends very visibly celebrated "To Write Love on Her Arms" Day. This was problematic enough for me personally that I had to point out that it might be counterproductive, and no one else seemed to realize it.

I'm not pretending to speak for everyone, but there are things that I wish people would take into consideration before plastering phrases all over Facebook.
So...briefly, as I try to avoid writing things that may be harmful or triggering to others:

1)"To Write Love on Her Arms" is really, really problematic phrasing. Switch out the implement, from a marker to an exacto knife or a razor blade, and the same gesture gives you self-harm. Not good imagery.

2)In winter/cold weather, self-harm is a much more sensitive topic, because the cold makes my scars hurt. It's also a much more vulnerable time, because my shoulders and arms stay covered.

3)I really, really, really HATE the word "struggle."

4) Via facebook and other impersonal means of communication, it's very difficult to communicate support and love. You certainly can't do so by joining groups and participating in events. And Facebook"raising awareness" doesn't do much for the people you claim to be trying to help- I don't care whether it's victims of human rights abuses or people who suffer from depression or deal with self-harm.

5)Self-harm is only part of the picture. And while, after scoping out To Write Love on Her Arms website, I can see that they address more than that as an organization, the name/slogan is horribly misleading. Also, this unnamed "her" is really irksome....I can't read the stupid slogan without feeling like a generic target. Yes, so I deal with self-harm impulses. I don't need my nose rubbed in this every time I log into Facebook for a week. There's a heck of a lot more to me than that one fact.

All opinions expressed are mine and mine alone. I know young women who have dealt with self-harm in the past who feel very differently- but I think this is a valid perspective as well, and needs to be considered, before people start randomly throwing things up on Facebook.

Christian Bleeding Hearts?

2009-11-11T11:53:00.000-08:00

Given my great fondness for books and propensity for writing up lengthy reviews or responses, taking some time to blog a response to Half the Sky really was inevitable. Nicholas Kristof holds the distinction of being one of three living human beings I'm in love with (the other two being Barbara Kingsolver and Michelle Obama- I get along much better with dead people for some reason), so I'd anticipated this book all summer.
It didn't disappoint.

Kristof and WuDunn make their points about brutality without being excessively graphic, making this a book I can recommend to others (unlike, say Sunday at the Pool in Kigali). It's hard to imagine the amount of work that went into this book. Lots of first person interviews and a massive amount of time spent in the library. End notes are respectable, and do a decent job of pointing readers to primary sources. Personally, I had one issue with the end notes- the authors state that studies that evaluate the efficacy of abstinence-only sex ed have widely varying findings that correlate closely with the ideology of the organization conducting the study, but that two trends are clear: abstinence only programs delay initiation of sexual contact, but also result in lower rates of contraceptive/disease preventive practices. The assumption seems intuitive, however, I wish a list of journal articles consulted had been included. That's pretty much just specific to me, as a conservative Evangelical (or, perhaps more accurately: someone who would rather not offend conservative Evangelicals) with a strong interest in reproductive health. I realize I could spend a couple weeks closed up with PubMed and I could figure it out myself, but if someone else has done the work, I'd rather just double check their citations.

This misstep occurred in the chapter I found to be the most personally relevant: "Family Planning and the 'God Gulf'."

WuDunn and Kristof talk coherently about the "gag rule"- which I'd always assumed to be a more or less symbolic action. When Obama overturned it this year I was mildly upset, not being a huge fan of the idea of my tax dollars funding abortions around the world, but honestly, expected nothing else, given his previous abortion rights voting record. After finishing this chapter, and realizing *what* the legislation really meant, my feelings were more along the lines of "Thank God. And I can't believe that one day we're going to elect another Conservative who's going to do this again."

The gag rule meant that organizations like Marie Stopes International and UNFPA lost funding for programs that had nothing to do with abortion- programs that provided clinics and medical personnel to rural corners of developing nations. The "gag rule" meant no American tax dollars going to organizations that as much as mentioned "abortion," but it also meant increased infant and maternal mortality, including more deaths from unsafe abortions around the world. (And personally, I like my tax dollars to keep people alive)

And then, we have HIV prevention and condom use (enter the end note issue above). Authors point out that it was during the Clinton administration when condom donations saw their low point- 190 million in 1999. During the George H.W. Bush administration, this was 800 million condoms a year, and 400 million condoms per year of George W. Bush's 2nd term.

The authors attack some of the foundational misunderstandings about AIDS in Africa, and point out to both sides of the condom/abstinence debate that neither is the program with the greatest numerical success. (If you're curious, dear reader, the most successful program aimed at reducing the number of teenage girls having sex with older men). As an aside- they also agree with my conclusion that abstinence/natural family planning are strategies which depend on women having a status that *allows* them to stand up to their partners. (Further aside-I'm rather scared of what abstinence-only programs are doing to psyches of African girls who are rape victims, especially given how widespread rape in Africa is. I think there are some pretty major ethical issues with the abstinence lollipop "when he's done with you, all you have left for your next partner is a poorly wrapped, saliva-fouled sucker" approach)

Half the Sky commends Christians for their compassion, willingness to serve in remote areas, and their personal generosity. The book also points out the major problems that occur when liberals and evangelicals get so bogged down in their own ideology that they are unable to cooperate on the issues on which they agree.

"If there is to be a successful movement on behalf of women in poor countries, it will have to bridge the God Gulf. Secular bleeding hearts and religious bleeding hearts will have to forge a common cause. That's what happened two centuries ago in the abolitionist movement, when liberal deists and conservative evangelicals joined forces to overthrow slavery. And it's the only way to muster the political will to get now-invisible women onto the international agenda."- Half the Sky, Ch. 12: Family Planning and the "God Gulf."

That's the statement I'm trying to wrap my mind around, because it's hard for me to believe that's even possible. Regardless of my personal beliefs, I often conduct myself professionally as a secular bleeding heart-because I've met very few religious bleeding hearts, and I gave up on trying to convert evangelicals to social action after four years at a conservative Christian college, in an equally conservative area with insanely high rates of teen pregnancy, high school dropouts and drug abuse.

In contrast, a prof in my department whose emphasis is on Community Based Participatory Research recently guest lectured in my research methods course. She's done quite a bit of work with faith communities in this state, including a couple groups who sought her out as an expert on cervical cancer prevention. And apparently, these churches are genuinely concerned about the health of their members and communities. To the point of carrying out evidence-based teen pregnancy prevention programs, providing health literature, reminding women from the pulpit to get pap smears and mammograms.... this doesn't fit with the reality of the church I've encountered. This faculty member has been able to have a genuine partnership with women in these church communities, and they've had conversations I believed to be impossible in the faith-based context (for example, the church group initiated the conversation over the HPV vaccine -I was under the impression that I might be the only Christian in South Carolina who believes it's unethical not to vaccinate girls for a virus leading to a potentially deadly disease , considering the prevalence of HPV among U.S. females aged 14-59 years is already 26.8% [NHANES, 2003-2004]).

How much do I agree with Nick Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn, and Very Competent Tenure Track Professor? Obviously, I can't disagree, but there's a lot of work to be done. The distrust on both sides is not without cause. However, what troubles me most is an attitude among Christians that something cannot be objectively good unless it directly leads to "preaching the gospel" or "someone getting saved." In more reformed/educated circles this expands to "changing the worldview of culture," (i.e. influencing society in such a way that it is easier to live as a Christian in that society). But the underlying principle is still "Unless our numbers grow, unless the society we're 'ministering' to views us in a more favorable way, there is no point in service." Can this attitude be changed? Perhaps a better question is "If arrogance on the part of the Christian right leads them to provide healthcare/ESL services/etc as a means to increasing numbers, should that arrogance be challenged, because it ultimately has some positive results?" Which then causes one to ask "How much good are faith-based organizations doing, anyway?" And that's something that is highly specific to the organization. The "Conservative Christians are scary, bad people" position is *just* as indefensible as the "You cannot be a decent human being if you are pro-choice/pro-LGBT rights/pro-healthcare reform/a Democrat" attitude that I found so revolting in college.

again with sexuality in the Bible Belt

2009-11-02T14:14:00.000-08:00

Returning to this discussion.
The whole evening was....intriguing. I felt a wee bit like an anthropologist, not being an LGBTQ individual, or a minority, and given that my Christianity looks radically different from what's typical of the Bible Belt.

But the most gripping moment was at the end, when the final audience question was asked.
"What strategies can be used to empower young people to use safe sex practices and how can the Church contribute?" Every nerve in my body was at atention- one of my professors has hinted at rumors that occasionally church members can be convinced that condom distribution was actually their idea, and I thought Bishop Rawls was going to share the secret.

My mouth literally dropped open when Bishop Rawls started talking about building bridges/relationships and moving beyond dialogue. She continued with "I'm owning how important it is that my life speak more [than my words]." This led into a discourse on the lack of role models for LGBTQ people, and the need for healthy relationship modeling. She offered the example of counseling young ladies- when she receives "inappropriate energy" her response is "Baby, you can be in a relationship with an older woman who won't abuse you."
Wow. Having grown up in the church, and being a pastor's daughter, I've heard a gazillion things about the dangers of counseling leading to affairs. And an equal number of ways to keep the minister out of trouble- "keep your office door open" "never counsel or be alone with someone of the opposite gender." But to actually step away from the fear of sexual harassment charges and infidelity to turn "inappropriate energy" into a moment for teaching and comfort....that's a new one for me.

Dr. Simmons followed this up with the observation that the relationships most modeled on TV are typically those of white men. Valid point. However, I think we also need to address *how* relationships are modeled on TV and movies. Why the heck is it okay to depict unprotected sex with someone you met hours ago in a PG-13 movie, or on network television? I'm so angry with this season's premier of House. Or, breaking away from STIs and unplanned pregnancies for a minute- one of my colleagues pointed out in class that she believes part of the reason for the current high divorce rate is that people are looking for relationships that look like the movies, rather than relationships that have the potential to be both long-lasting and positive. My prof responded to the comment with the hopeful observation that this may begin to change, as we watch the Obamas model a strong marriage to the nation. Those thoughts alter my perspective things like the 10 page article in the NYT magazine this past week about the Obamas' marriage (note that I've only skimmed the first two pages and haven't actually read the beast). At first glance, this seems intrusive, disrespectful, prying, meddlesome....(can you tell I'm a pastor's kid? The thought of *anyone* living in a fishbowl is repulsive to me). But when considered as something we as a nation desperately need- the image that marriages can stay strong, can be a vibrant partnership as opposed to a convenient division of bills, chores and childcare, it's not so hideous.

Mr. Patterson concluded the discussion with the observation that "talking about safe sex doesn't reach someone's heart." And when someone in need of love is offered something that seems good, they will take it, regardless of whether that involves risky sexual practices. Men and women pick partners because of who they see around them, and the issue of safe sex must be addressed internally before externally.

Absolutely no discussion about the importance of knowledge of safe-sex practices and the availability of protection. Yet suddenly I was feeling a bit naive and reprimanded- for looking for an easy solution to a complex problem. I know better, really. But how do you design a reproductive health intervention program around healthy relationship modeling and mentorship? Patterson has been involved with several programs -Many Men, Many Voices for one- that take this approach. I need to spend some time looking at strategies and crunching numbers, but initially....it resonates. But before I sound like I've been converted to the "Let's try to connect with high schoolers and show them that there are cool people who don't have sex" approach of the Christian college I graduated from (can't use the term "alma mater"-I've always felt that we were at war) and the local crisis pregnancy center in that area- I think the Bible Belt taboos we have about discussing sexuality are dangerous and irresponsible. Teenagers need the knowledge to make informed, safe decisions, regardless of whether we agree with those decisions.

Priveleges of university students...

2009-10-28T10:36:00.000-07:00

include the ability to procrastinate on schoolwork to dash off to something equally academic but more interesting. With some prompting from a colleague, I exerted that privilege and attended a panel discussion on "Bible Belt Race, Power, and Sexuality" last night.

I took away quite a few thoughts, and will try to progress through them in a somewhat orderly manner...
Dr. Shaw opened the discussion by showing a portion of the film "Black is....Black Ain't" which I need to watch in its entirety. Something that jumped out at me was the number of interviews in which participants said "Religion is about bringing people together." "If it doesn't result in peace with others, it's not from God." All panelists reiterated this viewpoint, including Bishop Rawls. As a Christian, I couldn't help finding this remarkably disturbing- Jesus makes it quite clear in Mathew 10 that he didn't come to bring peace but a sword, and that his followers could expect persecution and the breakdown of relationships. Ow. Panelists made a distinction between "church" (people) and "religion" (spirituality) and I found this a little incomplete. "Religion" is an organized system of belief and worship, complete with structure and leaders...."spirituality" is much more ambiguous and open. But given the broad scope of the panel, the definitions worked well enough.

Bishop Rawls clarified that her denomination, the Unity Fellowship Church Movement, is not a "gay" church but rather an "authentic" church. I picked up a serious "good pastor" vibe off this woman, which doesn't happen often with evangelicals for me (a "good preacher" vibe is more common- which must be related to why some churches with the best pastors run those ministers off because they're not good preachers). Yes, that was a minor point, but I think important to mention particularly in light of the discussion on gender.

When panelists were asked about gender, Bishop Rawles took the position I did throughout college. She expressed enthusiasm over women occupying and vying for top positions of power in this country in recent years (Nancy Pelosi, Condoleeza Rice, Hilary Clinton, Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori). Rawls pointed out that there seems to be a far greater rift when it comes to gender and positions of power than race or sexual orientation in regards to those same positions. She went on to speak about the lack of models, for, say, being a woman bishop, and the importance of approaching those situations like a woman. She mused a bit about "things that happen when girls get in boys' rooms" and gave the example of the UFMC and a couple other likeminded denominations struggling to dialogue- until the point when there were female bishops present, when it turned into "let's all go to Palm Springs for a girls' week." Hmm....Rawls believes women to be more likely to ask for what they need and to pull resources. (Example given being "if I'm trying to make a meal for my children, and I've got rice, and you've got some beans, and I know that guy over there has a hamhock, I'm gonna try to hook us all up with a good meal. Men aren't as likely to do that."

The three other panelists- Dr. Simmons, Mr. Hinojosa, and Mr. Patterson, all took the position I ended up with shortly after graduating college- gender is a social construct of society, the load of expectations of what men and women traditionally are like and do. Mr. Hinojosa in particular mentioned a friend of his who is a transgender man who's recently started dressing in drag, which is the sort of thing that makes your head hurt. And the general conclusion was that authenticity is much more important than gender.

Which was my conclusion shortly after college...and the more I get away from that environment, the more I feel the disservice of the John Eldridge books. (yes, I know the John Eldridge books are just one example of this). But this process of defining "what masculinity/femininity is" or "what being a man/woman means" just seems deeply hurtful at its core. Especially when it's conducted by conservative Evangelicals (who seem to be the ones most interested in such definitions). I can't start to explain how many times as a teenager, and a college student I collided with some pre-fabricated idea of what femininity was. Femininity involved nurturing, having children, bringing life and encouragement to situations....that femininity was gentle, demure, submissive. Proverbs 31, 1 Peter 3 etc. were used to model templates of what being a "Godly woman" looked like....and that template was never anything I could possibly become, without losing my soul. I tried to take the thoughts on femininity and womanhood and carry them into a different environment (one that allowed women ambitions beyond marriage and motherhood, and permitted them to be leaders,thinkers, activists) but that ultimately got to be too much work. So at some point, I made the decision to treat gender like it was something society had invented and just to be authentic. I chose to believe that striving to be a thoughtful, excellent, Godly, authentic individual was more important than trying to make sense out of Captivating, or any similar garbage.

Oddly enough...the mentality that society constructs gender, and we are in reality free to be who we are allows men and women to move through society simply being themselves. Ironically, this creates a more accurate picture of what men and women, as individuals and groups are like.

(I do have more [but shorter!] thoughts on something else brought up in the discussion that I'll save for a later date)

My bishop isn't crazy:reflections on Canterbury and Rome

2009-10-26T09:21:00.000-07:00

Given my response to a certain event last week (that I've been referring to as the "Canterbury-Rome Cataclysm") there are things I need to say...perhaps primarily to reestablish my status as a rational human being.

I have a bishop who seems to be rather concerned about healing schism. This is a good thing. However, it seems to result in my being greatly upset with him rather often. He is currently taking the stance that "This offer from Rome is a good thing, however, there are some problems that need to be addressed before we, as our particular branch of the Church are interested." Given my strong feelings on the matter, this scared me...until I realized that he more or less said the same thing to the ACNA. I was upset about that too, though less upset, and for totally different reasons (that may be worthy of their own post). We're not going anywhere, we're just talking about it. And even though that seems a little dishonest to me, I think it's right. Heck, what's the point of having a bishop in the Apostolic Succession if the Holy Spirit *isn't* helping guide him?

Per Dionysius, bishop of Alexandria, around AD 166 (And I am lifting this quotation directly from Frank Schaeffer's book Dancing Alone, so it's out of context. Though it's worth saying that Dancing Alone did really horrible things to my perceptions of both Orthodox Christians and all of the Schaeffers.):

"You ought to have been ready to suffer anything whatever rather than split the Church of God, and martyrdom to avoid schism would have brought you as much honor as martyrdom to escape idolatry- I should say more. For in the latter case a man is martyred to save his own single soul, in the former to save the whole Church."

Or to grab a favorite hymn of mine:
O thou, who at thy Eucharist didst pray
that all thy Church might be for ever one,
grant us at every Eucharist to say
with longing heart and soul, "thy will be done."
O may we all one Bread, one Body be,
through this blest Sacrament of unity.

For all thy Church, O Lord, we intercede;
make thou our sad divisions soon to cease;
draw us the nearer each to each, we plead,
by drawing all to thee, O Prince of Peace;
thus may we all one Bread, one Body be,
through this blest Sacrament of unity.

We pray thee too for wanderers from thy fold;
O bring them back, good Shepherd of the sheep,
back to the faith which saints believed of old,
back to the Church which still that faith doth keep;
soon may we all one Bread, one Body be,
through this blest Sacrament of unity.

So, Lord, at length when sacraments shall cease,
may we be one with all thy Church above,
one with thy saints in one unbroken peace,
one with thy saints in one unbounded love;
more blessèd still, in peace and love to be
one with the Trinity in Unity.

Overkill, maybe. My point is that this conversation, about two branches of the Catholic Church about reuniting is good, fitting, important, and perhaps unavoidable because of the faith we both hold to. It may very well be impossible to do more than talk though. Rome wants unity on their own terms-demanding that we accept the pope as Christ's Vicar here on Earth, that we accept the Marian doctrines as necessary to salvation. Oh, and by the way, all our clergy need to be re-ordained, because according to Rome, they're not ordained to begin with.

If we were trying to prevent Schism, that amount of work might be worthwhile. However, what we're dealing with is a schism that's already happened, and accepting the current offer means yet another ripping apart of the Church of England. I don't think it's worth it. If this were pre-Reformation, I might consent to submit to the pope and to accept the Marian dogma as good and necessary, seeing this as my duty to the Church. But it's not!! And the Reformation in many ways happened *because* of Rome's power-hungry political posturing. I am not about to say that they were right and fragment my (also Catholic) branch of the Church even more. Nothing about that heals schism. I will continue to pray for healing and unity, but given offers like this one, I'm not expecting us to be united on this side of heaven. But because of who we are, because of those prayers on all sides, the discussion still needs to be held.

Half the Sky: turning oppression into opportunity for women worldwide

2009-10-23T17:37:00.000-07:00

The following is a review requested by a priest and written for a church newsletter....I have a lot more thoughts, which will be addressed in future posts, but this ought to be a decent introduction, at least.
***********
“[S]ex trafficking and mass rape should no more be seen as women’s issues than slavery was a black issue or the Holocaust was a Jewish issue. These are all humanitarian concerns, transcending any one race, gender, or creed.” This assertion is the driving force behind Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn’s latest book, Half the Sky: turning oppression into opportunity for women worldwide.

While most couples start their marriages discussing what color to paint the living room or how to divide chores, Mr. Kristof and Ms. WuDunn moved to China as New York Times correspondents. They witnessed the Tiananmen Square massacre and were horrified. That initial shock was soon dwarfed by the discovery that each year 39,000 infant girls die in China because parents do not consider them worthy of the same medical attention infant boys receive. They began investigating the problem and discovered that at least two million girls worldwide disappear because of gender discrimination. Based on birth rates, it is estimated that there should be between 60 million and 101 million more women present in the world. Kristof and WuDunn claim that this unnoticed “gendercide” is the great moral issue of our century-comparable to slavery and totalitarianism in previous generations.

The authors have logged many hours both in the library and in on ground interviews, and the result is a thoroughly documented account of the state of women’s lives in Asia, the Middle East, and Africa. It’s a difficult book to read, as they address human trafficking, infanticide, neglect of maternal health, and the use of rape as a war tactic. However, the darkness is penetrated by inspiring accounts of the transformation of devastated women into leaders for their communities and providers for their families. Half the Sky is filled with the promise that large scale change is possible and the hope that it will begin to occur soon. Mr. Kristof and Ms. WuDunn provide an honest assessment of what aid groups are presently doing and how it can be improved. They also provide a lengthy list of organizations and projects where readers can connect. Half the Sky is both a call to action, and a tool to achieve change. As children of Christ who are called to “shine as lights in the in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation,” (Phil 2:15) this is a book we should take seriously.

Rome, Rome, go away

2009-10-21T10:36:00.001-07:00

I don't have time for this. But to quickly chronicle my response to yesterday's incredibly disturbing news: I am a continuing Anglican- this means I am Protestant and Catholic at the same time, and I believe this is where the fullness of the Christian faith is held. I cannot submit to the bishop of Rome because I do not believe his authority was divinely given, or even justly attained.

It took me two years, after realizing that I was Anglican in thought and worship, to change my church affiliation. This was because I knew that in embracing the Church of England, I would be stepping into a vehement fight over interpretations of scripture and the role of women and gays. It looked ugly from the outside, and I didn't want any part of it. Yet it hurt, because the Church of England was really my church, and my attempt to avoid pain and confusion was only successful in denying myself a place of refuge. The Church of England is a unique entity, and in order to be here, I had to accept that those who hold different views than I do share my heritage and have just as much right as I do to be called Anglican. I have two dear priest friends- one in ECUSA, one in APA, one who used to work for Planned Parenthood and one who has been arrested in abortion protests. Because of how their faith approaches sacraments, mystery and history, they are far more like each other than they are any minister outside of England. We are united, we are a family, and as such we disagree bitterly-it is our right.

Rome stepped in and just suggested part of the family leave. I think it's fair to compare Rome's current offer to a priest encouraging a couple to divorce over "irreconcilable differences." Sorry- you're not a part of this, and you're doing more harm than good. You are offering to amputate limbs of a body in the name of "solidarity."

I am shaking in fear, because I know enough of the current landscape to picture some pretty hideous things happening. The continuing Anglicans + Anglo Catholics are a small minority, outshouted by the chaos that is the ACNA. Some of the most rapidly growing branches of the ACNA are just Protestant Evangelicals with sprinkles on top. I anticipate that gradually, the money and security offered by Rome will begin to appeal to what is the solid backbone of Anglicanism in this country, and the Continuing Anglican/Anglo-Catholic movement will eventually choose to take refuge there, rather than continue to be pushed about by the uber-Protestants. The uber-Protestants will then rejoice, being free to abandon even more Anglican structure and discipline because there are no longer any dissenting voices within earshot. People like myself will be forced to choose between the mishmash of heaven only knows what and ECUSA.

In that case, ontology dictates that I choose ECUSA. Because I believe in fasts and feasts, because I value seven sacramental rites, because I treasure the disciplines of my faith and I cannot align myself with Rome. This has been one of my worst fears for quite a while now, but I had hoped it was paranoia.

"Adopt a Liberal"

2009-10-07T18:43:00.000-07:00

Ironically enough, I caught this on NPR en route to church last week. I screamed, and decided I wanted to start an "Adopt a Conservative" organization.

Barry Lynn's quotes helped bring things back in perspective:
"As a Christian minister myself, I'm always happy to accept the prayers of other people, particularly when they're not calling for my death and dismemberment."

"One of the great things about the principle of separation of church and state is that people can pray for people whether they like it or not."

This is how I, as an Anglican, pray for my elected officials:

"O Lord our Governor, whose glory is in all the world; We commend this nation to thy merciful care that being guided by thy Providence, we may dwell secure in thy peace. Grant to The President of the United States and to all in authority, wisdom and strength to know and to do thy will. Fill them with the love of truth and righteousness; and make them ever mindful of their calling to serve this people in thy fear; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end"
(and P.S., Dear God, please tell all of them that healthcare reform is really important, and it's criminal that people in this country go bankrupt over medical bills and are regularly denied insurance for preexisting conditions. Amen)

Minimal soapboxing. Not asking God to bully them, not asking their deep rooted convictions and ideology to change. Just "Hey God, go have a talk with the folks in my government."

Because I'm pretty sure God knows more about what should be done than I do.
(Though I do need to find time to write my senators a note about healthcare)

And no, God doesn't agree with liberals about everything either. But for the most part....the Democrats don't have an organized base declaring you're going to hell for disagreeing with us.

for students

2009-10-02T09:44:00.000-07:00

I'm that woman, the one in sensible flats with a purple ink pen grading papers. I'm pretty sure every science department has at least one....somewhere along the way we've realized that purple is much less hostile than red, and if you leave lots of comments, it makes them easier to read. We also try to avoid large x-marks and emphasize the answers you got right.

I want to gouge my eyes out when you answer "true" to a multiple choice question and I may occasionally fling my pen across the room because you didn't even try to answer a question. If you use words like "malignant neoplasm" I cringe, because while I know what you're talking about, I'm not sure you do. When I look through your essays, I'm trying to figure out what you meant and if you were even close to being on the right track, while I insert commas and omitted letters. Sometimes I leave you sympathetic smiley faces when you slip up, and I do my best to point out your creative ideas as well as snark about your grammar.

Your papers drive me crazy because I'm on your side and I care so darn much that you get this. I'm hard on you because your learning is much more important than your grades to me. Eventually, I hope you feel the same way, because if not, you're going to have a miserable life. It's not about the numbers, in my grade book or on your paycheck. So we're going to talk about those things that you didn't understand, regardless of whether you'll be tested on them again or not. You're building a foundation, and the fact that you're in my class means that you at least claim to have some interest in pursuing the good of society at large. Get over the grade thing.

And seriously, if I have to fail you, I'm going to be just as upset as you are.

Pearls

2009-09-20T08:42:00.000-07:00

I wore pearls for my grandmother's funeral. Not the strand she'd given me, it wasn't the right length for my shirt. But I wore pearls nonetheless, and pearl studs in my ears. I will always associate pearls with my grandmother...perhaps partly because of her June birthday, but always because of her classic, polished beauty.

Before my grandfather died almost a year ago, he requested that Galatians 5:22-23 be read at his funeral: "But the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law."

My uncle, likely at my grandmother's request, asked me to choose the scripture reading for hers.
My selection was Proverbs 31:25-31:
"Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her. "Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all." Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Give her of the fruits of her hands and let her works praise her in the gates."

There is no better description of my grandmother's quiet strength or the great love between her and my grandfather. I have so much peace knowing that they are together, their minds and bodies whole.

From the moment I had my own apartment, my grandmother's presence was there...in a tablecloth, a cup and saucer in a retired china pattern that I dearly love, in an assortment of things purchased abroad and brought back for grandchildren. After her death she has invaded my space even more strongly....with a lavender cardigan, a carved strand of amethyst beads, an assortment of gloves, a suit to be altered.

When I look in the mirror now , I see much more of the steely determination underlying her quiet grace than I used to. I'm grateful for that. At the end of the day....I am the granddaughter of Claude and Sammie Davidson and Max and Marie Vanderford. Wide open spaces, a love for growing things and the ability to do the impossible are in my blood, just as much as my red hair and ugly feet.

Trinity-tide

2009-09-05T08:12:00.000-07:00

I'm looking forward to Advent so much right now. It's partly because Trinity-tide/Ordinary Time drags on soooo long. And while the tone everywhere drops during this season, the two Anglican churches in town have gone much more low/casual than I am used to or comfortable with. It would be almost enough to make me reconsider my ECUSA issues, except ECUSA has gotten so low church in general, I don't think it would make a difference. And I love Advent (and Lent) -the seasons of waiting and preparation resonate with me so much more, perhaps because of their quiet, austere, contemplative nature.But mainly, Trinity-tide is hard because it's the season most closely connected to the life and growth of the Church.

The Church is a petty group of First Baptisters in a Bible-belt town who drained the life out of my father and my family before throwing us on the dunghill. It is also the pastors and friends in that small town who offered loving silence and prayed peace and grace for us during that season.

The Church is every fight I got into in college with the religious establishment- about the role of women, air pollution, the value of public education, and (my favorite) "scientists are not stupid for believing in evolution." The Church is also many of the faculty at that college who encouraged me to love truth and pursue excellence, even when it's difficult.

The Church is the congregation who sent a friend of mine a bewildering letter, informing him of their intent to "release him to Satan" "in accordance with scriptures x, y, z" (yanked completely out of context). The Church is also the way I've found myself faithfully leaping to answer his phone calls at 3AM for the past year and a half.

And that's the difficulty....as we're asked both to be and to love the Bride of Christ.

per Luther- "The Church is a whore, but she is the Bride of Christ and your mother and you have no leave to abandon her."

Another church father whose name escapes me at the moment- "There is no one who has God as his Father who does not have the Church as his Mother."

Do I still believe that the Church can be redeemed? If I still believe God is omnipotent, I must. But between Binny Hinn's faith healing abuses, the "Prosperity Gospel" philosophy that has swept through the Church in the U.S., and the ridiculous amount of money being made off of a bizarre variety of Christian products (e.g. The Richest Christian Game, the Left Behind books, the "God's Little Princess" gear, the "oh, look, the world is ending and here's how we know" books, and a smorgasbord of cds by bands modeled after better secular bands) it's going to take an awful lot of work.

God is remarkably reluctant to send down fire from heaven to fix things. He more often partners in work with His children. I'm sure I benefit from this as much as anybody, but when it comes to the Church it's exceptionally frustrating. I don't want the work of working for the Redemption of the Church. Frankly, having been battered by the Church more than most, I feel like I should get a free pass here. Ideally, I could just come back in a few millenia after everything's been repaired.

It is impossible to love Christ and despise the Church. We are called to love her passionately, to not be content with mediocrity and to spare no effort in rebuilding her into what she should be:
"in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish (Eph 5:27, ESV)."

Right now, just showing up on Sunday morning and writing a tithe check is all I can manage. But it's a good faith effort, and I think God gets that.

back to school

2009-08-27T11:00:00.000-07:00

I've read or heard so many people's reflections on going back to school lately....so sheep-like, I'm writing my own.

It's only been about six weeks that I've been out of class, and a significant portion of that time was spent doing groundwork for an independent study project. So it's far easier to see the descent of students as an intrusion than any sort of new beginning. Road construction in Columbia has made running errands an obstacle course. The roads weren't in bad shape to begin with, people in Maine would have been *thrilled* with them. But now I find myself dodging rippled pavement, heavy machinery and orange cones nearly every where I go. The textbook buying/bill paying/random office visiting routine is a little old after nearly six years of post-secondary education. Parking on campus is beyond abysmal and dictates my daily schedule. And either all the stress of the past eight months has taken up residence in my abdomen or I've picked up a rather pesky stomach bug somewhere. There's upsides....all that road construction means jobs for someone, several of these books will be great references, and pepto-bismol capsules are lifesavers.

I'm a fan of most of the faculty and staff in the School of Public Health. However, it's a behemoth of an institution, and trying to maneuver through it is like swimming upstream through mud. I unreservedly love the students in my department though. And it's been good to come back and reconnect- to gush about travels, independent studies, research projects. There's nothing like talking health ed, nutrition, HIV rates, health disparities with people who care as much, if not more than I do. It's amazing how much more room to breathe I have here than at a certain small liberal arts Evangelical college.

Ink pens and packs of writing paper don't excite me nearly as much as they used to. There's so much more promise in that hint of coolness first thing in the morning . . .It seems life has adjusted to where my year begins in Advent, not August now. Ultimately, I think this will be a better rhythm, but it feels strange at the moment.

"This is what a feminist looks like"

2009-08-19T16:11:00.000-07:00

My father recently joined facebook. I'm not sure what my parents' goal was in child raising-if they hoped to send another right-wing evangelical off to spread the gospel/fight the culture wars/ raise like-minded children, they failed miserably. If they were hoping to raise a gutsy compassionate young woman who thinks for herself and has a fierce loyalty to Christ and the Church, they hit a home run. Given this dichotomy, I had to family-proof my facebook profile. A couple photo albums were marked off limits, the link to this blog hidden, and I left two facebook groups:"I'm sorry, Jesus probably wasn't white...or Republican" and "This is what a feminist looks like."

This wasn't easy-"Feminist" is a label I've sported proudly since high school. Somewhere, I may still have a button or t-shirt with the above statement...or perhaps, the more direct "Feminism is the radical notion that women are people."

And as I'm leaving facebook groups, the NYT is stepping up publicity for Nick Kristoff and Sheryl WuDunn's upcoming book "Half the Sky." (I have this pre-ordered on Amazon, and am literally breathless with anticipation. September can't get here fast enough)

"Feminism" at the end of the day is the believe that women have meaning and purpose outside of men. It is the contradiction to Freud's belief that anatomy is destiny. That in legal matters, a woman's testimony should be equal to that of a man, that women have the right to own property, that they deserve the same quality medical care as men. Women are not accessories or servants, and are unique and individual, not to be traded in for the newest model. Feminism is NOT about male-bashing, hyperindividualism, or removing all restrictions from abortion. And "Feminist" is *not* a derogatory term, and I'm sick of hearing it used as such.

And every time I hear one of my Conservative Christian friends talk about "submitting" to her father/fiance' ...a shiver runs down my spine. I think this mentality of "all responsibility resides with the man and ultimately, I will only be held accountable for how well I obeyed" is downright dangerous. If gender confers absolute authority....we are left with no defense against polygamy or the bride burnings of India. If women surrender the ability to think for themselves and be held accountable for their *own* decisions, they have also surrendered their integrity, their ability to be righteous, fair, merciful human beings. That's a high price for being "obedient."

Ironically enough....the Blessed Virgin Mother is often considered the "ideal" of "biblical femininity." However, Mary's submission was not to mortal men. I'm sure an unwed pregnancy was the *last* thing her father wanted for his daughter. It required divine intervention to interrupt Joseph's plans for a quiet divorce. The Mother of God defied the male authority figures in her life in order to submit to God Himself- and this defiance is *why* she is venerated by the Church.

Because I wished to live deliberately

2009-08-02T18:33:00.000-07:00

On occasion, I wonder why I blog or write at all, when everything I could possibly wish to say has already been said. After reading Nicholas Kristof's column, today is one of those occasions. One of my college professors was quite fond of saying that our entertainment functions as both a mirror and map of our culture- reflecting what we are, and showing where we will go. I think it would border on insulting to call the writings of a Pulitzer prize winning journalist entertainment, but Kristof is certainly both my map and mirror. Because of the depth and breadth of his concerns about the environment, human rights around the world, women's issues and education he often pushes me beyond the things I've considered, into a more committed, more compassionate view of the world. At other times, like today,when I've freshly returned from two weeks spent mainly wandering the woods in Belize, he reflects my own ponderings and concerns.

The greatest gift my parents gave me-one of relatively few gifts I have no mixed feelings about-was the outdoors. As an infant and toddler I was carried along on trails from Maryland all the way up to Maine. One of my favorite memories is the week we spent camping at Bandelier National Monumen t (my brother was about 6 months old at the time). Even in Arequipa, we found ways to manage- the dirt road behind our house led to the Chile River, and there were nights of pitching a tent in the backyard...and of course, MK camp at Shiran. My mom's parents had a farm just outside of Santa Fe- complete with horses, sheep, goats, guinea hens, doves, finches, pheasants, and a pair of Shelties. When my great-grandmother's health began deteriorating, they moved back to my grandmother's parents' farm- the Pea Patch, not too far from Denver. My grandfather is 80 and in the early stages of Alzheimer's, but with the help of the grandsons he still maintains an impressive vegetable garden. And this is why the only requirements for my dream home are a vegetable garden, a compost pile and a clothesline.

In college I kept my hiking boots and an extra pair of socks in my pickup truck at all times. Especially my senior year, I was so frequently at the point of exhaustion that an exceptionally tough microbiology quiz was enough to send me scrambling for my textbook and keys and dashing to the nearby wilderness area. My favorite weekends in Maryland were the chilly hikes around Jerusalem Mills village...usually followed by making a pot of soup.To borrow a line from my journal: "I go to the woods to know that I exist."

Or, as Henry David Thoreau put it:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion. For most men, it appears to me, are in a strange uncertainty about it, whether it is of the devil or of God, and have somewhat hastily concluded that it is the chief end of man here to "glorify God and enjoy him forever."-Walden Pond

God himself has refused to answer me at times. But the trees and rocks and streams are constant -beautiful, familiar yet austere, liberating and cleansing. Nature has never failed me, and this is likely why I believe so strongly that it should be protected.

homecoming

2009-07-30T19:28:00.000-07:00

I've been back in the lovely, green, humid, southeastern US for almost 48 hours at this point. (Belize is also lovely, green and humid, but that's beside the point).
Pictures have been more or less sorted through and posted on Facebook.
I've seen a few photos and a video of the beautiful daughter of a friend who was born while I was out of the country.
Have caught up with Nick Kristof's column....lots of writing about women's issues in Pakistan the past few weeks. He is my hero and inspiration as always.
There is food in my kitchen now, and clothes have been washed, and bills paid. And I've re-entered the world of phone calls in the wee hours of the morning.
I can't talk coherently about Belize yet. There are a total of 27 pages scrawled in my journal from that time...which isn't excessive, but does indicate that a great deal of observation and thinking happened.

Some very exciting ideas for where to take this independent study project....but all dependent on someone having actually done the research I'm interested in at this point. Time to start literature searches...this is when a PhD would be nice. Just the ability to say "It is important to know this for this reason and I'm going to do my best to convince other people of its importance so we can have time and money to actually find out." Maybe more on this later....I'll just say that my adviser, who is a health studies PhD and faculty affiliate for the women's studies program here, will absolutely love where I'm going with this.

Having just spent two paragraphs rambling aimlessly about being back in the US, and not saying anything traveling-related, I'm going to take the liberty of transcribing a couple bits from the India pages of my journal. Perhaps more for my own sake for later contemplation and connections... At some point, I will return to coherence and decent writing.

*************************
The earth lifts her dry throat to heaven-
She screams for mercy;
Creation groans in expectation
frustrated by Adam's race.
We who bow to stone and wood,
coins and kingdoms.

We who look to skies
darkened by our blindness.
Helpless, unable to open eyes
too weak for truth.
A whisper, a footstep
faintly hear the Savior's sigh.

Saliva, mixing, making mud
over the darkness we claim light.
vision given by the blood
treasure pillaged, lives destroyed
by the violent healing of redemption's flood.

*********************
The land waits in darkness
colors faded, shadows reign.
Chaos. Smog. Noise. Dirt.
Voices crying for what they know not.

The light of the world, in whom there is no darkness.
True light from true light
Begotten, not made.

Sent into the world, He sent
the smaller lights.
Cities on a hill.
Islands in a black sea.
And the light spreads.

Silence rises in the cacophany of a shattered world.
Peace, be still.
Let your light shine.
It will spread.

Calling forth the sunrise, the stars, the rainbow, the singing.
A new day begins.
But we must weep before it dawns.

Stewardship?

2009-07-04T07:13:00.000-07:00

Possibly the most infuriating thing about my time at [small liberal arts Christian college] was the flippancy towards the natural world we lived in. There were lectures in which I was told "the world was built for catastrophe and God's not going to let us destroy it", and my personal favorite was the chapel service in which Relatively Well Known Theologian claimed that people concerned about the environment were "Foolish, Faithless, and Fearful" because "Air pollution is actually a picture of the Resurrection. Living organisms died and became fossil fuels, which we burn and release carbon dioxide into the atmosphere which encourages the growth of plants. It's life coming from death"

That's a statement I cannot repeat without literally shaking in rage. I live in a state where it's unsafe to eat fish from many of our rivers and streams because of mercury deposits from coal plants. That doesn't sound like Resurrection, Redemption, or any other variation on that theme to me.

I don't understand the hostility towards environmentalists that's so pervasive in the Christian subculture. Is this tied to Texas oil? That's quite a leap of logic....but there are lots of conservative evangelicals in Texas, and lots of oil.

And in all honesty, the conservative evangelicals mocking environmentalists are only one piece of the problem. It's the part of the problem that makes me most angry, because of Genesis 1. God created the world, said that it was good, and handed it over to man to rule...as children of God, shouldn't our desire be for the world to continue to be good? Romans 8, especially verses 20- 22 comes to mind also (For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.). I'm tired of Christians who tell me "the world was built for catastrophe, God is sovereign and will not let us destroy it." Well, that may be so, but God has let us conduct countless wars and genocides, develop the atom bomb, exploit child laborers....He may not allow us to exterminate all of creation, but I'd rather not try to find the limits of His permission.

We've become so dependent on oil- a nonrenewable resource that is quickly running out (the current estimate is about another 40 years), and coal, which is procured by tearing apart our mountains, never mind the damage to our lungs, plants, fish caused by burning it. Oil and its byproducts runoff into our streams, disrupting wildlife... careless use of hormonal birth control has produced hermaphroditic fish, and there's so much more.

And while the open antagonism of a handful of people irritates me, the real problem is the apathy of the majority. There aren't many ways to disrupt apathy. Human beings aren't moved by rational, logical explanations of threats. Nicholas Kristof has written two recent columns on why people do not respond to environmental threats and why they fail to react to humanitarian concern s. He's remarkably insightful as always. I think what it comes down to is that we know the Fall through our emotions and we understand Evil because of how we react to its presence. Our logical minds are of little help here. While a story about a single child starving, or one snapshot of a bird smothered in oil just seems emotionally manipulative and contrived to me, we are wired to care about specifics.

I don't want to emotionally manipulate people, but I do want to make them aware of realities around the world. The line between the two is a lot less distinct than I wish it were. Unfortunately, there is no 12-step guide to breaking people out of their comfort zone.

tattoos

2009-06-16T10:41:00.000-07:00

well, the obvious thing to follow a post on self-harm is a post on tattoos - the process of voluntarily submitting yourself to pain at the hands of another, for a personalized scar. I'm not sure that it's a universal correlation but it's worth observing that each of the women I know who has a history of self-harm also has a tattoo (or more, in a couple cases).

Opinions in the Christian community about tattoos are strongly divided- remarkable, given the facial tattoos of the Coptic Christians once upon a time. Heck, even outside the Christian community...a dear friend's father-in-law spent much of her wedding weekend lamenting loudly that we have "defaced" ourselves, and wondering why on earth a beautiful young woman would do such a thing. "It's like someone spray painting a sign on the Grand Canyon."

There's the loudly expressed views that "it hurts your testimony." "You're just being like everyone else in the world, and one day you're going to realize it's not cool, and you're stuck with that thing." "If God had wanted us to have tattoos He would have put them on us personally." "Your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit."

These are some pretty serious accusations to level against something only skin deep- that an individual has usurped the authority and power of God, asserting that he, rather than Christ, rules his body. Personally, I believe that most of the people making those accusations are splitting hairs- between my tattoo and their pierced ears, or hair dye, or stuffing their bodies with junkfood, or a refusal to exercise.

Tattoos are as individual as the people who have them. My own bit of artwork is rather important to me.

That stencil is the result of a variety of things that had floated through my head for four years. I can't tell you why I wanted a tattoo at 17- perhaps because at that point, none of my friends had or had considered tattoos, perhaps because they were taboo in the subculture in which I grew up, perhaps because I believed in having tangible symbols of the things that are important to you. I can tell you that at 22 when I finally got the tattoo, much of that thinking had become irrelevant, although the design had changed little.

I'd walked away from my faith briefly....only to turn around and put a white-knuckled grip on it. Because the thought of a universe not created and directed by Love was absolutely intolerable (yes. Madeleine L'Engle has probably impacted my decision to remain a Christian more than anyone else) I'd discovered my tendency to be overwhelmed by despair, and I chose a permanent reminder of hope that would be impossible for me to escape.

It was a dark day-because of lack of sleep, stress, disillusionment. But still important. Yes, it hurt (note my grip on the arm of that chair). However, pain has the ability to bring healing as well as destruction (and, practically- after 15 minutes or so of the vibration from highspeed injections, the endorphins kick in, you go into a zen state, and don't really sense pain for the next hour or so)

It is a powerful thing to say "I'm all in- no reservations, no way out." To take a mark that cannot be erased, that becomes a part of yourself isn't an easy thing or something that should be taken lightly. That tattoo is an expression of confidence that pain can bring beauty. It is a reminder that "The desert and the parched land will be glad; the wilderness will rejoice and blossom." (Isaiah 35). It is no accident that slightly over a year after this tattoo, I was confirmed in the Anglican Province of America.

When I'm putting sunscreen on my left shoulder, my fingertips run over a series of thin, pale scars I've given myself-the result of a broken heart, a broken world,despair, loneliness. However, they simultaneously brush against the wings of a butterfly placed there by someone else- a symbol of metamorphosis, completion, healing, grace.

Spray paint on the Grand Canyon? Perhaps. But at least this way, the Grand Canyon is forced to remember it's more than a desert ravine.

summertime

2009-05-06T19:38:00.000-07:00

A sundress, a tank top....throwing sunscreen on my shoulders before I run out the door...that's when I see the scars. The thin raised lines left by a razorblade or exacto knife, they're mostly on my left shoulder. Sometimes, on waking, I mistake one of the lines on my forearm for a crease left by a folded sheet. The sudden shock that it's a permanent mark I've given myself makes my stomach turn, no matter how many times it happens.

Is it possible to explain? The remnants of some of the very worst days are etched on my body. I'm not sure which bit of the latticework belongs to the day S. died...even though I didn't know at the time, it's there, written in my skin.

It's funny. The handful of people who happen onto this bit of knowledge shudder in horror and quote Bible verses. Or shrug, depending on where they've come from. It's an almost commonplace reality for some of of my generation. What drives this? The answers aren't the same for everyone. Perhaps because of a lack of appropriate outlets to express pain...perhaps that physical pain is an endurable transmutation of emotional anguish. A fascination with pain, wounds, broken things...it can be about control, or just numbness and the need for a reminder that there is blood, that one actually is alive,a disconnection between one's self and one's body. On top of whatever else- the sight of blood provides an endorphin rush that reinforces behavior. The reasons for the scars are as diverse as the people who carry them...and the stories and explanations are bumbling and awkward, because if words had been enough, blades wouldn't have been necessary.

In contrast, there are no bounds to the creativity and articulation for cover stories- the attack of the spiral notebook,the boyfriend's cat,an unfortunate incident with car keys, tripping and falling in a gravel driveway. It's somehow strange that we daily live surrounded by so many objects with the potential for ripping through our skin. It's somehow amazing that people only see what they want to see and are capable of understanding...and deliberate self-destruction is not part of the world of the majority.

And yet for this minority...it is a very real part of life. Contrary to popular belief- we're not just angsty teenagers, much as the behavior has been glamorized by the "goth" crowd. It's yet another thing I have in common with an especially dear friend-sister - yes, in addition to being bright,capable, diligent graduate students in education-related fields. For us - and I can only speak for us, because this is so individual- this isn't a "battle" "struggle" or whatever Christianese term you want to throw into the ring. It's a reality, at times frightening, closer than we realize and further away than we fear. It's the more extreme version of a stiff drink (or two or three) when the world is insane.

Our eyes are open to the scars of others, and we know when you've seen our wounds, open or healed, even if you don't notice. We keep them well hidden, most of the time. If you know...well, either we're drilling ourselves on the importance of honesty and openness, or we trust you. And your reaction is important.

There was the time when she was in high school. One of her friends had fallen madly for a young woman who avoided her emotions, taking refuge in humor and achievement. My friend-sister was conversing with him about the situation, and explained "It's like how I deal with my emotions. Only her way is better." He looked at my friend and said "No. Your way [cutting] is better." Within a few hours she was on the phone with me, expressing righteous anger and betrayal.

A few years later....I was running late for a church thing, and threw on a shirt with sleeves slightly shorter than I'd realized. En route a family member asked what happened, and my immediate response was that I had gotten attacked by a twig when mowing the lawn around a tree in the back yard (the tree was of a height that this was feasible, and I am rather clumsy,and quite often attacked by inanimate objects so no further questions were asked). A bit later that night, my then-boyfriend asked about the scratch...then said "oh, yeah, I heard you say what happened, never mind." At the time, I was either considering or planning to marry this guy, so for the sake of transparency, I gave him the true story. Followed by a bumbling expression of regret, to the effect of "I don't get this, and I know it's not the best way to respond and..." Well, the look of shock and disgust on his face wasn't exactly what I'd hoped for. And the "Do you hear me judging you? I'm not saying anything" response was nothing short of moronic.

Is there a point to this post? I'm not sure there is a point, beyond pointing out that self-harm is a real, complex issue, not easily solved or explained. Some things don't go away regardless of how much we want them to. When you notice the fairly fresh patterned etchings on the wrists of your waitress, be kind and tip well. And if you're noticing/wondering about scratches or scars on a friend....she's probably already freaked out over the possibility that you may have seen them and what to tell you-give her an opportunity to not have to lie.

Epiphany

2009-05-03T10:08:00.001-07:00

I'm the girl in with dangley earrings and a tattoo in the back pew. The one who looks like a pretty heathen unless you happen look long enough to notice that she knows when to genuflect,she thumbs through the Book of Common Prayer with ease, her favorite hymns are translations of the writings of Thomas Aquinas and she has to restrain herself from running up to the altar at Communion. In many ways,I and those like me are the new face of the Anglican/Roman Catholic/Orthodox triune. Serious, thoughtful,devout....who may not agree with every jot and tittle of church tradition but who love it, who have experienced traditional Protestantism and are painfully aware of its failings. Mother Kirk is accustomed to Cradle Catholics and is uncertain of how to embrace us seeker mystics. This hesitancy and confusion is what currently has me bouncing between two Anglican churches in town with very different strengths and weaknesses.

The church I was at this morning is a lovely Anglo-Catholic "procathedral". The building is stunning, simple with clean lines and a marble altar, reminding me vaguely of St. Thomas's Basilica in Chennai. The rector and his sermons frustrate me to no end. When people ask about this, usually accompanied with "what did he preach on?" I usually have no idea how to answer, and that's much of the frustration.
Today I sat listening attentively, trying to figure it out.

Psalm 113 was the psalm appointed for today, the other readings were from I Samuel 2,(beginning with verse 1), I Peter 2 (beginning with verse 11) and John 16, (beginning with verse 16).

The priest began his sermon with some commentary on the third Sunday after Easter traditionally being "the invention of the Cross", now referred to as "the finding of the Cross." He progressed to a short discussion on the joy of birth, the gift of life,and the evils of abortion, specifically sex-selective abortion. He talked about his recent pilgrimage to Walsingham and the awe of worshiping in a place where people have worshiped for a few hundred years ("as opposed to the twenty or so years we've worshiped here"-I really thought this church was closer to 40 years old, but I'm a random visitor)and the remarkable fact that the pews are "varnished with tears". This progressed to a discussion of the Holy Land in Israel and Satan's special venom against the places Christians have celebrated the mass for 2,000 years. He then rattled off the upcoming feasts of the week- the feast of the birth of St. Monica, the feast of the birth of St. Augustine of Hippo, the feast of the conversion of St.Augustine. He commended the prayers of St. Monica, lamented St. Augustine's involvement in Gnosticism, commented on Gnosticism's continued presence today in the New Age Movement and lamented the attacks St. Augustine and St. Paul made against the church. The rector continued- celebrating the conversions of St. Austine and St. Paul and their later work on behalf of the Church, which more than compensated for their attacks against Her. This led to some self-reflection-he admitted to being the sort of person who believed that if you give people enough books, scripture and reasons to believe they will ultimately convert (apparently other priests have confronted him about this). There was some talk of the reluctant conversion of C.S.Lewis, and then the statement "I think St. Augustine would say we're making this too complicated. The point is that Jesus meets you wherever you are." Somewhere in here he said "It's like reading a book that you've never heard of and loving it and thinking 'why didn't someone tell me about this?' But the truth is, someone mentioned the book,play, musical ten, twenty years ago and that stayed with you even though you didn't realize it, and led you to pick it up and find that this book, play, musical is a little piece of heaven". I'm really not sure what the "It" at the start of the sentence was, I'm sure it's something important. He wrapped up by telling the congregation that if they knew people who were looking for something it was to be found in Mother Church...that, at least in the Catholic churches, there was a banquet waiting, and he didn't understand why people would subsist on stale cornflakes when they had the option of pot roast, filet mignon, cabernet sauvingon and oysters on the half shell."We are Evangelical in the pulpit and Catholic at the altar, and therein is the fullness of the Christian faith. And if we want to continue to worship here for fifty or a hundred years....."

I didn't hear the last few words of the sermon. In that last phrase the priest had given himself away, and I understood the pomp and circumstance, the rants, the meandering sermons for what they were - signs of desperation and despair. Suddenly I saw the congregation through his eyes- a few dozen people scattered about a sanctuary that can seat a hundred and fifty, most of them grey-haired and arthritic. The contributions of one elderly widow sustain the church financially. He's a man of principle- committed to opposing abortion and homosexuality, to Catholic thought and worship, a crusader against immorality, irreverence. Right now, he feels betrayed and abandoned. He approaches the Eucharist as a chore,not with awe and wonder. The congregation has dwindled, drifted away...in his eyes because of their lack of faith and the lure of the world. So he's left trying to rouse a bewildered battered church into a fervor of evangelism. And because of the strength of his convictions, he can't see that perhaps he is sabotaging his own efforts.

Rather than making me want to rip my hair out and beat my head against a wall as most of his sermons do, this one made me want to cry.

Veronica

2009-04-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

One of the great gifts of being Catholic is not being confused or overwhelmed when saints and Bible characters step off the pages into your life at the moments when you need them most. You are free to rejoice in the realization that you have a relationship with the Church Triumphant. Ironically, I think Martin Luther was the first person I experienced this with, and his passion for grace, love of Scripture, devotion to truth, perseverance, and reverence at the Real Presence of Christ at Communion were instrumental in leading me to the Church of England (in a similar vein- I have an Episcopalian friend who's been known to request prayer from good St.Martin on All Saint's day). Next was the Apostle Thomas, as I stood at his tomb in India, at a point in my life when I had been nearly destroyed by doubt and fear. He showed me that doubt could be restored; by grace, the man who has become a near universal symbol of doubt and unbelief had enough faith to travel to India, to pour out his life to give others the chance to believe. During the confusion and stress of preparing to start grad school, the Virgin Mother was my reminder that unexpected complications to one's life can be gifts, that one does not have to have a detailed plan in order to respond to God's request, that grace is quite often disruptive,but nonetheless good.

This year, during Holy Week, it was Veronica's turn. In some ways, she's always been there. It's a story from childhood - Jesus is on his way to Jairus's dying daughter, and out of nowhere comes a desperate woman, in faith that simply touching the hem of his garment will heal her. He feels power go out of him, and to the disciple's irritation, stops to acknowledge her. In high school I read something by Beth Moore focusing on her unclean status, and the loneliness and isolation this caused in her life, and Christ's grace in restoring her to community. Jr. Prom fell near Easter, and our group gathered at the home of a friend of mine who's mother is a remarkable woman and devout Roman Catholic. She made it a point to show us her Veronica cloth, briefly saying "she wiped his face with her veil and his image remained upon the cloth"...and my reaction was a strange mixture of confusion and pity that an intelligent educated woman could believe such a thing, especially since it wasn't scriptural.

Veronica. Pushing through the crowds, trying to get to Christ. She didn't want to intrude, she understood that there were more important matters at hand, that she wasn't supposed to be there, and yet she was desperate for something only Jesus could give. Bold, timid, unclean, she made her way unnoticed to the Messiah. She touches him, and is immediately healed. Then, to her horror, Jesus begins to look for her. Despite her hope to go unnoticed, to simply gather up some crumbs of grace, she is singled out. She's terrified, but Jesus calls her daughter. He commends her faith and sends her on her way in peace.

They meet again on the road to Golgotha. This time, she is whole, but he is broken, bleeding for her sake. Again, this time with much more boldness, she pushes through the crowd to touch the Savior. She is here to offer kindness and thanksgiving. She wipes his face with her veil, and whether or not the image remains upon the cloth, it is certain his image has remained upon her life.

He has transformed her- from a woman who had been so broken by lost hope and the harsh judgment of society that she is afraid to seek goodness and healing for herself to a woman courageous enough to push through an angry mob and offer grace and kindness to the Lord.

I hate visiting churches. I've seen their ugly side too many times, my father's a minister. I went to a Christian college, I know just how spiteful Christians often are. I'm fully aware that I'm a scientist, a graduate student, a single woman in her mid-twenties, that my political views often fall far left of the churches I attend. I don't belong, and churches are quite good at sending off a "why the heck are you here?" vibe that I pick up and take far too seriously.

Why do I bother to fight my church phobia and the expectations of the church? Because even though I don't belong there...I am desperate to meet Christ in the Eucharist. And I will do my best to slip quietly, unnoticed through the hostile crowds, to the altar where the Bread is placed in my hand.

mini-announcement

2009-04-08T11:03:00.000-07:00

It's time...to begin slowly sharing the news: I'm going to Belize in July. This isn't something I feel compelled to advertise to every random friend and acquaintance, and I doubt that it will be mentioned on Facebook (well, I'm likely to post photos after the fact).

But I am going. Cornerstone Foundation is an intrinsically interesting organization, that seems to be about the same things I am (community empowerment, respect for culture and the individual, AIDS outreach). In some ways it seems like an ideal setting for my practicum project, and I'll be exploring that as well. My adviser and I are planning an independent study based around this time...likely including a literature review on Complementary Alternative Medicine.

And then there are the things less easily explained. The appeal of the rainforest- Nathaniel Hawthorne would find this extremely interesting. That's a fascination I've had my whole life (For the past fifteen years, Madagascar has been very close to the top of the list of places I want to visit ...maybe when the political climate settles down.)

There's the need to set some time aside for just listening and growing. For me...there's something profound and enlightening about leaping headfirst into adventure in unseen places, be it Tamil Nadu, India or a molecular toxicology lab in northern Maryland. Truth crystallizes, pieces come together, paths open. Mystical, yes, but true to how the world and I interact.

Madeleine L'Engle wrote that she understood very little about the Holy Spirit- except that no work of creation or art could take place without it (I would provide a direct quote, but my copy of The Irrational Season has wandered off). I believe the same is true of healing, much as we've forgotten it in our materialistic medical and scientific culture in the western world.

And so this trip....is about openness, to the gifts of God and the universe. It's about worship, and insight, and about becoming someone. It's a step towards hope and fearlessness, an embrace of adventure and the unexpected and inexplicable.

2009-03-19T06:34:00.000-07:00

For me, one of the biggest differences between being a student of biology and a student of public health is the emotional exhaustion I now experience. Biology was a much more mentally demanding discipline- demanding memorization of countless organisms, structures, cell signalling pathways and the interactions between everything under the sun. Health Promotion, Education and Behavior places more strenuous demands on my heart than my mind. It also orders me to a careful reckoning of how my mind and heart are interacting- is my compassion for a particular situation leading me to jump to a solution, rather than deliberate over the best use of limited resources? How do I balance the urgency of life and death with the need to not be wasteful, to choose the best intervention?

This week I've been working on a short paper on the cholera outbreak in Zimbabwe, which has necessitated reading a vast quantity of UN "on the ground" reports. I sort of stumbled into this topic, having lived in Latin America during the epidemic of the 1990s. Cholera, that classic well- studied -yet- unsolved problem of public health, was what brought me into the field in the first place, so it's only fitting (though unintentional) that my first "real" paper be an attempt to wrestle with it.

"Knowledge alone is not enough to change behavior"
"An educational curriculum is NOT a health promotion program"

New mantras- they don't replace DNA => RNA => Protein though.

Bits and pieces...tools in a toolbox...

These things take time.

no more ghetto

2009-03-11T18:36:00.000-07:00

Some days I really miss my Conservative Christian Ghetto. That place where no one admitted to smoking or drinking, divorce was unforgivable, people with same sex attraction were sick and twisted, and the goal of everything was to lead people to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

I'm not romanticizing that place. . . but everything made so much sense there. The black and whites of "never do anything that might possibly cause anyone to stumble," "love the sinner and viciously condemn the sin," and "you have a responsibility to share the Gospel with everyone you meet" are difficult to carry out, but simple in conception.

I don't know when I left it forever. It could have been the day a left-leaning Episcopalian priest's daughter became one of my best friends. Perhaps it was the day I enrolled in college as a biology major. Maybe it was the day the guy with whom I danced my last dance at senior prom hung himself.

Somewhere along the way I left it, and there's no going back to easy answers. Soon, I will be receiving my first lesbian wedding invitation, from someone who has been a dear friend for twenty years. She has very different ideas than I do about how to interpret Scripture, and she and the woman she'll be spending her life with are both very committed Christians, active in their church. On occasion I get 3 AM phone calls, as a friend leaves the gay bar he works at to drive home to his boyfriend. I listen to his questions- which are so often the same as mine. "If God wants me to love Him, shouldn't He make it easier?" "Why should I believe that God is more than a Cosmic Sadist?" "Why did God allow sin, injustice, torture, Why doesn't He rescue the innocent and powerless?" This friend is asking questions again, after a season of being satisfied with Richard Dawkins and vodka. I'm proud of him, and I can't say that I would bother, after tragically losing a marriage and being "turned over to Satan" by a church.

Jesus not only loved sinners, he let sinners love him. These two have certainly loved me, during some of the toughest days of my life.

So when I'm handed information about GLBQT issues and health disparities, I can't just let it wash over me. It matters that men who have sex with men have a higher rate of HIV infection...and it matters that African American women (thanks to the men who have sex with women and men phenomenon) have ridiculously high rates of new HIV infections compared to the rest of the US population. And it matters that lesbian women have higher rates of cervical cancer. It also matters a heck of a lot that people who are involved in homosexual activity (probably not the current/correct phrasing) fear "coming out" to their healthcare providers. I am an evangelical who takes Romans 1 at face value. However, that doesn't trump my conviction that everyone should get adequate (well, ideally. excellent medical care).

How do I be Christlike in engaging homosexuality as an individual, with those I love (and love me)?

How do I be Christlike in engaging homosexuality as a public health proffessional?

(and that's just one of the "how do I go about being a Christian in public health?" questions)

Stage Theory and the Movies

2009-03-04T14:50:00.000-08:00

Somewhere, in my daily routine of prowling through news and blogs, I stumbled across the upcoming film A Powerful Noise. While I added it to my mental list (along with Milk and Slumdog Millionaire) I found myself annoyed by what feels like a glut of "activist movies" in recent years.

On one level, I feel guilty about that annoyance. My sister considers me an "Eco human rights nazi," and she's not without cause for that assumption (the organic tea in my cabinet, my canvas grocery bags, and personal boycott of Hershey, Nestle and M&M/Mars, for example) I have been thrilled and grateful that movies like Hotel Rwanda, Amazing Grace, and the three above are being made and watched. However, I'm perturbed that what I see happening is people watching these movies, having an extreme emotional reaction and then joining half a dozen facebook groups.

Then it clicked- stage theory. The bane of my existence this semester has been a class called "The Theoretical Foundations of Health Promotion". It has been centered around learning about various theories of human behavior (specifically related to decision-making and behavior change) and their limits and usefulness in health intervention programs. Depending on which model of stage theory you embrace, there are 7 (Precaution Adoption Process: Unaware of Issue, Unengaged by Issue, Undecided about Acting, Decided to Act, Decided Not to Act, Acting, Maintenance) or 6 (Transtheoretical Model/Stages of Change: Precontemplation, Contemplation, Preparation, Action, Relapse, Maintenance) stages.

The beauty of stage theory, and why it's revolutionized public health, is that it allows programs and interventions to reach out to individuals who are not currently aware of a need for change. Which helps me see that, yes, there is a place for emotional humanitarian films -they shock people who are unaware of issues and pre-contemplators into acknowledging injustice. However... I'm not sure that connects to making them aware of the injustice that is currently taking place around the world. I'm fairly certain it doesn't motivate them to ask how their daily comforts and indulgences encourage injustice, and there certainly seems to be little organization around making the connections between the ugliness on screen and change in behavior.

So, where do those of us who are (or are becoming) community organizers, human rights advocates, public health professionals meet and further engage the movie viewers? Once the world is on the silver screen, how does it move into people's hearts?

One line from Hotel Rwanda has driven me for years:
"I think that when people turn on their TVs and see this footage, they'll say, "Oh my God, that's horrible," and then they'll go back to eating their dinners."

I've not yet found where it's driving me.

Ash Wednesday

2009-02-25T20:31:00.000-08:00

Here we are again- Lent.
I've come back from church and I'm sitting here with my peanutbutter sandwich and purple toenails (yes, liturgical nailpainting is kind of a creepy idea, but it seemed worth trying).
Last week I was en route to the grocery store and there was an interview with a local writer (who's name I can't remember) on the radio, and he was talking about how more people observe Lent now, but they observe it less strictly, emphasizing "reflection" and "stillness" rather than actual disciplines.
In typical "me" fashion- it made me angry, and I'm reacting with a very strict Lent. Yet it seems to be what I need.

Lent is my favorite of all the seasons. The waiting and preparation seasons (Advent, Lent) resonate more with me-partly because the world is waiting and preparing for Christ's return, for the ultimate fufilment of Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter, Pentecost and partly because life requires a lot of waiting and preparation and I'm not good at it. Lent and Advent help me focus- Lent especially points me towards the Cross and the Resurrection. It is the reminder that there is Life, Beauty, Meaning.

The midterms, the papers, the presentations are not ends in themselves. Like fasting, they are to help me build a foundation, to grow. It's not necessarily an easy or fun process. But it is good, and worthwhile. And the waiting will not last forever.

Resistant

2009-02-18T14:14:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, my priest told me "Baptists make the best parishioners. They don't get hung up over 'we've never done it that way' ." I laughed and told him "well, if we were Baptist who cared about how things had been done our whole lives, we would have stayed Baptist"

Over a year later, I'm visiting a church that's a different branch of the Anglican tree, and his words are a challenge to me. Because I'm really struggling with the differences in liturgy.
I've been told there are three flavors of churches: "High and Crazy", "Broad and Hazy", and "Low and Lazy." My personal beliefs and preferences throw me solidly into the "High and Crazy" category.

Honestly, this is a bit petty. It's the sort of sentiment one expects of people three times my age.
I prefer the 1928 Book of Common Prayer to the current (1979) edition.

Again, it's a bit petty, and almost on par with those who prefer the King James Bible. Madeleine L'Engle agrees with me, unfortunately, she's more than three times as old as I am, and dead also.

I have a friend who says that every time he enters a church that uses the 1928 prayerbook he's tempted to circle article 24 with a red pen:

"It is a thing plainly repugnant to the Word of God, and the custom of the Primitive Church, to have public Prayer in the Church, or to minister the Sacraments, in a tongue not understanded of the people."

He's right.

However, there's a solemn majesty to the 1928 that the 1979 revision lacks. And there are words that I don't like losing.
"Oblation" is much more specific than "sacrifice"
"vouchsafe" is an emphasis on Lordship, and who really is in charge. It's been changed to "promise"
"very members incorporate of the mystical body of thy Son...." is redundant, but the extra emphasis on being "incorporated"/taken into the body of Christ is important to me

And....the thanksgiving just before Communion.
"We do not presume to come to this Thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy. Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ and to drink his blood, that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us"

I have absolutely no idea why this was left out of the 1979 Eucharist update. (other than maybe because it sounds a bit cannibalistic?) Believe me, every single Sunday I need to be reminded that I am unworthy to gather up the crumbs under God's table, but nonetheless, Christ dwells in me, and I dwell in Him!!

I even have issues with the modernized Nicene creed.
"one baptism for the remission of sins" vs"one baptism for the forgiveness of sins" - Remission is a stronger word. It implies removal, forgiveness does not.
"Being of one substance with the Father"- this should be a big deal for those of us who believe in consubstantiation. Yes, "of one Being with the Father" covers the basics, but "substance" is a theological term. It's about being inseparable, ontologically united, just as the Eucharist is the very body and blood, divinity and humanity of Christ himself.

And then there's music. Honestly, the music at this church is decent. I'm just annoyed that they use praise songs during Communion. Amazing, beautiful profound Communion hymns are our rightful heritage as Anglicans. Using praise songs (even decent ones) feels like being deprived of a birthright.

Of course, there's also the fact that they believe in two sacraments and I believe in seven.

I am resistant to this different approach, for what I feel to be legitimate reasons. But even so...what role should resistance play in our interactions with the local church?

Corporate worship isn't about personal preferences. It's about shared vision, conviction, hope. Yes, I do believe in one Catholic church....but I believe in one catholic church as well. I am a "stuffy Anglo-Catholic" but hopefully, I can find the grace to see beyond "how it's always been done."

Organic

2009-01-25T19:27:00.000-08:00

It happened again. Someone (this time a priest) looked at me and said "Tell me about your journey to Anglicanism."

Seeing as my father's a Southern Baptist minister and I'm Anglo-Catholic, there should be a good story here.But I just rambled along for a couple minutes talking about books and people until finally just saying "It was kind of an organic process."

I had to look up organic when I got home to see if it was the right word (though, being a carbon-based life form, everything I do is organic). I was right.

So how did this relatively complex, natural growth process come about?

My parents were evangelical missionaries in Peru. The Roman Catholic church in South America in the 90s was a mess (I'm sure in general it still is, but haven't personally experienced this). It's entangled with government and the wealthy highest crust of society. In order to make the transition smoother, the Roman Catholic saints were superimposed over ancient Inca deities when the Spanish took over the continent. Evangelicals of all flavors (personally, I recall Pentecostal, Anglican, Presbyterian and Baptist) find themselves working together to present a faith that is centered on Christ, not history and superstition. Therefore, comparatively, I've always had a very weak sense of denominational boundaries.

We came back to the US when I was in middle school and did quite a bit of moving around. Eventually, as I started high school, my family settled into a small town in rural southeast Tennessee. About a year later, a new priest arrived at the county's Episcopal church. Her daughter and I recognized each other as kindred spirits, and this priest is a friend and mentor still, despite the 1600 miles that separate us.

The summer after I graduated high school, I worked at 4-H camp, and attended a Baptist church in the area. Over the course of that summer, the pastor attended the Southern Baptist Convention, which included a session by Josh McDowell which presented studies showing that high school/college students in Baptist churches were uncertain of what they believed and didn't know why they believed anything. The pastor returned shocked and worried about the state of Baptist youth. This solidified my determination to be an excellent Christian apologist- to know and understand why I believed in Christ and the Baptist church.

My small Christian liberal arts college had a worldview class that helped me explore why I bought into Christianity. Meanwhile, the priest's daughter and I embarked on a brief exploration of some local churches (because we badly needed a break from being clergy kids). For the first time, I attended Episcopalian, Lutheran, and Roman Catholic churches. I noticed that the liturgies were beautiful, that there was a much stronger sense of the sacred than I had previously encountered in church.

The next semester, I read Mere Christianity and it was incredibly clear that C.S. Lewis wasn't a Baptist, and yet so much of what he said made sense to me. He made me think about baptism and Communion in a different light- as being necessary for salvation (mainly because they are signs of obedience to Christ) rather than mere symbols.

The next summer (2004)....I saw the ugly side of congregational church government. The Baptist church my family had sacrificed so much for decided it was tired of us, and those who comforted my family often included "This isn't how it's supposed to be. Church should not be a democracy" in their words of kindness. I read Becoming Friends: Worship, Justice and the Practice of Christian Friendship, and it completely rocked how I thought about church. This book also (along with a biography of Luther) pushed me over into accepting the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Which left me in an odd place- Angry at the church, fed up with congregational churches, and a Consubstantiationist. All I really knew was that I still loved God but I certainly no longer fit in a Baptist church.

I moved on campus in January of 2005, an hour and a half drive from my family. Suddenly for the first time in my life, I was responsible for finding my own church. I wasn't particularly thrilled about church in general, but was finally willing to hear the advice of friends and teachers and ended up at an amazing PCA church. It's a solid place- great teaching, a committed group of Christians who genuinely care for each other. Here, I lost my last reservations towards infant baptism while I absorbed the Calvinist dogma unavoidable at both church and school. While still in college it dawned on me that the authors whose work influenced my thoughts, inspired and comforted me most (T.S. Eliot, Madeleine L'Engle, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien and Francis Thompson) were ALL Roman Catholic or members of the Church of England. My conclusion (significantly shaped by A Circle of Quiet and The Irrational Season) was that living in a cycle of liturgical seasons and the history of Christ and the church emphasized the "story" nature of life itself, encouraging connection and creativity.

Life happened, and formulaic Presbyterianism didn't hold up in the real world. I graduated and moved almost 600 miles away. There was a nearby PCA church with ties both to my church and school in TN, and I made a good faith effort to fit into it. My attempt was met with chilly confusion, and once the pastor discovered my father had once pastored a Baptist church a few towns north he told me I should visit Baptist churches in the area as I'd be "more theologically comfortable" there.

If I knew anything, it was that I wasn't Baptist, and I wasn't going back to that church, no matter who said what good things about it. So I started scampering to various stripes of churches (PCUSA, LCMS, ELCA, ECUSA, and United Methodist, if I remember correctly) nearby. It was a frustrating and painful experience, and a friend's encouragement finally pushed me to visit St. Alban's. Their advertising was a lot worse those days, and I was expecting a bitter host of Anglo-Catholic fundamentalists. What I found was joy and a congregation ready to invest in my life and take me in. Fr. Ray and Cheryl turned up at my apartment one evening (after asking my permission) and spent some time learning about me and my background and welcoming me to the church. Fr. Ray pulled out the new member form, and that was the moment I became aware that St. Alban's practices an old custom of the Church of England- in order to receive Communion (regularly, anyway) one must either be confirmed by a bishop, or "ready and willing" for Confirmation. My split second decision here was that Eucharistic worship is incredibly important to me, and while I wasn't so sure about this Anglican thing, this was the church I needed to be in for this season, and I wasn't about to miss Communion.

During the course of my church hunting days and the months that followed I read Orthodoxy. It was a tough read- the sort of book that makes your head ache from thinking. But Chesterton's account of his journey from skepticism to the Roman church was a process quite similar to what was going on in my own mind and life. The amnesia of my protestant childhood was being replaced by a sense of connection to the ancient church. I loved the freedom and responsibility of being both Protestant and Catholic and the unique history of the Church of England. Her symbolism and language meshed with my thoughts and perceptions. No longer a leaf blown by the wind, I became a kite on a string- grounded and protected by the solid teaching and tradition of the Church. Still able to fly but no longer crushed by collisions.

I am ontologically Anglo-Catholic. Lots of books, lots of thought, lots of life made that obvious. It's not exciting, but it's real.

(Note that for the sake of simplicity I have separated my journey to Anglo-Catholicism from the agonizing decision to remain a Christian)

Transition

2009-01-16T17:16:00.000-08:00

There's a cold snap tonight, and South Carolina feels like Maryland's not too far away. That distance is weighing on me at the moment, and there's a tiny Anglican church meeting in a former one-room school house that's calling me home.

I've finished a week of classes at a state university that is roughly 38 times the size of the small, Christian liberal arts college where I did my undergrad degree. I've suddenly hopped disciplines as well- no longer a biology student/research lab technician, I'm a student of public health (Health Promotion, Education, and Behavior, specifically). In some ways it's been a difficult transition- training myself to plan an extra hour into my day in order to find a parking spot and make it to class, adjusting to the "warm fuzzy" approach of social science professors. At times, it's been delightful, that deep breath as one meanders across a campus 200 years old in places, with much respect for trees. After Concepts and Methods of Health Promotion last night I announced to a friend: "My professor is a foul mouthed bleeding heart liberal from New York, and that makes me happy!!"

It is a happy thing to be in a place where the attitude is "here's a problem, let's figure out how to fix it" rather than "here's a problem. Let's analyze the worldview causing the problem, try to figure out how to phrase our sentences so that we can communicate with the individuals that have this faulty worldview, and then try to convince them of Christ's love for them, so that they will have the change of heart necessary to embark on beginning to change this problem." Perhaps that is a harsh and unfair statement. It is fair to say that I feel like I was given very few tools to address questions of science, of medicine, of health and behavior, spread of diseases and the physical wellbeing of individuals or communities.

The contrasts are stark, and people can't seem to stop commenting on what a strange path I've taken. Yet it fits. And once I figure out how on earth I'm going to finance this MPH, while not getting evicted and continuing to eat, I'll be an incredibly happy woman.

Loss

2008-12-22T10:36:00.000-08:00

Last night was the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. It was the third anniversary of the death of a good friend, a casualty to despair. Far into the night I found myself leaping to the phone to answer the call of a dear friend whose marriage collapsed a year ago, leaving him with a broken heart and many questions.

L had a miscarriage in September, and is still suffering from occasional bleeding and pain. She's the third of my friends to lose a child. It is the first Christmas since the death of my grandfather- a good man whose amazing mind and stories were stolen by Alzheimer's. B's father is no longer speaking to her....his extreme cruelty to her mother resulted in B. making the phone call to the police that ended in a restraining order against him.

The darkness is strong. I find myself thinking of the shepherds at the Nativity. The night sky is broken by angelic proclamation and song. "A Savior has been born. Peace on earth, good will towards men." The shepherds ran to the stable to worship. They saw the Messiah. . . then had to go back to watching sheep. Nothing changes. It takes thirty years for this baby to grow up. He becomes a radical preacher, a homeless vagabond. Just as it looks like he could change the world, the authorities nab him and nail him to a cross to shut him up. Where were the shepherds?

Here we are now, two thousand years later. Congo and Zimbabwe look like they're going up in flames. Somalia....Darfur....antibiotic resistant TB...factories in China polluting the air...and the thousand small tragedies that we encounter every day. Why hasn't it changed yet?

Yesterday, I picked up The Irrational Season for a few moments. L'engle writes the first few pages out of the darkness that surrounds Advent. She reminds me that we are waiting for the Eschaton, that Advent's fufillment is still to come. The solstice has passed, the days are lengthening. Tonight's darkness will be a little less.

Completely Smitten With Michelle Obama

2008-12-19T20:00:00.000-08:00

I'm not yet sure if this will become the enduring love affair I have with T.S. Eliot, Madeleine L'Engle and (most recently) Barbara Kingsolver. However, I most definitely have a major crush on the future first lady.

The infatuation began when I first read The Audacity of Hope- In the words of her husband:

"Most people who meet my wife quickly conclude that she is remarkable. They are right about this--she is smart, funny and thoroughly charming. She is also very beautiful, although not in a way that men find intimidating, or women find off-putting; it is the lived-in beauty of the mother and busy professional rather than the touched up image we see on the cover of glossy magazines. Often, after hearing her speak at some function or working with her on a project, people will approach me and say something to the effect of "You know I think the world of you, Barack, but your wife...wow!" I nod, knowing that if I ever had to run against her for public office, she would beat me without much difficulty."

I have swooned time and time again as I've listened to her speak or watched the dignified, graceful way she interacts with others. (According to a recent Newsweek article, I'm not the only one).

A small part of the appeal is her unconventional beauty. She's neither the classic porcelain doll nor the dangerously thin runway model, but a polished, healthy, radiant woman.

Far more gripping is the fact that Michelle Obama is the sort of woman Betty Friedan hoped for when she wrote The Feminine Mystique- Brilliant, competent, qualified in her own right, a devoted, wonderful wife and mother who is a person of influence outside her home (vs completely dependent on husband and children for identity).

The opinion dominant in the circles I've grown up in is that women work outside the home reluctantly, begrudgingly using their time to earn money to feed their family, when they ought to (and perhaps, if they had more faith, would) spend that time with their children and husband. It's a worldview that considers professional women (married or single, but especially married) an anomaly. People who loved me and wanted the best for me have told me "God doesn't have a calling or a plan for your life. Your calling is to help your husband with his calling." There's a small provision for women with "the gift of singleness"-- who are allowed to be missionaries and teachers and are viewed as being deficient in the ability to have relationships.

The extreme I'm most familiar with is the extreme that allows women no identity outside of their families....there is also the militant feminist extreme that claims that families are a burden to women. I personally haven't experienced this viewpoint, beyond literary criticism and reading about Gloria Steinem, etc.

Michelle Obama defies both the extremes. She's a woman who's wrestled with deep questions of identity outside of her family, who's pursued her own career and has made countless speeches on behalf of her husband's presidential campaign, who is now planning a spiel as a stay-home mom to help the girls transition to life in DC.

Maybe it's arguable that Hillary Clinton is made of the same stuff as Mrs. Obama. I wasn't watching the Clintons during the '90s. But I am fascinated by the unique blend of a passion for politics, activism, family...competence in the workplace and the home, a beauty with a brain and a heart.

So here's to you Michelle, and I can't waite to see what you accomplish during and after your stint as First Lady.

Advent

2008-12-03T19:00:00.000-08:00

ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the
armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us
in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both
the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal, through him who liveth and reigneth with
thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. Amen.” ( 1928 BCP page 90)

Advent's collect- dating back to 1549 and the first English Prayer Book. My priest emailed it to me this week in a reminder that we are lost without grace. Last Advent I latched on to something in a sermon of his: "In Advent we await the three-fold coming of Christ- Christ's first coming to Bethlehem, Christ's current coming to us by the Holy Spirit, and Christ's future coming as King."

I was a baby Anglican at Advent last year, celebrating the start of my first liturgical year. Now I'm an Anglo-Catholic lost in a Protestant world. There is no purple surrounding me, no candles to be lit, no gentle reminder from my priest to schedule confession. But it is still Advent, it is still the beginning, time for penance and waiting. I will repent and I will wait...and wonder where the next year will lead.