Help, Please

I’m at Bubba and Tisha’s house on the water, and I just woke to discover that it’s raining hard outside. I couldn’t be happier. I secretly love rainy days, for the same reason that I secretly love when my kids get mildly sick. Rain and low grade fevers are invitations to stay unshowered in pajamas and snuggle on the couch. The rain says “don’t bother making plans, really. Just relax.” I certainly enjoy the sun too, but it can be a little bossy and self centered, with all its shining and shining and insisting that we get dressed and go outside to enjoy it. The rain is less demanding, and I appreciate that.

Okay, now for the big news.

It has been said that there are no stupid questions. I am about to prove that theory wrong once and for all. Here goes -

Hey internet…Can you keep a secret?

Because we’ve got some exciting secrets to discuss, my precious Monkees.

One of the people who helped publish my first book has suggested that it’s time to transform Momastery into a book proposal. He thinks we could get published and revolutionize a whole lot more Monkees. I KNOW. It’s exciting. The Revolution might have an opportunity to convince many more people to try being less jerky.

I know that this is wonderful news for all Monkeekind. But I am struggling, friends. I was supposed to have this proposal done and mailed two weeks ago, and I haven’t even started. Every time I try to write it I turn into a little teeny eeny mouse paralyzed with fear. I sit motionless at my computer and the only parts of my body that move are my shifty mousy eyes which are propped wide open in terror. It’s not good. I’m scared I’m going to let us down. But the good news is that I think I’ve identified my problem. I’ve been trying to go it alone, and that is never how Revolutionary Monkees do. I need you.

Neither Momastery nor the Monkee Revolution have ever been about me. They have always been about you. You have made this blog what it is. First of all, your encouraging responses have given me the confidence to dig deeper and to keep on writing. Because I did have a hunch that maybe I could write and maybe you’d like it. But I’ve also seen the American Idol auditions, so I know that a whole lot of people suspect they are good at things that they should actually never, ever attempt to do publicly.

But when I sang, you stood up and clapped, and then you started singing with me - and that is the moment that our song went from pretty good to knock- your –socks- off fantastic. People write to me again and again to say that your comments are their very favorite part of the blog. To them I always say well thank you, thank you very much. But I get it. Me too.

I am going to use the next two weeks to bang out this proposal and send it off to my editor. Because I believe deep in my bones that our revolution is worthy of national attention. The world will be better for having heard our message of love and inclusion and humility. To that end, here’s what I’m asking of you. Can you pray for me? Can you pray that God will tie me up so that every word that is written is His and not mine? Can you pray that He will transform my weakness into writing that will feed, comfort, and awaken sleeping Monkees everywhere? And if you’re not a pray-er, could you think brilliant thoughts and email them to me for the book? That’d be great. And you better believe that when it gets published, ours will be the first book with 217 names, or however many monkees there are when the time comes, in the acknowledgements. Yep. That’s the plan. Because this book will be about and by and for YOU. Also, because that’ll make it seem longer.

You know, all of sudden, I’m feeling pretty good about this new adventure. Because now that I think about it, people are always offering me this lovely compliment:

“Glennon: What you don’t know could fill a book.”

Maybe they're on to something….

One last thing- even while I’m busy working on the proposal, the Monkee show will go on. Our show will always go on. It’s important to the Revolution that we meet every day without fail. So this post will stay up on Monday, since most people will probably wait until then to read it. Then, for the following week and a half, guest writers will be posting on the blog. They are excited and very, very nervous.

While you read their hearts’ offerings, please think of an encouraging comment that you’ll leave for them. They will be checking every ten minutes, throughout their entire day, to see if you liked them. Trust me on this one. Please be gentle with their hearts. I love each one of them very much.

Also, while you read…consider what you’ll write about when it’s your turn. Because you see where this is going, right? This blog, this book, this revolution is about you. Each of us has something equally important to share. Shoot me an email when you’re ready to Say What You Need to Say.

I love you Cheeky Monkeys.

What a wild ride, huh?

In Thanksgiving

"I wrapped my fear around me like a blanket. I sailed my ship of safety 'till I sank it. I'm crawling on your shores."

Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to peel off my blanket of fear, dive off my ship of safety, and crawl towards your shores.

Happy Thanksgiving, Friends.

Grand Opening

This morning I am thrilled to announce the Grand Opening of a New Monkee Sanctuary. We now have another place to play together and delouse each other and get fed.

We have just launched a Momastery Fan Page on Facebook, and you are all invited. Because the first rule of the revolution is that everyone is invited. The second rule is don't be a jerk. I think that pretty much covers our rules.

Eventually, Craig and I plan to launch a better website where it will be easier for you to communicate with each other. But right now we are having a hard time even getting the family room vacuumed, so the new website will have to wait. In the meantime, the Momastery Facebook Fan Page is where I'm hoping you will share hope and energy with each other. I am humbled, ecstatic, and amazed by the scope and caliber of women who frequent the Momastery. You have shared your hearts with me and all of those beautiful hearts are in my pocket and they are burning a hole in there. I am just dying to share you with each other.

My vision for the Fan Page is that it will be a virtual, welcoming, cozy coffee shop for Monkees and visitors. My hope is that when you find a story, website, book, song, or idea that you think might inspire us, you will post it there. I also hope that you will post pictures of yourselves and your families so that we will all start becoming more real to each other. I hope that you will visit when you are tired or sad or hungry for something other than food. I hope that you will be honest there, and ask for help or prayers when you need them. Because my favorite thing is to pray for people, so that when their prayers are answered I can yell, "THAT WAS ME! ME, ME,ME! I MADE THAT HAPPEN! I PRAYED FOR THAT LAST TUESDAY! YOU ARE SO VERY WELCOME!" God and Craig just love it when I do that.

Anyway, my point is that I'd like the Fan Page to be a place where we lift each other up. A place where first time visitors are shocked to find a large group of women taking care of each other instead of competing with each other. Yes, please.

I am going to ask you to consider one thing when you post. Please, nothing off color. Even if it's really, really funny. Maybe we could leave that stuff to, I don't know, every other website. My best friend 2nd to Sister (I'll call her Adrianne, since that's her name) is SO rolling her eyes right now. I just want Momastery to be different. I want us to be a place where a Monkee can bring her aunt or daughter or new friend without fear. And if any post hurts your feelings, please let me know and we'll have a look together. We will take care of each other, because we are only as strong as our most sensitive link. Here are our guidelines for posting...

"Sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - post such things." Phillipians 4:8 (with a monkee twist)

Please stop by today and post something for which you're thankful. Let's throw some love and gratitude out into the universe and maybe we'll get it back, or maybe it'll hit another Monkee.

Also, on Friday I will have some very exciting and important announcements for you. Apparently the Monkee Revolution is growing faster than my collection of wooden word signs.

You have a beautiful, peaceful, hopeful Thanksgiving. I am thankful for you.

Redemption Song

“Won’t you help to sing these songs of freedom? ‘Cause all I’ve ever had….redemption songs.”

–Bob Marley

I am always trying to start Revolutions, but I’m easily distracted. Every time I hear a particularly depressing or hopeful news story, I run to the computer, write a Manifesto, and call Sister at work to beg her to start a Revolution with me. But Sister is a fancy pants lawyer and she’s usually on her way to a meeting and can’t revolt right away. And then all of a sudden it’s time to feed the kids lunch and I forget all about the Revolution that I was convinced would save the world twenty minutes before.

I would like to announce that I’m done getting distracted. Sister - cancel your meetings. Monkees - cancel your play dates.

It’s Revolution Time.

This blog was born because I was desperate for a safe place where I could tell the truth about my heart and my faith and my life and other women could do the same. Just one place. Just one safe place for people to come. A place, like Mother Theresa dreamed of, where “Muslims become better Muslims and Christians become better Christians and Jews become better Jews.” Where everyone steps a little closer to God and peace, regardless of their starting point. Where people wouldn’t worry about being competed with or judged or hurt or manipulated. Where nobody would try to sell anyone anything, and noone would try to change anyone else. A place where people would just be accepted and embraced and appreciated. A place where even people who are hard to love are loved well. A place similar to a Monestary.

Does anyone else feel like this is actually happening here? Doesn’t it feel like this is a safe little Pocket of Love? It feels that way to me. There are women of every religious and political persuasion from 14 different countries reading this blog every day. And you are sharing your hearts, and you are being gentle with each other’s hearts, and that is REVOLUTIONARY, people.

One of my favorite songs says: "There's a place where I go to run and hide....There's a place where I lose my selfish pride... I’m dancing with my Father God in Fields of Grace.” Don’t look now, but I think we are dancing, friends.

And we’re dancing without crushing each others’ toes because underlying everything we do and say here is this gem, which is at the heart of every religious, ethical, and spiritual tradition: Treat others how you want to be treated. That’s the heart of the Monkee Revolution. We are treating each other how we want to be treated. And since we know other Monkees are doing the same, we feel safe wearing our hearts on our sleeves. And we are finding out that living this way is actually a lot more fun than it sounds. It’s almost like every great spiritual teacher in history has been on to something with this Golden Rule thing.

Now. I don’t think we should expect this type of miracle to continue to be easy. Revolutions are a lot of work. Loving our neighbors is tough. And there will be times when Monkee love doesn’t feel so warm and fuzzy and cozy. Sometimes, even here, we will feel like putting another Monkee in her place, or being defensive, or giving up on the Revolution. So, I think we need a way to remember the greater good when times get tough. We need a symbol to remember how Monkees do when we’re tempted to return evil for evil instead of good for evil.

Last week we voted overwhelmingly to refer to ourselves as the “Monkees.” In the comments, sweet Erin wrote, “Hey, Hey, we’re the Monkees!” The next morning I woke up and thought “YES, ERIN! THAT’S IT!” I ran to the computer and Googled the lyrics of the Monkees theme song. And as I read them, my heart JUMPED and I laughed out loud. So without further ado, I present to you…Our Monkee Mascot and Motto, designed by my beautiful and gentle and brilliant artist friend Joanna, who has already been a Monkee for decades.

I mean seriously, people. Look at that little guy. Seriously.

Now please understand, Monkees have no set of common beliefs except these:

Here, we treat others how we want to be treated.

Here, we believe that love and restraint can overcome differences, fear, mistrust and competition among women.

Here, politics and business die. Feel free to revive them as soon as you leave this place.

Here, we agree with Mother Theresa, that “when we judge people, we have no time to love them.”

Monkees are too consumed with loving people to bother judging them. Monkees are too busy singing songs of redemption and sorrow and joy to put anybody down. That’s our official motto. Our unofficial motto is this: We are trying very hard not to be jerks.

And when darkness sneaks in, and we know it will from time to time…This is Our Monkee Plan, if you’re up for it: We will turn the other cheek. We will love mean people, too, because we will remember that mean people aren't done yet. They just need some more time. So before responding to anything that offends us in Monkee land (and maybe even in real life?) we will take lots of deep breaths and drink twenty glasses of water and put on our paper bags if necessary. And then we will figure out the most loving thing to say, and we will say that thing. And if the meanness perseveres, we will stick our Monkee fingers in our Monkee ears and sing louder and dance faster, until the source of the meanness is so confused, disgusted, or intrigued that she joins us or leaves us. It will be our Monkee form of Jesus’ law of love and of Buddhist and Hindu Ahimsa. We will first do no harm. Even to the harmful.

So you see, Monkees, my plans are simple and humble. I just want the Monkees to change the world by proving that love without strife or ulterior motive is possible. We are going to be the change we want to see in the world. We are going to be a miracle. We are going to build each other up. We are going to invite heaven to earth. Most likely, the UN will hire us as consultants. And then we’ll give all the money they pay us to whoever needs it. Cause that’s how Revolutionary Monkees Do.

As for my first order of business, I’m going to do what any Revolutionary worth her weight does. I’m going to make cool Monkee hoodies.

And your first job, if you have time, is to answer the following question....Won't you help to sing these songs of freedom?

Alive and Well

An old high school acquaintance named Melinda contacted me recently. Melinda was Craig’s high school sweetheart. She is a doctor now, and quite beautiful and kind. I am heartened that she is happily married with three lovely children and lives quite far away in Tennessee. Because in addition to the beautiful, kind doctor thing she also seems the type to own multiple pans and top sheets. So it’s good, you know, to just be email friends.

Anyway, Melinda told me that she had been reading the blog, and she said that my story made her afraid. Then she asked me some fantastic questions.

Melinda said that it seemed to her I’d been offered all of the best things in life… involved, loving, wise parents, a sister for a best friend, top schools, great churches, every opportunity in the world….so where, and how, and why did things go wrong for me? Why did I spend so much time lost to addiction? What led to all the suffering? And now, knowing my story, what could she possibly do to avoid this suffering for her own daughters?

After I received Melinda’s honest and brave questions… I started thinking and praying. This story from the Bible kept retelling itself to me.

“As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.”

-John 9:1-3

I don’t know when, where, or why things went wrong for me. That’s always my first answer. I don’t know. I don’t know why I spent two decades as a bulimic and another as an alcoholic, so I certainly can’t tell you how to avoid it for your children. I don’t even know how to avoid it for my own children.

But my guess is that this is why: Because my life was written that way. Maktub.

And my life was written that way so that, eventually, the work of God could be displayed through my life. So my life would eventually be Exhibit 10 billion in the endless case for hope, faith, and love. I suffered so that I would, ultimately, live a life of light and gratitude and courage …a beautiful life, a life of depth and compassion. And so that I would share my story with others, and they might find themselves closer to hope and freedom and maybe even to God. Increasing hope, freedom and faith is, I think, the definition of the work of God.

My addictions, my darkest days, and my suffering - were the best things that ever happened to me.

Since I’ve lived in dark, dark places, I truly appreciate the light. I close my eyes and soak it up, sunbathe in it…and I breathe in Grace each day likes it’s oxygen, because I remember what it feels like to suffocate. I wake up each morning fully conscience of the miracle that I once was blind but now…HOLY COW… I can see! I can breathe! These epiphanies feel brand spanking new each morning, and they never lose their magic. I am awe-struck by the light and Grace and love in my life and that awe was hard won. I paid for it through the nose, and so did my family, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything, not even an easier story. Because it is clear to me now that my pain was a crucial, defining chapter in the story of my life.

And now, those painful chapters are precious to me. My weaknesses, my failures, and my suffering are my favorite parts of myself...because those parts pull me closer to God. In those areas I need His help like an infant needs his mother. And those broken parts are also the parts that pull me closer to others, closer to you. Because suffering and love are the two human common denominators. No matter how different we are, we all love, and we all suffer. We can come together there. We can come closer together through compassion, which means “to suffer with.” And isn’t that all that matters? Growing closer to God and closer to others? Both of those ends are born of suffering, and that is why suffering is a gift.

Jesus said “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24) He didn’t ask us to hide our cross, or leave our cross behind so we could walk tall and proud and straight. He said bring it. You’ll need it, he said. We tend to be ashamed of our crosses, but I suspect that they are actually the good stuff. They slow us down so we can fall into step with God and each other.

My addictions, my colorful past, my pride, my impatience, my insecurities and fears, they all make up my cross. And Jesus said “BRING IT, SISTER,” so I wear it on my back for all to see. And the magic is that it’s not heavy at all. Maybe because I share the weight with you. You help me carry it, and the weight that’s leftover is on the back of God. I’m free as a bird.

Obviously, we don’t suggest these things to people in the midst of their suffering. The irony of life is that we usually can’t see God’s work while we’re suffering. While the storm’s still raging, it’s best just to sit quietly and hold each other tight.

But now that the sun is shining again, I can say to Melinda, to my family, to you…that given the chance, I wouldn’t change a second of my past. I’d walk through all the darkest days again, if it meant I’d be sure to land here, in this chapter…where I live in peace and gratitude and grace.

In the end, I don’t think suffering is something to be avoided at all. Not for ourselves, not even for our children. I truly believe it’s a gift. God’s in the suffering. Because it is the law of nature and of life that if you are in a deep, dark valley and you just keep walking, you will inevitably find yourself at the top of a breathtaking mountain. And then you will have the story of the climb to tell. And a thrilling view from the summit.

I’d like to begin this Thanksgiving week by admitting that while I’m certainly thankful for my family, friends, home, and country... I’m mostly thankful that I’m alive…and well. Enjoy.

Momastic

A miracle took place yesterday, right here on the magical interweb.

I was very wary about posting my thoughts on faith. I knew it was the right time, but still, after pressing the “Post” button yesterday morning I put on my virtual bullet proof armor and steeled myself for the inevitable attack. Wisdom asserts that large (or small) groups of people cannot talk about faith without causing divisiveness, pain, and bitterness. I am not so sure about that anymore.

Please, if you get a chance today, re-read yesterday’s post and the comments, especially. Send them to a friend. Consider how remarkable it is to have a place where you can share your heart and even anonymous people will be gentle with it. Amazing. On Earth as it is in Heaven.

So thank you, to all of you. Thank you to those who loved the post and cared enough to comment, and thank you to those who disagreed with parts and shared those disagreements respectfully, and a huge thank you to those who objected to the whole thing but for some reason, decided it wasn’t the right time to share that. Over five hundred people with five hundred different ideas about faith read that post yesterday, and none of us hurt each other. I find that to be miraculous. So thank you, to all of you, the monks of the Momastery. Do you prefer to be called monks or monk-ees? I go back and forth.

After reading and rereading your beautiful comments yesterday, I resolved not to post this morning. I felt that all of the loving writing - mine and yours - deserved to stand alone for a few days.

But then, tucked inside those many comments, I found a special request from Lourdes. Lourdes is one of Sister’s best friends, and I have always loved her. She has big, beautiful, brown eyes that are wide open like her heart is, taking it all in. I get the feeling that she is easily awed and easily hurt, like people who take it all in often are. Lourdes has been reading Momastery for a long while, and yesterday she took the plunge and commented. She suggested that maybe I could lighten things up a little to end the week. Apparently it’s been a rough few days for her on Momastery. Lots of crying. So Lourdes, this is for you.

Happy Friday, Lou. Party On.

*Craig made me promise to explain. A couple weeks ago we were playing outside and Chase said “Hey! Watch me blow bubbles with the fish filter!” Mature parents probably would have said “Son! Remove your mouth from the filthy fish filter!” Craig and I, however, shot each other “too good to be true” glances, and Craig sprinted inside for the camera while I channeled my inner frat boy. Don’t worry. We got him a tetanus shot right after we took the picture.

Cheers, friends.

On Faith

So. Let's all take a deep breath. We'll need it today.

I’ve received many emails requesting details about my family’s faith. I’ve been asked about what church we belong to, what denomination we are, and what we believe specifically. I have purposefully avoided these questions like the plague, or the kitchen. But I feel like I’m supposed to broach this topic today. Please know that I write this post with fear and trembling, and with fervent prayers that you will accept it as merely a description of our personal faith, and not a suggestion for you or anyone else.

Here goes…..

I believe that Jesus was and is God’s son, and that every word He said is The Truth, and that He lives and loves and breathes life into the hopeless.

I don’t believe that there is another human being on Earth who is more or less worthy of His love than I.

My commitment to Jesus and His way of life does not compel me to try to convert other people. Ever. I assume that others’ spiritual experiences are every bit as real and sacred to them as mine is to me. If I seem different to someone and that someone asks me why, I tell her all about my Jesus, without agenda or motives. If not, I just assume I’m not being different enough to cause a stir. And I continue to stay as close to Him as possible, knowing that He is the Alchemist, and that everyday He’s making me more golden.

I love my Jesus.

My love for Jesus means that every day I open myself up to becoming more gentle and generous and truthful and compassionate. Because I love Jesus I allow myself to be constantly used up…trying never to hoard the money or time or energy for tomorrow that is needed today. My love for Jesus means that I try to see Him in every person I encounter…even, especially, the people I don’t like. My love for Jesus means that while I look forward to a heavenly afterlife, I concern myself mainly with inviting heaven to Earth now, by loving like Jesus loved- recklessly, without reservation, without judgment. My love for and utter trust in Jesus compels me to attempt a life without guilt or pride or fear. He gives me the courage to live out what I profess to believe…that it is always right to turn the other cheek, to avoid gossip, to tell the truth, to side with the poor, oppressed, and outcast, to give till it hurts, and to live like the only power worth having is the power that comes from service, vulnerability, and dependence on Him.

Craig and I want to live like Jesus did more than we want anything else. Not because we are good people, but because we are thrill seekers. We want to suck every drop out of life and live lives of adventure. We don’t want to fall into the pattern of settling for small dreams, like more and bigger and better stuff. We want to live out bigger dreams… life changing, world changing dreams. We want to live on the edge, to witness miracles, to align ourselves with the energy of the universe. Judging from our past experiences, we feel most alive when we live Jesus’ way. And Jesus’ way is the reckless, senseless, revolutionary love that tends to make people uncomfortable. Jesus’ way is siding with the powerless, always. Jesus’ way is subversive and countercultural and counterintuitive. And this sort of thing suits us. We fancy ourselves rebels with a cause, if you will. So we try to keep everything liquid…our hearts, our plans, our money, our opinions, even some of our beliefs …and we listen for his guidance. We pray for the patience to stay when he says stay and the courage to jump when he says jump. We prefer jumping to staying, so we notice He makes us practice staying a whole lot. And we hear from Him all the time. We feel his peace and love like mighty arms wrapped around us and we experience his guidance like lighthouse beams through stormy skies. We know what He wants from us always. And we trust Him completely.

And when we hear Christians concerning themselves publicly about anything other than poverty and disease and hunger and oppression and violence - we turn away. Because really, who has the time?

Craig and I are also committed to knowing everything we can about other spiritual practices and religions. We read about Buddha and the Koran and the Bhagavad-Gita and we are comforted to see the same truths repeated again and again throughout every great religion. We find, like we always do when we look closer, that we are all more similar than we are different. We don’t allow extremists from any faith to scare us away from that truth. We teach yoga and meditation to our children as spiritual practices. We think there are some things that Eastern religions do better than mainstream Christianity, like helping their followers find stillness and the connection between the mind, body, and spirit. So we go to them for guidance and help in areas we find lacking in our spiritual experience. We believe that the whole world is God’s and everything in it and that there is beauty to experience everywhere. We teach Chase that we respect and learn about all religions, and we explain to him why we choose to worship only Jesus. We tell him that Jesus is our religion. No denomination- just Jesus. We teach and show Chase how Grace changes everything. We pray, every night, that he and Jesus find each other, but we explain that whatever path he chooses, he is to respect and seek to understand those on other paths. And to assume that their spiritual experiences are likely every bit as real as his is. We hope that this commitment to educating our children about different faiths will result in their faith decisions being based on knowledge and freedom.

And because how can you possibly know and understand what something is if you don’t know what it isn’t?

And now I’ll hit the biggies, so hold on to your little hat (or Yamaka or habit or hijab or what have you).

1. N No, we don't believe that everyone who doesn't believe in Jesus is going to hell, and we don't allow anyone to even sort of suggest that to our children. If you do believe that, we love you just the same.

2. YYes, we believe that a church should not only tolerate but embrace every person who seeks refuge there…every race, background, or sexual orientation - without trying to change them. Based on our reading and research, this is what we believe Jesus would have done. We realize that there are parts of the New Testament that suggest otherwise. We have studied these scriptures. We have read them in several translations, researched different denominations interpretations, and sought insight from wise teachers. In the end we have decided to accept that there are inconsistencies in the human translations and understanding of these passages rather than accept that there are inconsistencies in our God’s perfect love. And we have decided that Jesus’ ultimate teaching was that there is no law that supersedes the law of love.

3. TThirdly, we believe that God can speak to us on our couch in our pajamas as clearly as He can speak to a group of ministers at a convention. So we read the Bible together… we’ve read every word of the Bible. Even those realllllly long painful lists in the Old Testament. We read the Bible every day. We don’t accept secondhand information about our friends and we won’t accept it about our God. We always go to the source. And when making decisions about what scripture means we seek counsel, and then we pray, and we listen. Then we decide for ourselves what God is saying to us through the Bible. Just me, Craig, Jesus, and His Word. No other mediator is invited. We must work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. And when we don’t understand a mystery of God, we say “We don’t know,” rather than accept someone else’s interpretation. I actually wish all people of faith would say “I don’t know” more.

It took us seven years and five moves to find a church that teaches the same things about Jesus’ divinity and acceptance and boundless love that we teach our children. We had to leave churches we’d settled into, people we called family, students I taught in Sunday school, families we’d grown with and cried with and loved. But when faced with teachings that didn’t match our understanding of Jesus, we had to keep moving.

Because we couldn’t shake the belief that where you worship makes a statement, to the world and to your children, about who you worship.

We finally found our new church home, St. Anne’s Episcopal, several months ago. St. Anne’s is part of the progressive Christian Church. The first morning we visited, this is what I saw in the lobby, along with a poster about what a progressive Christian church believes.

When I walked into the sanctuary. I saw people of all races, ages, and economic groups. There were people in African garb and Saris and Abercrombie. It seemed the only thing these people could possibly have in common was Jesus. And this realization made my heart split open immediately. Within the first five minutes of the message, the minister mentioned that he’d just returned from India where he’d been learning from the Hindus and worshipping Jesus in mosques. This minister spoke with love and passion and gentleness, not with the zeal and intensity that sometimes feels more like defensiveness and snobbery than love to me. He talked about things I think Jesus would have cared about, like health care for all and feeding the hungry. His eyes were so kind that they reminded me of how Jesus’ might have looked, had he been allowed to age a couple more decades.

Near the end of the service, he asked us newcomers to introduce ourselves. The second I stood up I just started crying and I couldn’t pull it together. Because felt like I had found a path home after a long, scary walk in a very confusing forest. Everyone smiled encouragingly and compassionately, because that's their job at church. Actually, that's always their job. After I sat down, two women stood with their beautiful daughter and explained that they were going to make St. Anne's their church home. Apparently they felt truly welcome and loved at St. Anne’s. I cried harder. This couple hasn’t spoken to me since that morning, understandably. I’m not concerned. I know I’ll win them over, eventually. Like Jesus and olives, I am an acquired taste.

I know your beliefs are likely very different than ours. I hope you’ll be able to respect ours anyway, and I’d certainly love to learn about yours. I find that every time I keep myself open to hearing from someone else about their relationship with God, especially if it’s very different than mine, I learn something new and important. It’s almost like God designed things that way.

So anyway, that’s all. I just wanted to answer your questions…I’m a yoga loving, Koran quoting, Ghandi following, church hopping, child of Jesus.

And Sister and I are in the process of deciding which scripture to get tattooed on our wrists. We go back and forth between “Be Still” and “Here I am.” But we’re gonna decide soon. Because we like to keep our Jesusy edge.

And I vote for whichever guy or gal seems the type to take the underdog in a fight. Regardless of what faith or party he or she professes.

Also I’m quite short, if you must know.

Love,
G