Black and White

Black and white. "Here it is...in black and white." A phrase that can mean several things... an obvious answer,  or something reliable and credible, or seeing things only in absolute terms. Sadly, what is happening in our country right now (again) is none of those things. On the surface, it appears to be about black versus white, black lives vs white lives, black injustice vs white privilege, black subjugation vs white dominance. In reality, though, events this week are not that easily explained. Or understood. Or solved. For the past 8 days, I have been on the brink of tears, feeling them well up inside me and my heart aching until my eyes are near brimming before I take a deep breath and pray and push them back down. Because if I was to give in to the feeling, let the tears fall, there would be no end to them, and the hopelessness of the situation would drown me. So I pray some more, read articles, watch news videos, and skim posts on social media to get a sense of the battle we face. An age old battle, since the beginning of creation, with eternal consequences. 

Black and white. Sin. Evil. Light. Darkness. In its most basic, age old form: hatred of a group of humans because they are different. Genocides. Gendercides. Ethnic cleansing. Apartheid. Racism. Any time one human presumes superiority over another human, we have evil.  In its most basic form. So much hate, Lord, so much injustice, so much pain. Cities under siege, people hating each other, taking sides, destroying lives and property and futures. Social media sites exploding with videos, live feeds, posts, debates, photos, news updates, and so much self-serving, hate-filled rhetoric and ugliness. The implicit made explicit. I read posts, try to answer, to reason, to express my heart, but I, too, am lost as to how to make sense of it all, and it shows. In my struggle to find the right words, to try to speak calm and love and peace, inevitably I only succeed in irritating someone or being misunderstood and am subjected to retorts and accusations that, I am ashamed to say, I sometimes answer in a less than loving manner. My daughters are distraught and want answers to why this is happening, and for once, I fail as a mom--I have no answers, no reasons, no prescription for fixing this, no trite explanations for why people are doing what they are doing. There is no simple answer. Yes, sin is the root cause of all evil and sadness and suffering in this world. But identifying that sin is the answer and the cause of it all does not make any of it magically go away. 

Black and white. And in some feeble attempt to make sense of it all, to do something, some elements of music industry organized a collective action, Blackout Tuesday, to protest racism and police brutality. The action, organized in response to recent killings of unarmed black men, is taking place today, June 2, 2020--my 65th birthday. Not only are businesses taking part encouraged to abstain from releasing music and other business operations--now social media users are posting blank, black squares in lieu of cover and profile photos. But, like other groupthink efforts, folks seem to just be following blindly in an effort to be viewed as sympathetic and supportive of racial injustice; even I considered, for a nanosecond, joining this non-movement. Because it is only cosmetic, and does not solve anything. It neither promotes love nor heals the hate, the rift we have--it reduces the underlying disease to a slogan, a saying, a hashtag, without offering a cure or even a bandaid. 

Black and white. So what do we do? What do I do? What is my purpose in this? To reflect Christ, yes. To love his image bearers--all of them. To show the way, to see peace, to show the light of the gospel. But when? How? How can we rebuild? How do we heal?  How do we make sense of it all? And when, God? When will we all be reconciled not just to You, but to our fellow man? How long must we tear each other apart? Where is your purpose in all of this suffering and hatred? Separated from each other, and separated from You. 

Black and white. We don't heal by hurting others. We don't rebuild by tearing down. We don't reconcile by hating others. We don't heal by disrespecting others. We don't heal by focusing only on differences, but by realizing that, despite differences, we are all image bearers of our Creator. For this, for this, Jesus died...to reconcile a helpless, hopeless people to God and to each other. For God is neither black nor white, or red or brown or yellow; God is not a color. God is LOVE. Infinitesimal love for every single one of His creations. And while we are not God, we are made in HIS image, and should reflect HIS love, HIS beauty, HIS grace. God is love, and He is light. Light defeats darkness--even in a world full of darkness, all one needs to do is shine one small light to dispel some of the darkness.

Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. (Ephesians 5:1-2)

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave[g] nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:28)

Caught up in the madness

To mask or not to mask...that is the question. Well, one of the questions, anyway, and the way someone answers gets that person pegged as silly or thoughtless, fearful or realistic, overreacting or callous. Where someone stands right now on whether everything should open, or the genesis of the coronavirus, or the role of government during a crisis--these are all litmus tests for how we view each other right now. Conspiracy theories abound more now than ever before, primarily because the world is so connected, and information, especially MISinformation, goes viral (pardon the pun) in milliseconds. And, being human, folks latch onto any explanation whether it makes sense or not because, well, we need to blame someone or something for this, don't we? So we are divided into camps, the Stay At Homes pitted against the Reopen It Alls, with little to no respect, or even empathy, for why the other "side" thinks the way they do. And so we rant and vent on social media, splattering posts with emojis and ALL CAPS to make sure everyone knows where we stand. We judge people we see in public as on our side or not on our side simply based on whether they wear a mask, and we shake our heads or roll our eyes. The line has been drawn.

Three months ago, most media platforms (in the US, at least) were inundated with posts, memes, and shared news blasts concerning presidential politics and likely candidates for this November's election. Then, COVID-19 took over the world, and all media platforms with it. Sure, there is the occasional surge about media blips, but they are quickly drowned out by the uproar over the decisions being made at federal, state, and local levels to not only beat the virus, but to prevent economic collapse (while still preserving their elected positions, of course). Everyone, it seems, is caught up in the madness.  

Including me. 

And I have to stop and think and remind myself I am a Christian, (seriously, sometimes I have a response formed in my head, or even typed out, and I see that smack on the forehead "what was I thinking?" emoji in my mind). C'mon, I am to emulate Christ, not the world. My go to resource for encouragement and validation is the Bible, not FaceBook.  I should commit these two verses to memory, and tape copies of them to my laptop: “Let us not pass judgment on one another any longer, but rather decide never to put a stumbling block or hindrance in the way of a brother”? (Romans 14:13) and “Be careful, however, that your freedom does not become a stumbling block to the weak.”  (1 Corinthians 8:9)

Alas, humility and self-sacrifice does not come naturally to me, or human beings in general. So I get caught up in the madness of being tossed about, torn between selfish desires and love for my neighbor. I want to go to the gym, get back to church, make plans for vacations, hear that my daughter and family can get a flight out of India, get my brother back to his routine, and be able to find the good brand of toilet paper. Anger, fear, confusion, depression, sadness--being a Christian does not eliminate these emotions. But, being a Christian DOES mean we have an explanation for it all. God is sovereign, God is good, and God is using all things for His purposes for those that believe in him. 

Yes, I am in this world, but not of this world--but too often there is a dichotomy  between who I am and who I present. I am supposed to be salt, and light. Sometimes I may not reflect that, sometimes I am less than patient, less than humble, and less than accepting. And for that, I beg forgiveness. 

Lord help me live this every day:  

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. (Phil 2:2-3)

Without rain, gardens cannot grow

Today as I was doing my morning walk around my gardens, and marveling at the green and the growth and the beauty of it all, I was struck by how the recent rain and uncharacteristically cooler weather have caused things to practically shoot up overnight. And I was overwhelmed with the beauty of God's creation, and his unfathomable purpose and methods, and I wished out loud that I would stay here forever and never leave, so I could absorb this beauty and this wonder. I felt His presence around me, as if He was holding me in his arms and carrying me around the yard, pointing out a new shoot here, a budding plant there, a tiny warbler singing above me. It brought me to tears. And to a realization that we require not just sunshine and balmy weather to grow and to appreciate and be thankful for our blessings from God. We also need times of rest and refreshment, like the cooler days and the seemingly incessant rain, to help us grow, and reach up to heaven.

The past four years, not just the past 8 weeks, have humbled me and taught me so much about myself, about life, and about God. Through startlingly brilliant and glorious times of joy, as well as through dark periods of seemingly unending grief and pain, interspersed with grey moments of uncertainty, God has brought me, carrying me, holding me, cradling me, and teaching me to look up to Him, always, to trust Him, and to be refreshed. Like the gardens outside, I need rest and rain to grow, and not just refreshment from sources I seek out, but refreshment from above. Take my gardens--I can fertilize them with compost, water them with sprinklers daily, and pull weeds and thin the seedlings to optimize growth. Sunny days make them grow, and bloom, and thrive; cloudy days and rain, though, provide much needed nourishment and rest.

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven,

And do not return there without watering the earth

And making it bear and sprout,

And furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater;

So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth;

It will not return to Me empty,

Without accomplishing what I desire,

And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.

(Isaiah 55:10-11)

ILL EQUIPPED

If I have learned anything over the past five years, it is that I may like the IDEA of being a caregiver, but I am not equipped for it. And it drives me crazy, because I am accustomed to being given a task or assigned a role, adapting to it, and then excelling in record time. School, military, new jobs, knitting and crocheting, learning languages--piece of cake. Raised two beautiful, independent, conscientious women, and was a foster mom to several teenage girls. Handled all that life could throw at me, and thought I was pretty well equipped to handle anything else. Until now.

Going into year three as a caregiver for my mentally handicapped brother, I am painfully aware how ill-equipped. I'm a full-time caregiver, housekeeper, guardian, nurse, accountant, counselor, therapist, cheerleader, disciplinarian, and social services caseworker. And now with truly essential services (like school, doctors, respite care) shut down, it is a 24/7 responsibility that I share with my husband (who at times seems to be better equipped for this duty than me). We have taken on something we thought we understood, but we really had no earthly idea how complex this would be. No, we assumed it would be like raising our kids, like taking care of a small child. Or perhaps similar to  supervising an adult who was maybe a little confused. It is NOT anything like either of those scenarios. Not one bit. 

First of all, we were 40 years younger when we were parents, and though it was a learning process, we muddled through at first, gradually getting more adept at parenting, and finally, hopefully, we graduated to being parents of grown children. That was the goal, the objective, the target, the entire time our children were with us, through all the stages. We knew it was going to end, and that we would be successful. Not the case with someone who is intellectually and/or developmentally delayed. Growth and learning and moving on to the next stage just don't happen in this world. Sure, we have and see small incremental changes, but every day is the same. Every. Single. Day. 

Second, caring for elderly parents, while difficult emotionally as well as physically at times, presents different challenges. Challenges that are well-documented and expected and planned for, with lots of support out there. Everyone has parents, and everyone has people in their lives who grow old, more feeble, and need assistance. Eldercare is not anything new anymore. There are countless options and alternatives available to family members caring for aging relatives, and more importantly, a HUGE support network, whether through formal channels like healthcare and social services or church, or via informal venues such as friends and social media. Caring for a relative with "special needs" has very little of that support network. Information and resources are few and far between, and navigating whatever system exists to help families cope with challenges requires the sleuth capabilities of a seasoned private investigator. Terminology is ambiguous, and so frustratingly stigmatized. Despite all our advances with technology, travel, healthcare, mental health support, and social programs, our world continues to trivialize, mis-label, marginalize and be embarrassed by this population of individuals who, through no fault or doing of their own, were born into a world they will never understand. Along with their family members. 

Sure, some communities have programs that help, and there is an army of dedicated, selfless direct support staff who deal with folks like my brother every day, and truly excel at it, and love what they do. Believe me, I am in constant awe of these folks. They are heroes and angels and have amazing super powers. But they need funding. State-run benefits do exist but they don't come anywhere NEAR to meeting the actual need, and there is no federal program at all, not that I have found or seen. My parents took care of my brother for 65 years, moving from state to state to chase funded, barely adequate state programs. Affordable respite care, group homes, and in-home care are practically nonexistent, difficult to find, and clients are on lists for decades before a spot opens up, and to qualify, you have to prove eligibility. In our case, I had to find something that "proved" my brother's "condition" existed before his 21st birthday. Really? My parents were dead, and I had to find something that proved he wasn't faking or I wasn't lying. Like I would really make this up to get on a list for care he wouldn't receive in at least 10 years. (I did find a single page of a school psychiatrist report from 1962--luckily, they accepted that). The only other option is private pay, but again, there are not enough suitable facilities where he can reside with folks like him, so many families resort to placing their relatives in assisted living facilities or nursing homes. If they have money, they pay for a nice one. If they don't, they hope for the best and apply for Medicaid assistance.

I've lived long enough to watch our world go from institutionalizing people like my brother in state facilities, to trying to educate them separately, to attempting to normalize them into society. None of these have worked--they were merely smoke and mirrors to try to hide him away, and at the same time, not admit that something has to be done to help families, and these individuals, deal with the very unique challenges and issues that face them every single minute of every single day.  So again, I repeat, I am ill-equipped to deal with the cards we've been dealt.

But I will do the best I can, soldier on, and just get used to the fact this is something I will never excel at, never adapt to and never understand. Except with God's grace, that is.

As a nation, no, as a world, we have got to do better. We are all God's children, we are ALL created in His image, and we ALL deserve the same chance to achieve our purpose in life.

Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in us[a] that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen. (Hebrews 13:20-21)

Cutting Ties...and this time I mean it (?)

Right now, with all the hubbub over the coronavirus, the focus is on health and cleaning and preventing sickness. What better time, then, to clean all the dirt and cobwebs out of my emotional closet?

Yeah, yeah. I realize I have talked about this before, cutting ties with people who are harmful to my emotional and spiritual well-being. But, when it comes to my family, that is, the one I was born into, I have spent my entire adult life trying to cut ties with three of them--my mom and my two living sisters. And what I have learned is that saying you are cutting ties, and actually doing it are two completely different processes; carrying it out is not easy, or even guaranteed to stick.  Especially because I am, and always have been, the scapegoat, the eager to please person, the one trying to earn their love and their approval. I have always listened to their rants, apologized for things I didn't do or say, struggled to keep the communication channels open, sent cards and letters and gifts that were never reciprocated. After every toxic episode, every hurtful event, I have second guessed everything I said and did, playing the drama over and over again in my head until I am convinced it is ME who is crazy, ME who misconstrues things, ME who is manipulative, ME who is toxic.  And when I get to that point, like I am right now, all I want to do is cry and curl up in the fetal position and go to bed and never get up again.  Of course, that is not an option, and is not even close to a healthy response. 

Everyone has their own opinion and their own ideas on how to deal with this, and the solutions are all over the spectrum, from "forgive and forget" to "tell them to *&!% off," to "pray for them" to "explain it to your sisters," to "have limited contact." None of these work. At all. Or ever will. The level of manipulation they have, and still are, creating is impossible for me to explain to a normal, rational person. Solutions others give me are rational solutions, meant for rational people, not for toxic, narcissistic people with severe personality disorders. Regardless of what I say, what I do, nothing gets through to them; it's as if I am speaking Japanese, or trying to explain the theory of relativity to a two-year old, or teach a cow how to run on two legs. And I am frustrated and sad and angry and disappointed, mostly all aimed at myself. 

Sure, I have read the Psalms and I know I am covered by God's grace, and I know all of this will end and I will spend eternity in heaven by Jesus' side. And I know He is the judge, and He has a purpose for everything, and that nothing surprises Him. However, that does not stop me feeling like a very weak Christian right now, because I cannot find peace in this situation, there is no scripture that can tell me how to deal with this, no prayer to make it all go away. And the only way I can make this bearable, make it so I can move on with my life, is by cutting ties completely. 

I have tried in the past, and have failed. And I will more than likely fail again, and get sucked into their drama and their lies again. Like forgiveness, cutting ties is a lifelong process. 

Out of Sorts

Out of sorts...what a nice, polite euphemism for depression! Today I got up at 9 am, went back to bed at 10:30 and slept until 2:30. Out of sorts?

You know that feeling you get when you just don't feel like yourself? You know something is wrong, but you just cannot put your finger on it? That is how I have felt for the past two weeks, like there is this weight crushing down on me, making me tired and sad and short-tempered. I can't explain it. And I am not even sure I want to try to explain it. It's too damn exhausting. But I have a fairly good idea what it is...it's baaa--ack. I thought I had it beat, that maybe I had pushed it into a corner where it would stay and not bother me ever again. Ha. Now that's funny.

Well, not really funny, not in a ha ha ha way, but funny in a "you have got to be kidding me!" kind of way. Depression does not ever go away, not really. It is not a temporary sadness, or a let-down over not getting something you really want. Depression is pervasive, and as much a part of me as my freckles and my weird shaped toes. I can hide it, dress it up, learn to live with it, or push through it, but the darkness is always there, like a heavy fog just hovering over me, or seeping out under the door. Shit, I am running out of metaphors and similes.  It's so hard to explain the feeling, the overwhelming sense of not being like most folks. 

But do you know what is strange? As suffocating as depression is, I can pinpoint exactly what precipitates it, and, despite being in a very dark place, I see life more clearly than in any other frame of mind. Perhaps because depression is SO dark, and so overwhelming, all the trappings and bullshit and nonsense get stripped away--they just aren't necessary and do not matter at all. The result? A clarity of thought and discernment that, while crucial to my sanity, unfortunately, makes me more sarcastic and cynical than usual, more matter-of-fact and blunt than many would find comfortable, and, may I say, abrasive and abrupt in pointing out stupidity and group think.

So, why am I "out of sorts" now? Well, the short answer is, because our recent vacation got curtailed and hijacked by some stupid virus. But the real reason goes deeper than that; it involves betrayal, lawsuits, deaths of all our parents, the stress of managing estates and probate, taking on the caregiving again, best friend getting divorced, stepdaughter's marriage crumbling; dishonest, manipulative family members; worries about kids, home improvement projects, and just daily life. Which is why I needed a vacation. Here is where it gets "funny,"--our long-awaited, much anticipated, and greatly needed trip to Spain is ruined the day we arrive. We have to stay in the hotel, change our return flights, and come home 2 weeks early. Jet-lagged. Still. Back into full-time caregiving, with no respite this time because the special needs day services are on hold for health reasons. Back into managing two estates because sometimes family just sucks. Back into helping friends and kids navigate life's issues. Back to the tasks of finishing the garage and getting the RV ready to sell and finding a car for our daughter to use when she and her family come stateside this spring--correction, if they come stateside this spring.

You know what I am NOT depressed about, though? The coronavirus. Yes, it's a global pandemic, and yes, I take it seriously. I take health and safety and well-being of me and my family quite seriously. And yes, it is, at best, an inconvenience, and at worst, a huge wrench messing up the our lives, making us reschedule things, forcing us to get used to doing things differently, and it is frightening, and uncertain, and has created an era of uncertainty for work, payroll, health systems, school, holidays, events, and sports--this event has impacted every aspect of life in nearly every one of the 180 plus countries it has infected.

I may always feel the darkness, I may never rid myself of the specter of depression, and I may never be "normal."  

BUT, because I have Christ, I have hope. And though my earthly hopes and dreams may be crushed, and plans laid to waste, I hope in my life with Him through eternity.

Because I have Christ, I have joy. Sure, I may not look very joyful; in fact, I may look miserable. Don't confuse happiness with joy, though. We will always have unhappiness and sadness and death and uncertainty in the world.  But Christ is my joy.

Because I have Christ, I have faith that He will see us through this. He will see us THROUGH--through being the operative word.  We will not start into a situation or a problem or a crisis and get stuck in it. We will, by the grace and benevolence of God, get through it and, by definition, to the other side.

Because I have Christ, I KNOW God is in charge, God is in control, and nothing this world throws at me will make me believe otherwise.  Not even the coronavirus.

Undeserved crown

Over a year ago, we planned this trip--a trip to Spain, the birthplace of my mother-in-law and the home of her entire family. A trip intended to mourn her passing and celebrate her life, to relive memories and moments, to cry and laugh and hug and remember. Through no fault of our own, we had to keep delaying the trip, time after time after time, as family crises arose and more sweet souls went to that great beyond. Life happened, in other words. So, finally, over a year after sweet Conchita's death, we left our home in the North Carolina mountains and headed to the sweet, orange scented beauty of southern Spain, and excited to see family and later, to escape to beautiful places surrounding Seville where just the two of us could recapture that spark, rejuvenate our souls, and just enjoy being us--no deaths, no kids, no pets, no responsibilities, no caregiving duties. Hotel reservations made, splurged on business class for the long transatlantic flight, earmarked special must-see places on Trip Advisor--we were raring to go. Nothing was going to stand in our way. Nothing.  

Yeah, nothing but a tiny, submicroscopic infectious agent shaped, fittingly enough, like a crown. Coronavirus, COVID-19, has been crowned, at least currently, as the queen of the modern world, wreaking havoc in practically every area of life across the globe. What started as a mere footnote in central China rapidly became the bold print headline dominating all forms of media. First China, then Iran and Italy were affected, and world health organizations scrambled to contain it, understand it, limit it. Characteristically arrogant and nonplussed, we Americans (including us) went about life, creating and sharing memes on FaceBook, and acted as if our super-power status could insulate us from the panic abroad. Heck, thirty minutes before our flight departed from Miami we listened to the Presidential proclamation limiting travel in the EU, then just shrugged it off and boarded our plane for Spain. We arrived the next day, hugged family, checked into our hotel, recovered from jet lag, and made plans for a Spanish family reunion in the park.

That was Thursday. Less than 36 hours later, we are stuck in our hotel, incredulous as entire countries shut down. We pour over news reports on BBC, the Department of Homeland Security, the State Department, Google, and, of course, FaceBook. We hear rumors and try to validate them. We search for truth and verification and guidance as to what to do, where to go, should we stay or should we go. I am alternately irritated, angry, and cavalier about the whole situation--irritated that statistics are being manipulated, angry that our vacation has been ruined, but cavalier about the implications of how this happened. We contact our travel agent to arrange an early return, complain about the inconvenience and the unfairness to each other and to family and friends, and then, suddenly, I stop. Not only has this virion become the queen of the media--I have allowed it be queen of my thoughts, my decison-making, my mood. Not once have I prayed about it, asked God for guidance, thanked God for the blessing of even being able to embark on such a journey. No, I instead complained and whined and scoured human sources for an answer, for direction. I allowed this virus, a creation of the Creator, to supplant the Creator.  

I have so much to learn, so far to grow.