The Bitter Break-up

It wasn't a serious relationship, but I had to end things.  Yes, we'd been together since I met them in the mall in 1992.  I haven't always been loyal, but they got me through some really rough and lonely months back in 2005.  It was a relationship that I could always count on- something different and reliable. 

And what did they do?  They fucked up.  There were hints in the years past that we were growing apart.  I sensed that their values did not always reflect mine.  But they had to throw it in my face.  I had no choice.

I broke up with Chic-fil-a. 

It was a resentful break-up on my part.  If I wrote a note to Chic-fil-a, it would say:

Dear Chic-fil-a,

I still love you and your breakfast sandwiches, but your complete lack of morals is too much for me to handle.  I hate you for making me love you!  Why do you have to be so stupid?  Why did you align yourself with every backwoods, angry, ignorant, self-righteous, and bigoted Christian in America? 

Why do you make me walk away from you?  It isn't me, it's you.  This IS personal.  We are over.  Call me when you do something to redeem this hate you spread in the name of Jesus.

Regrettfully,
Your ex-lover

p.s. If you need me, you can find me at Zaxby's.  Their nibblers are growing on me and they don't hate gays and lesbians.

Interns for a quarter

What is my favorite part of summer at work?  Summer interns!  Yes, these last years I have had college students or grad students who work for free (or almost free) at the church at least 10 hours a week.

It. Is. Awesome.  Even when it is horrible, it is still awesome.  Why?  I get that same thrill that I got as a kid after inserting a quarter into the toy machine while spinning that metal handle around and around.

Click.  Oh!  It is really working!
Click.  What will I get?
Click.  I hear it coming down the chute!

Oh, how I loved to lift the metal flap.  It is so exciting to open that plastic bubble and discover what wonderful or crappy prize I just bought for a quarter.  Most of the time it was some broken or unrecognizable toy from another country.  The worst was those sticky balls that were supposed to climb down your walls and just ended up leaving grease marks on the ceiling that your mom yells at you about (not that such a thing happened).  The best was jewelry.    ANY kind of jewelry.

Now summer interns are my grown up version of the toy machine.  We pay out little or no money.  They arrive.  For the first few weeks, we are still winding the metal handle to see what we will get.  It is fun to work with them, challenge them, encourage them, and see who is the star prize.*

This summer we have FOUR.  An entire dollar's worth.  Here is the line up:

The sticker intern:  He is shiney and attractive!  Everyone was excited and surprised to see him!  He started off strong saying yes to everything and acting as if he was actually listening to people talk.  Alas, the stickiness ran out and he fell to the floor.  Got another job.  We found out that smiling and nodding is a hot guy's way to say, "I have no idea what you are talking about and I am way out of my element but I am going to act cool until I just don't show up or do anything assigned to me."  Ironically, this shallow, shiney intern was our oldest at 26 years old.  He is going to a fundamentalist seminary in the fall where he will do quite well.

The bouncy ball intern.  She is the intern that everyone wants!  Watch her go!  She will never break and she blows your mind with her abilities and her joyful attitude!  Unfortunately, everyone wants the bouncy ball so she works at two other churches in addition to ours.  Like her namesake, she is awesome but impossible to find at any given moment in time.  Sharing bouncy balls sucks ass.

The plastic animal intern.  She has gifts and skills.  She is also beautiful and sweet.  This intern will always have a place in ministry because she can sing and love old people.  Like a plastic animal, you will never get rid of it but its sweetness and innocence may tempt you to take it for granted.  To truly appreciate it, you must not to look closer at the missing eye or mis-painted tail.  You are better off assuming that there is more detail and depth there than is the reality.  I love this intern, even with her flaws.

The slidey puzzle intern.  Yes, we shall not forget the puzzle with plastic squares that slide around to make an image.  Like this last intern, it is an acquired taste.  They are both very thoughtful, awkward, dorky, and easy for people to see and think "lame."  He, however, ended up being the star prize.  Why?  He never broke!  He is always available and willing!  The pastor claimed this intern for himself, as often happens when a nerdy kid finds the slidey puzzle game.  Mine!  I'm still figuring it out!  Get your own!

Summer is coming to a close and I am already starting to get that sad feeling when the thrill is over and you are out of quarters.  You got what you got and you'll lose it in a month or so anyway.  Except that "it" is a human being.  With whom I've built a relationship.  And who was not made in China...at least no one in this year's crop.

*I am fully aware that it is horrible for a minister to objectify and judge the precious people with whom I work as if they were not significant in God's eyes.  I never claimed to be a good minister.  Good ministers have boring blogs.

Judgment Day

It has come for the second time. 

The first judgment day snuck up on me slowly.  It was small changes at first and then everything went downhill until there was no denying the impending judgment.  I survived that first time with little cost.

Little Cost.  I knew that it was too much grace, as if I just put off the ultimate day of doom.  I lived for years in fear and trembling.  Waiting.  Watching.  Feeling my door frames and breathing in sweet relief that I had survived another day without the inevitable.

And now it is here.  It came in the night, sometime between 1am and 5am.  I awoke and knew.  From a deep sleep, I sat up and said, "This is not good."

Yes.  My air conditioning is broken.

There is no going back to sleep when I wake up to a hot house.  Now I have to wait.  One day.  Maybe two.  I wait for some person to come to my house and give me the news.  Am I going to receive grace?  It could be a $20 part and a $40 job.  Am I going to be held accountable for my home ownership actions?  It could be a $100 part and a $300 job.  Am I going to be given the ultimate judgment, dooming me to debt?  I may have to buy a new unit.

The day is come.  Maybe the holder of my fate with allow me to buy time before finally paying the ultimate cost.  Can we please wait a few years for a new unit, Mr. A/C repair man?  Until I know, I feel like I could throw up.  Sleep is no longer an option.  Today is going to be humid and 95 degrees.  Oh, the misery of a beat-down soul.

Big Girl Panties

Have you ever reached a point when your life is so miserable that it is humorous? I learned this from my family. You have to be able to laugh at your own misery sometimes. Here is a conversation from a phone call last week:

Me: Hey Josh (my brother)! How is everything?
Josh: Oh, you know. Everyone is gone right now. They are all at ball practice and art lessons.
Me: Nice! You have an empty house right now! I will let you go so you can enjoy the quiet.
Josh: No big deal. I am about to go on a date. [loaded pause after date]
Me: Whaaaat? Who with?
Josh: An older lady. 47
Me: Is she rich?
Josh: No, she is one of Joanna's friends. [another loaded pause because our sister, Joanna, makes horrible decisions and usually has friends who are complete trash or screwups]
Me: Oh. (pause) You know, you aren't supposed to date older people unless they are rich. Is she a blonde?
Josh: Yes! I don't know what my problem is! She has hair just like Meredith (his crazy girlfriend he dated on and off for 10 years)
Me: Dammit, Josh. You have to get over the blonde thing! Well, have a great date. I was just calling to check on my messed up sister, hurting nephews, and sick father.
Josh: (laughs a little) Yes, and the boys really are hurting. Joanna is in detox right now.
Me: Well, that is good. Where did she go?
Josh: Oh, she is in the next room.

And we laughed and laughed.

I recently realized that being a member of my family and being a woman makes me a lot stronger than most of the men in my life.  That may be sexist, but...

Since the shit hit the fan at church, the pastor and my two closest guy friends freaked out and can't handle conflict. At all. All three have bailed on me when they were all supportive about doing a lesbian wedding a week ago.  Two of them played in the band at the wedding!  We knew it was coming and they talked a good game, but they only lasted two weeks before giving up. I can't depend on the men, so here is my new mantra:

I had drinks and watched a movie with my girlfriends and gave them a little inspirational speech.  It was essentially:  Our lives suck.  The men can't handle any of this.  They are shitting themselves.  So we have to step up.  We have to put on our big girl panties because we know how to be broken and strong at the same time.

I actually bought a giant pair of panties (they fit me, unfortunately) for us to pass around as needed.  Only one of us can lose our shit at a time and that woman will hold the panties.  The rest of us have to keep wearing ours.

Why?  Because men are weak.  I can't depend on any man in North Carolina to help me hang onto my job.  It is up to the women to step up and take care of things.

We can cry, we can cuss, we can discuss things until we are blue in the face.  Real women, however, do not allow themselves to give into fear and hopelessness and shit themselves.  Not in the big girl panties.  That is what they are made for.

best sermon ever

This has been a rough month.

I live in North Carolina and the state voted to pass Amendment 1, which states: "All gay people are going to hell. We hate them and they can go fuck themselves."

Or something like that.

Two weeks before the amendment vote, I performed a wedding ceremony for some very close friends- both of whom are women. It was a beautiful day! Magical from beginning to end. A day for celebration!

Within a week, some angry Republicans from the church found out about the wedding. They asked for my head on a plate. In the form of a resignation. SO it has been hell. I am sure that I will unfold the hell more in weeks to come.

Until then, here is an amazing sermon by a pastor who 1) gives me hope and 2) solidifies my attraction to tall, strong, black men.

Awesome Sermon

oh HELL no

Yesterday was a wake-up call for me. No, not a wake-up call. Those are always life inspiring events that cause someone to make big changes and everything turns out wonderfully. Let’s start again.

Yesterday, a stranger reached through the phone and did the emotional equivalent of shoving an ice pick through my eye. Yes, that feels better.

I am now crushed, embarrassed, depressed, and irrevocably pissed off. I have entered a long-term war with Blue Cross Blue Shield. I should probably include Cigna, but they were late with the ice pick and the damage had already been done. Yes, it is Blue Cross Blue Shield who is now the enemy. I want to fuck them up enough to wage war with my entire life.

Dramatic much? No. I am a 33 year-old woman who was denied health insurance.

Let’s back track. I already have health insurance. Really good insurance, including dental. The problem is that said insurance is with a group of ministers who are aging by the day. This makes my premium ridiculously expensive.

The church gave us a 2% raise, the first raise in years. Woo-hoo! Oh wait, this is the church. There must be a screwing over coming soon... Since we received this very generous raise, they quit covering any raises in insurance rates. The result? I now bring home LESS money this year because I am now paying for every rate hike that plagues our great nation.

This led me to call BCBS. Since I now get to pocket any money that I save on insurance, it was time for me to find a cheap plan with a high deductible for hospital visits. A woman who visits the family clinic maybe once a year for a cold or flu does NOT need a $250 deductible for a hospital stay.

I am young and healthy. Every test that a doctor can run by poking, prodding, and draining me always comes out perfectly.

Except that I am NOT young and healthy. I am 33 and fat. I take anti-depressants and birth control. After much pressing, the very kind insurance agent explained that until I either quit anti-depressants (not an option) or lose 50 lbs, I can’t find new health insurance. I am allowed to be fat. Or depressed. The combination makes me a liability.

Now we get to the “oh HELL no” portion of my life. Fuck that. This is going to change. I know I can save $200/month by losing weight. I am now at war with the world. And myself.

I will not die fat and alone simply because God tells me that I have to be alone. I will die less fat from something awesome like contracting a rare disease while traveling the world or a parachuting malfunction or being shot while saving a baby from a gang war in Guatemala.

BCBS will come to hate me. I will now lose weight, get their cheap coverage, and then proceed to find as many dangerous and awesome activities as possible.

The war begins. Right after I lose 50 lbs.

Letting Go of Dreams, Part 2

The problem is that God never promised us our dreams. God never promised to be faithful in keeping us happy and making our lives go the way we want.

I began to give up the dreams of a husband and children with the thought in the back of my head that God has a huge other blessing that will replace them. Maybe God is even testing me to see if I will give up my desires right before the man of my dreams walks into my life.

That is not how God works. I give up my dream and keep following God. God doesn’t have to reward me for doing what I am supposed to do.

My parents had their dreams snatched away by a broken world. By laying aside their own plans and caring for a broken daughter, they are doing what God has called them to do. God doesn’t have to reward them for doing what they are supposed to do either.

God and I are talking now. I realize that I am not helpless in this journey. I keep choosing to listen for God’s voice and try to follow. I chose this life of ministry. I am a happy single person 80% of the time. I am the one who holds onto every cautionary tale of marriage and loss to keep me from marrying someone for the sake of getting married.

Now my prayers: God, help me to live again. Teach me what life looks like without a family. You suck (still not completely over it). Help me find contentment and purpose again.

I have to lay aside big, life-long dreams and begin accepting my life for what it is. It turns out that planning a future without the worry of a family that would hault some opportunities, solve some problems that I don't want to solve, and motivate me to be a better, more generous woman with a cleaner house and a kitchen full of home-cooked food... where was I? Oh yeah, it turns out that planning a future without all that has blown my brain.

I am having to learn how to dream all over again.