Reconciliation, part 2

All photos in this post are taken by the lovely and talented Eliza Stewart.
You can follow her work on Instagram or on her website at https://elizastewartphotography.mypixieset.com

This week, we are back to our story of reconciliation. I’m sharing the story-telling with my friend Eliza - the friend I have today only because of grace and forgiveness. Eliza was so brave last week sharing her story of loss and betrayal and church trauma. Now it’s my turn to be brave. So I am taking a deep breath as I dive in.

When I met Eliza, we had just moved to a new city, a new state, and a new church, and I was lonely. Eliza was a youth at the time, and I remember wanting her to like me. It sounds kind of silly now, I guess. She was funny and kind, and she exuded warmth and joy. She was slow to warm up to me as a pastor’s wife, but when she did, she gave her whole heart. That is who Eliza is: warm and big-hearted and fiercely loyal. We quickly became chosen family to one another, and as much as I mentored her, she taught me. We walked on the beach and watched hours of Doctor Who together. We shared lots of nerdy comraderie and so many long talks and sweet memories. She was one of my people, and I loved her.

I missed her when she went off to Huntingdon. It was a little like sending off one of my own to college. But I was so proud of her and so excited to see what God would do through her calling. Her second summer in college, Eliza went to work at a Methodist camp. We didn’t get to talk much that summer, and I felt like we kind of lost touch a bit.

I remember the Sunday she came home to church. I was really excited to spend some time with her before she left for college again. I remember her asking to talk with me and the two of us going into our prayer chapel at church. I remember her telling me about the girl she had fallen in love with. And I remember the fear I felt for her.

You see, I was guilty of projecting my dreams for her onto her life. I imagined her going to the same seminary I did, meeting a lovely man somewhere down the road, and serving in the United Methodist Church in the same way my own family was doing. This news didn’t fit my plan for her. And honestly, it didn’t fit my theology at the time. I was guilty of not doing my own work around understanding the LGBTQ community. And as I listened to her talk about this woman that had changed her life, I never even gave Jayne a chance. I just decided that she was wrong for Eliza.

There was more at play, of course. Those around me felt pretty strong about the LGBTQ “issue.” And I often deferred to those around me in matters of theology. I didn’t trust my own voice. But here’s the thing: as I heard the people important to me pronounce judgement on Eliza’s “choice,” I kept hearing a voice in my heart that said, “this is Eliza - she is your person, not an issue.” And I am ashamed to say that I didn’t follow that voice. I was afraid to speak out. I was afraid of angering my husband and my friends. And so I allowed the distance to grow between Eliza and me.

In 2017, when my husband died, my whole world fell apart. I was disoriented and lost. When Eliza came to the funeral, I wanted to sit with her and be hugged and comforted by her presence. But I didn’t know how to ask. I had no idea what was going on behind the scenes for Eliza that day. And regarding those early days, I can give myself grace. Grief can be very selfish. All you can see is your own loss, as if grief is a barrier blocking your view so that you cannot see anything but your own loss and emptiness. But as I began to try to put my life back together, I didn’t ask Eliza to be a part of it. It felt hard and complicated, and I didn’t have the bandwidth for hard and complicated. And distance continued to grow between us.

I watched from Facebook and Instagram as she was accepted to Duke and left for seminary. I watched from the safety of the computer screen as she married Jayne. There had been a time, when Eliza was younger, that she feared not meeting the right man. I encouraged her to be patient, and I promised her that when she was no longer The Girl Who Waited (a Doctor Who reference), I would wear Tardis blue and dance at her wedding. As I looked at the pictures from her wedding, I felt a pang as I tearily realized that I was missing out on the most joyous day of her life. I was missing the chance to celebrate her and to keep my promise to her. But I didn’t know how to fix what felt broken.

In 2019, I began to deconstruct my theology and my willingness to hold tightly what I had always been taught. God began to tear down my desire to be right. I confessed my arrogance and my apathy in dealing with hard issues. Over and over again, I heard Spirit whisper to me, “it’s time to repair your relationship with Eliza.” I wanted reconciliation, but I was so afraid of rejection.

So I hesitated for a while, until one day I finally felt brave enough to apologize with no expectations. I felt ready to take my own forgiveness out of the equation. All I wanted was for Eliza to know that I was wrong and I was so sorry. And so I wrote her a message on Instagram that transformed me again.

Next week, you will get to hear our story of reconciliation - of the grace that covered us both. But I want to leave you today with a few thoughts. First, we in the church have been so quick to see issues before actual human people. That is not who the Jesus we claim to follow is. When he was here on earth, showing us how to live, Jesus saw people - in all of their brokenness, in all of their beautiful imago dei. Jesus never turned down the opportunity to choose a person over the church or the law. That is the person, the Christ-follower, I want to be. Second, I had so many nudgings and feelings that what was happening with Eliza was not ok. And I am so sad and ashamed that I ignored those nudgings. I’ve said it here before, but if something doesn’t feel right to you, don’t ignore that. Be curious, and ask why it doesn’t feel right. Spirit may very well be working in those feelings. Lastly, there is always grace. When you have made choices you aren’t proud of, when you have hurt someone you love, step up and ask for forgiveness. There is no guarantee that you can get back what was lost, but perhaps you can forge something new. Always grace, my friends. Always grace.

Reconciliation, part 1

All photos in this post are taken by the lovely and talented Eliza Stewart.
You can follow her work on Instagram or on her website at https://elizastewartphotography.mypixieset.com

I share a lot here about what I am learning and experiencing in life. I try to share the ways Spirit shows up and guides me. I also like to tell you stories. I think that is what I am at heart - a storyteller. For the next 3 weeks, I want you to hear a story that I am still living - a story that is unfinished. This is a story about a relationship and mistakes and hurt, but also about grace and reconciliation.

Today you will hear from my dear friend Eliza. You get to hear the heart of a brave, smart, beautiful, and kind young woman. Eliza has taught me more about grace and forgiveness than anyone else I know. Today she will tell you a part of her story -and our story. Next week you will hear more from my perspective. Then finally, you will get to hear the rest of the story - the new chapter where Spirit and grace and forgiveness takes over.

I am handing over the keyboard today to my sweet Eliza-girl. She will tell you about the hurt and trauma she has experienced at the hands of the church community and the adults in her life that promised to love and hold space for her and who she was becoming. Grace Family, this is such an important story. All around us, young people like Eliza are being hurt in churches by people who put judgement and theology before love and compassion. And we have to do better. Please open your hearts and welcome my friend -

Written by Eliza Stewart, August 30, 2021

Renae and I met when I was 17 years old. We quickly became chosen family. We would watch Dr. Who for hours, shared a love for all things coffee, and enjoyed each other's company. She helped me navigate all those life changes that happen from high school to college. She was one of my people. When I did move to college, the summer after my first year, we spent many afternoons chatting and walking on the beach.

My sophomore year of college was ending and I needed a job for the summer. I went to work as a camp counselor at a Methodist summer camp. The summer of 2016 I was a lifeguard, led archery, camped in tents, led small groups, and spent the summer making friends. I thought I would meet the man of my dreams. At this point in my life, anywhere I went I thought I would meet the man of my dreams, so this was my natural state of being. There seldom was a time I wasn’t daydreaming about the perfect Christian man and marriage I would one day be blessed by God with; if I was good and faithful enough to earn it.

Then I met Jayne.

We became best friends immediately. We were lifeguards and counselors together. We swam in the lake after shifts and hung out on the weekends between camps. Our summer friendship turned into a summer romance and eventually turned into a loving marriage. The summer ended and I returned to my junior year of college with a whole new perspective on myself, faith, and scripture. The world seemed larger, and then endless questions followed.

Whereas I fell completely in love with Jayne, not everyone was as head over heels about this new relationship as I was. The church was my home, my safe place, and the people in it were my family. The church family that had become my chosen family were…. concerned to say the least. My eternal damnation was looming overhead, eliciting a strong response. On some level, even now, I understand the concern was from a place of love and care.

That August of 2016, Renae and I sat in the prayer chapel. I broke the news of my new girlfriend and our relationship forever changed. After that, things between the two of us just fizzled. There was no “last conversation” or sudden breaking point. There were other factors at play and the two of us just faded into the background of everything else going on. There was hurt and pain and irreconcilable perspectives. So after a few months things just became…. silent.

I was back in school and suddenly without a church family back home. I was still pursuing a call to ministry, so my religion department became my church for a while. Not something I recommend for college students, but it's what I had.

My separation from this community that was once so proud of me, supported and encouraged me in my studies, who I worked alongside in ministry, suddenly became cold and distant. I held onto hope of reconciliation until Chris (Renae’s husband) died. It was clear at the funeral that this was no longer my home and my people were no longer my people. The way I was kept out of the mourning process drew a clear line that showed me I was no longer welcome. Chris’s death was a turning point for me because from my perspective, even in the face of the death of a beloved pastor, my “sin” of loving a woman was so offensive it rose to the level worthy of excommunication.

The following 5 years were pretty silent as far as my relationship with anyone from my home church, including Renae. I obviously was hurt and had a million questions. I leaned on my college friends and often prayed for illumination. I did my best to move on from what I now recognize as church trauma. Therapy. And then therapy again. There aren't many resources out there for people to grieve the living. I tried to move on, but I don’t think grieving someone who is walking around in the world is something you ever really heal from. I continued to pursue my call to ministry, graduated, went to grad school, Jayne and I got married, life moved on... I moved on.

That hurt never really went away.

One day, in the middle summer of 2020, as I was sitting on the couch next to Jayne, an Instagram message came through. After reading the first line I knew that this is a message I had been praying for. Through tears I read the message out loud.

Hi Friends, this is Renae again. There is, thankfully, more to this story - that Instagram message was from me. I am so grateful that there is room for more chapters in our story. What has happened in my past - and yours - doesn’t have to be all that there is. We get to step in and write brave new endings.

vulnerability

Vulnerability is the core, the heart, the center of meaningful human experiences --Brene Brown

I don’t know about you, but for me, vulnerability is something I have to be purposeful with. It doesn’t come naturally to me. I am often cautious with my vulnerability, sometimes too cautious. I like to hide behind my “Everything is fine” mask and try to discern whether I can trust you with who I really am.

I had an experience this week though that challenged my protective measures. I was on a zoom conference listening to an author and speaker share about Sabbath practices. I was tired and not really sure I wanted to be there honestly. But the speaker emanated a calming, soulful presence, and soon I was drawn in. We ended our morning session with breakout rooms - a part of zoom (and in person) meetings that challenge me. I can hide in the many squares and faces when we are all listening to the main speaker, but when I am sent into a breakout room of just 4 to 5 people, hiding is less of an option. As soon as I joined my room that day, there was a different feeling in that space. There was the usual awkwardness of who would speak first. And as often happens, I volunteered to be brave and guide the group - mainly because my anxiety of no one volunteering is greater than my anxiety over going first and getting my part over with. But as we each shared in those few moments, I felt a connection that felt different than most breakout sessions. There was a tentative vulnerability there and I noticed that when one of us was brave, it drew courage from the rest of us.

The afternoon session was even better than the morning, and I rejoiced that there was a two-part writing challenge. The first felt natural to me - write a letter to Spirit, expressing my love and praise. For seven minutes, I wrote fervishly, pouring out my praise. The second part of the challenge was much harder to me - write a love letter to myself from Spirit. This seven minutes was hard and emotional for me. I had a hard time hearing God’s love. And then our leader spoke the words that made me want to hide: I want you to share your letters in your breakout rooms. EEK! She of course gave us permission to not share or to only share parts of our writing. But if you know me, you know there was no way I was not going to fully follow directions!

As we transitioned to our rooms, I was relieved to see the same four familiar faces from the morning. That would make this sharing easier at least. But what followed was a half hour of the most beautiful, sacred sharing I have ever been a part of. Five women across zoom shared the intimate outpourings of praise and authenticity. Again, courage birthed more courage, and there was a holy vulnerability with one another in Spirit’s presence. I felt seen and held by those women. As we debriefed following our reading, each one of us shared awe and gratitude for the compassionate presence and unexpected connection we each felt. I may never see those women again, but they are a part of my story now - a healing witness to the mysterious connection that vulnerability can create.

I learned something new this week about myself and about vulnerability. Being brave and letting myself be seen may be scary, but I am safe in Spirit’s presence when I choose vulnerability. I’ve heard Brene Brown say that vulnerability is a risk we have to take if we want to experience connection. My friends, let’s practice being brave. Let yourself be seen. No one else has your story or your light. With all of the divisiveness we experience in this world, vulnerability and authenticity is our path back to one another.

Slow Down

I have mentioned it here before, but just in case you’ve missed it: my mind can be a chaotic and twisty place. I often have emotions I am processing and multiple thought threads running simultaneously, in addition to a few lyrics from the random song I can’t get out of my head. The jumble of words and emotions and music lyrics might just be part of the reason that my witty comebacks don’t reach my mouth until the conversation I am in has changed direction 3 times. It is also the reason that when I am planning something, my mind is analyzing multiple possibilities and has run at least 4 steps ahead of where I am now. Sometimes I really wish I could turn my brain down.

I am however, learning from one of my kids, although he doesn’t even realize it. This past week I took this particular kid out for a few hours to spend time together. We got into the car, and as we sat in the driveway, I asked, “so what do you want to do together today?” He answered, “well I don’t know.” Cue frustration because this outing had been on the schedule for more than a week, and I had told him to think about where he would like to go. I often foolishly believe that when I ask this kiddo to think about a decision ahead of time, he will actually do it.

You see, what I know and have always known about this human is that he does not plan in advance. I am sure some of this is due to the fact that his brain just works this way. But what I am just now learning is that he is completely in the moment. He is not worried about what just happened or what comes next. He simply lives right where he is.

This is something I have been trying to learn in meditation for a long time. I have been practicing mindfulness and techniques to ground myself. I want to quiet my busy mind and experience what is happening around me. But so often, my mind is buzzing and my thoughts are bouncing all over the place. As a result, this trait my child possesses has often been the cause for my frustration (read: great weeping and gnashing of teeth.) However, this time, instead of suggesting ideas or getting frustrated, I just stopped and waited for him to decide. He thought for a moment, and said, “let’s go to Trussville, Mom.”

So off we drove, and immediately, I started peppering him with questions about where he wanted to go in Trussville, because obviously, I am a slow learner. After getting no actual traction in the planning stages of our adventure, Spirit whispered to me, “just be present with him.” And so I practiced. I listened to him talk about video games, and we sang 80’s rock music, and he shared his favorite song from his favorite game with me. We were just together. We only went to Target and to grab a cocoa from Starbucks that day. It was nothing expensive or fancy. But I saw him with clear eyes, and I remembered how much I really like who he is. He is funny and quirky and kind. He is the child teaching me to be present and enjoy what is in front of me rather than all of the things that fight for attention within me.

Maybe someone you love has this trait or a habit that equally drives you nuts. What if you looked at them with fresh eyes and chose to just be present with your person? What could you learn? I am sure I will get frustrated again by my child’s lack of planning ahead. It really does go against my nature. But I hope that I can remember this lesson and stay in the moment more often. I like who I am when I choose mindfulness and enjoy what is around me. I like what I see when I slow down and pay attention.

Arrows

Welcome back Friends! I’ve missed being in this space with you. My time away was so full - of family, of dreaming, and of new possibilities. It was such a crazy idea, to take a month long break from writing and building community here. But that month was so very needed. It helped me to process where I’ve been and imagine where I am going. Here is what I’ve been up to:

My family - all of the Rickleses - were able to be together for the first time since Christmas of 2019. SO much had happened since we were together, and our two weeks were full and joyous and like coming home to one another.

I have recently been given an amazing opportunity to work on a freelance project with my sister. Y’all - I am getting paid to write words! I cannot even stand it! It is truly a dream come true, and it has opened my eyes to the possibility of using my full self in my work.

I also spent a lot of time visioning and processing the next season of my life. I have known for a long time that God was moving me toward something new. But I had grown frustrated because I can’t yet see the end of this journey. I have prayed and planned and prepared and researched and experimented, but I didn’t have a detailed sense of what I am heading toward.

It has been like getting on an airplane without knowing my final destination. How do I properly prepare and pack? Do I need shorts and flip flops or boots and a heavy coat? What do I need to understand about the culture I will be immersed in? How many pairs of socks do I need to pack? Honestly, I let the uncertainty and the lack of control get inside my head.

During the past month though, I took a deep breath - several deep breaths actually. I refocused and returned to a practice I learned from author Emily P Freeman - “following the arrows.” She shares in her book, The Next Right Thing, about a time of uncertainty in her family’s life. When they looked for answers, all they could see were arrows, and so they began to follow them. The arrows led them out of the uncertainty and into their next season - but it took time.

When I moved to the Birmingham area in 2019, my path was paved with arrows. I longed to know the ending. Could I get a mortgage by myself? Could we find a house I could afford? Could we start over again? So I followed that first arrow - it’s time to move closer to your family. I shared with the boys my longing, and they wholeheartedly agreed! At that time, it was entirely too early to begin looking for houses for my schedule. So we followed that next arrow - begin preparing AS IF the move would happen. Boy that was a scary one! But we started clearing out and packing up what we could. When the time came though, we found a mortgage company and a realtor, and I got preapproved. Then came the struggle of finding a house in the neighborhood I wanted. I looked at and fell in love with multiple houses in a market that moved very quickly (although not as crazy as the market now!) Then my parents heard of a house in their neighborhood that was about to go up for sale. And we followed that arrow and put a contract on the house before it ever went up for sale! Trusting and following the arrows God put in front of us led us to our new home - one that I bought and owned all by myself.

Seeing evidence of God’s guidance and delight in surprising us with good gifts has been a grace story I’ve told ever since. And now I am again following arrows. I know God is drawing me toward purposeful and fruitful ministry. I just can’t see it yet. And so I am following the arrows - the discovery of spiritual formation as a lens for ministry, the mentorship from my former pastor, the hope*writers community, the spiritual direction program at Metagem Institute, learning to teach in a whole new way, and a calling to pastoral ministry that I cannot ignore.

The arrows are there, God is working in me and, I think, through me. I can’t see how the pieces will all fit together, but God is a master artist.

I will leave you with a question and a quote. First, the question: what arrows are you following today as you move forward into an area you can’t quite figure out?

And now the quote, from Emily P. Freeman’s The Next Right Thing:

When you catch a tiny glimpse of the future, be sure not to smother it with your own agenda. Let it breathe. Let it grow at a healthy pace. Admit it’s both delightful and terrifying. As you take your next right step today, trust that God won’t let you miss your own future. Follow the arrows.