Dear Mr. President - December 2019

Dear Mr. President – December 2019

Dear Mr. President,

You are being impeached. You deserve impeachment, removal from office, and imprisonment. You have done damage to innocent people and to our environment. You leave death and destruction in your wake.

But, enough about you.

This past week I was at a clergy meeting. We meet once a month and talk about churchy things. At this meeting we had a new pastor join us. She has taken a position in a local church. She went around the room, shook each of our hands and asked where we served. When she got to me, I told her my name and said, “I’m not serving at this time.”

Serve. That’s what we call it, we clergy folk. We “serve” congregations. We listen to the needs of our people and we care for them. We bring them Good News from the pulpit. We serve them communion and remind them of God’s goodness, mercy, and grace. We pray for them. We show up at their bedside when they are in the hospital. We baptize babies. We bury the dead. Our time is often not our own. We serve our people 24/7.

It’s interesting that people who run for political office also call it “serving.” Public service. I have heard people say, “I serve at the pleasure of the President.” But you, sir, are the highest elected official who serves us: the citizens of the United States of America. You weren’t elected to take our taxes for your weekly golf trips. You weren’t elected to use the office to enrich your family and your private businesses. You weren’t elected to surround yourself with a gang of mobsters, many of whom are now in prison. As a public servant you were elected to discover the needs of the people and enact policies to protect and promote the rights of all individuals. You have failed.

Servant: a person who performs duties for others, especially a person employed in a house for domestic duties or as a personal attendant. A person employed in the service of a government. A devoted and helpful follower or supporter. A tireless servant of God.

(Isn’t that interesting? Clergy and politicians are both covered in this definition. So is every single soul who looks out for those in need.)

It’s almost Christmas. As a Christian, Christmas is what I celebrate. I also honor and respect the celebrations of other religions during the holiday season. There is enough room for all of us. There is enough room for all celebrations.

But for me, when I am led by God to serve a congregation, Christmas is a time to celebrate now, and also what is to come. Have you heard of Mary? Yes, THAT Mary. The mother of Jesus (I know you aren’t a church-going man. I’ll try to keep this simple)

Mary was a young girl, very young. Probably a little younger than Greta Thunberg.  

Mary was stopped one day by an angel. She was told that even though she wasn’t married, she was going to have a baby. Yep, she and God were going to have a baby. The Savior of the World baby. Being unmarried and pregnant should have gotten her stoned to death outside the city gates. That’s what happened to women.

Mary heard this angel news and set off to visit her cousin Elizabeth. Elizabeth, also pregnant (and quite aged) gave Mary all the affirmation she needed. Mary’s baby was going to be someone special.

Mary said:

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.”

A couple verses later she says, “…the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name…He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty…”

The thing about this remarkable Magnificat, is the tense. It is said in the past tense. As if it had already been accomplished. Not, “he will do,” but, “he has done.” The proud have already been scattered. The powerful have lost their thrones. The lowly have been uplifted. The hungry have been filled with good things. And the rich have been sent away.  

Little, unwed, pregnant Mary understood that the baby she would bear was the promised one. The one who would turn everything upside down and change the power structure of the world. He would also be a humble servant to all.

Perhaps Mary knew, as a lowly servant, that the things that buffer the rich and powerful must be removed so that the rich and powerful can finally see what life is really all about.

Servanthood. Uplifting the ones in need, feeding those who hunger, seeking those who are lost or least or different.

People like you Mr. President, have thrown us into the present tense and our future looks grim. You don’t give, you take.

You are being impeached. You deserve impeachment, removal from office, and imprisonment. You are a thief, a crook, and a dirty dealer. You have committed crimes against humanity, and innocent people have died in Syria and within our borders because of your reckless and sociopathic actions. You are trying to bully and bribe your way into stealing another election. Your followers have disconnected their brains and sensibilities and spend their time screaming and shouting as if the rest of us were deaf. We’re not. Your anger and hatred have spread like a deadly disease. You are the disease.

A majority of us are working as hard as we can to fix your cruelty. You won’t be removed from office because you have that rigged too. More bribes (or threats) to the Senators of your party. But we will vote you out. We will work through these dark days bringing light and hope and the past tense of all good things to those around us. Because we are servants. We put others before ourselves. We don’t judge people by skin color, religion, education, possessions, income or employment.

We see the God-ness in others.

Where is the God-ness in you, Mr. President? Where is your public servanthood?

We want to know.

Pastor Barb

Cleansing

Cleansing

She puts sticky masks and lotions on my face.

Hot towels, cool mists, warm oil.

Facial cleansing.

My face wanders around in contaminants.

My face is exposed to pollutants.

My face needs to be cleansed.

Being a Dove soap kind of gal, this facial is

a thorough routing of daily dirt embedded

in my skin.

Facial cleansing.

The people far away were living life.

They had good days and bad days.

Now they just have bad days.

Someone said they are contaminants.

Someone said they are pollutants.
Someone said they are embedded dirt.

Someone said they must be scrubbed out.

They must be routed.

They must be cleansed away. Not with Dove soap.

With machine guns. With bombs. With chemical weapons.

Where is the Dove? Where is the soft touch?

Where is the gentleness? Where is justice? Where is equity?

Nowhere.

Racial cleansing.  

Kings, Queens, Emperors, Empresses.

They live in palaces.

We don’t have palaces in our country.

A long time ago, we fought a war to get rid of Monarchy.

The leader of our country lives in The White House.

It’s as close as we come to having a palace.

But in our White House there is dirt.

There is a polluter. There is a contaminator.

The leader of our country embeds dirt and filth.

He chokes the citizens with exhaustive lies.

He cheats on his wives, his taxes, and his country.

His followers will go over the cliff with him.

They will do this due to pride or ignorance.

He must be routed.

The White House must be cleansed. The White House must be renewed.

The dirt and corruption and abuse of humankind dirties us all.

Whether the sufferers are

immigrants from the south,

or Kurds in Syria,

or the poor of our own country.

Where is the Dove? Where is the soft touch?

Where is the gentleness? Where is justice? Where is equity?

Nowhere.

Not in the American Palace.

It is time for

Palatial cleansing.

Less than a Week Ago... (written on October 10, 2019)

Less than a week ago... (written October 10, 2019)

Less than a week ago, Kurdish Christians woke up in their homes, went to school, went shopping for groceries, consulted with their US counterparts on peace-keeping actions, ate dinner, played in the streets, watched the sunset.

Less than a week ago, they were in church. They sang, prayed, and freely worshiped.
There were weddings and baptisms all in the name of Jesus Christ. There were celebrations and laughter and security.

Less than a week ago, they were safe because we said they could count on us.

Less than a week ago, after an impetuous, uninformed, reckless phone call, they have lost everything. They are running for their lives, dying in the streets, and planning funerals for their dead. Their grief is complete. Their tears will not be dried.

Donald Trump is not only an illegitimate President, he continues to destroy lives on every level.

The innocent Kurds... Immigrants systematically tortured within our country... Gun Violence... The Opioid crisis... Climate Change... Unaffordable healthcare...

Fear. Pain. Death. Devastation.

Why? Where does the cruelty come from? Who are we as a country? We are enemies to the guiltless. We kill those who hope in us. 

Today I pray for the innocents in Syria. My sisters and brothers in Christ.

Less than a week ago... 

Dear Mr. President - September 2019

September 2019

Dear Mr. President,

It’s the last day of September and, WOW! What a month. It looks like you’re in a little bit of trouble. It also looks like you have put our nation at risk. Did you read your job description? 

There is more to learn about your illegal dealings. There are people with untold stories. There are laws you can’t slither out from under, although, you have slipped and slid like green slime for most of your life.  

Heads up: Whistleblowers aren't spies. Calling world leaders to interfere with our democracy and elections is against the law. Hiring thugs to work in the White House is dangerous. For you.  

The majority of us in America are cautiously watching. Some think this is a slam dunk for you to end up in the slammer. Some are afflicted with a chronic case of the giggles. Some are solemnly paying attention to the work of congress and hope the long-forgotten laws of the land are resuscitated.

I feel two things.

Grief. Relief.

Grief. In my many letters to you, I have written of the immigrants and refugees who have suffered under your cruel hatred, racism, and White Supremacy. I have grieved over your painful family separation policy, your caging of babies, and the sexual and physical abuse these precious people have endured by border patrol and ICE in the United States of America. Spirits and bodies have been destroyed.

Relief. Although it won’t happen soon enough, I believe you, Stephen Miller, ICE, and all those working on these vile policies will see justice for human rights violations. I live in the hope of the end of your evil, and that parents and children will be reunited. We owe them the opportunity we have offered all immigrants. "You are welcome here."

Grief. You have turned our country into a war zone. You have inspired mass shootings. Your words have been copied in manifestos by national terrorists who have killed so many innocents. You have given the NRA free reign, as have all the Republicans. I will always grieve the fact that guns kill people and our country is without strict gun control laws. Again, the majority of our country clamor for gun sense. There have been too many funerals of bodies where bullets have been lodged.

Relief. Although it won’t happen soon enough, gun control will happen. Sensible lawmakers who are against children being shot up in their classrooms will pass laws to protect us as a nation. We might even match other developed countries someday. Other countries are our example. We are not theirs.

Grief. Our world is burning and drowning. This beautiful earth is now a victim of humanity. We are killing our home. We will be homeless. Climate change is real. Only the most ignorant of people refuse to accept this. You, sir, are one of them. You have have rolled back protections for our home. People, animals, and plant life are gasping for life. You have put us at great risk.

Relief. Although it won’t happen soon enough, we have the chance to heal. We have hope to repair the harm we have done to our home. When you are gone, we will have sane politicians who will reinstate protections and controls. We will lead the world once again in slowing the warming of this beautiful earth. Until then, the majority of us will do all we can to lessen our footprint.

Grief. Your love of hatred and division have spread like a deadly disease. Families are torn apart. Friendships are broken. People are judged and condemned by skin color, the place they worship, or who they love. You have tried to take away Women’s rights, LGBTQ rights, Dreamers rights, and basic human rights. You incite violence. That’s your goal. Your minority of followers find hatred palatable. More than that, they crave hurting and debasing others. Stupidity and greed cause heartburn. You need a new diet.

Relief. Although it won’t happen soon enough, we have the chance to restore humanity to all human beings. No one is above another. No skin color is superior. No religion can be condemned. No one can be judged for who they love. The rich are not superior to the poor. The United States of America is big enough for us all.

There is so much more. But I’ve written enough. I feel one more thing:

Belief. As a woman of faith, I believe in a loving God. I believe there is more good than bad in the world. I believe that hate kills and love heals. Simple stuff. 

When we look for these simple things in the people around us, when we hear their stories, when we decide to see the God-ness in them, then we see what binds us together. 

My belief in God means I believe in how this is all going to end. It ends with a new beginning. It ends with the lowliest of us all having the best seats at the party. It means those who are puffed up with things like money, pride, and the fat of the land, will be serving the abused, the lost, the suffering, and the least of all. 

It’s a great story. It’s a little upside down, but that’s how it works. God shows up in the small hand of a child crying for her mother. God shows up in the person racked with anxiety and depression. God shows up in the transgender young man. God shows up in the doctor who still makes house calls. God shows up as the single mom at the food bank, choosing food for her five children. Personally, those are the ones I want to be around, because I want to be near God.

This was a mini sermon. No apologies from me.

Here’s to October. May your cruelty be deconstructed, and may kindness, mercy, and justice reign. 

Pastor Barb

Dear Mr. President - August 2019

Dear Mr. President,

It’s August 2019.

August twelfth  will be the 30th  anniversary of the day my brother took his own life with a gun that should not have been sold to him. He was twenty-six when, wearing his best clothes, we laid him in the ground in a shiny, silver coffin.

This week, people in Dayton and El Paso are laying their loved ones in the ground. They are waking up every morning with the fresh realization of the senseless death of a mother, father, daughter, son, friend. It hits like a train. The grief takes their breath away. Tears flow and flow and flow.

They have now begun their year of “firsts.” The first holidays, birthdays, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day…without their dear ones. It’s a slice of hell.

Gun deaths are not just violent and sudden, they leave family and friends asking “Why?” forever.

The “why” is YOU, even though you pretend you have nothing to do with the divisiveness of our country. Sadly, you are the President. When you speak, people listen. People who agree with your words, take you seriously. When you say people of color are “infestations” and dehumanize them in every way, your followers agree, and then go out and kill them.  

Racism is your oxygen. Bigotry is in your blood. White supremacy oozes out of you like pus, spreading the infection to those who live in ignorance, fear and hate. Then they take their guns and mow people down. You rejoice. Good TV ratings.

You didn’t create racism, but you spread it lavishly. You are absolutely responsible for the shooting deaths that have taken place since you came into office. You encourage white supremacists to wage violence and even death on people of color and those from other countries. Yes, Mitch McConnell and the GOP Senators refuse to pass any gun reform laws. They are complicit. You can order them to pass those laws, but you won’t. You are a coward.

People talk about your “rhetoric” which I don’t think you have. To speak rhetoric, you must have skill and understand compositional techniques. That, sir, is not you. 

No, you don’t speak rhetoric, you speak a crass, native language of malice.

You don’t need to have skill to speak vulgar hatred and cruelty.

Along with mass shootings, you have sent your ICE thugs to raid places where Latino people live and work. Your thugs intimidate, beat, and arrest mothers and fathers while children weep in the streets.

You destroy families.   

Because you are incapable of comforting our nation, and calm the violence running rampant in your followers, we who have morals and empathy are doing all we can to mitigate your violence.  

Like children taken from their parents we will cry and scream and raise our fists. Our fear and our pain will rack our bodies and leave us craving an escape from the loss and hopelessness.

And when the grief breaks for a moment, we will turn to one another and WE will give comfort. We will wrap our arms around the grieving ones. We will wipe away the tears flowing from exhausted eyes.

We see the humanness in these suffering ones. We see the God-ness in each one, because they are children of God. They are beloved by God. They are our brothers and sisters.

There are more people in this country who are kind and compassionate than the number of people who follow you. Yes, you have set fire to the haters, you have incited terror and murder.

Children weep. Parents have disappeared. Innocents are tortured.

Families are suffering. The dead, wearing their best clothes, are in their coffins and will be put into the ground.

It’s August 2019.

May God give us strength.

Pastor Barb   

A word about RACISM

I've heard that clergy, among other leaders, aren't speaking clearly about racism.

First, a definition:

rac·ism
/ˈrāˌsizəm/
Learn to pronounce
noun
prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one's own race is superior.
"a program to combat racism"
synonyms: racial discrimination, racialism, racial prejudice/bigotry, xenophobia, chauvinism, bigotry, bias, intolerance;

Just because you went to high school with Hispanic and African American students doesn't mean you can't be a racist.

Just because you talk to the African American in your neighborhood doesn't mean you can't be a racist.

If you believe that African Americans and Hispanics are violent, drug dealers, rapists, and thugs because of the color of their skin - you're a racist.

I you think being white is superior to other skin colors - you're a racist.

If you believe Muslims are a threat to society because of their religion - you're a racist.

If you think Native Americans deserve the fate they are living with, due to the European white's attempted genocide - you're a racist.

If you have Confederate flags or other paraphernalia enshrined in your basement or living room - you're a racist.

If you think the children and parents suffering on our border is just what they deserve - you're a racist.

If you support Donald Trump and repeat his rhetoric - you are a racist.

If you are a racist, please don't call yourself a Christian.

I hope I've been clear.

Pastor Barb

Reclamation - For those who have endured sexual abuse

Reclamation

A voice comes through the overhead speaker, “A cell phone has been left at airport security. Please return to security to reclaim your phone.”

When things have been lost, and then are found: Reclamation.

When things are stolen, and then recovered: Reclamation.

When things are taken that can’t be seen with human eyes, when those things can’t be found or recovered because they are intangible. Something must be done.

Who took your innocence?

Who took your womanhood?

Who took you childhood?

Who took your security?

Who took your soul?

A putrid person took your personal things.

It’s easy enough to reclaim your phone at airport security. It’s easy enough to reclaim the textbook you left behind in class. It’s easy enough to reclaim your scarf that ended up in the Lost and Found box. It is satisfying to reclaim your personal things.

Have you seen putrid people on television lately? The ones who steal, grab, take, snatch, force their prey to give up, give in?   They devour, laugh, and devour again.

There are places for those putrid people to go. When justice works, they are put away so they can’t steal from the innocent anymore.

When justice works, they hear:

“You have the right to remain silent.” Forever.

Then what? The putrid people are put away (if justice works) but you are left without so many very personal things.

They don’t get to win. They don’t get to keep what they stole. They don’t get to keep your soul.

Reclamation is the process of claiming something back.

Or…

Reasserting a right.

You have the power now.

I know, I know. You are…

Tired.

Angry.

Sad.

Scared.

Lost.

Not believed.  

Not worth it.

NO! STOP!

You are not a putrid person. If someone told you that, or looked at you that way, or if you told it to yourself, it’s just not true. Truly. Not. True.

You have the right to live. You have the right to love and be loved. You have the right to feel everything. You have the right to yell and scream. You have the right to cry and grieve. You have the right to honor your preciousness.

For you are a precious person.

A voice comes through the overhead speaker (or possibly a gentle whisper in your ear):

“Hi you! Guess what? You have found your personal things. Yes, You. You may feel the satisfaction of being whole and healed and loved and precious. You don’t need to go back to fetch anything from anywhere anymore (unless you leave your umbrella at Starbucks again).”

You may accept appreciation for what you do. You may accept praise and admiration. You are allowed to set self-doubt outside with the recycling. Self-doubt will be recycled into self-acceptance.

You felt lost, but now you are found.

Reclamation.

Dear Mr. President - July 2019 - King Donald

Dear Mr. President – July 2019 – King Donald

It’s July and the outrage of what is happening on our border is boiling over. You and your abhorrent administration have gotten what you wanted: Families brutally separated, babies dying, children languishing, no toiletries or decent food for any of them. They are concentrated and overcrowded in small spaces. They are desolate.

Their crime? Trying to escape abuse and death in their own countries. Desperate people who thought coming to America might be a safe place. A place where they could have a life with their children and be part of a great society. You have thrust them into hell.

Because you are a bully and a coward, you say it’s their fault for crossing the border. Their fault. That’s called victim shaming. I say this to you, DON’T EVER BLAME THE VICTIM. EVER.

It’s amazing how silent your evangelical pro-lifers are on this subject. They seem to have turned pro-choice. Brown babies can suffer and die along with their mothers and fathers. Second-class lives, apparently, or less than that.

I told a friend of mine that I was timid when I first became a pastor. I was easily cowed by people’s comments and criticisms of what I said from the pulpit. (FYI, a pulpit is in a church and the place where a pastor stands to preach the Word of God. It doesn't seem like you are in church much). I have gotten over my timidity. I have gotten over my use of safe words. You are the Emperor of Hatred and Hell. You feed on the suffering of innocent people. You delight in turning people against one another. You are a predator and you are in our White House.

Since you became President, you have done nothing but take from the American people. Your tax break for the middle class somehow made the richest white folks even richer. That’s some magic trick you pulled off!

Many people know what it is like to be on the receiving end of someone else’s greed or power. Whether it’s someone who stole our lunch money, our new bike, our hopes of a new job, our virginity, our childhood, our dreams.

As a predator, you know how to take without permission. You “grab women by the pussy.” I won’t bleep out that word as so many people do. It’s a raunchy word and it’s your word.

You can, “do anything you want to [women] because you’re famous.” Your words.

What words have you been saying in the White House about how you will continue to take from us, the American people? We pay for you to fly on Air Force One every weekend to play golf. You make money from your hotels by “encouraging foreign guests” to stay. You and your children are pickpocketing Americans through your businesses and business deals with MBS, Putin, and now maybe Kim Jong-un. Ahhh…Trump Condos on the North Korean shore. Awesome.

What other dirty deals do you have planned?

We know you don’t pay back the states where you throw campaign rallies for yourself every other second. If we, regular citizens, don’t pay our bills, we will have our electricity or water shut off. We will have our homes put into foreclosure. But you continue to take and grift and rip off your own country. What a patriot.

On the Fourth of July you threw yourself a drippy little party in front of the Lincoln Memorial. We the people, and the national parks paid for that, too. You wanted a military parade. You wanted to be saluted by soldiers and have tanks drive past and planes in the sky above. But it rained on your parade. From your badly written, and poorly delivered speech, to the meager crowd, and a less than grand showing of tanks, your day of self-aggrandizement was a bit of a bust.

You want to be King? Emperor? Master of the Universe? No title is big enough for your massive narcissistic ego. No amount of riches can fill your empty soul or bank account.

Interestingly, I have found a King I think you can relate to:

“When [King] Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old and under….” Matthew 2:16

May wise men and women continue to “trick” you by doing what is right and good in this world. May you be stopped from the torture you inflict on so many innocent people. May you finally be toppled by those who will stand up for the truth.

As you continue to ruin the environment, people’s lives, and the greatness of America, the majority of us will continue to do all we can to fight against climate change, donate to organizations which help the children of God who are concentrated in camps at our border, feed the hungry in our communities, care for the homeless, and do every good thing possible within our power. We will do the work of Jesus and not just talk about him.

We will not blame the victims.

We are stronger than you are. Our superpower comes at the voting booth. Russia won the  last election, but we won’t let that happen again.

We the people have been happily kingless since 1776. We’re not going to start now.

With blazing righteous indignation,

Pastor Barb

For Better, For Worse

AMAZON www.amazon.com/dp/B07T26FT75 
or
Pen-L.Com: www.Pen-L.com/ForBetterForWorse.html 

For Better, For Worse is the fourth book in The Pastor Maggie Series. Maggie has learned a lot about being a pastor, but nothing could prepare her for the world-changing events of 2016. 

A national election has the country, the city of Cherish, and Maggie's church taking sides. Maggie watches as private opinions become very public and she witnesses the worst of what happens when people are driven by fear and hate.

She also sees the better angels in those who want to build bridges, care for the forsaken and love those who are lost. This book is fast-paced as the battle between loving as Jesus loved, and attacking "the other" play out. 

Maggie watches, works, and prays for her church to  come together and for her country to overturn hatred with fierce and gentle love. But what happens when hatred seems to win?

This book challenges people of faith to self-examination and, hopefully, self-awareness of our own prejudices and unfair judgments. It also reminds us of how we live with joy as we do the work of enthusiastically sharing acceptance and kindness toward all people. 

Maggie's passion for her flock, and for all God's children, continues even when she is confronted by pure hatred. A twist at the end harshly challenges Maggie's faith. 

Is healing possible?

Whether you are a person of faith or not, you will recognize the characters in the books of The Pastor Maggie Series. You live with them every day. They are your family, your co-workers, your schoolmates, and strangers you pass on the street. These books are about community and those things which separate us and also bind us together. 

Dear Mr. President June 2019

June 2019

Dear Mr. President,

You call yourself a Christian.

I’m a Christian, too. Actually, I’m a pastor. Being a Christian is kind of my job. It’s the only thing I know how to do. I am a Christian who loves my Muslim sisters and brothers, my Jewish sisters and brothers, my Hindu sisters and brothers, my Buddhist sisters and brothers, and all the other sisters and brothers who worship God in various ways and religions. We are all made in the image of God.

While you and the kids were at Buckingham Palace, my husband and I went to our grandson’s Eighth Grade Graduation. His name is Mason. He attends a Christian School. Education is so important, isn’t it?

I believe in great education for all the children of our country and around the world. Public education is vital. Private education works for some. We need to take our children seriously and teach them well.

Interestingly enough, Betsy DeVos, your Secretary of Education wants to cut funds for public education, cut funds for disabled students around the country, and she tried to defund The Special Olympics. Did I mention, Mason has Down syndrome?

One of the highlights of the graduation evening was when Mason and 109 eighth graders all got on stage and did a liturgical dance. These incredible students, all living in fourteen-year-old bodies that seem to be turning against them (we all remember what it was like to be fourteen), danced and moved as one, and brought us all to tears.

Mr. President, you call yourself a Christian.

Some of the words from the song “Who You Say I Am” by Hillsong Worship went like this:

“In [God's Holy] house, there’s a place for me

I’m a child of God, yes I am!

I am chosen, not forsaken. I am who You say I am.

You are for me, not against me. I am who You say I am.”

Mr. President, who do you say We the People are? We the People of America and We the People of the world?

Are you for us or against us? Do you choose the people of this nation or do you forsake us?

Mr. President, there are children and adults suffering on our border. It appears you do not choose them. You forsake them. You are not for them. You are against them.

But they are children of God too. Our children and their children belong to God.

You call yourself a Christian.

We reside in this land of the free and the home of the brave that invites all the huddled masses who are suffering, struggling, poor and displaced to come to our shores and be welcomed.

I do not in the least equate you with God, but you are a leader.

Who do you say we are?

I say this: We are resilient and strong. We know how to dance and how to take the hands of those who are too weary to dance and carry them along the way. We are people who won’t allow our country to be embarrassed by your immaturity, insecurity, and overwhelming selfishness. We are stronger than the people you have in your cabinet who want to harm children at the border and cut funding for our own children in our own schools.

Mason graduated and joyfully jumped all the way across the stage to get his diploma. No one was happier that night than Mason. We cried with incredibly full hearts. God smiled.

You call yourself a Christian. What do you do that represents Jesus Christ in any way?

Until you know what being a Christian means, please do not wear that name so casually.

Until you choose the people of this country and other countries, instead of forsaking us and them, please don’t associate yourself with Jesus Christ.

Until you are for us, not against us and until you find ways to welcome the downtrodden, please don’t link yourself to the living Christ – LOVE incarnate.

The Bible says, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”

So, once again, are you for us or do you forsake us?

I’m asking for my grandson.

Be Best,

Pastor Barb

When the Fairy Tale Ends- For those who have endured sexual abuse

What is a fairy tale? A dream? An adventure?

A princess, a predator, a savior.

Singing animals and mice that sew.

Have you lived a fairy tale? Who were you?

Did you dance and sing? Did you wear a princess dress? Were you a little boy searching for treasure?

Did you walk in the woods? Did it get dark?

Did you trip and fall and rip your dress? Did you walk into a cave and get lost?

Did someone come along and grab you in the dark?

Fairy tales are make-believe, unless you have lived one.

The wolves are there. The wicked witch, evil queen, and forest monsters are there.

They lie in wait or loom in plain sight. They attack.

But there is a promise of a savior! A shining knight, a handsome prince, a genie, a fairy-godmother or a good sister. Surely, you will be rescued.

Or you won’t.

Fairy tales are tales. They are fiction. They are false narratives.

You are living in real life.

There may be parallels to fairy tales, but real life is rarely so tidy. Real life doesn’t wrap up so neatly.

No more fairy tales.

When the fairy tale ends and is put aside, the beauty and ugliness of reality becomes our truth.

Your truth. My truth. The truth.

Have you been relieved of your darkness? Have you seen a promising ray of sunlight? Have you healed a bit? Do you remember how to dance?

You don’t have to be your own hero. We’re in this together. We share stories, ideas, hope, and our wounded bodies and souls.

We don’t expect someone to save us. Rather, we link arms and hold one another as we go forward together.

For all those caring people who believe our stories, give us encouragement, and a cup of tea, we say thank you.

We heal step by step. We have brand, new dreams and they are the reality we live into each day.

No more fairy tales.

However, the possibilities of “happily-ever-after” are endless. Really.

And happily-ever-after belongs to you and me. It will not elude us. It is hard won, and worth our anticipation and expectation of living in health and happiness. It’s certainly a process.

It’s not a fairy tale.