Wait with Hope - Becky's Story

First Sunday of Advent

“Wait with Hope – Becky’s Story”

I think we’ve all heard the saying, “Hope is not a strategy.”

But what is left when we do not know which direction to go? For a lot of things in life we can “plan the work, then work the plan.” (That’s one of my husband’s favorite sayings.)

How do we plan the work of the end times? It’s not our work to do, and to be honest we couldn’t do it anyway. It’s God’s plan. It’s God’s work.

We just make the tea.

Our passages today come as promises from the prophet Jeremiah and Jesus.

Jeremiah, imprisoned at the time, is speaking to the Israelites who are watching and waiting for a Messiah. The prophet tells the people that God will keep all the promises made to the houses of Israel and Judah. They will return from captivity in Babylon and a “righteous Branch” will spring up for David. And there will be safety and salvation.

While Jeremiah is promising light in the darkness, Jesus is promising a time of darkness before the light of his power and glory in his second coming.

In advent, we wait for the second coming of Christ.

Every generation has had prophets and speakers of doom. Every generation has seen nation rise against nation. Distress and the roaring of the seas have brought fear and foreboding to the people of earth.

We live in that today.

It is not worth preaching advent if we pretend we are not living in scary times. There is ugliness assaulting us every day. The worst of humanity doing the worst to humanity. (I’m not being political this week, but you can read my thoughts!)

It is out of our control. We can not plan the work, then work the plan because so much of what happens leaves us in despair. We grasp but we cannot hold.

If I asked you a time in your life when you had to wait for something, good or bad, I know we could fill a book with the stories in this sanctuary today.

For me, there is one powerful story when our family was in darkness waiting for the light.

Doug and I have a blended, extended family. He brought two adult children and I brought four not-quite-adults into our marriage. We were not the Brady Bunch.

But last year, 2017, our family came together around my stepdaughter, Becky.

Becky’s story…

Becky’s wedding. After going through a divorce, Becky found a brand, new, true love when she met John. A perfect match. They were married in January of 2017. They created their own blended, extended family. Becky has two children and John has three. It was a wonderful wedding and a truly joyous occasion.

One month after the wedding, Becky was diagnosed with breast cancer. The glow of the wedding dimmed. This was not right. This was not fair. We were all shocked and scared.

Becky had surgery and needed time to heal from that before beginning chemotherapy. 

We watched and waited and waited some more. It was a helpless kind of waiting. There was no plan. No work. Except for everything Becky had to go through. None of us could take her disease from her, it was hers alone.  

Treatments began. Becky began her chemotherapy and every Thursday she and John went in together. John was Becky’s supporter and protector. A chivalrous man if there ever was one.

Doug and I felt more of helplessness that comes with watching a child suffer. We tried to figure out what to do to let Becky know we were praying for her. We wanted her to know how much we loved her.

We fully understood that it was not Becky’s responsibility to relieve our fears and anxieties about her cancer. She didn’t need more phone calls asking her how she felt. She didn’t need uninvited visits from people who just wanted to look at her. She didn’t need more food brought to her front door.

So, we decided to send a white rose every Thursday to be delivered when she returned from chemo. Every Thursday chemotherapy, a rose, and a word.

Words:

Perseverance

Peace

Strength

Expectation

Confidence

Courage

Steadfast faith

Assurance

Optimism

Anticipation

Hallelujah! The Final Rose!

Every Wednesday I ordered the rose for Thursday. After the first two or three orders for a single white rose and a word, the young woman at the florist asked me who I was ordering them for. Who was “Becky?”

I told her about Becky and how we hoped a rose and a word would cheer and comfort her after her treatments. She was very sympathetic and then shared with me that her mother had just completed chemotherapy for breast cancer. She told me some of the things Becky might want to be aware of as her chemo progressed. She was very compassionate.

Within a couple of days, I received an email from the young woman at the florist. She had told her boss about Becky. About the cancer, the chemo, and the single white rose being delivered every Thursday. Her boss was moved and said that on Becky’s last day of chemo, the flower shop would send one dozen white roses to Becky as a gift and a celebration for finishing the twelve weeks of chemo.

Doug and I were moved beyond words. We were witnessing HOPE being shared by strangers. We were witnessing HOPE that could be spread with care and generosity.

 One dozen white roses on the last day of chemo.

The very first rose we sent to Becky was the white rose of HOPE.

Pain and despair and illness and world affairs have the power to numb us to the good news of Jesus Christ. But we will not let ourselves be numbed by the creeping darkness.

We feel pain and fear and joy because we pay attention. We watch and listen and cry and rejoice. When we pay attention to our world, we pay attention to God’s activity in the world. When we pay attention, we know how to be more generous, more forgiving, more loving, more aware of the needs of those around us.

Becky has been cancer free for over a year. Our blended, extended family continues to rejoice. And this includes the people at the florist, who somehow became part of this whole light-shining-through-the-darkness story. A young woman who paid attention and asked a question. “Who is Becky?”

I say again, Becky’s husband, John, was and is a tower of compassion, strength, humor and support. John and Becky are a dynamic couple. Their love is fun to watch.

Maybe… hope is a strategy. Because our hope is so intricately entwined with our faith. We believe in a God who keeps promises. We are alert, with our heads held high. We pay attention to the signs, not just the signs of our time, but the signs of our lives. It’s the way we know spring will come again when we see the first tiny flower poking up from the snow. Hope is the strategy, and faith is the work.

We have hope knowing the God of creation is also the God of salvation. No evil or ugliness on this earth, or in any person, can dim the light of righteousness.

Jeremiah talks about a “branch of righteousness.” That was the hope he gave to the Israelites.

But I think more of hope in this way, “Low how a rose e’er blooming, from tender stem hath sprung.”

Because I believe hope comes from a tender and tentative place. To hope takes gentle courage. To hope means seeing light where there may not be light. Yet.

We will wait in this advent season, not just with hope. But expectant hope. We will see the light that shines through the thickest darkness. We will watch with our heads high and our hearts open.

For the true rose of hope.

Amen.

Not from Here

Because I don’t draw a line between my religion and politics…

Christ the King Sunday

“Not from Here”

John 18:33-37

No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love. For love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.

Nelson Mandela

With our current political climate, you may ask why the title of this sermon isn’t, “Testify to the Truth” Instead of “Not from Here.” I recently read someone’s concern that our country is being desensitized by the lies our President tells on a daily basis. A fear that we are worn down or worn out by the barrage of falsehoods and fantastical fiction that emanate from a man who fears the truth which is chasing after him each and every second. Truth that will catch him in the end.

“The truth shall set you free,” Jesus said. The truth will set us free. Truth will set our country free.

In our Gospel today, Jesus is on trial. He has done nothing wrong except bring truth and hope and redemption to a very broken world. The Jewish leaders are threatened. They are afraid of the one who says their laws and their ways of conducting life and law are done. There is a new King in town. The Messiah they won’t accept.

I don’t have a problem with the language of “king.” Some people don’t like the male language. Obviously, all the kings we have ever known are males. There have been good human kings and disastrous human kings. It would be foolish to compare Jesus Christ to an earthly king. He is the perfect King from the halls of heaven. We can’t begin to comprehend what this means. We only have imperfect words and images.  

He is the Shepherd King. The forgiving King. The King of the heavens and earth. The Servant King. The King of Glory. The King of ultimate love. The King of salvation.

The King who knows a sheep from a goat.

Jesus is not the Messiah anticipated by the forever watching and waiting Israelites. He is not riding in on his trusty steed to turn the Roman Empire upside down. He is turning the entire way of life upside down. “Blessed are you if you are poor, mourning, hungering for righteousness, meek, persecuted…”

Jesus the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is healing the ones who bleed, who are sightless, who are voiceless, who are hopeless.

Jesus Christ the King of Kings and Lord of Lords speaks the truth to power. Tells those who are cheating the poor out of their pittance that they have to go! Those in the synagogue who wield power over the powerless will soon find themselves out of a job.

Because Jesus Christ is the King of the World, there is no singular group of people he came to save. He came for everyone. He is the King of every nation and every tribe. Every race, color, and religion.

Right now, there is a caravan of people seeking hope in our land that has plenty of room and plenty of promise. At least we used to.

Jesus Christ, the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords is walking in the midst of the caravan from Central America. He is walking with the young men who grow weary. He is walking with the mothers who can’t carry their babies another step. He is walking with the old, the infirm, the sick, the fearful, the desperate.

There are those in this country who did not need a feast three days ago. They have more food than necessary but won’t share a bite with the starving. There are those who believe their bank accounts will protect them from everything, even death. Yet, they won’t share a dime with the poor. There are those who spew hatred, lies, threats, violence, and other vileness. They won’t lift a finger to help someone in need.

They certainly cannot claim to know Jesus Christ. They have no clue who he is or what he stands for. Everything they do and say is anti-Christ.

In our Gospel Jesus is on trial. He has done nothing but change the world for good. Pilate is unaware of who he is talking to. He only knows what the Pharisees and leaders have told him. Pilate has to decide whether he should let this innocent man go or keep the Jews from unrest by killing Jesus.

“So, you are a king?” Pilate asks.

“You say that I am a king…but as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

No, his kingdom is not from here. The kingdom of Jesus Christ is the place where there are no more wars or rumor of wars. Where there is no more suffering. Where there is no hunger or thirst. Where there is no hatred, racism, or bigotry because we are all one race, the human race. The kingdom of Jesus Christ is where love is learned and lived because it “comes more naturally to the human heart.”

How surprised some people might be when they get to heaven and find themselves serving those they have ridiculed, attacked, or derided on this earth.

Because the Kingdom of God is not from here. Not from this place where a man, the leader of our country, is so full of insecurity, small intellect, and zero empathy. A man with a bloated body and an ugly little soul. A man who would have a mother and child killed on the border or a young man beaten, or a baby caged like an animal. A man who doesn’t care if men of color are shot down in the streets of our cities. A man who wants to take away human rights – keeping people from being who they really are. A man intent on destroying climate and creation. Stealing from the poor and sowing hatred. No, these things are not Kingdom Living. These things are the lashings of hell.

When there is a president who is so anti-Jesus Christ, there is only one hope until he is taken away.

We are. We are the hope in the name of Jesus Christ. We are the ones who will teach love to those who have been taught to hate. We are the ones who share the food, the money, the time, the conversation, the love of the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. We are the ones who follow in his footsteps, we carry his glory and grace to the world, we tell the stories of the Kingdom of the Good Man. Where there is no more pain, or tears, or despair, or prejudice, or bigotry, or cruelty. Our lives must be lived in doing all the good we can until that day when we are welcomed into the Kingdom-not-from-here.

But the Kingdom-not-from-here is actually HERE now. The Kingdom into which we have been saved. He saved us even though he was falsely accused, horribly beaten, and crucified on a cross. A King who rose from the dead.

A King who can tell the difference between a sheep and a goat.

He is the King of Glory. His Kingdom is here. His Kingdom is now. It is where we dwell. Right here. There is much work to do. There are people to feed. People to welcome. People to find homes for. People to protect. There is healing to share and love to teach. There is so much to bring in the name of the King.

Amen.

For Her - For those who have endured sexual abuse

For Her

When I can tell my story without tear or ache,

In prose that ceases my heart to break,

Is it not my road to trod,

To find the one who has lost her God?

I see her beneath the waterfall

Where tears pour down her injured soul.

The tear-stained one is sadly dressed,

I slowly sit by her and rest.

My dear one, do you want to tell

The story of your piece of hell?

For I have all the time it takes

To listen to you as your heart breaks.

We’ll gather each and every piece,

We'll stitch them back, we will not cease.

Forgiveness you do not need to seek,

For nothing wrong did you do or speak.

I see the garment of shame you wear,

It does not fit your frame, my dear.

Whoever said it was your dress,

Told a lie, caused your duress.

We will fling it far from here,

Your brand new dress will hold no fear.

For you will wear your lovely worth,

No guilt, no stain, just your rebirth.

But for now, we will sit awhile,

For I have come this many a mile,

To listen and to wipe your tears,

To help you bid goodbye to fears.

To invite you when your faith returns,

Come near the fire that ever burns.

The fire removes the chill in bones,

Returns light to eyes where it has not shone.

When in worth and dignity you are dressed,

I’ll watch you rise from your sad rest.

And walk the road where you must trod,

To find another who has lost her God.

Planning the Funeral

For those who lost children and other loved ones this week, following the mass shooting in Thousand Oaks, CA. 

Planning the Funeral

Tell me about your daughter.

What?

So that we can remember her well. So, her funeral will do her justice. I’d like to know about her.

How much time do you have?

I have all the time in the world. I do.

She lived eighteen years. I have so many stories. Like the morning she was born, and I first saw her little face through my own tears.

Like your tears today.

No. These tears are nothing like those tears.

I’m sorry. Tell me more.

She won best costume when she was in preschool. She was an angel. I used so much glitter on that costume! Her halo was made of tinsel from the Christmas decorations. I wrapped it around wire and put it on the top of her head. It bobbed back and forth when she laughed.

So sweet. What else?

She played the flute. She was good, too! She practiced every night when she was in high school. But she could only get second chair in the orchestra. She tried so hard. The flute makes a pretty sound. It can be so gentle. Maybe heaven sounds like flutes. I missed hearing her play when she went to college.

Is there a hymn or song you would like to sing or have played at the funeral? Something she would have liked?

We sang Amazing Grace at my father’s funeral. She played her flute for the last verse, no organ, just her flute. You know the verse, “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun…” There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

I’m sure. That’s beautiful hymn. I’ll put it in the service. What else?

I think her brother might like to say something. They were very close. He was protective of his baby sister. He'd do anything for her.

Is there a scripture passage that meant something to her? Maybe a poem?

Let me think.  

She sounds like a wonderful girl. She was obviously very loved.

She was loved. Everyone who met her loved her. You know, she began a fundraiser for a boy in her school who had leukemia. She started it all by herself. All the money went to his hospital bills.

She had a big heart.

Yes. She did. But her heart stopped with the bullet. The gunman stopped her heart. When he shot her. Without a beating heart, you die.

I’m so sorry. This is such a tragedy.

Some people say we need more guns. I say, no more guns. Bullets stop hearts and steal children.

Yes.

Psalm 23.

What?

Psalm 23. I know everyone has that at their funeral. But I need to know she’s with someone who’s taking care of her. I need to know she’s safe. The Shepherd, right? It’s about the Shepherd who leads people and walks with people and protects them. He would be especially careful with children. Right?

Yes.

So, she’s with the Shepherd now.

Yes.

But she was my lamb.

Yes. Yes, she was. Are there other stories?

What? Oh, no. No more stories. 

But I have all the time in the world. I do.

No more stories.

But I would like to remember her well. You want that too, don't you?

I don't want to remember her! I want to know her. I want to see her graduate. I want to dance at her wedding. I want to see her children. I want to watch her twist her hair with her fingers while she talks on the phone. I want to watch her live!

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Anyway...there’s not that much to tell.

Why not?

She was only eighteen. Her life hadn’t even begun. It seems like yesterday when I put the sparkly wings on her back and set the halo on her head. You know, when she was in preschool.

There was glitter everywhere. And as she laughed the halo bobbed back and forth, back and forth. 

The tinsel danced.

It sparkled in the light.

They Walk

They Walk

They walk forward with hope.

They walk away from pain and fear.

Horrors that haunt their dreams – they must escape.

Corrupt governments. Gangs of cruelty. Drug traffickers.

Children are not immune. They have been, and will be, tortured in front of their parents.

Some walk with holes in their hearts, loved ones lost.

Some walk with holes in their shoes. Or no shoes.

Some walk with their own scars.

With plastic bags holding all they own, they walk.

With children on their shoulders, they walk.

Thousands of people walk for thousands of miles. With hope. With relief to be leaving the horror and fear.

They are overwhelmingly Christian. They are Catholic and Protestant.

They are leaving their churches but taking their faith.

They pray to the God I pray to.

They sing the hymns I sing.

They want the safety I take for granted every day.

I wonder how heavy a baby feels in her mother’s arms mile after mile after mile.

They are out of their country and away from their fears. They are away from corruption.

But they are walking to my country and I have great fears for them.

Because we have a cruel fool for a President. We have corruption everywhere. There is not a lot of hope for anyone who is walking here. The President is a maniacal liar and gleefully uses “the least these” for campaign-rally fuel.

His followers walk around in hate-filled ignorance.

Our Secretary of Homeland Security says there are no plans to shoot immigrants. Yet.

The military is on the way to the border. The military. Because moms and dads and children are so threatening.

Children are not immune. They have been, and will be, tortured in front of their parents. We lock babies in cages in my country. We rip them out of their mothers’ arms in my country. We lock children in refugee camps in my country. We separate families in my country. Innocent families.

So, there will be new horrors. New nightmares. New scars.

Who will hear their prayers? Who will wipe their tears? Where will they find safety? Who will help them sing again?

My country is going to have a vote soon. The majority of people in my country want different leadership and a sensible government. We want all people to be treated with honor and respect. We want a government that helps other governments who are troubled so that people don’t need to flee. 

We want a government that cares for “the least of these” here, and everywhere. We want a government that is colorblind, inclusive, supportive, and thoughtful.

I can rampage all I want. But my feet aren’t worn out from walking thousands of miles. My possessions would not fit in a plastic bag. I have an overabundance of “stuff.” I can pray and sing and live without fearing for my life.

Most of all, I can vote.

And I will. 

I will vote for the desperate and hopeful immigrants.

Because they walk.


"We will walk with each other, we will walk side by side. 
We will walk with each other, we will walk side by side.

And we'll guard each one's dignity, and save each one's pride.
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love.
Ant they'll know we are Christians by our love."

Letter to the President. For "the least of these."

Dear Mr. President,

You are not dear to me, I’m just being polite.

It’s a good attempt on your part to try and change the narrative right now, days before the midterm elections.

Instead of paying attention to the mutilation and death of journalist, Jamal Khashoggi, at the hands of the Saudi Crown Prince’s henchmen, you would like us to focus on a group of immigrants who are coming from Central America looking for safety within our borders.

It’s your ridiculous message of hate and fear. But we don’t buy it. We know the people travelling toward our country are mothers, fathers, children, and grandparents. They have seen loved ones be tortured and killed. Perhaps, they have experienced some of that torture themselves.

They are trying to protect their children. Which any of us would do if we lived in a country with brutal leaders who cared nothing for their people. We would flee with babes in arms to give our children a chance at life.

We are not afraid of the people coming here who need safety and who love their families. They are guilty of nothing.

We are not afraid of “The Other” because we believe we are all one in God’s eyes.

We welcome the stranger and the foreigner because that’s what Jesus did over and over and over again.

You said we can’t presume the Saudi Crown Prince to be guilty of Khashoggi’s death before a thorough investigation.

You said we couldn’t presume Brett Kavanaugh to be guilty before he was investigated.

And yet, you have presumed each immigrant walking toward our country to be guilty. GUILTY. You haven’t met one of them. You know nothing about them. Yet, they are all guilty.

That’s why two-year-old’s and five-year-old’s go to court all alone, once you’ve had them ripped away from their parents.

You strangled the investigation of Kavanaugh. We now have an abuser on the Supreme Court.

You’re doing the same thing regarding the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia. Because you are personally making a tidy sum of money from that country and your crooked deals.

You think you are winning. You think you can decide how to fix the game. How to rig the election with your Russian lover, Putin. You can proclaim the innocence of the guilty and the guilt of the innocent.

Your followers are blind. Your followers are unable to think clearly for themselves. I marvel at their inability to see how you have taken this country hostage and how they will inevitably go down with you. I do not wish that for them.

But the majority of us see you for the fool you are. You are unintelligent and thoughtless. You are cruel to the most vulnerable of society. You are a laughing stock and embarrassment to our country and the world.

Jesus Christ blessed the children, restored health to the ill, fed the hungry, sat with the outcasts of society and gave them hope. His love had no limits. His grace had no boundary. His kindness held the oppressors of the downtrodden accountable, and his anger was unleashed on the money changers who stole from the poor. Jesus Christ. The Savior of the World.

“Love kindness, do justice, walk humbly with God.” 

Even your “Christian” supporters spew hateful language and condemn brothers and sisters who are different.   

Your chaos won’t last. Your godlessness will not stand. Your greed will leave you in poverty.

We will not allow hate to run and ruin this country.

Our attention will not be diverted.

You are not almighty, but God is. And as it says on the money you love so much:

“In God We Trust.”

And I certainly do.

Sincerely,

Pastor Barb

  

I am a Pastor and this is my Sexual Assault Story

I am a Pastor and this is my Sexual Assault Story.

At the age of twelve my childhood ended.

It ended in the church when a Youth Pastor decided to rape me. He did that for two years whenever he got the chance. After two years he, his wife and two children moved away. I was fourteen.

My dad was the Senior Pastor of the church. I was at church all the time. My dad didn’t know what was happening at the time. Church was a bad place.

I turned fifteen and got into a relationship with a boy in high school. I should have known it was bad the first time he threw me into a tree. I should have known it was bad when he threw me down on the ground. I am a small person. Easy to throw.

In ten months, he got me pregnant three times. I had three abortions. My parents knew about the last one because I made my mom take me to the doctor. I did this on purpose. My parents, who were going through a divorce, came together, and took me in for the third abortion. They knew I couldn’t have a baby. They took care of me. I am thankful for that. They loved me. Me.

I kept moving through life. I was going to work in Hollywood. I found an agent. She was happy to sign me to a contract.

Church meant nothing to me. I didn’t hate it. I just didn’t need to be there. At all.

Hollywood. That’s where I needed to be.

That’s why God sent me to Israel at the age of eighteen. I had a five-day warning. Then I flew to Israel and my life changed. But no one knew my secrets.

I told my secrets to a new friend. She listened, empathized, and gave me hope. The first layer of healing began. God whispered. I listened tentatively.

When I returned home, I went to college. I had some anxiety. But in tiny Orange City, IA, there was a therapist who worked with college students. She helped me do the hard work of speaking and feeling everything – Every. Single. Thing. I re-lived what had happened to me as a child and teenager. Acceptance and health and more hope began to flow. She let me know I wasn’t the only person in the entire world who had been raped and who had experienced abortion.

I told my mother everything. She is an intelligent woman of action. She set up a meeting with denominational leaders to discuss the rape. To make sure the Youth Pastor was not allowed to be near young women again. A room full of white males listened to my story. They did nothing. The Youth Pastor went from church to church raping and stealing childhoods.

I got married. Wrong marriage. Wrong person. I birthed four children. I had a miscarriage in between my second and third daughters.

My children are remarkable. I was able to be an attentive, loving, present mother. They are all grown up now and they are doing wonderful things in this world.

The church was a bad and horrible place for me as a child.

Is that why God beckoned me back to the church? I don’t know. I just know I was Called. I want church to be a safe, comforting, joyful place. I want God’s gentle power to flow. I want everyone with hurts and pasts and fears and anxiety to feel part of the family.

I’m fifty-six years old. My trauma occurred forty-one years ago. I don’t think about that time of my life often. I have a lot in my life to focus on. If it disappoints you that I’m not living under a cloud of guilt each day, too bad. I’ve had relatives and poorly chosen confidantes who have looked at me with fake sad eyes, as they called me a murderer. You are wrong.

I am passionately pro-choice. I would never tell a girl or a grown woman to have a baby if she felt she couldn’t. I would drive her to a clinic for an abortion if asked. Adoption isn’t the one and only answer. The well-being of a child or a woman with an unwanted pregnancy can’t be dusted away.

You don’t have to agree with me. Just don’t try to convince me otherwise.

During twenty-four years of being a Pastor, women have come into my different church offices to pour out stories of abuse, rape and abortion. I did not burden them with my story. I just chose to love them and listen. I helped when I could. That is my role and my passion as a Pastor. You are loved. You are forgiven. You have worth. You look like God. I do too.

If you are a friend of mine and I have never told you this story, I had no need to. And it was none of your business. I feel no compulsion to explain it anymore. Please don’t look at me with sad eyes. I am not sad. I am angry that so many women have suffered at the hands of abusive men and have not received the care they need. I am angry that many women have suffered at the hands of other women who have judged and condemned them with a repulsive self-righteousness. Women against women really pisses me off. We all need acceptance and safety with one another.

NO SINGLE EVENT DEFINES A PERSON’S ENTIRE LIFE. For those of you who think that your 

past pain and decisions make you a bad person, or someone has told you that you are going to hell, or you have told yourself hell is your fate, please hear me: Those voices aren’t telling you the truth. Those voices are lying.

My life has been filled with so much goodness. I am now married to a good and compassionate man. I love him and I am loved. We have combined a large family of great adult children. I enjoy work, in any capacity, in the church. Sanctuaries are where I find all that is holy and true. I live with joy.

My story is not meant for your sharing as gossip. The details are not your business. If it helps someone, I will be thankful.

If you are a friend of mine and want to dig into details, please don’t ask me to tell you my story over lunch or a cup of coffee. I won’t. Instead, let’s work together on protecting women, children, and men who are in unsafe and precarious life situations. Let’s listen to those who need to be listened to. If you are one of the people suffering now, I have time, compassion, and love for you. Let’s talk.

I am expecting some hate and judgment to come from sharing this. I can take it. I accept my life and I love who I have become.

For those of you who are hung up on the abortions, please remember this: At the age of twelve my body became a crime scene.

Overcoming that, has given me a voice and strength and purpose. I will go forward with joy and hope. I want you to be able to do that, as well.