Running

Earlier this year, I felt prompted to study something that has perplexed me and upset me for years:  Why does my religion that professes the unconditional love of God refuse to accept the LGBTQ community?  “We love them, Windy," I sometimes hear.  Me, "You don't accept them, won't validate their marriages, give them equal rights, don't welcome them to worship alongside you......... that doesn't look like love to me and I imagine that it feels a lot like hate to them."  I also hear, "You can’t question the Bible.”  I can, I did,  I am, and lots of people in the Bible doubted God at some point and still found their way.   God isn't afraid of any question that anyone has ever had for Him.  I also decided it was high time to take my head out of my rear end  (or the sand if that makes you feel better) because that is a tight fit and neither place is where God intended it to be. So religious hate, fear, and ignorance in the name of God is what I am running from and here’s what I am frantically sprinting into : the arms of truth.  Here’s how I’m doing that:

First of all, I would say that I discovered some truth when I found the sisterhood of you gals this past spring.  Embracing all things ttwd here kind of set my spirit free. (Thank you!)  Next, Storm helped me put some boundaries into place for the specific people in my life who are of the same faith as I am but who keep harassing me because we have chosen to accept the LGBTQ community in our hearts as well as with our votes. Writing the blog helps me, but it isn't enough and since I struggle with being able to read romantic fiction and write creatively at the same time, I know I needed to read something different, but I didn't know exactly what.  But, I thought I might know exactly who.

Meredith was probably cross-eyed from reading (or half reading!) my long ass posts in between airplane flights this past summer, so she would sometimes refer to her book reading.  About every 3rd conversation I would have with her, she’d be all, “Windy, you need books!”
 Me, “Books, huh?”
Her, "Yes, books!”
Me, “How are you today, Meredith?”
Her, “Books!”
 Me: “What’s Jack making for dinner tonight?”
Her, “ BOOKS!”
Me, “Really? What kind? Broiled Biographies? Melted Melodrama, Fried Urban Fiction, Simmered Suspense, Cold Cuts Classic Literary Fiction?"
She humors me, “Yes, but read this one first,” as she hands me the title of her favorite book of all time. Sauteed Sultry Tales of the South with Grilled Gargantuan Number of Pages. I kid you not, my first thought was, “Don’t you ever complain about one of my long emails or posts again!” Longest book I have ever read in my life. Best book I have ever read, too, and I barely survived the beauty of it all.

I don't like to push people.  I like them to share at their own pace.  I appreciate when I am afforded the same courtesy.  I'm more of a pull-it-out-of-you kind of friend.  Because of this, sometimes getting Meredith to open up is like trying to get the tomato soup out of a classic can of Campbell’s with that sharp triangular puncture thingy on the opposite end of a bottle opener. All I do is puncture it and let it dribble or plop out at the rate of which only the laws of science control. Or I can go read about life hacks and figure out how to carefully get her to open up that can herself …… and then sit down with her and have some grilled cheese with our tomato soup.  (Ignore the fact that she probably got spanked with the very spatula she just flipped those sandwiches with.) But do you see how she got me to read without even being involved in this conversation? She does that on purpose.  See how I just got her to make the sandwiches?  I did that on purpose. 

I have come to love the stories of some people who are more than just characters in books to me, which is good news for you published authors. I’ve read about atrocities of the Vietnam War both at home and abroad, and the humor it takes in some dire situations to preserve the human mind and spirit in order to carry the physical and mental burdens like millions of military personnel did. I have some imaginary friends in South Carolina whose families were difficult yet still greatly prized and within whom a sense of humor was held in place all along the way. I now know a little more history of South Africa and of the persecution and starvation of the Congolese as they fought and died in desperation for democracy.  Within the same story, I identified with each of the daughters raised in a religiously oppressive home.  I know real girls somewhere have been damaged throughout childhood just like me.  And I know that no matter at what age we were when we became aware that this damage occurred, that we have spent our lifetimes recovering and rebuilding.  And then we pass what we've learned on to the next gal so she may travel a little less bumpy of a road than we did.

I'm also learning through all of you. I love learning about the command and mastery of your individual fields of expertise, your sources of inspiration, facts, and fiction and I'm assimilating that with your advice and the healthier remains of my faith to make a stronger, well-informed, more appreciative, better balanced, smarter me. To my book-loving connoisseur and generous friend, Meredith, the catalyst and the quencher of my thirst for reading outside of what I could have ever chosen for myself, thank you is not enough. Nevertheless, you have my sincerest gratitude.

I think all of this reading and growing is what happens when some of the "noise of religion" is taken out of one's head!  It's a great incentive to kick hurtful beliefs and practices off of the heels of my Sauconys.

What are you running from?  Or toward?  And what have you preserved?