Buttercups in Bloom

The meal has been served. The bread has been broken. The cup has been lifted. Shadows are unfolding. The longings have been made known. The pleading with others to stay awake; to pay attention has unfolded. The betrayal has happened. Shadows are enveloping. The betrayer arrived. The darkness of the cell envelopes. The charges are made. Shadows are lingering. The crowd gathered. The judgment fell. The sentence is set. Shadows are darkening. Last night communities of faith gathered to break bread with one another anointed one another with oil, washed one another's hands and feet, and proclaimed messages of remembering who we are as people of God.  In the midst of it all, I was distracted because, for the past two weeks, our state has felt the veil of a deep, dark shadow descending upon us and yesterday it took its grip upon our city.  While we gathered around tables as people of faith and remembered our story in relationship to God's story, another kind of gathering was taking pl

On Sunday, my faith celebrated the beginning of our holiest week.  The palms dawned the sanctuary, special music was played and the congregation lifted our voices to songs of hosanna.  Over the years my own depth of this story has taken root in a portion of the narrative that we have failed to teach and whitewashed to make us feel better.  Our Palm Sunday isn't just some glorious day that leads to  Jesus coming to save us all, it is a day filled with pledging allegiance, standing alongside a parade route to proclaim our support for a particular candidate that will govern the land. The day is a day where the faith we choose determines the person we choose.  Our shouts and our symbols proclaim the person we believe to be the best candidate for the tasks at hand.  Our shouts, our cries are our call for liberation, freedom, justice for all, protection, and salvation through the embodiment of one individual.  The day marks the beginning. The city begins to stir in ways that those along

The sun was shining. The trees swayed in the breeze. The sky was clear. Backpacks were packed. Lunches tucked away. Homework crumpled at the bottom of backpacks. The commute to school was driven. Drop-off line was the usual irritation. "I love you's" were hurriedly said as children stepped out of the car. Panic Fear Disbelief Rushing back Waiting Spotting your child for the first time. Relief Enveloping and holding children as tightly as possible. NO....NO.....NO.... Words that are incomprehensible fall. Lives bound in a breaking and shrouded in grave clothes. Death  Death Death I've grown weary of hearing "our thoughts and prayers are with the victims".   As people of God, we will send up our prayers, and feel for the families in their grief but when will we stand against the unimaginable and be the voice for those who have lost so much? Not just for those within our city but for all the lives lost. When will we as believers in a God who has created all per

Otherness assumes harm against me. Otherness leads to misunderstanding. Otherness exudes fear and violence. Otherness leads to rightness/ better than Otherness inequality and ungodliness. When will the other become human? When will the other become the divine? When will the other become enough? Today I've been thinking about the allies of the Civil Rights Movement.  Not those who were at the forefront like Martin Luther King, Jr, John Lewis, and Rosa Parks, but the allies who put their lives at stake in different ways.  The likes of Anne McCarty Braden, J. Waties Waring, and James Reeb, who took a stand and began working against the systemic injustices. They opened the polls to persons of color, defied real estate practices, and marched alongside MLK.   Men and women who felt propelled to do the unspeakable.   Putting their careers on the line. Pushing against systems that were engrained in one's foundational beliefs.    Drawing a line in the sand at the cost of friends and fam

Today I created a mess. The paint was on the table. A wet canvas fell against the wall. Wet paper towels sat in a clump on the floor beside my chair. The harsh reality is that every single time I cook, or do something creative I seem to make a mess. It's the kind of mess that seems to snowball before I know it.  I'll be in the middle of a project or cooking and all of a sudden I realize that chaos has exploded around me.  The mess isn't contained in one small area, it has bled over into the areas that I was hoping to keep clean.    Areas that are now going to leave me with more cleanup to address. The mess often keeps us from moving forward, from doing the very thing that will eventually lead us to a place of wholeness; the place of centering.  We try to contain the messiness of our lives in one area. Most of us believe the past is in the past and it has no effect on us whatsoever. We tell ourselves we can separate what is happening at work from how we are doing personally.