Gratitude for Thanksgiving

It's that time of year when we all may stop a moment and reflect on what we are thankful for throughout our lives and, perhaps more specifically, within the last year.  How coincidental then that we address the practice of gratitude in Spiritual Disciplines class this week?  Probably not very.

I try to be grateful to many things in my life, but sometimes I wonder if I am not intentional enough about it.  Is it simple enough to be grateful for the big things in my life?  I could list them with ease: my wife, my family, my friends, my health, my apartment, my car.  We can be grateful for these things because they are the easy things to point to, and sometimes consider the process finished.

Ah, but it cannot be so.  We are where we are based on every moment that his come before us, in our own history and in our past generations.  So, if we are grateful for where we are, and we are grateful for where we are going, we cannot extend that gratitude without considering all that has brought us here, for good or for ill.

That said, I am grateful for the down moments that make me appreciate the good ones.  I am grateful for uprooting myself so many times in my life, leaving so much behind but establishing myself anew again.   I'm grateful for all those failed attempts at relationships, learning from them to make this one count.  I am grateful for all those years the Giants didn't win, and all of those close calls, for how else could the joy of winning the World Series mean so much to millions of people, including me?  I am grateful for five and a half years of working at Walmart, some times much more trying than others, which led me to find what may be my true calling in life.

But I am also grateful for the good things: soccer Fridays, sunrise walks, realism in movies, late night chats, long roadtrips, piano driven rock and roll, Golden Gate Park, falling snow, and so much more.

And the Giants.  Of all the things that put a smile on my face in the morning, they're pretty near the top right now.

Thoughts on Bullying

In the spring of 2000, I was in high school, and probably a bit naive.  In the primary elections that year, we had a number of things to decide on, but I could not participate.  Alas, I turned 18 on March 26, and the election was held on March 7.  I was optimistic, however, concerning a certain measure on the ballot, Proposition 22.

The entirety of Prop 22:

SECTION 1. This act may be cited as the "California Defense of Marriage Act."

SECTION 2. Section 308.5 is added to the Family Code, to read:

308.5. Only marriage between a man and a woman is valid or recognized in California.

I wondered how the people of California could add discrimination to the state constitution.  I didn't see it as possible.  California is a progressive state, and we don't like discrimination.

How wrong I was.  Prop 22 not only passed, but did so with 61% in favor.  I was crushed.  I took little solace in the fact that I lived in one of six California counties to oppose the passage.  I took little solace in the fact that I didn't have a chance to vote, so it wasn't my fault.  I took little solace in the fact that my mother planned a wedding despite the lack of legality to it.

I think this is the moment I first felt spurred to action, but I didn't know what to do.  We went over the election results in government class the next day.  When it came time to review Prop 22, I couldn't bite my tongue.  Holding back tears somewhat unsuccessfully, I mentioned to the class that the government and the people of California did not consider my family a family.  They would not consider my family a family.

Think about that for a second.  Try to imagine the people you know telling you that just because your parents live together doesn't mean they can claim taxes together.  Just because your parents live together doesn't mean that if one dies, the other inherits the shared possessions.  Just because your parents live together doesn't mean that they can visit each other in the hospital in times of critical illness.  What if you were in the hospital, be it for a minor infection or on your deathbed, and they told you that only one of your parents could be with your for comfort.  Or a final goodbye.

I couldn't take it.  I couldn't' understand it.  I wanted to slap someone.  Thankfully, I didn't.  Instead, I tried to find my voice while I went to college in Nebraska.  That November came another election, and Nebraska voted on Initiative 416:

Only marriage between a man and a woman shall be valid or recognized in Nebraska. The uniting of two persons of the same sex in a civil union, domestic partnership, or other similar same-sex relationship shall not be valid or recognized in Nebraska.

Imagine my lack of surprise when it passed with 70% of the vote.  I had friends that were let down, and I noted: if the most progressive state in the country wasn't going stop this, why would one of the most conservative?  But this is where I found my voice.  I wasn't going to let anyone tell me different from what i know as the truth: I have a loving family, and it is a valid as any other on this world.

Fast forward  a decade.  We still argue over the legality of same-sex marriage, but it's come a long way.  In the last few months, there has been a turn to focus on bullying in school of GLBT youth.  A noble cause, I think.  So many people say, "It gets better."  For many it does, but not for all.  And while we work to save the lives of GLBT youth with this campaign, what about those that are bullied for other reasons?

Why does bullying exist?  We let it exist by establishing norms and then ridiculing those outside the norms.  We codify it in our laws by decalring yes to some and no to others.  We don't allow gay people to marry or join the military now.  We are very selective in who we let into this country, even if those that want to come will do the jobs we don't want to do.  We used to encourage discrimination through Jim Crow laws, and limiting women's suffrage.  We clearly don't have a good record on this, but we are making progress, ever so slowly.

I wouldn't say I was bullied in the traditional sense of the word, but I know I felt the effects.  I had to pick who I would bring home from school.  I had to endure teasing.  I was egged.  I once had to go to a Boy Scout meeting and listen to a conservative pastor talk about moral rightness.  This from a troop in Marin County, California, run entirely by mothers.  One may wonder why I was never an Eagle Scout, but I don't.

In the end, I am supportive but distant of the "It Gets Better" campaign, because I feel that while it was encouraging, it didn't address the root of the problem.  Then, today, I found something that did.  Not only did it speak to what I believe, but it did if from across the political spectrum with the inclusion of Cindy McCain, wife of current Arizona Seanator and former Republican Presidential nominee John McCain.




I feel reinvigorated today.  The Washington Post has reported on a leaked document that seems to support the ending of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" in our military.  Gavin Newsom, the mayor that started such a brouhaha when he started marrying same-sex couples in 2004 in San Francisco, won an election for Lieutenant Governor of California.    Things are looking up, despite the results of this year's elections.

I challenge myself the same challenge I give to others:  Now is not the time to despair.  Now is not the time to give up.  Now is not the time to wait to figure out what to do next.  Now is the time to look around and give each other a hand.  Now is the time to stand up and rejoice.  Now is the time to move our feet in action.  Now is the time to continue that fight we feel is right.  Now is the time to go singing into the night, with voices high.  Now is the time to say enough is enough.  Now is the time to say we all belong in this world equally: gay, straight, left, right, nerd, jock, black, white, Christian, Muslim, Nebraskan, Californian: we are all human.  We all deserve the freedom to speak and live and love.  And while we may disagree, we can do so with the respect we have for our own brothers and sisters to end the spiral of hate that has held the grip of this country.  The challenge?  It starts with you.

What is prayer?

prayer

It doesn't have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try

to make them elaborate, this isn't

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak.

This week, we did another lectio divina in Spiritual Disciplines class using this Mary Oliver poem.  In reflection now, almost a week later, it still speaks to me in this crazy, hectic week of mine.

Monday: two classes (including NT midterm bomb first thing in the morning), skipping the third to watch the Giants win the World Series.
Tuesday: chapel, one class, trip to San Francisco for the Dia de los Muertos parade.
Wednesday: trip to San Francisco for the Giants victory parade, washing dishes.
Thursday: meeting to figure out how to pay for remaining balance due to seminary for this semester, meeting with Financial Aid office, meeting for recap of Tuesday's parade, birthday shopping, washing dishes.
Friday: baking two cakes, a batch of cookies, washing dishes, soccer, set-up for Kelse's surprise birthday party, surprise birthday party.

I know that isn't all that I did.  And I'm pretty sure I slept somewhere in there, but not nearly enough homework, and thus I have my OT midterm due on Monday and I haven't started it yet.

But in those tense moments, the ones where I felt most frazzled, I took a moment to stop and breathe.  Of course, I had to remind myself to do this, or sometimes someone else had to remind me to do this, but a moment of silence and solace was a good opportunity to center myself.  I know I couldn't have accomplished a lot without these moments.  I suppose you could all them prayer, unnamed and unthought.