Posted on by palmtreemomma

Listen to the Suffering

Because my husband chose to marry me, a woman, he can easily pass as straight. And he did, for many years. We settled into our life together, raised our kids and grew our business. Whenever I would bring up the issue of his orientation, he would sort of shrug it off. He was okay with his life. We both worked on our stuff and made great strides toward wholeness. The depression from earlier years diminished and life was almost good. As good as it can be when you are starting a business and raising 3 wild boys in a small house with very little money. But we made it though every crisis that threatened our existence and it felt as if maybe life was almost normal. Whatever that means.

Then, out of the blue, we hit a rough patch. Tired of hiding, Austin started coming out of the closet to more of his close friends. He was always very candid with me about these conversations. While I was grateful to know, I was also puzzled because I sensed depression growing in him again. Something had changed and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

The Painful Truth

The more we talked, the more I began to realize that he hadn’t been as happy all these years as he had led me to believe. Though he said he was fine, things were not always fine.

Once again, I felt the rug being yanked out from beneath me. This time, though, I wasn’t just shocked and scared, I was angry. I had believed him when he said he was doing okay. I trusted and thought we were in a good place. But obviously we were not in a good place if he was feeling miserable.

While my brain knew it was not about me, it still was another blow to my self esteem. The healthy part of my self knows it’s not my job to make him happy and I can’t change his orientation. It just is. But I also feel terrible if my partner is unhappy. It’s pretty hard to be a feeling person and not take it at least a little bit personally.

I was sure this time that we were headed for a divorce. As a big-picture-carry-the-world-on-my-shoulders kind of person, I turned every scenario over in my mind. Who would raise the kids? Who would stay in the house? Would we sell the business? What would I do for a job? On and on my brain churned and my broken heart reshaped itself into tears dripping down my cheeks.

It’s pretty damn hard to see suffering in another and not be able to do a single thing to ease that suffering and bring happiness.

I was still angry too, that he let me think he was happy when he wasn’t.

It’s a weird place to be in – broken because you see the suffering of another and can do nothing but suffer with them. Yet to be so angry you kind of just want to walk out the front door and never look back.

Tired of Hiding

Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to lean in and really listen to our suffering. Something began to emerge and slowly make sense as we did this.

Sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to lean in and really listen to our suffering.

Austin was tired of hiding who he was. He had long reached the place of no longer fighting against who he was or trying to change his orientation. He had accepted his bisexual identity but was still passing as straight. And he was not alone. 26% of bisexual adults are not out to anyone important in their lives, while 54% are out only to a few people.

It takes a heck of a lot of energy to pass as something you are not. There is a longing deep within us that wants others to see us and love us for who we really are. We all get tired of hiding and want to leave our masks and molds at the door and bring our true selves to the table. The dream of finding a place we can both be real and celebrated is in all of us.

Any time we must keep our true self hidden in order to fit in or please the powers that be, we are saying yes to a toxic system.

Any time we must keep our true self hidden in order to fit in or please the powers that be, we are saying yes to a toxic system. One can only survive toxicity for so long before dying from the poison. Rather than die from the inside out, Austin was slowly bringing his whole self to the table.

Receiving the Gift

When someone takes off their mask and shows you their true self, they are offering you a priceless gift.

When I was a child, I loved to give gifts. There was one person I remember, that I could never seem to give a good enough gift to. No matter what I gave or how hard I tried, it was never a cherished gift. It stung my little heart but it also taught me a most valuable lesson. I learned to cherish the gifts I am given and to celebrate the heart that is offering the gift.

Are you able to cherish the gift of authenticity when it is given to you? Or does your religion cause you to argue and debate? Can you accept what you hear without trying to change the gift in some way? Are you able to celebrate the heart that is offering the gift even if it makes you uncomfortable?

I’ve kind of gotten a front row seat at seeing how people respond. Sometimes its beautiful – like the friend and mentor who got up from her seat and wrapped Austin in an embrace after hearing his story.

It can get ugly when people just want to prove how right they are or start hurtful rumors behind our backs.

Sometimes it is awkward when people don’t know what to say.

Sometime there’s a quiet “Me too” whispered back.

The gift of authenticity

So while you may wonder what happened next with us, I want you to sit here in this for a minute. I want you to think about how you receive the gift of authenticity. It’s a dying treasure, swallowed up by a toxic culture. But people around you are tired of hiding and long to be safe enough to show you who they are.

Sadly, some of you will never know the authenticity of those nearest you. There are doors that will always be closed because you have already shown that you are not a safe person.

We need to be safe receptacles for authenticity. We must create safe spaces where people no longer need to hide. If your religion has some folks preferring to hide than be real, maybe you should rethink your religion. If your God can’t love authenticity, maybe you are the one who doesn’t really know your God. When you must argue and convince the other that you are right, you show your own toxicity, along with a fear of authenticity.

It doesn’t need to be this way. There are many who are oh so tired of hiding. We can foster authenticity by living it ourselves and we can dismantle toxicity by being safe people.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Human First

Everyone loves a good story, one filled with hope and redemption. All I need to do is follow the trail of likes, comments and extra visitors on my blog. I can see exactly what people like and want to hear.

Most of us are drawn to what makes us feel comfortable. Our whole lives we’ve been steeped in the lie that tells us life is supposed to feel good. That every story can and should have a happy ending and that bad things aren’t supposed to happen.

The truth is more nuanced and difficult to pin down. My life is much too busy and complicated to figure out what it is supposed to be. All I know is what is. Life is messy, disappointing, surprising, exhilarating, depressing, good, bad, beautiful, ugly all at the same time. It just is.

Many of you shared your love for last week’s post about the business we built out of the ashes of our marriage. Realize however that not everyone has this same story. There are many couples in MOMs who are exhausting themselves with questions and tears. They struggle to figure out whether or not they can and should try to remain in their marriages. Even for us, I still have days when I have doubts. It’s not easy.

Life is Messy

I’ve felt despair shake my body while tears squeezed their way from my heart onto my cheeks, feeling things too deep for words. There are other strains and stresses in my life that I have not shared with you. Years spent living so poor we were an inch from life on the streets. All this in the middle of the earthquake that defined our marriage. Life is messy and sometimes the pain is unbearable.

Perhaps the reason we gravitate toward stories of hope and redemption is because we want to believe that it will be okay in the end, for us. We long for the reassurance that the mud and muck we are wading through will be worth it. We listen to these stories and we share them with others because we want them to experience that same hope. This is not a bad sentiment, but the true test of friendship is when I choose to be present in the midst of the unending crisis. This kind of a friend stays present throughout the course of a disasters or a break-up. Staying for closet door openings and truth telling moments, whether we agree or not. It is not looking for an escape route as soon as the ending is not looking so rosy. True friendship sticks around when life is messy.

It has become clear to me this year that many Christians have a difficult time with this type of love. Loving someone different from themselves seems like too much work and self protection is given a higher priority. All I need to do is to talk about Pride events, the border wall or immigrants and the barriers begin to go up. This is all pretty ironic when you study ancient texts and read the words spoken by their prophet that they will be known (as Christians) because of the love they have for each other.

Perhaps it wasn’t always this way. I hope not. But I’ve noticed a trend in the American church that has been painful.

some things i notice

These Christians feel the need to let us know they love us but they disagree. It’s a weird urge that doesn’t let them commence being friends until they have explained their beliefs. It is as if the only way for them to keep themselves clean is by putting this clarifying distance between us.

This type of Christian loves us but wants to influence us to change in some way. They offer their wisdom or the wisdom of another person who has chosen to live out their queerness in a different way. Perhaps they assume that we have never thought of those things ourselves and wrestled with those same questions.

These folks say their faith is for all people. Much of our experience proves otherwise. They like to surround themselves with those who look like them, speak their language and comply with their unspoken club rules.

Sometimes they are just socially awkward, preferring silence or small talk. They let their discomfort lead them. Instead of leading by doing the work to love all, they prefer to hold on to judgement, especially when life gets messy.

Another way

In February, I had the privilege of returning to Bangladesh. It had been nearly 9 years since I last pressed the soles of my sandals onto the land I had once called home. For 2 weeks I wrapped myself in her embrace. As I listened to her heartbeat, I remembered what my Muslim friends taught me. While the weeks were full of experiences that illustrate my point, the one that shows it best was the day I was so sick the earth felt like it was going to swallow me up.

excerpt from the Kahiniwalla blog –

Misery violently took over my night, pushed sleep aside and sent me rushing to the bathroom. The initial relief was short lived. I soon found myself fumbling in the darkness, desperate for the antibiotics the Traveler’s Clinic had sent with me. I gulped down the first giant tablet, determined to be ready for travel by morning.

Yet, morning still found me pasted to my bed, stomach swirling in unreasonable circles. Eyes squinted tightly shut to block out the light and hands grasping a plastic bag just in case. As we left the city behind and headed towards Dhaka, I laid back in my seat and willed myself to survive the journey.

It was awful, I’m not gonna lie. Our driver, Ramjan, who had been nothing but a gentleman since we left Dhaka, was now doing his best to maneuver his way home. It wasn’t long before I found myself squatting on the side of the road, upheaving the remains of my stomach. Ramjan hovered beside me, full of concern, telling my friend to hold my hand and pull my hair back. He even took a long look at my vomit to try to figure out what I had eaten that was causing my insides to have such a mutiny.

When I was finished, he motioned for me to hold out my hands so he could pour water into them. He showed me how to rinse out my mouth and wash my face. As I squatted in the dirt by the side of the road and cupped my hands to accept his gift of water, I felt the Divine tapping me on the shoulder and I knew I was taking in a holy sacrament. I saw my Creator mirrored so beautifully in the face of our Muslim driver who shared his water with this tired and sick American woman. Something inside came unglued and it’s a wonder I made it back into the van instead of catapulting down the embankment.

Human First

The water shared by our conservative Muslim driver was still wet on my face when I remembered what my Muslim friends had been teaching me all along – to see others as human first. Not once did they share their beliefs before deciding whether or not to be a friend. Though the ancient text they follow may tell them that I am an infidel, they showed me a depth of love and acceptance I rarely see people of my own background and faith giving to those who are, in some way, different.

I cannot count the times I have been shown love and grace by people whose beliefs were quite different from my own. I was a stranger, and they loved me. Though I was different, they accepted me. I was a foreigner and they welcomed me, giving me a seat at the table and the best of their food. Though I was an infidel they took care of me as if I were their own. I held their babies and they held mine. They saw me as human first and they treasured my humanity.

Life is messy and complicated but it becomes beautiful when we see each other as human first. We have so much to learn from those unlike ourselves!


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Rising From the Ashes

You cradle me in the darkness.
The palm of your hand a giant womb.
I curl my body into the stillness,
Breathing the air offered in this space.
Quiet, darkness, stillness.
If the darkness would not come,
I would exhaust myself with doing
and forget to rest.
But here in the darkness
the quiet seed splits and dies.
By learning to rest in this quiet darkness
beauty rises from the hard split shell and
like a phoenix rising from the ashes,
I find my life again.

The early days, after Austin came out to me, were an upheaval that came alive and breathed heavily down our necks. After a decade of being volunteers, traveling the world with our babies and immersing ourselves in the warmth and beauty of other cultures, we found ourselves back on the shores of our homeland. Ready or not, we were starting over once again.

Austin had exchanged his dream job of designing under a development agency in Bangladesh for a graphic design job in Ohio. We both were doing the inner work of finding authenticity but that didn’t pay the bills. Our marriage was in shambles and we both struggled with depression as we navigated the inner landscapes of pain.

In the midst of trying to figure out if our Mixed Orientation Marriage would work, we did the unthinkable. We started a business. Together. We had no money, no business background, no sales experience and very little energy.

Ripple effects

The smoke was still rising from the ashes when the opportunity fell into our lap. A friend we had gotten to know during our time in Bangladesh, Samantha Morshed, was running a large and growing Fair Trade business that trained women in the rural areas of Bangladesh to knit and crochet baby items. The brand, Pebble, is characterized by an amigurumi style and features a variety of rattles, hats, blankets and stuffed toys.

Pebble grew out of one mamma’s heart who saw how so many women in Bangladesh leave their babies with extended family and move to the city to find work. Often they live in the slums and work long days in the garment factories in unsafe and poorly paid situations. Isolated from the safety of family, they are left vulnerable and are often taken advantage of.

A desire to keep babies with their mothers inspired Samantha to gather a few women around her and teach them how to knit and crochet. She started with 12 women in 2004 and, by the time we met her, it had grown to employ more than 2000 women. Today, more than 120 Pebble centers have opened throughout rural Bangladesh, giving fair wages and steady employment to more than 13,000 women. They can walk to work, taking their babies with them. Entire communities are being transformed by the ripple effects of women who are valued, given a voice, equality, and financial freedom. You can watch a short video here, to learn more about Pebble.

If you’ve followed this blog from the beginning, you will know how difficult it was for us to leave Bangladesh. The people in this beautiful country had captured our hearts and changed our outlook of the world. When Samantha asked us to be her US distributors for Pebble, we saw it as an opportunity to stay connected to this land where strangers are welcomed and curry constantly wafts on the breeze.

Building something new

We named our business Kahiniwalla, which means storyteller in Bangla. We started small, ordering one or two boxes of product at at time, shipping through the postal system. Austin would reach out to potential customers in the evenings or weekends, eventually cutting back his hours at his day job so he could put more time into Kahiniwalla. I did the book work and the fulfillment.

Despite the fact that we didn’t know what we were doing, it grew. Within 4 years we both quit our part time jobs and were working full time for Kahiniwalla. Together.

It was more than a little crazy while, for the next 4 years, a we worked out of our tiny home. The rooms were literally bursting with Pebble boxes, as we had now moved to importing partial container loads by sea. The kitchen, bathrooms and boys’ bedrooms were the only rooms not overtaken in some way with Pebble inventory, with the attic housing the bulk of the boxes. When shipments came in, we moved our dining table into the living room to use as a work station and we would fill the dining room, floor to ceiling with boxes. In the winter, we donned coats and gloves to do our work in our unfinished, uninsulated attic, filling orders for customers. Conversely, in the summer, we would drip with sweat.

No going back

After moments of shattering, it is impossible for life to get back to what it was before. After Austin came out to me, as much as I wanted to get back to the old normal, there was no going back. The choice was to separate and start over separately, or stay together and build something new. Kahiniwalla became our new tangible thing that we built together, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

It’s almost unbelievable how this new thing fit us each so well. Austin is a people person and loves to tell stories, so traveling to trade shows and interacting with customers is the perfect fit for him. His creative side shows in the ads he creates, photography he does, and instagram posts.

As an introvert, I love to be at home, fill orders and maintain the books. I enjoy writing blog posts for the business. When shipments come in, I love to organize everything. Our personalities and skills fit together like a glove. Despite the craziness of starting a business in our circumstances and living on very little income for the next decade, it served to draw us together and grow our love.

I would not advise another couple to start a business together when their marriage is rocking on the precipice of ruin. Not much about it made logical sense. All I know is that in surrendering to the journey, our hearts first led us deep into the darkness until we found something magical rising from the ashes.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

Breaking the Silence

This week I watched as a friend was bravely vulnerable. Honest. Raw. Real. Within 24 hours, her vulnerability got her fired from her job.

We often don’t know what to do with utter vulnerability. When someone leaves their masks and molds at the door and gives us a look at the tender heart that is struggling beneath it all, it can be frightening and words can easily fail us.

We are accustomed to a cookie cutter society, where we know there are different flavors and shapes yet we still expect each person to fit into some type of mold. When someone is unflinchingly honest with us, the mold breaks and we see something we are not used to seeing. We seldom know what to do with it.

We have frequently experienced this, since my husband came out as bi. Sometimes the silence hurts more than words of judgement. Silence is interpreted by the hearer and it speaks loudly. Too often, unintended harshness is heard in the words left unspoken.

The unspoken rule

It is as if we adhere to an unspoken rule that says you should not acknowledge what another is going through or show compassion unless you morally agree with the issue at hand. True compassion, however, is the sympathetic consciousness of the distress of another, with a desire to alleviate it. Compassion is universal and goes deeper than morality. It sees distress for the pain that it is. If someone is utterly honest with you, you can show compassion without ever telling them if you agree with them on a particular issue or not.

We don’t know what to do with utter vulnerability, but we can learn. When someone shares something hidden with you – an affair, depression, betrayal, addiction, sexual or gender orientation, and you are left speechless, there are some things you can say.

What to do with utter vulnerability

I’m listening. Every week I get to hear these words from the mom of a childhood friend after she reads my blog post. Two simple words that say everything.

It sounds like you have a lot going on right now. Let me know if you ever want to talk. I’m here. This lets them know you see them and are there for them without pushing yourself onto them.

I hear you. Keep talking. Sometimes simply acknowledging that you are listening is all they need. In a world where we often miss important things, it communicates that you hear and are not ignoring or pretending it never happened.

This is all new territory for me but I would like to learn. Can you tell me more? Admitting you don’t know much is okay. Always be gentle in asking for more. Never pry. Trust must be earned and should never be assumed. Communicate that you are willing to be taught, instead of telling them you have the answers.

I had no idea this was going on. How can I be there for you? In other words, what do you need? Again, it acknowledges the pain without controlling the narrative.

I love you no matter what. This one is overused and can easily sound hollow. Only say this if you are prepared to back it up. Living this one out may prove to be much harder than saying the words in the first place. And be aware that what you think is loving may feel like rejection to them, which defeats the purpose of saying the words in the first place.

Be There

Whatever you do, find a way to acknowledge that you see and you hear. It is devastating to be vulnerable and have people you thought were your friends either ghost you or pretend nothing happened. We must find a better way to navigate the broken bits of life with those we care about, not running away from it, or telling them how to fix it.

Be the person who stays, shows up, listens, finds the words to speak, but most importantly, walks beside. Be a before and after kind of friend. And remember, you can’t love with arms wide open when you are holding on to judgement. Love widely.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

When Your Lips Leak Silence

Your silence speaks sharply
while echoing in the quiet
empty spaces where friendship
once used to exist.
Laughter and kindness bumped into each other
in this place
I thought I belonged
but maybe I was wrong.
I wonder – did you ever truly value me
at all?
I am still
the same person I was then.

Does cracking open the polished veneer
and giving you a vulnerable look at the tender
undo the respect
you once had for me?
I do not understand this distance,
like an unspoken sigh
long held back
has escaped your lips
while I hear what you don’t say
more than what you say.
It feels like judgement.

When your lips leak silence my heart bleeds tears.

I don’t need you to agree with me but please
I just want you to see me,
acknowledge the pain
that has ripped and remade me.
I don’t need you to validate me
or my journey because
that has already been done
by the only one that matters.
I myself love myself and can finally
embrace my story
and all the pain
and the glory.
So, no, I do not need you to affirm
my story
but please
acknowledge my vulnerability.

When your lips leak silence my heart bleeds tears.

You have seen my soul naked and bare,
the wrappings and trappings
ripped off as
I stood there alone
in my corner while
your silence held me there.
I felt the aloneness
more than you intended,
I am sure,
but I am not here to judge
your intent.
I am here so that you can hear a story
that is deeper than myself and
wider than all of humanity.

When your lips leak silence my heart bleeds tears.

Your silence renders me invisible
in the circle of all
who are like you.
I wonder why you hold so tight
to a circle of those
who are like you?
In a universe of unique
and breathtaking diversity where
not one snowflake is alike – so
why oh why
do you clutch your molds
and cookie cutters
and push them into the hearts
of the vulnerable?

I won’t let you mold
my heart into
the perfectly shaped thing
you want it to be
because I will be me.
Even when your silence feels like judgment
I know my heart and my story
and the journey it has taken me
to get to this place.
I know my value and hold it close while
I close my eyes and sway to the tune
of an ancient melody
you may not hear.
I hold my worth with one hand to my heart
while with the other I hold back
the flow of silence and
I listen to what is worth hearing
instead.
I turn my face towards the
sound of love
for a vulnerable heart
is keenly tuned
to this sound that those speaking judgement
will never hear.

There is a space
in a new place
for me
where love and kindness
bump into each other.
Where scars are tenderly kissed and
honor is given
to the story long held back.
Here the tears can flow and its okay to show
all that I once held secret behind those closed doors.
Authenticity is the new beautiful here
in this gorgeous space where
masks and molds are left at the door
and my soul is finally seen for what it is.

When your lips leak silence my heart bleeds tears.

Yet your silence no longer
holds me in place.
The breeze has whispered
and blows soft
on wings that are ready.
We rise and we fly
the vulnerable and I.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

A Necessary Shattering

That which seems to have twisted your life or personality for the worst is the very thing that will heal you and give you meaning.

Thomas Moore ~ Dark Night of the Soul

I wrote this quote in my journal during the early days. When Austin first came out to me, everything was so raw and full of pain. I struggled to reconcile what this meant for my marriage, my faith and my own self esteem. While these words gave me a bit of hope, I felt more despair and disappointment than anything in those early days.

Nearly a decade later, I can look back and see the truth in Thomas Moore’s words. The things that twisted my life and nearly broke me have become agents of healing and truly have given my life meaning.

But in the moment, when the world has shattered, nothing is as it seems. It’s incredibly hard to believe that anything good can come from this necessary shattering.

A mere puppet

Sometimes the pain resurfaces and catches me off guard. Then I feel as if the tears of a thousand or more drops are there, waiting. That if I were to start the flow, it would never stop. Other times the pain is so sharp and big that it feels I’ve been split down the middle of my soul. It’s all the losses, rolled up in a ball of barbs and nails and glass…Sometimes my soul can only weep in stunned agony as I realize again what these losses have cost me.

A young girl cannot tell when she is consenting to the murder of her soul, when the essence of who she is has been destroyed and a horrible horrible imitation set up instead – one that meets the needs of those around her, with no thoughts to her own because she has no ‘own.’ Given no voice, no space, no privacy in the big scheme of things, no individuality, she has become a mere puppet.

How does one go about reclaiming the original soul – that feminine soulfulness? Is it possible to be emotionally born again?”

Journal entry from the early days

In the blur of those early days after the shattering, I felt like a mere puppet. I knew that I was hungry for something more, desperate for ME to be alive and real. I knew that I was a mere imitation of something deeper and true, even when I did not have the words to sort it out.

My husband had invited me to join him on his journey towards authenticity but I discover that there was no free ride. I had to do my own work. As tired and confused as my soul was, it was also desperately hungry.

The last few weeks I have been writing about the names Queer people choose to help frame their identity. Naming is so important for the LGBTQ+ community as they embrace authenticity. It is equally important for the rest of us to embrace authenticity in our lives.

embracing authenticity

Before I could embrace my own authenticity, I had to figure out who I was. Waking up in a mixed orientation marriage shattered the illusion of life as I thought it was. As utterly painful as this was, it was a necessary shattering. I could then sift through the broken bits and find who I really was. It started with giving myself permission to have thoughts, feelings, dreams and a voice of my own.

It was a shocking revelation that my worth was not in what I did, but in who I was.

The problem was, destructive patterns had long been in motion. As a child, I was noticed and praised when I worked hard, and sacrificed my own wants and needs for someone else. In fact, living a life of sacrifice was held up as a noble cause. When the heart is young, one tends to repeat that which works. This method of getting affirmation soon became a habit.

It was a shocking revelation that my worth was not rooted in what I did, but in who I was. By the time of the shattering, I had spent well over a decade officially volunteering for various organizations. Unofficially, I had served others my whole life. I could fill a book with the acts of services performed and the money given away or never earned. While many of these things I did truly came from my heart and were acts of love, much of it was also born out of “shoulds” and expectations.

Moving back to the US and giving up the noble title of volunteer was shattering in its own way. I felt I had nothing to offer the mainstream market, no job skills or college degree to back me up. The identity of a decade+ was gone and my perceived value along with it.

The gift of the shattering

The first winter after we moved back to the US, I was fortunate enough to be able to stay home. For the first time since high school, I didn’t have a job description or position to fill. I had time and space to be, getting to know myself like never before as I pondered, read, wrote and dreamed. I gave myself permission to rest. Hope began to fill the raw edges as I learned how to be my own best friend. This necessary shattering gave me the gift of being able to see myself – in all of my glory and all of my shadows- so that I could then love that self that had been tucked away beneath a facade of what everyone else thought my life should look like.

Like a worm in a chrysalis, slowly metamorphosing into what it was meant to be all along, I was changing from the inside out.

Becoming your own best friend

While I wish I had a magic formula to share with you, one that guarantees a quick and smooth journey to authenticity, I have discovered it is much too mystical and unique to be bound to a series of steps. Your journey will be as unique as you are. My only piece of advice is to start listening to yourself. Our bodies are incredibly wise and can tell us more than our brain at times. Pay attention to how you feel. If you are doing something your brain tells you is good and right but you consistently feel drained by it, maybe it is not the best thing for you. Give yourself permission to say “no” to things. Take time to step back and work out the things that give you life and energy. Do what it takes to become your own best friend.

My necessary shattering was the catalyst that force start me onto this journey. On the other side of the deepest pain, I found a life that was better than I could have ever imagined.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

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Embracing Authenticity

Image depicting at a Pride event, holding the lgbtq+ rainbow flag and the trans flag.

We were in God’s womb before we were in our mother’s.

Crafted by unique design, out of a universe of possibilities, we were first birthed in a magical place. Our DNA, physical features, orientation, likes and dislikes, the things that make us fierce and the things that tender us, were all brought together in the kiss of the Divine. Not a mistake nor an accident. While flaming stars danced across the night sky, our pronouns were whispered over us and our authentic self was called into being.

And then we born, and the world gave us its definition of who we are and how to live. Family customs, religious traditions, cultural norms, and expectations showed us the proper way to be. Most of us were taught to be normal instead of authentic and most of us have, sadly, been okay with this. We have forgotten our authentic self.

Naming is sacred

In my last post, I talked about naming and how helpful it was when my husband finally had the language to identify as bisexual. After decades of feeling like a misfit who did not belong anywhere, this gave him a sense of solidity and belongingness. His naming helped me to understand him better as well. We both benefited immensely when he began to embrace and live out of his authentic self.

While I have spent hours unpacking what bisexual means, I think it is important to note that this naming is so important for all queer people. Not only is naming personal, it is sacred.

Each person in the LGBTQ+ community has a name that describes their authentic self in terms of orientation or gender. Lesbian. Gay. Bisexual. Transgender. Queer. Asexual. Gender fluid. Pansexual, The list goes on. For a comprehensive list of names and definitions, click here. Those who are out of the closet have chosen a name that serves to give meaning and shape to the mystery of who they are. These terms are far from being restrictive, rather they give us the language to begin to understand our queer brothers and sisters.

Name Changing

Some have changed their given name as well. Those who identify as gender fluid, for instance, may have changed their name to something that is gender neutral. Transgender people often change their name as well. This is a sacred journey because they have heard whispers of authenticity and are now speaking aloud their authentic self. Rather than hiding behind a curtain of anonymity or pretending to be like everyone else, they are bravely remembering and revealing their authentic self.

I have friends who are parents of transgender children. I’ll be honest – I still sometimes catch myself calling them by their birth name and often the wrong pronoun slips off my tongue. I practice their new names in my head sometimes and there is something sacred about it. It’s bold and beautiful and such a lovely window into their soul, this new called-name that they have chosen. It shows me their strength and uniqueness and something of the fire in their soul.

When the soul remembers its authentic self and bravely shares that with the world, time pauses and the Divine holds its breath before breaking into applause.

My favorite TED Talk of all time was delivered by a transgender woman named Paula. Having spent time as both a man and a woman, she has a unique perspective on what it is like to be a woman. It is brilliant and moving and so good that I made my 3 boys sit down and watch it with me. I think every male in the country needs to watch it. When she gets to the part about her father calling her by her new name for the first time, I cry. Every time.

Paula.

Naming is sacred. When the soul remembers its authentic self and bravely shares that with the world, time pauses and the Divine holds its breath before breaking into applause.

Changing the narrative

Who are we to try and hush the voices bravely telling us who they are? As straight cisgender people, we have no idea what we are talking about when we downplay this need they have for naming their identity.

Whenever the majority decides the narrative for the minority, discrimination and injustice ensue.

The truth of the matter is – as cisgender heterosexuals, the world revolves around our identity so firmly that we never need to call it forth. It’s just there, built into the founding walls and documents of our country. Be it tax forms or restroom doors, we don’t have to even think about it. Straight cisgender is such a normal identity that we forget it’s there.

Whenever the majority decides the narrative for the minority, discrimination and injustice ensue.

It’s time to listen. We could learn so much from those whose voices we have shushed. Those who have heard and honored the call to authenticity are extraordinarily brave. In a world where too many of us are faking some kind of normal, the queer are blazing a trail.

Authenticity is the new beautiful.

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Naming

The human experience is full of mystery. We all have things about us that we don’t fully understand. Language and naming helps us to understand some of the mystery that surrounds us. We go to school and study things we want to understand. We take personality tests or discuss enneagram numbers with friends because we want to understand ourselves better. When we are ill and seek out a doctor, it is often a relief when a diagnosis is given. The simple act of naming the unknown helps to make it less scary and easier to understand.

Naming is personal

In a culture that is obsessed with labels, it is important to realize there is a difference between labeling and naming. Labels have their place. We wouldn’t shop the grocery stores without them. Applied to people, however, labels can be dismissive, harmful, distancing and hurtful. Naming on the other hand, is personal. It allows another to be seen and known for who they are. Naming gives definition with fluidity. It allows for mystery, giving space for the ever-expanding soul and the creative potential for re-naming.

When we see people who are different, our minds automatically want to label them. We tell ourselves it is because we want to understand them better. Yet if we dig deeper, we may find we are looking for a way to box them up and set them aside. Naming is personal; it calls out to us to see another as they are and not avert our gaze or push aside. It gives parameters for understanding and so much more.

Identity & Naming

For years Austin struggled to identify and name a core part of his identity. He knew he was different from other boys yet did not have the language to articulate it. Even when he came out to me, decades later in life, he did not have the words to name it. When he was finally able to name the things that made him who he was, the relief was palpable. When Austin identified as bisexual, it finally gave us the language to begin to unpack the mystery and the questions.

Bisexual – one whose attractions are not limited to one gender. Pansexual, Queer, and Fluid are used interchangeably by some but not all. I won’t take the time here to dig into each of these terms, but this article does a good job if you want to know more.

Identifying as bisexual has given him a sense of belonging somewhere, after decades of feeling like a misfit who does not belong anywhere. Naming is personal and this naming has helped me to understand him better as well. It helped me to accept that he is genuinely attracted to me, yet continues to have other attractions. Hearing the stories of others who identify as bi, has helped us both realize this is much more common than we imagined.

Bisexual Facts

Bisexuals are the largest group within the LGBTQ+ community, with about 50% of all the people in this community identifying as bi. Despite this fact, they are often the least accepted group in the rainbow community. Straight folks tend to label them as gay. Those who are gay sometimes tell bi folk that they are not gay enough, subjecting them to bi shaming, which I will talk more about another day.

This skepticism from both sides has left bi folks at higher risk of depression and suicide. In fact, 40% of bi high school students have seriously contemplated suicide. They are also at higher risk for sexual assault and violence.

Bisexuals are much more hidden than many others within the queer community. 26% of adult bisexuals are not out to anyone important in their lives compared to the 4% of gays and lesbians who would say the same thing. 88% are in a relationship with someone of the opposite sex and can pass for being straight. Many never come out because it’s easier to pass than to deal with the misunderstanding and hate.

A person can name themselves as bi simply on the basis of being attracted to more than one gender. This does not mean they have had sex with more than one gender, nor does it mean they need to be sexually policed and questioned about their sex life. Some people think that being bi means that there is a threesome going on. These folks most likely got their bi education from porn, not reality.

Bi people can be just as committed in a relationship as anyone from any other orientation. The naming is about what genders they are attracted to, not who they are having sex with.

Choosing Names

You may have noticed I use the word queer, along with the acronymn LGBTQ+. I choose these two names because they are meant to be inclusive of all who do not identify as straight or cis-gender. LGBTQ+ can be a bit bulky in sentences so sometimes I use queer. While there are some who find this word offensive (and I am sorry for that but hear me out), it would be offensive to my partner, who is bi, if I used the word gay because that is not a name that fits him.

Historically Queer was a derogatory word, but some within the LGBTQ+ community have chosen to reclaim the word and celebrate its inclusiveness. While LGB are all names for sexuality, queer can also encompass gender identification and more. It is important to give voice and recognition to all who are part of the rainbow community. When my husband names himself as bi and queer, he does it with pride and so will I.

Be an Ally

The bi community needs more allies. Here are some things you can do.

Believe that bi people exist. Don’t shame or erase them. There is a reason so many bi folks are still in the closet. Be a safe place. If someone shares their bi identity with you, honor it. Naming is personal; never respond in a way that seeks to erase who they are. They are not confused and this is not just a phase.

Don’t assume infidelity, assume a big beautiful heart that has a greater capacity to love all people. Do not pressure them into passing as straight; it invalidates the pain they have already endured, as well as the beauty that makes up the mystery of who they are. Don’t ask questions that attempt to police their sexuality.

Instead of spreading rumors that hurt and perpetuate biphobia, let bi people speak their truth and tell their stories. Do your own research and read up on the topic. GLADD has a great resource guide here that is very helpful. Most of all, remember that you can’t love with arms wide open if you are holding on to judgement. Love widely.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Posted on by palmtreemomma

An Equal Place

In my last post I shared how the church we attended went through a formal discerning period to decide whether or not we would be welcoming. Today I would like to lean into the idea further and talk about what it means to be affirming.

In spaces that are affirming, everyone is welcomed and celebrated, not just tolerated. There is an equal place at the table for everyone and equal opportunities to serve and be served. It looks a lot like equality and is the antithesis of discrimination.

Closer than you think

An estimated 4.5% of the population of the United States identify themselves as being LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender). If you add those who identify as Intersex , Asexual, or Non-binary, the numbers would be even higher.

This number does not necessarily decrease in churches. Statistically speaking, if you are sitting with 200 people on any given Sunday morning, there are at least 9 people around you who identify as queer. If your church is not a safe place for them, they are in the closet or cage, as some have called it.

These are your brothers, your sisters, your children. Your aunts and uncles, even grandparents. They are your people and they are nearer to you than you think. Imagine sitting up to Grandma’s table over the holidays with your extended family, tables overflowing. You look and see everyone welcome but not everyone is given a plate of food. Not everyone is given a place to serve. Some watch, hungry, so hungry. You say they are welcome, you say they are loved. But still they are hungry. Alone. Confused. You might as well not have welcomed them when the welcome is conditional.

What if we have it wrong?

Once you have lived this reality instead of talked about this issue, this looks a whole lot different. From where I am standing, the things we expect of our queer brothers and sisters are heartless. God is not heartless and does not discriminate. When I read the ancient texts, I see a Divine heart that calls everyone to the table.

What if there were another way we could look at this? Studies have repeatedly shown that sexual orientation is not a choice. I cannot imagine a loving God creating 4.5% of the population with orientations that he actually hates. Does this not niggle inside of you, jostling long held ideas, passed down generation after generation? What if we are the ones who have interpreted it all wrong?

To discriminate against a creature that is loved by the Divine is an unspeakable loss that leaves the rest of creation keening and reeling in chaos.

Imagine that we get to the end of our life and discover that God truly does hate 4.5% of the US because of their sexual orientation, this part of them that they did not choose. If God hates them but we were loving and affirming, they will have lived their life with a place at the table, treated with equality, and died knowing they were loved. It doesn’t affect me at that point (other then regretting that I had followed a God who hates). But what if God loves them enough to give them an equal place at the table and I was the one who shut them out? Then I am the one who has lost the most.

To discriminate against a creature that is loved by the Divine is an unspeakable loss that leaves the rest of creation keening and reeling in chaos.

An Equal Place at the table

One Sunday morning I was served communion by a transgender woman. As I took my bread to dip in the cup, I looked into her blue eyes as clear as glass and saw a soul that had found rest. Her blessing washed over me and I felt knots in my soul loosening and long held biases slipping away. It was the holiest of communions for me. We stood as equals, yet she was light years ahead of me in terms of bravery and authenticity. I humbly received the symbol of life from one who had died a thousand deaths and bravely chosen life.

Creating an equal place at the table creates beautiful space for light to shine through. We may even lose a place of prominence but we will be enriched by the presence of some of the world’s kindest and most decent souls. I should know; I’m married to one. Those who have died a thousand deaths and bravely continue to choose life are the very ones we need to model bravery and kindness in a time of so much division and hate.

Voices of others

I’d like to give space for the voices of others who speak so well on this topic. Here are links to a few –

Patrick Gothman tells a similar story here of being at a family table, welcomed but not equal. His story illustrates what it feels like to be gay in a non-affirming church.

Kimberly Knight shares that the difference between welcoming and affirming is equality.

Beckett Hanan tells what non-affirming actually means.

Sarah Bessey shares her journey of becoming affirming in Penny in the Air.

In his book Does Jesus Really Love Me? , Jeff Chu talks about the year he spent traveling across the US. He met with gay Christians across the country and shares story after story of churches and gay people that are all over the spectrum. Some with very closed doors, some welcoming, and some affirming.

If you are interested in finding a church that offers an equal place at the table, Church Clarity helps to score churches on issues of both LGBTQ policy and women in leadership.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.

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Welcoming or Not

About a year after Austin came out to me, I realized I was no longer crying every day. I still cried a lot, it just wasn’t every single day. I wrestled with not only my self esteem and fears, but also what this meant to my faith. As mentioned in a previous post, I realized I had to look through a different lens. We attended a small Mennonite church in our city. I knew of a handful of queer people that had come and gone over the years. When the elders announced that they were going to start a formal process for the members to discuss whether or not we would be a welcoming church for all people, I was thrilled.

The church should be the safest place for Queer people.

Here is the thing – even when I wasn’t sure what I believed any more, when I had only questions and no answers, there was one belief I was certain of. The church should be the safest place for Queer people. Or, depending on your faith background, the Synagogue, the Temple or the Mosque.

Engaging in Conversations

Many churches either do not talk about this, or the leadership decides whether or not to be welcoming. I have a lot of respect for our pastor and elders at the time. They were willing to engage all of us in conversations on the matter of welcoming.

The formal process that First Mennonite Church of Canton used was quite extensive and lasted for a year. Four different pastors from other congregations were brought in throughout the year, to share their views on the topic. All four pastors studied the same ancient Scriptures, but came out at four different places in regards to faith and accepting members of the LGBTQ+ community. It was fascinating, to say the least. I found my mind expanding and was grateful that the black and white lens of my childhood was not the only lens there was.

Only after learning about the various views did the congregation begin its formal discussion on the matter. One particularly unique part of this process was when all the adult members gathered together to share how the story of their life had been affected by the LGBTQ+ community and how this impacted their views. For most of us, it was a highly emotional evening. Some had siblings or children who were queer. Some had people they loved who had left the church and their faith all together because they were not welcomed. Austin was honest about his own story and came out of the closet to this small group of our faith community. I shared how his coming out had impacted me. It was a night of truth telling and utter vulnerability.

The congregation continued to meet to discuss where to go from here. To welcome or not to welcome. In the end, we decided to agree to disagree as we were more divided than we thought.

It broke my heart. Even though I still wasn’t sure how I felt about the entire issue, I held firmly to my belief. The church should be the safest place for Queer people.

When the Church rejects you

When the Church rejects you, it sure as heck feels like God has rejected you. Too many people have walked away from God when the Church closed its doors to them. This is a big problem and it is not reflective of God, but of us.

If our beliefs are driving people away from the Creator who loves them, then it is time to rethink our beliefs.

This is not the God I know. When Jesus was on earth, the only group of people he ever got angry with, ever had words of judgement for, were the religious elite. He sat outside with those who could not darken the Temple’s door, despite the fact that the religious laws, supposedly handed down by God, forbade him to do so.

Think about it for a minute.

Jesus broke religious laws to show God’s love to the those who were forbidden a place at the table. He was furious only with those who kept all the religious laws but had forgotten how to love.

Why do we think it should be any different today? For too long, we have held judgement up as the greatest commandment when the only commandment there really is, is to love. And love never, ever drives anyone away from God. If our beliefs drive people away from the Creator who loves them, it is time to rethink our beliefs. Perhaps there is another way to interpret things.

The church should be the safest place for Queer people. It should be a safe place to be honest, to wrestle with questions. It must become a place that is welcoming and affirming for all if we truly want to model what love looks like.

Every Sunday morning, thousands gather together across our nation to worship. Pews are filled with people who do not agree on many other things. We may be on opposite sides politically. Many cheer for opposite sports teams. We have strong opposing views on many things, yet we are able to lay these aside as we worship together. Humans, side by side. Why is this there where so many churches draw the line? Why is another person’s sexual orientation so important to us that we feel justified to shut them out when the One we say we follow never said a word on the matter. He did, however, say this:

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Jesus in Matthew 25:40

To deny the Queer a place at the table is to deny Christ. Welcoming the Queer at the table is welcoming Christ at the table. To affirm the Queer among us is to affirm Christ at the table.


Click on the button above to send me an email and I will let you know when new posts are up! If you or someone you love is in the closet, or if you are struggling with your own guttural grief and need someone to talk to, email me. I may not have time to answer you but I will read it and hold you in my heart.

Photo courtesy of Adrienne Gerber Photography.