Are We Making Any Progress?

I woke up at three A. M. praying that no one would molest her at church camp. 

I have written about this before. I thought once I admitted it to myself and others I would be fine. Then I woke to this early morning prayer. My great-niece left for a week at church camp the day before. I am exited for her. Church camp was a very special part of growing up. My last year as a camper the director of the camp grabber me between my legs much as the current inhabitant of the White House brags about doing to women. 

I have received many comments and questions about the cover of my book, Prostitutes, Virgins and Mothers: Questioning Teachings About Biblical Women.

I

I gave answers like, "Women have been hurt by patriarchal interpretations of women's biblical stories. The woman on the cover represents the pain I have seen in my own eyes after a particularly harsh chastisement of women based on patriarchal interpretations." I gave an answer like that to  Marg Herder, a woman I greatly respect and the Director of Public Information for the Evangelical Ecumenical Women's Caucus: Christian Feminism Today. She was writing a review of my book for the EEWC web page. The review can be found at this link. https://eewc.com/prostitutes-virgins-mothers-questioning-teachings-biblical-women/

Muscles Have Memory

After that correspondence with Marg I went to the gym. It is a good thing that the weight was really heavy and the music was really loud because I burst into tears. Not just tears, but the ugly cry. The flood of memory and emotion surrounding the grabbing incident and what followed, overwhelmed me. That was the first time I wrote or even talked about the experience. First to Marg, then on this blog. 

What Has Changed?

Almost 50 years later and I am praying for the safety of a fourteen-year-old girl at church camp. Almost 50 years later and the occupant of the White House brags about grabbing women's private parts. When I asked Marg if I could use her name in this blog she told me of a therapist friend who has seen an increase of women with PTSD because of experiences like mine. Having a man in the White House, who brags about molesting women has brought all those long buried feelings to the surface.
I am a Christian Feminist and I pray no one molests her or any other little girl or woman. 

Tragedy in the United States

Life Changing Events

John F. Kennedy was killed when I was in fifth grade. That experience of national grief changed my childhood. Five years later Dr. Martin Luther King was murdered, followed shortly by Robert Kennedy.  The Kennedy brothers were practicing Roman Catholics. Dr King was an American Baptist minister.

On November 9, 2016 many Americans experienced another day of national grief. One of my friends stayed in bed and cried all day. Another moved forward with plans to relocate to Canada. Some lashed out in anger at white feminists who did not do enough to get out the vote and elect the candidate that would have protected women of color and women's rights in general. Others expressed fear that their right to marriage and family would be taken away from them.  The list of fears and anger could be much longer. Many of us are experiencing the grief that often accompanies the death of a loved one.

I am a progressive, liberal, left of center, feminist Christian. The national mourning for John, Martin, Robert and my Christian faith have shaped my concern for human rights and dignity. O am also a patriot who abhors the horrible division that grips our country. 

Commandments from the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy tell us to love God, love our neighbor and love ourselves. When Jesus was asked whom to consider a neighbor he chose as an example, a man from a despised group of people, a Samaritan. What made the Samaritans abhorrent? They worshipped God in a different place than the Hebrews. Leviticus also commands. "When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land..." That's a commandment no-one is fighting to put in the court house rotunda. It is easy, for me at least, to draw a comparison between undocumented people in the United States and the aliens we are commanded to love. It is easy, for me at least, to draw a comparison between the Samaritan neighbor and the Muslim neighbor. 

As always, in times like this, I look to faith leaders and feminist friends, who are ofter one-in-the same, for their words of wisdom, peace and healing. A pastoral letter from the United Church of Christ states, "We were built to heal bodies broken and divide. This is our calling. Our core values of love, hospitality, and justice for all must be fully embraced in the days to come. It could be that we were called into being for just such a time and this."

And finally the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, "Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Oh, Divine Master, grant that I may never seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is dying that we are born again to eternal life." 

I must confess I feel the need to be consoled and we are better together.

Eight Lessons Learned From Pain

My sister said, "Well, if the doctor had just found out what was wrong in 2012 you could have avoided all this pain.  I didn't say it but my first thought was. "But then I would have missed the lessons."I knew there were lessons to be learned from this experience and I didn't want to miss them. I even said little prayers from time to time when the pain was particularly bad or the lack of mobility extremely frustrating.  "Please don't let me miss the lesson in this." This is what I learned.

1. Be Grateful. Pain gives faith a whole new meaning and it is gratitude. In the hospital I practiced gratitude for all the things I take for granted. Simple things like being able to get out of bed by myself, or walk unassisted, even going to the bathroom became an activity for which to be grateful. 

2. I am not alone. Pain and the isolation of rehabilitation can be depressing. But friends showed up at my bedside, or sent cards that made me laugh, and called to check on me. Friends sending prayers and positive thoughts helped. When I saw my name on the church prayer list or on a FB post I knew prayers and positive energy were coming my way.  

3. It is okay to rest. Psalms 46:10 says, "Be still, and know that I am God." In that stillness, that rest there is a space for the divine that would not have existed without the pain. Rest is also essential for healing.

4. Self care is vital. Mark 12:31 says, "Love your neighbor as yourself." We sometimes miss the, "love yourself" part of that verse.  I cannot take care of anyone else if I do not take care of myself.  Part of taking care of myself is deciding that I am stronger than the pain.

5. Listen when others want to share their pain.  I think this might be the hardest lesson.  We all carry our own pain or the pain of someone we love.  My experience is that people just want to be heard or want you to know that they understand what you are going through.  Listen.

6. Be kind. Matthew 7:12 records what we often call the Golden Rule, "In everything do to others as you would have others do to you."  There are good Samaritans and angels everywhere.  They are sometimes disguised as doctors, nurses, physical therapists or food service workers. Even my neighbor, who works at the hospital, showed up every morning, before work with Starbucks. If I am grumpy and impatient or unkind I will miss the good they are trying to do for me.

7. My attitude is the most important factor I bring to my healing.  I confess was scared.  Scared of the surgery, the pain and the recovery. So I had my sister, Hilary make me a pink tutu.  When physical therapy got me on my feet I wore that tutu with my pink boa, pink polkadot socks and a tiara. Not only did I cheer myself up but I cheered up everyone who saw me. 

8. See other perspectives.  Being "disabled" even for the short time I was, has given me more empathy for the people walking slowly or being pushed in a wheelchair. 

I take faith for granted when I feel good, but lying in a hospital bed in pain and dependent on others for my most basic bodily functions required faith. Faith in myself, faith in my care givers and faith in my creator.  It is blessing that God gives our magnificent brains the ability to forget the pain, but I hope I never forget the lessons learned from the pain.