Pope Francis compares child sexual abuse to human sacrifice. Think about that for a moment. The comparison is appropriate. But it’s worse than that. We who were abused by leaders in the church continue to live. We didn’t die of our injuries on the altar of sacrifice. Our hearts still beat a tattered pulse. Our brain still holds the truth, and the body always keeps the score. The horror of abuse is followed by a lifetime of adapting. Here are some things I know: I know we can’t un-ring that bell. It happened. I know that Jesus left the ninety-nine in search of the one. I know that … [Read more...]
The Perfect Storm
A perfect storm is an event in which a rare combination of circumstances drastically aggravates the event. It was Friday afternoon. Preoccupied and off balance by difficult news about my injured eye, I sought equilibrium in small things. John brought a photo I had ordered in from the mailbox, and left to do a short errand run. No problem. I took a frame from the wall, mounted the new photo, and carefully rehung it. I stepped back to see if it was level, and had my first, and hopefully last, sight related accident. Because I have no peripheral vision I did not see the chair. As I stepped … [Read more...]
Falling Into Community
What cruel twist of fate would offer up sight following a catastrophic wounding of my eye, and then take it away? Seven weeks after saving my eye and regaining vision, a shadow began at the upper left corner and ate away at the light, inexorably slipping down and across vision like a total eclipse of the sun. This can’t be happening, I thought. I’m merely tired, and need to rest. Seven weeks ago I was sightless, but now – or before the eclipse began – I was actually seeing across our beloved river to the mountains beyond, if a bit blurrily. I was grateful. In awe of a body’s ability … [Read more...]
Sisterhood – And The Epic Wardrobe Fail
5:05 and I was right on schedule. In a private room two floors above our gathering place, shoes, jewelry, my gown freshly steamed and beautiful, I began dressing. I would need help with the zipper. A cadre of women would come up, get me zipped, and we would return to mingle with well over a hundred guests in advance of the Pre-Valentine’s Musical Soirée – our 12th, always the Saturday before Valentine’s Day. I stepped into the gown and turned for assistance. Two confidently got to work. One held the top of the gown’s bustier the other pulled the zipper. It stuck. They wriggled … [Read more...]
I Came of Age in a Sh*thole Country
Ethiopia remains the home of my heart. My starry-eyed awkward little self quietly absorbed Africa. Heartbreakingly beautiful, it snatched my heart, and saved my soul. My love affair with African sh*thole countries began when, as a missionary family we trekked Ethiopia’s rugged terrain by mule train, looking for plateaus of indigenous people in need of medicine and education. Our first outpost was nine days by mule to the nearest road during the Monsoon season – Land Rovers couldn’t ford the swollen rivers – and half a day further on by auto to Addis Ababa. We steeped ourselves in Ethiopian … [Read more...]
