Year End Reflection

 

I’d felt something on the bottom of my shoe for the past couple of days. Thinking it was a rock that would dislodge itself, I didn’t examine the shoe until today. 

 

That’s when I noticed not a rock but a piece of metal. Evidently, a shard of tin had gotten itself wedged into my shoe the last time I was in the studio. 

 

When I was finally able to get the shard out—it wouldn’t come loose without pliers—I was extremely thankful for my safety shoes and how they kept me from having a pretty serious impalement on the bottom of my foot. 

 

So for all the times I was stupid in 2025 and did things like not wear my safety shoes in the studio but somehow walked away unscathed, 

And for all the times I was sane in 2025 and did things like paint shutters in actual paint clothes in Belize, 

I give thanks. 

 

For all of the things I have seen,

For all of the things I would like to unsee. 

For all of the ways I have been blessed, 

For all of the ways I hope I have been a blessing. 

For laughter and tears, 

For joys and sorrows. 

For days I excelled, 

For days I barely scraped by. 

For tin art and blackout poetry, 

For church and weddings and commissionings and and retreats. 

For Atlanta and Boone, 

For Belize and NYC and Jacksonville. 

For Wicked and Zootopia, 

For local theater and traveling shows. 

For television game shows, 

For cooking shows that made me eat. 

For Annie Mae and Sigma Ray,

For family and friends too numerous to name. 

For trying a doctoral program but knowing when to walk away.

I give thanks. 

 

For breath and light and sighs and resistance and therapy and creativity and protest and art and music and Peace that cannot be explained by this crazy, broken world, 

I give thanks. 

 

May I—

May we—

Leave behind that which needs to fade and

Carry forth that which needs to grow. 

 

And may I—

May we—

Avoid the tin shards of waste by 

Wearing our safety shoes of creation 

In the studio and beyond. 

 

Amen. 

 

Chronic Anxiety Is No Joke

 

Living with chronic anxiety is no joke.

With therapy and medication,

The anxiety is usually manageable,  

But sometimes it still rears its ugly head

And paralyzes me with dread. 

Sometimes it makes sense.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

Sometimes things that should cause worry don’t. 

And sometimes things that should not be an issue leave me feeling sick.

 

…

 

Cats are somewhat self-sufficient creatures.

They sleep.

They eat.

They clean themselves. 

They play ever so often. 

And then they sleep some more.

Granted, my cats are spoiled.

They eat whatever they want and they go in and out of the house multiple times a day.

We are there to serve them.

And they are fat and happy. 

 

So it makes no sense whatsoever that I completely fell apart the other night when thinking of leaving them alone, 

Under a friend’s care, 

For a few days. 

But I did. 

My anxiety went through the roof. 

I saw Annie and burst into tears and began apologizing profusely. 

I told her I was sorry for leaving her,

That she’d be okay, and that 

I loved her. 

She tried to bite me. 

 

But it wasn’t just the cats. 

It was other stuff too. 

I95. 

A hurting world. 

Struggling friends. 

Secondary traumas and griefs. 

A Christmas break going by too fast. 

The expectation of reviewing 2025 and setting goals for 2026. 

Those things are relatively normal for people who don’t struggle with anxiety,

But for those of us who do, 

The worrisome parts of all of those things amplify themselves times 1 million

And make fear and uncertainty the main characters of the plot. 

 

It’s a terrible feeling when this happens.

It’s helpless

And sad

And involves an ache in the pit of the stomach, 

A tense back, 

And tears streaming down the face. 

 

…

 

I write this not for pity 

But for common humanity. 

Chronic anxiety is not something that can just be shaken off 

And ignored. 

It’s real. 

And it affects those who have a good life and may seem to have it all together. 

Sometimes we can look back and laugh about an attack and realize how ridiculous it was. 

But in the moment, 

It’s absolutely no fun and takes every amount of deep breathing and reminders that only the present is real 

To make it through. 

 

So be kind to all you meet. 

For each of us is fighting a great battle. 

And the cats will be okay.

 

May it be so. 

 

Amen. 

 

I Made A Mistake

 

I made a mistake. 

I paid attention to the news. 

I read some tweets I don’t normally read. 

And I glanced at a newspaper editorial in which I read about brutal name calling, 

Not the least of which was scum, 

And I literally cried that our nation has come to this. 

 

If we, as Christians,

And that name has been thrown around, used, and abused as of late, 

Believe that 

In the beginning, 

God created the heavens and the earth and everything in them and called them good,

And we believe that 

God does not make mistakes, 

And we believe that Jesus is the greatest gift ever given to the world, 

And we accept that all the world outside of Jewish tradition is the Gentile world, 

Including America, 

And we believe that in Christ Jesus there is no Jew or Gentile, male or female, slave or free, 

Then we must look upon the world and the diversity that God created and called good 

As friends, 

Not as enemies, 

As God’s creation, 

Not as scum. 

 

To deem whole groups of people bad. 

To call whole races of people defective. 

To pit us against them in harsh, judgmental language 

That leaves no room for grace or redemption or the dignity of human life—

Which is what so many Christians fight for in the womb but somehow come to deny after birth— 

Is wrong. 

And it is not at all what Jesus Christ, 

The namesake of Christianity, 

And the reason many of us celebrate Christmas,

Is about. 

 

And so my heart breaks. 

And my soul mourns. 

And my eyes water 

As I respond to what has become of the moral leadership of America

Or told us to have a Merry Christmas 

Because it might be our last. 

 

Jesus, 

You broke forth as light in a dark, hurting  world. 

Break through again and bring peace to all who seek you, 

Shepherds and wisemen, 

Americans and Somalians, 

Men and women, 

Rich and poor, 

All of us created in your image alike. 

Amen. 

 

A Tiny Little Detail

 

I noticed a tiny little detail during yesterday‘s gospel reading. 

It had very little to do with the point of the story and yet it fascinated me.

 

When asked what the child’s name would be,

Zechariah asked for a scroll and pen and wrote,

“His name is John.”

Afterward, his tongue was released, and he was able to speak again.

The story usually focuses on the miracle of Zechariah speaking again,

Praising God,

Being grateful for the miracle of a baby late in life.

But the part that stuck out to me was the fact that he asked for a scroll and wrote down the words.

 

According to a quick Internet search, 

The literacy rate of the times was between three and 15%.

Not many people could read and write,

So I imagine that not many people kept handy a scroll and pen.

 

Now, Zechariah was a priest,

and if anyone had reason to read and write, then it was a priest. 

But the people around Zechariah were not necessarily priests.

They wouldn’t necessarily have known how to read or write. 

Elizabeth may not have known how to read or write,

We don’t know,

So we don’t know how much communication Zechariah actually had with people during Elizabeth’s pregnancy. 

Did he continue working so that he was with priests who could understand his writing?

Or did he have to take a leave of absence because his voice had been taken away?

If he had to take a leave of absence,

Was he stuck at home with people who could not communicate with him,

Or was John the Baptist’s family a wealthy, educated family

In a time when most families were not?

 

Either way,

Communication was difficult for Zechariah.

He had a lot of forced reflection time

And I imagine that the time changed him.

The first words out of his mouth were words of praise to God,

So we know that the time did not crush his spirit.

And we know that he was obedient to God in naming his son a name that wasn’t in his family line,

So we know that his faith remain strong.

But we don’t know any other details.

Except that he was quiet for nine months,

Possibly stuck in his own head because those around him could not read his thoughts,

Possibly providing moments of peace and respite to Elizabeth, if he was a grumpy, old man,

Possibly providing moments of sadness to her if she missed talking to her husband.

 

I imagine he became a better listener.

And maybe those listening skills helped in raising John the Baptist,

Who seemed to be an eccentric character

Who was possibly a difficult child. 

Again, we don’t know.

We just know that he picked up a tablet and a pen and wrote John‘s name 

And somebody around him could read it 

So maybe he ran in educated circles

Which wasn’t the norm of the time, 

And maybe as Jesus’s kin, 

He taught Jesus to read and write,

And maybe Jesus himself was not the norm,

Not just in his divinity,

But also in his humanity.

 

As you read this today,

Do not take for granted your ability to read and write.

It is a gift

And it is a privilege

And it allows us to read and communicate the words of God

In such a way that our tongues can be unloosed 

And God’s name can be praised.

 

Amen. 

 

A Moment of Peace

 

My first car was a 1992 Honda accord.

My dad bought it as a family car, but I quickly adopted it as my own.

I loved that car, Hon, and I drove him for over 220,000 miles.

 

In high school,

On my way to and from band practice in the late fall or early winter, 

I would turn the heat all the way up in Hon but roll the window down

To create a lovely juxtaposition of temperature that

To this day, I find refreshing.

 

Just last night, in fact,

I found myself riding with my windows down in my current car, the heat on, and a toboggan on my head. 

I had a lovely moment of nostalgia,

And I also felt a brief moment of peace. 

 

In the midst of what can be a crazy holiday season, 

Finding brief moments of peace is important.

Maybe those moments come through nostalgia. 

Maybe they come through air on skin. 

Maybe they come through a sunrise or sunset. 

Maybe they come through a burst of laughter or a release of tears. 

Maybe they come through giving or receiving a gift. 

Maybe they come through music.

 

However the moments of peace come to you this holiday season,

May they surround you with God‘s love and mercy

And may they put your heart at rest 

If but just for a moment.

Because it’s little by little,

Moment by moment,

Mile by mile,

That we are changed. 

 

Amen. 

Shauna the Nurse

 

Two years ago, she was teaching art. 

Little did we know that there was a restlessness inside her that wanted a change. 

 

Career wise, teaching is a dead-end job. 

Unless you want to be in administration, there is no ladder to climb. 

The work can be rewarding but 

The obstacles to making a difference can be large. 

The job is steady but the pay is terrible. 

It’s hard to make ends meet, 

Much less to have extra to indulge in life. 

And it’s the same thing year after year, 

Different faces, 

Same behaviors,

(Though they’re getting worse)

And same learning concepts,

Though delivery is different over the years. 

 

So she wanted a change. 

And she has a heart for serving others,

And she’s worked as an EMT for years, 

And so she chose to pursue a degree in nursing. 

From Duke! 

And she excelled. 

 

The day she told us that she was leaving was hard. 

The team was what she didn’t want to leave. 

But the team understood. 

How could we not? 

When you love someone, 

You want to see them grow and succeed and be happy. 

And that’s exactly what she’s done. 

 

Shauna the Art Teacher 

is now 

Shauna the Nurse, 

And I couldn’t be more proud. 

 

Sometimes loving someone means letting them go. 

Sometimes loving someone means fighting for them to stay. 

May we be a people who know what to do when. 

And may we each,

Like Shauna the Nurse, 

Go after what makes sense for our lives, 

Now and in the days to come. 

 

Amen.