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Put your hands on the moral arc
Dawn Skjei Cooley pled guilty this week to committing criminal trespass while protesting the separation of immigrant families. After sharing her plea statement, she addresses those who might join her in bending the moral arc.
There are so many atrocities happening right now that it is overwhelming. But we don’t have the luxury to be on the sidelines, even if you think your privilege might protect you—it won’t, not for long. If you have the ability to do so, we need you. You don’t have to do everything, but if you are a person of moral conscience, we need you to do something. Put your hands on the moral arc and push in whatever way you can. You won’t be alone, that I can guarantee. (Facebook, 5.15.16)
Amanda Poppei commits to helping women trapped by new restrictions on abortion.
I am pro-choice because I was taught from a young age, by a mother who remembers what it was like, that banning abortions doesn’t mean women don’t get them, it just means they die trying. . . .
I know that many of my clergy colleagues are planning ways to offer support in the coming months—some through political action, some through the hard work of creating space for conversations across different views, and some working to provide pastoral and practical support to the women affected. I will be among them. (Facebook, 5.16.19)
The wound is in you
Joanna Fontaine Crawford worries that UUs are overfunctioning in their efforts to create safe spaces.
People come in to our UU congregations with wounds. Most likely, they aren’t responsible for having received them. Those wounds came from other people, or our society. But the thing is, once the wound is in you—like a piece of broken glass—it’s your responsibility. It has to be. It’s in you. (Boots and Blessings, 5.14.19)
Jake Morrill has been rethinking one of his core principles.
One of my core principles is “love your enemies and bless those that curse you.” I get stubborn about it. . . .
But, the last few years, I’ve stopped trying so eagerly to connect. It’s not that “love your enemies” has any less meaning. It’s that I've come to see that the loving thing isn’t always a conversation. And that some things can’t be worked out. Some times, it’s better to just walk away, to leave it be for a while. . . .
I’ve come to see that, when I reach out to my enemies, it might look like love. But it’s not. It’s really a power move. (Facebook, 5.10.19)
Simply hear what is
Jane Dwinell is learning an important lesson as her husband’s Alzheimer’s progresses: expect the unexpected.
Two months ago, Sky was having one of his recurring nocturnal fights against a bad thing, a monster of some sort. Except instead of attacking me, as he usually did, he attacked the air off the side of the bed, and fell out. Gashed his forehead on the bedside table, needed five stitches. Then refused to sleep in that bed again.
We dragged the mattress onto the floor, took the bed apart and put it in the cellar, and I headed to the furniture store. I bought a new frame that sits closer to the floor and a king size mattress to replace our double. I posted the old bed on Craigslist, and sold it. (Alzheimer’s Canyon, 5.15.19)
Experiencing an onslaught of illness and loss—and loving care, Karen Mooney asks, “Would you be willing to simply hear what is, not change it to what would be comfortable?”
Can I share how people show up in so many ways to remember us and help,
to bring food and shelter,
to laugh and simply be presentCan I share how my dad died 4 weeks ago on a cold April day just 3 days prior to the anniversary of my mom’s passing while I lay on a hospital bed getting through some stupid complication to chemo.
Really can I share just a bit of this
It is too hard to lift this life alone
It is too complicated to hold onto all the stories in isolation. (Facebook, 5.15.19)