Love Wins

Today was beautiful.  Actually, it was freezing cold and I woke up late and rushed out the door without any breakfast or caffeine.  But, when I arrived at my destination, none of that mattered anymore.  I was walking into a place where love was palpable.

In Dallas, there is a church called Wilshire Baptist, that recently voted on a resolution stating that it would permit all members to participate in congregational life regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity, including the ability to consider all members for leadership, ordination, baby dedication, and marriage.

As I am sure you can imagine, in the middle of a red state, in the bible belt, after an extremely contentious election, this has caused quite an uproar.  Because of this decision, the church will be expelled from the Baptist General Convention of Texas (although they can still operate as a Baptist church.)  This was a consequence of their vote that the congregation understood when they made their decision.  What was not expected was that protesters would show up last Sunday, with bullhorns, screaming at the people walking into church about how they are all going to “Burn in Hell.”

Way to act Christian, Christians.

I respect everyone’s right to their beliefs, but I have no respect for people that spew hatred.  In my home church the message that “love is love” is preached from the pulpit and that is one of the reasons the members there are my people.   I believe in a Jesus who very clearly said that we are supposed to love our neighbors as ourselves and that everyone is our neighbor- and we don’t get to make exceptions for that.

I have been having a lot of feelings lately, I mean these last few weeks, right?!!! No matter where you fall on the political spectrum, I think everyone is feeling a little rough after this election cycle.

You know how I got through the election? By drinking an entire bottle of wine in my “command center” surrounded by the TV, my laptop, and my phone, while stress-eating half a bucket of leftover Halloween candy.  Around midnight when it was pretty clear how it was going to turn out, my husband had to force my drunken crying hot mess into bed and take my phone away from me.

But I digress.  One of my friends from church invited me to a Facebook group of people who were going today to form a line of love in front of Wilshire Baptist. The idea was to serve as a sort of anti-protest just in case the protesters from last week came back.

Luckily they did not, but something magical did happen.  At 8:30 on a Sunday morning a small group of about 20, most of us strangers to each other and with no ties to Wilshire Baptist, welcomed the church attendees with smiles and signs of encouragement and thanks.  It went so well that a bigger group of us came back at 10:30 to greet the next service.

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How can you not smile when this is your greeting?!

And I can’t even begin to count the number of hugs I got today. I certainly can’t count the tears that were shed, a large portion of them admittedly by me.  All the pastors and church staff came out to thank us, most of them crying, to say how hard this time has been.  More than one person expressed to us that this showing of community support meant the world to them. I had one woman tell me that she had not been to the church in almost 40 years because she was not sure she was welcomed and that today was her first day coming back.  I think she picked a pretty good day for a homecoming.

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My girls on the front steps of Wilshire Baptist making their love poster.

For the second service, I brought my kids and husband with me because I wanted them to see this outpouring of love for our community and the impact it was making on our neighbors who were hurting.  Standing out there chatting with strangers, hugging everyone, and covering these people with love was not only good for them, it was healing for my soul.

A part of me has had a wall built up around my heart recently.  Sometimes I feel like there is a battle inside me between my desire to love everyone well and my fear of what could happen when my heart is that open. The scary state of the world made me want to protect myself-to curl up in a little ball and just hope for it to get better.

Today I got to remember that the best part of life isn’t waiting for the world to get better, it’s doing what little bit you can to actually make it better.

Today love won.

 

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I Am Sick & Tired of Being Sick & Tired

I’m over it.  I want to be able to write witty blog posts about the antics of my hilarious children. I want to complain about normal mom problems, like the Halloween Hangover (the struggle is real!) What I don’t want to be doing is writing yet another blog post about my ongoing health problems, and yet here I am.

It is easier for me to have a blog that people can read to keep up with my saga so I don’t have to explain it a thousand times.  I love talking to people, I just don’t love always talking about my crappy health.  And I know that the people who love me (and not to brag or anything, but there are a lot of you) are just worried and want to see how I am doing.  I wish the answer was that I am great, but the truth is a lot more complicated.

Some things are great- my girls are four and a half now, and although they have their moments, in general I am loving this age.  They are cute and funny and still think I am cool, but are old enough to entertain themselves sometimes. My husband is working hours that both of us hate, but there is never a moment I have any doubt that he is my perfect partner in this nutty life.  Our new apartment is great, and we are loving a break from the stress of home ownership (no more lawn maintenance and when something breaks we just call the building to fix it!!)

Mommies In Need is growing beautifully and we just accepted our 17th family, and are about to celebrate our 2 year anniversary, and I am loving my new part-time job at my dad’s company (I get to talk to adults! And go to the bathroom by myself!)

And yet I was hospitalized this week… that’s not so great.

Since I wrote Just Keep Swimming, a lot has happened.  My surgeon went ahead and cauterized all those bleeds, which seemed to be working…that is until I went to get my blood checked and found myself at a hemoglobin of 7 (which is almost to the point of needing a blood transfusion.) So we scheduled another scope (a colonoscopy for a person with no colon) and the surgeon found…nothing.  Everything was healed and my j-pouch (fake colon made out of my small intestines) looked good.

That would be good news except my hematologist (blood doctor, I have a specialist for everything) said that kind of a drop could only be explained by bleeding.  The problem then became figuring out where this mystery bleeding was coming from.

I went to my GI who had this theory about me having disappearing- reappearing ulcers in the scar tissue where they cut apart my small intestines to make my j-pouch.  That made sense to me and I was all set to follow his plan that we watch my blood and go in and cauterize the ulcers whenever they come back and just hope that the tissue will regenerate over time (with a possible trip to a hyperbaric chamber to speed up that process.)

Then on Tuesday I started bleeding ****TMI Warning, if you are offended easily by bodily functions please stop reading now****

Now, a certain small amount of rectal bleeding is normal for me-once again, stop envying my glamorous life.  But this was a whole different thing.  After four or five trips to the bathroom with nothing but large amounts of blood, I texted my internist and asked at what point I needed to go to the ER.  Her answer was, “NOW. Go Now.”

So I did.  Luckily Mike was home and my mom could take me so off we went.  After hours in the ER they decided that they needed to check me into the hospital overnight because if this type of bleeding kept up eventually I would need a transfusion.

Luckily, around 2 am I stopped having as much blood, but the on-call GI still decided to do another scope to see what was going on.  The good news- my pouch looked fine again! No re-occurrence of the ulcers, everything was normal.  He said the only thing he saw was some hemorrhoids.

Seriously?!!  I was hospitalized for HEMORRHOIDS?!!  I asked if it was even possible to loose that much blood from hemorrhoids and he said, “Oh, yeah.  I had a guy almost die because one was attached to a blood vessel.” Not helpful dude.

Now I am planning all my follow up appointments to deal with my hemorrhoids from hell and waiting to see if my surgeon thinks he can fix them.

So if you ask me how I’m doing, these days I will probably just respond, “Hanging In There,” or “Well, I’m Here.” But if I’m really in a mood I might say something like, “Bleeding out of my ass, how about you?”

If I do, please forgive my rudeness, I’m just really fucking tired.

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As Always, Making the Hospital look GOOD!