Squirrel!

What an amazing and emotion-filled day. I know I will not be able to summarize or do it complete justice because so much of my experience has been embodied – and I am unable to find words to capture the sacredness of it all.

The morning began with Taize music, which I always find healing and peaceful. It centers me like no other music. I listened to the words of “Wait for the Lord,” wondering as I wait for God in many aspects of my own life.

The first presentation was about Latin@ and Latinx and disability. I loved the energy of the presenter and her laughter, and the theology really sparked an interest in me. This was all new to me. At the end, she explained that her father had died the night before. She always spoke to him before getting on a plane and it was because she called him before coming to the conference that she spoke to him before she died. She felt strongly she was where she should be – and it was true. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

Months ago I signed up for a writing conference. I had attended before and was really excited. Not long after that a friend told me about the Summer Institute of Theology and Disability. I looked it up online and realized it was happening at the exact same time and place as the writing conference. I thought about bailing, but it wasn’t in me. Days later, I received an email from the organizer of the writing conference refunding my money because the event had been canceled. It was too much of a coincidence. I immediately signed up for the Summer Institute.

I have felt this inexplainable draw to being at this conference. I cannot tell you why, except that the pieces fell into place. I still don’t know what “bigger” plan I have to be here, but here I am.

The second seminar I attended talked about the connection of mothers and their  children. She spoke of the sacred, unexplainable moments in people’s lives. I have had many of those – this conference included.

Over lunch with a new friend I had amazing conversation that led to some important questions. “Why are you here?”  I told her the story above. “What would you have written?” That one stopped me. I don’t know. I have written for fun, written in some magazines, write sermons, and here on this blog. It usually isn’t calculated. I still don’t have the answer, but I’m willing to sit with that question.

The entire morning was emotionally heavy so I took time to walk around town. I wandered both purposefully and meanderingly. I cried, I talked with God, I walked some more.

At worship I was surrounded by friends. An emotionally exhausting day that ended with the support of those who embraced me and challenged me.

Tonight I hung out with a friend who was really my partner’s friend. We laughed and walked for hours, talking about nothing and everything. All of these life giving conversations that feed me.

So, you may wonder what is with the squirrel. I had conversations about squirrels nearly everywhere I went today. One person asked me a question about squirrels, one person used it in the phrase of distraction (like, when someone sees a shiny object or movement and says “squirrel!”). Another presenter gave examples of squirrels in their powerpoint. Finally, a squirrel bombarded me while walking with the friend.

What does it all mean? Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know why squirrels kept coming up in conversation any more than I know why I’m here. What I do know is to enjoy the ride – soak it all in. I’m glad to be here, even if it has been emotionally exhausting. I love squirrels, even if they run straight at me. I can find the beauty even if I cannot find the meaning.

 

Hospitality

Day two of the Faith and Disability conference and I experienced the message in a new way today.

After time in my favorite coffee shop and talking with some good friends, I attended the first seminar, which was a lecture by Amy Julia Becker. Her story was powerful. She spoke of privilege. I’m not sure I can do her discussion justice, but her understanding of how our values shape us really spoke to me. She talked about how her experience has shown her that she was valuing hardworking individualism, which only left her anxious, depressed, and unhappy. White Americans work so hard for the “American Dream” – but at what cost? She emphasized how this can drive us into isolation. She also reminded us what a privilege it is to walk with people who are different than us, who help us adjust our values.

Later in the day I heard the word “hospitality” many times. How are we hospitable? How do we welcome people and live into that welcome?

This evening I went to visit my Grammy, whom I don’t see often enough. I wanted to take her out for dinner but she wasn’t up for it. I was happy to pop out for a bite and come back but she insisted on my staying for dinner.

I cringed just a bit.

I’m vegetarian and assisted living facilities are not known for their vegetarian cuisine (in my experience). Before I could tell her I was just as happy to pop out later she was out the door requesting an extra meal.

I sat down at a table with her friends and was served a large plate of meat. I couldn’t figure out how to fake this. I usually speak up well for my dietary concerns but on the fly, and when I already feel I am imposing, I freeze.

I ate around the meat. I pushed it around. No one noticed and I placed my napkin over it.

I felt out of place for many reasons. Happy to visit with Grammy, but feeling out of my element, even though I go to assisted living facilities often.

Then, someone offered a devotion entitled “Waste Not, Want Not.” Oh no.

I listened to the values of using every part of an animal and never wasting fabric or food. I stared at my plate, nearly untouched.

My value of being a polite guest who eats what she is served sometimes clashes against my dietary choice to be vegetarian. It is a choice – not because of doctors orders. I have many reasons I won’t list here, but every time these clashes happen my decision not to have an upset stomach wind over hospitality and I am left feeling guilty. I realize that being vegetarian is a privilege. Some people do not have an option of what they will eat – but if they will eat. I can justify my decision by affirming that I am vegetarian partially because eating less meat means less food goes to feed livestock and can instead feed people, but it is still my choice.

I stood up, wondering about hospitality and privilege. One of Grammy’s friends came over and hugged me and thanked me for coming. I felt I had crashed their party and imposed on the staff but everyone treated me kindly. Sometimes hospitality isn’t about the etiquette rules we must follow. I think many people envision hospitality as dressing up, cleaning your house, making a gourmet meal and smiling like a fifties housewife. Hospitality means meeting people where they are and maybe going outside the box for them. I may not have eaten their meal but I sat with them and had a wonderful time. I listened, they listened, and we enjoyed company.

Maybe churches need to rethink hospitality, especially with people with disabilities. Hospitality is more than telling people “welcome.” It means listening to them and being willing to look at rituals and space in a new light – maybe throwing out some rules of “etiquette” that are “how we’ve always done it.”

Belong

Today was my first day at the Summer Institute on Theology and Disability. I came without expectations because I have never attended. What I gathered just from the initial emails to attendees was to expect to be welcomed and loved, and so far I have experienced just that.

I have had moments of laughter, of joy, of challenge, and tears. The theme for the day has been moving from Inclusivity to Belonging. I know that churches are really into inclusivity right now – who doesn’t want to be inclusive? It is the new fad in religion, and we all want to be inclusive, right? To be exclusive is contrary to the Gospel. To be exclusive is going against what we preach. To be exclusive means the church will die, because the more we exclude, the fewer people who will experience faith, and the fewer people who will want to attend.

Inclusivity is a goal, but I also have known churches who have professed inclusivity but have practiced conformity. The idea of “come as you are” but the practice of “leave as one of us.” I especially have seen this in reference to the LGBTQIA+ community – the idea of “love the sinner/hate the sin.” This doesn’t work – it isn’t good theology, and is not, actually, inclusive.

I also recognize that as much as we try to be inclusive, we still often exclude. Usually the exclusion is not on purpose – but sometimes we forget someone – sometimes we struggle with terms and words, because our language is flawed. How beautiful presence and silence can fill in the gaps. How beautifully the Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. Why do we assume being nonverbal is a disability?

Inclusivity is good – it shows intention. I intend for you to be here – to be part of this space, this community. Yet, taking this one step further to belonging is key. This, to me, is the difference between tolerance and acceptance. I can tolerate someone, but that doesn’t mean I will interact with them, or break bread with them. Acceptance means seeing them – acknowledging God’s presence within – namaste. As it was described this morning, inclusivity means being present, or welcomed when you are there. Belonging means you are missed when you are not present.

If a faith community is anything, shouldn’t it be a place to belong?

I was not sure how I would belong at this conference. As someone who is neurotypical I was entering a space that I was not entirely familiar with. Yet, I also knew that this would be a place of welcome. When I first received those initial emails I sensed it would work out. One requested no perfumes or scents, which I was grateful for because certain smells can whirl me into a migraine for the remainder of the day. The emails also said that we should take care of ourselves and not stress about going to everything.

Barbara Newman talked about bringing all pieces of ourselves – the parts that help us thrive, and the parts that are challenges for us – that no one is all thriving and no one is all challenges. We were to name both of those parts. As I thought of it, I realize that one my my challenges is that I am a perfectionist. I don’t mean that I just work really hard to make things look nice, I mean that I work and work at something to the detriment of myself if I am not careful. So I need to be reminded often that it is ok to leave something undone, or to not attend every session, or that I won’t always say the “right” thing, but as long as I keep learning and trying, it will be ok.

There were so many pieces of today that I will carry with me. I am already feeling fulfilled, and like maybe I have a story to share at this conference.

The picture above is of my favorite statue in Holland. Real music plays through a speaker by this statue. It is interactive and fun, and I have seen children play the instruments. What if worship was like this statue? Interactive. Different instruments playing the same tune? Some of us playing the same tune but slightly off key?