per·sev·er·ate

/pərˈsevəˌrāt/ Verb PSYCHOLOGY To repeat or prolong an action, thought, or utterance after the stimulus that prompted it has ceased. "they perseverate under stress"

Aren't they cute?

Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) encompasses an umbrella of behaviors that manifest differently, according to the individual. For some people on the spectrum, the ability to focus on what they find interesting can be a strength. For example, over time they might develop an encyclopedic knowledge of topics from "WWII" to "Marvel v. DC Superheroes" - simply because it is a topic that interests them. Some ASD kids take longer to learn that not everyone is as excited about their favorite topic, but many eventually grasp the concept with time, coaching and patience.

For others on the spectrum, this hyper-focus can be a source of stress and anxiety. One of the behaviors that our daughter struggles with is her tendency to perseverate on something that is flawed or imperfect. She will not rest until that which is broken is made perfect. If we are unable to immediately fix it, she can easily fly into a violent tantrum. Some examples of what could potentially trigger...

• A chip in the nail polish on her finger or tangles in her clip-on hair extension
• A broken pop-socket
• If the McDonald's drive through gives her the wrong dipping sauce for her nuggets
• And shoe shopping.

My daughter owns 2 pairs of boots. One pair is for the snow (which never seems to let up this winter) and the other pair is mostly for horseback riding. They are men's size 11. Until today, she had no other shoes because every time I take her to try some on, she complains that they are too tight. She won't wear anything with laces because she's terrified of having to tie her shoes in front of her peers and forgetting how to do it. And the frustration of going to multiple stores and melting down in the car afterward, let's just say... it's not a happy fun time.

Today, I took her to Hawley Lane Shoes in Shelton, CT to get her fitted for sneakers. Lo and behold, she actually is an 11 (women's) wide. After trying a few pairs of men's styles on, Sophina was able to tell me that she wanted something "girlier". Saleswoman Amanda, bless her, was patient and kind and found her the perfect pair of sky blue sneakers, even as they bonded over a mutual interest in horses. She even outfitted us with a parachute-spring tying system so my dear heart can take her shoes on and off easily without performance anxiety.

I cannot tell you how great this experience was, to have my daughter keep her cool, use her words and be understood WITHOUT a meltdown. Maybe, in the future, I can remember that other words that stem from the root of perseverate, like PERSEVERE.

OK, Here Goes.

I'm not sure how to begin, it's been a very long time since my last blog post.

Since I last checked in...

    my adult daughter moved out, got an apartment and a second job and has an amazing new independent life,

    my son completed a year of Basic and Advanced training in the Army and moved to Korea for a year,

    and we became parents again to a 10 year old girl with special needs and a long history of trauma and neglect (adoption pending).

Each of those events could have sparked a series of blog posts, but I've been too busy actually processing all the change. I could have written about how pride and missing someone at the same time could make you lose sleep. Or, how surprising it is to be cornered by a child with a pair of scissors who doesn't yet have the coping skills to put away her anger. Or, what a relief it is to hear your adult child tell you that she's tired but oh so happy.

Instead, it's time to share what's going on with me. Some of you know that when I returned from my human rights monitoring time in Jerusalem in 2017 I brought back with me a case of osteoarthritis that has affected my knees and ankles and limited my mobility. Every day I wake up and deal with chronic pain. The truth is, many of us do.

My insurance is really crappy  (which is another common experience for many people) . So when my orthopedic doctor decided that I should get a double knee replacement it was denied. Knee replacements only last 15 years, and insurance will only cover two over a lifetime. At 47, I was deemed too young. This past spring, when I was telling my GP about this nonsense, she suggested a back door solution: bariatric surgery. 

She knows me long enough to know that diet and exercise no longer work. For 25 years I've been losing and gaining back the same 50 pounds. This part of the story makes me sad, so I'll toss you a laugh line - it's really just baby weight from my adult daughter! 

To many of you, surgery may sound like a cop-out. Now that I am in peri-menopause, my body has become weight loss resistant. Until you have tried a starvation diet for a couple of weeks and found yourself actually GAINING weight, please don't judge. Weight loss will relieve stress on my joints. I'm doing this to save my life. Or, to be less dramatic, to be able to stick around long enough to play with my daughter and be a cool grandmother. 

So, bariatric sleeve it is! In about a month, 80% of my stomach will be removed laparoscopically. I'll be on a liquid diet for a few months. In a year, my doctor expects that I will lose half my body weight. Of course, as of October 1 my crappy insurance dropped my doctor because of a contract dispute so now I'm paying out-of-network, which is infuriating. 

I'm hoping that my family can deal with the change. And that my church community will understand why I'm making this choice. As a pastor, I try really hard not to make everything all about me! They shouldn't worry, with so much else going on. 

Roots & Wings

I remember the moment we first strapped our son in his car seat.

He was so little and fragile.
Even though it was our second time as parents,
I still worried that I’d break him.
His sister wanted to send him back to the hospital,
we laughed and called her silly.

He was a fussy baby, a challenge.
It took forever to get him to sleep through the night.
The colicky infant who woke up every few hours
morphed into a toddler
who wouldn’t stay in his bed
until we checked every nook and cranny for monsters.

¾ of my paycheck went to a good family babysitter for the two of them,
it was either that, or lose experience in the corporate world.
I was still the one who had to leave work
to pick him up from school when he didn’t feel well,
the one who helped him with his homework,
toys all over, stepping on a Lego or an Army guy.
Where, by the way, did that come from?
I was the one who said “NO WAR TOYS”!

Those were the days it took all weekend
to handle the pile of stinky boy laundry,
running out of the house to buy new sneakers
for feet that grew (I swear to God they did)
into a new size overnight.

Failing at Cub Scouts.
Watching him pick buttercups in the outfield
at peewee baseball,
running to me at the change of innings
to hold them against my chin,
getting him to Karate on time
so he wouldn’t be embarrassed and meltdown,
helping him learn to pack light for a Boy Scout camp out,
finding the perfect accessory for musical theater,
rushing out of the office to see him run a cross country meet,
stepping back as plans for his Eagle project were drawn up,
then tossed,
then drawn up again…

Life is just so busy
that you never stop to think what the end of those days will look like.
It’s not even something you can wrap your mind around.
18 years sounds like a long time, but it isn't.

My special little guy who used to crawl up next to me
and cuddle watching cartoons
became a young adult who bends down to press
his forehead to my mouth for a kiss
quickly in the hallway.
There's someplace else he's got to be.

And the chaos and laughter that used to be a part of the fabric of this home
turns to meditative silence.
I’ve parented a child who is capable of letting go,
but along the way forgot to learn how to do the same.

So I stalk social media,
and wonder how time passed so quickly,
uneasy that I forgot to tell him some tiny nugget of wisdom.
18 years... just isn't enough.

Did I read him enough books?
Did I pay enough attention?
How many school parties did I have to miss?
Does he really know how much I love him?
What could I have done better?
Will he want to come back?

The questions hit you like a Mac truck.
And all you can do is pray
and hope
and trust that God will protect him
as he begins to make his way into the world.
Because there will never be enough time.

All you parents with young children,
you who are holding on just trying to figure out
how to make it through the madness,
exhausted every day of your life...

Take a breath. Soak it in. Hug it out.

One day all the crazy days
full of cartoons and snuggles,
play dates and ballgames,
driver’s ed and captain’s dinners,
All come to an end.

That’s when you’re left hoping that you did enough things right
for him to remember that you will always be safe ground,
because you gave him
roots and wings.

A Mom's Story: Why ONA is Really, Really Important

My beloved daughter, a baptized Christian, first came out to me as a lesbian when she was 12.

Beloved Daughter, Age 12

It was 2007, my first year as an ordained minister. I had accepted a call at my dream church. They mentioned to me that they had conversations many years prior about becoming Open & Affirming  (aka ONA = completely accepting of LGBT people among others), and agreed that it was too decisive, so they stopped talking about it. I understood. These conversations were hard, and we're nice and good people so why do we have to SAY it?

I remember our conversation like it was yesterday...“Mom, I think I have a crush on this girl, what do I do about it?”  My response - Um, well… are you sure? I mean, you’ve kind of chased boys ever since you were a tiny girl, this might just be a phase.”

I tried to be OK with what she was telling me, to hold my emotions in and be supportive. Because that’s what you do, you try to just love your kid. It’s God-Ordained.

There is a world of hurt out there, and your number one job is to protect your child from the hurt. And you can't be scared, or they might be scared. Loving them is the most important job you will ever be given. God is love, and love always wins, right?

New in ordained ministry, I went to a senior colleague and confided…what do I do? He gave me some sage advice but damned if I remember it. Afterwards I went to my car and cried my eyes out. I was scared for her. I wasn’t sure if her family would accept her. And I was a feeling a little sad that my perceived vision of her fairy-tale wedding would look nothing like the one I imagined for her.

Will the ugliness that I had seen in church circles scorch her? Truly, I wasn’t even sure if I would be made to choose between my child or my call. I'm ashamed by such an ugly thought.

Beloved Daughter, Age 23

Maybe she sensed the feelings that were swirling in my heart, because she went back in the closet. She stuffed her natural feelings and began dating boys, a long line, in rapid succession. Maybe she was trying to prove something to herself – or more likely, to me.

Surely if she WAS a lesbian, some at church would still love her. Some wouldn't. I took my hope from those who were personally Open & Affirming – even if my local church "officially" wasn’t.

The sweet lady with the uncle who tragically died too young from AIDS. The older woman who couldn’t be prouder of her gay son and his husband. The former submarine man who didn’t have time for anyone’s homophobic bullshit. These were my lighthouses in a storm.

When the Connecticut state law changed in 2010, I asked our deacons what I should do if someone calls me to perform a same-sex wedding. It was a valid question, and maybe as a still fairly new associate pastor a little pot-stirring was expected.

That question opened the Pandora’s box that had been closed so many years before (but not really) when the church held a round of informational sessions and decided to not vote over fears of a church split. I don't know if I ever received the full story on that period in our church's history, but it was before my time. 

The church took on a new round of study on ONA and we voted by paper ballot. The initiative passed with broad-ish support. We adopted a well-written and thoughtful statement, which was posted on our website. We were given very clear instructions that this was as far as we should go. 

The ONA Statement upset some, and those who needed to move on, did. Some who disagreed with the statement stayed, and have for the most part been respectful (although it hurts to hear rumblings about fear of become a 'rainbow flag' church - as if that's a bad thing). Some of those for whom our actions were not bold enough moved on too. 

In her sophomore year of college, at the tender age of 20, beloved daughter fell in love with a woman that tore her apart emotionally, financially and physically. She was her first. Unfortunately, the woman who was supposed to love her systematically abused her using classic techniques such as alienation and gas-lighting. My beloved daughter became too scared and unsure to “come out” to her parents due to what this woman had told her. 

Beloved Daughter & Me, Present Day

Because beloved daughter regarded me as a lukewarm LGBT advocate, she didn’t think my husband or I would truly approve of her “lifestyle”. Her abuser knew this, and used it to her advantage. At the height of the abuse beloved daughter did not speak to us for 6 months. 

I do not exaggerate when I say this period of disconnection almost killed me. More importantly, it almost killed my beloved daughter to walk away from her church and family.

The problem was, she couldn’t be 100% sure after 7 years of attending worship nearly every Sunday that we loved her for exactly who God called her to be. Would she really be safe with us? And Jesus wept.

Beloved daughter knew who she was as early as her first year of Junior PF. My husband and I didn't listen, out of fear. And we were so wrong.

Today, after a lot of work and prayer, beloved daughter is in her final year of grad school for social work. She is soon to be an intern at a domestic violence non-profit. We are so proud that she has grown in her own acceptance and wisdom and is channeling her negative experiences into helping others. She hasn't lost her faith. And we could not be prouder of her, she is amazing and healthy and strong and compassionate. Thank you, Jesus.

Please understand me when I say that for some of us, being crystal clear about naming how loving, open, accepting and welcoming we are as a community of faith is a life or death situation. Talking about it will not turn our kids gay, or make us the gay church in town. But it will make everyone who comes 100% certain that they will be safe here. Which is why yesterday I hung a rainbow flag in my office window. I hope that our community understands the urgency of our witness soon. Perhaps they will hang a flag where people can actually see it.

God is love, and love always wins, right? 

Talking to Kids About Tough Stuff... Like Homelessness

This week at MCC (if you haven’t heard) is all about Vacation Bible School! Wonder Woman, the Flash, Batman & Robin are introducing the children in our care to Bible verses and stories about Superheroes in the Bible like Jesus and Moses. This summer, I was invited to participate in our “Mission Center” (A.K.A., the Bat Cave) by teaching the children about some of my mission work.

I was given Monday and Wednesday to present to three age groups – ranging from 4 years old to fifth grade. How hard can that be? Heck, I’ve been involved with VBS since my 23 year old daughter was a little kid. No problem! Easy-peasy!

Today, the first day of VBS, I centered the conversation on the work our Senior PF did on our Chicago Mission trip. In my preparations, I kept returning to the issue of homelessness (you might have read about that in last month’s Steeple). Unfortunately, as VBS drew closer I ran out of prep time. Which led me to the unfortunate position of figuring it out on the gorgeous summer Sunday afternoon before VBS was to begin!

As the minutes ticked away I began to feel a creeping panic… exactly how do I talk to a four year old from Monroe about what it’s like to be a person experiencing homelessness? Will they get it? What is age appropriate? How do I frame the conversation without terrifying the child? And, how might the conversation shift when I would focus on older VBS participants?

For starters, kids of all ages need to know the appropriate terms. The younger ones couldn’t tell me what a mission was, but the older ones knew it had something to do with “helping people”. Then, we focused on a tent that I had set up as I told them about the tent cities of people experiencing homelessness in Chicago, and how our PF went to visit them and bring some bag lunches we had made. Not too many of the children had ever been camping, so we imagined what it might be like to live in a tent instead of a house. Where would we store food or take a shower?

Then, we talked about what they can do as a kid to help people. We brainstormed what we might put in a “blessing bag” to give to someone who needs help (with our parent’s supervision, of course). In the older group, we watched a short video of an 18 year old homeless man living in tent city and some of his struggles. And we talked about the importance of treating other human beings with dignity and respect.

What I didn’t share was Chicago’s statistics:

• Average age of a person experiencing homelessness is 9!

• There are over 80,000 people in need of permanent affordable housing

• On any given night, 2,000 youth look for a place to lay their head, but there are only 360 shelter beds to accommodate them.

• Today across our nation there are more Vietnam vets experiencing homelessness than were American casualties from that war, 1,000 of them live in Chicago

I told myself “they wouldn’t understand”, and maybe that’s true. To be honest, there is a part of me that knows I didn’t share the numbers because they make me angry. I’d rather be hopeful. Or maybe it’s because the numbers always remind me that we have such work ahead of us to really love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

OK, so Wednesday? That’s the day I share my sabbatical work, monitoring human rights violations in Jerusalem… with 4-11 year olds. Pray for me?

Young Adult Leaders in the Church... they exist!

Let no one despise your youth, but set the believers an example in speech and conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. (1 Timothy 4:12)
Mainline church, we've got a big problem. I don't need to repeat to you the statistics on failing and closing churches. In fact, I think that will do nothing but give you slight heartburn. I'm not going to contribute to that anxiety loop today.

I would like to name "Fear of Young Leaders" as one of the issues that is contributing to our slow demise. Here are some thoughts about how we got here:

We've assumed, for too long, a shallow understanding of the faith life-cycle. It goes something like this: Young people will leave the church as soon as they are confirmed, probably because we are too intellectual (aka boring). They will be back when they have children of their own that need Sunday school. In the meantime, we don't really count on them too much or expect them to contribute or even show up. And if they DO show up during those young adult years, we will wait until they are the respectable age of about 30 before we see them. Because young people are to be served, they don't really count.

Other things that contribute to this decline into shallowness include:
1. Expecting the right pied piper style, long-hair hippie youth director to "bring in the youth" based on their personality style and inability to age (no shade thrown at anyone that resembles this stereotype, but good luck to the youth ministry when you eventually move on!)
2. Having the best children's programming that magically draws in young families (hint: people are looking for authenticity in relationship, not perfection)

Both of these attitudes underscore our propensity to see our churches as a commodity to be consumed, rather than the body of Christ today in the world that call each one of us, no matter our age, to discipleship.

Mainliners, do you even know what happens when you let the church do what church should do and grow disciples? You get young leaders like this:

• 14 year old who decided to start a brand new photo booth at Strawberry Festival
• 17 year old trustee who will go over to the church to turn off lights and save precious stewardship $
• 18 year old deacon, who is very particular about the way we serve communion and will let you know (with love and grace) when you mess up
• 19 year old Vacation Bible School co-chairperson, on her second year of wrangling 20 volunteers and 60 children for a week in the summer
• 20 year old film student, responsible for documenting and sharing the vision of the church's spectacular Strawberry Festival
• 23 year old delegate to General Synod 31 who has served on the Christian Education Board, as Junior High adviser, as an area chair for Strawberry Festival and VBS co-chair - just to name a few
• Two Senior high youth advisers in their mid-20's, and another in his early 30's who lives an hour away that make Sunday nights with the senior high youth group a priority - it's hard to imagine a mission trip without them.(Oh, and these three have been leaders since they were teens, and have coincidentally taught me more about following Jesus than any youth ministry seminary course ever did.)

This is not an exhaustive list, but I am trying to make a point. If we want young adults to be in the church, we need to include them as equal ministry partners with adults - let's not settle for less. That includes our national setting. There should be no separation, no ageism. When we choose to infantilize 20/30 laypeople, we do so at our own peril. We stifle their discipleship. Do you think they'll care to come back in ten years when they are done cooking? They are not the "church of tomorrow", they are the church of right now. Let's treat them like it.

Child Development, MCC Style

Our church recently celebrated our 46th Annual Strawberry Festival.

This event is a cornerstone event for our community, not only for the families and friends of the Monroe Congregational Church, but for the town of Monroe itself. Over 100 vendors pack the green, bringing handmade crafts to sell. Over 3,000 visitors spend time with us, in an amazing 17 hour shortcake extravaganza, complete with music, games and delicious food (strawberries and otherwise).

The Strawberry Festival is nothing less than a marathon faith formation - trust building - community strengthening - holy season. The welcome we provide to our guests defines who we are as a people of faith.  It's like a booster shot of vitality. And we can only pull it off because most of the 'people in the steeple' make it a priority. All of us are pulled in so many directions this time of year, but last weekend proves that together, we can work miracles.

Proceeds from the Strawberry Festival allow us to be bold and generous givers in our wider community. Meet Debra, who recently graduated a Bridgeport high school and received an academic award. What an amazing accomplishment. Who knows what lies ahead for her? Will she become a doctor, or a lawyer? Or perhaps she will train to be a teacher, or maybe an engineer.

According to a 2016 CT Post Article;
"Bridgeport’s 63.6 percent graduation rate for the Class of 2015 — a sharp drop from the 71.5 for the Class of 2014 — appears to give it the lowest four-year graduation rate among school districts in the state."

Poverty affects children under the age of 18 especially hard. Kids from poorer neighborhoods are more likely to struggle academically. Perhaps this is because their parents are out of the home working a couple of minimum wage jobs just to get by. Or their electricity was cut off. Or they have to move from cheap apartment to cheap apartment to make ends meet. Maybe one of their parents is incarcerated. Or they went to bed hungry and taking tests on an empty stomach is really distracting.

Our church has sponsored Debra's family over the years through our ties with Covenant to Care, a program that connects faith organizations with a social worker working in Bridgeport. The generosity of those who give their time and efforts to our Strawberry Festival, and give money to the church through their gifts and pledges of financial support, allows our community to directly impact children like Debra enough to curtail the obstacles that systemic poverty might place in their way.

So the next time you savor the sweet taste of a fresh picked strawberry, think of the sweetness of what can be done through your faith community, and give thanks.