I Hate This Blog--God Forgive Me

Going to say this upfront--I have no idea where this post is going. I have no answers or neat little tie-ups--truth, I just have more questions, more doubts, more concerns I'm getting things wrong, and definitely truly worried I will offend someone with the post. I beg your forgiveness in advance.

Last week while preparing for my sermon I read a commentary on the Gospel reading by Holly Hearon posted on workingpreacher.org. (Read full commentary)  She concludes her commentary with these words. "Justice denied can give way to a rage that burns like a furnace of fire. It can cause us to wither and cease to bear fruit. It can even lead us to become bitter enemies of one another and of God." I can't stop thinking about those words. I can't stop thinking about the words my daughter has used as we debate the vandalism, the property damage that has occurred during the protests. I have held firmly to destruction solves nothing; she has held firmly to no one listened until there was action. I still think we're both right (and I look forward to our conversation when she reads this. I cannot begin to express how grateful I am for my children and all that I have learned from them--always but particularly during this time.) And I can't stop thinking about something that happened when Caroline was in sixth grade.....

Caroline had a good friend she talked about all the time. Sitting here right now, I can't remember her name which is another part of the story I find problematic--okay a part of the story that brings me shame--but I'm trying not to make this about me. Caroline asked if the young lady could spend the night. I tried to talk to a parent or guardian prior to the weekend, but it wasn't to be--I have no idea why. All I know is the message delivered to me was the young lady could only come if a) I picked her up and b) she could stay for the whole weekend. I didn't have a problem with either--I still was very judgemental about the parent/guardian not wanting to talk to the person who would be hosting for the weekend.

Caroline got the address and I entered it into the GPS. As with GPS, the directions were not entirely accurate. I was frustrated and not being the most kind to Caroline. (I deposited into her therapy account.) Why was I frustrated? Because we were all going over to my in-laws for dinner and swimming, I didn't want to be late. We were in the parking lot of a subsidized housing unit, and I for the life of me could not figure out how to get to the exact apartment. I told Caroline I would walk over to the apartment still hoping to meet the parent/guardian. Instead, the young lady came running over to our car.

I thought we were being the most hospitable people in the world. The young lady didn't come with a bathing suit. Truth, she didn't have any change of clothes. Now let me set the stage--we were ALL there. Grandparents, all the brothers, their wives, and all the grandchildren plus a few extra friends. I'm also going to own here--we're a lot to take by anyone. Anyway, we all sprung into action and found a swimsuit for her. My mother-in-law even said, "Go ahead and keep it. It doesn't fit any of us anymore." We all thought we were being so kind and generous. It's truly what we would do with anyone. Next, we ordered dinner. My extremely generous father in law told our guest to order whatever she wanted. We were having a great time.

The next day we went on several excursions. I can't remember exactly what. I do know we wanted our guest to have a great time. I made a big breakfast of pancakes as I always did when we had overnight friends, we rented movies, we went out for ice cream, we did lots of stuff.

Late Saturday afternoon/early evening Caroline came to me in tears. "I want her to go home," she said. At first, I didn't listen to her, or rather didn't really hear her. I said, "It's just a few more hours. We'll take her home after church tomorrow." Caroline kept saying, "No, please now." I didn't understand this. Caroline is my the more the merrier, how many people can I fit into my room kid. I kept pressing and finally got this out of her. "She jumps out at me from behind corners and she has a knife." I would like to say I was stunned, but Caroline is also my very dramatic child (right Ms. K?), so I inquired further somewhat disbelieving. "She brought a knife to our house?" "No," Caroline said, "She got one out of our kitchen." Y'all seriously, I couldn't get my head around this, so I just said, "She'll be gone tomorrow."

Yep, you read that right. I did NOTHING!

The next day the young lady joined the family at church. She came to the communion rail and I served her. She joined in Sunday School and coffee hour, and then I took her home.

Caroline never mentioned her again.

Okay, here's where it possibly gets offensive, and I definitely start making assumptions. That weekend has haunted me over the years. I have thought about how I failed as a parent. I doubted Caroline or rather the intensity of the story. All these years I think about how I failed Caroline, how I didn't do anything to make her feel safe, how I let my desire to not create a "problem" keep me from being the person I want to be. Should I have taken her home immediately and demanded to talk with her parent/guardian? Should I have I sat down with the young lady and had a conversation? What did I miss?

Today I think, "How did we play a part of that weekend? In our attempt to be hospitable in the way we upper middle class, white people do, did we create a situation where she felt uncomfortable, out of place, defensive and less than? What experience did she bring into our world that had inner rage boil to the surface? What did I miss? What could I have done differently?"

As I said at the beginning, I have no answers. I know I failed my daughter (something that has been part of my nightmares for years), but I also failed that young lady. Maybe she really was just a psychotic young lady and it was going to be that way no matter what, or maybe we put her into a position where justice denied to her over the weeks, months, and years gave way to a rage she couldn't control, and I not only failed to see it, but I also helped to, unknowingly, ignite it.

What I do know--I failed two little girls that weekend. Caroline, I can make it up to. But the other girl, whose name I can't even remember, she was just a little girl, and after that weekend, we, I, just erased her from our lives.  God forgive me.

There is No "Just" and There is Little Justice

It was just after 7 pm and it had been a wonderful day on the beach.  I decided to "check" in on what Boss had been spending at the beach.  Yes, I admit it.  We are those controlling parents who have complete access to their children's checking accounts and can look any time--of course that also makes us those parents that with the click of a button can transfer money from our account to theirs....

I opened the online banking and almost fell out of my chair.  Overdrawn $3,700.00---no not Boss, ME!!!  I knew it couldn't be right, so I gathered my composure (sort of) and scrolled down.  Over the course of 27 minutes thousands of dollars had been taken out of the account and put into something called google tops.  Choosing not to or rather pretending not to panic I called the bank--

What a nice man on the phone.  I explained to him these were not my charges; I had no idea what they were, and then I explained I was out of town and I would need money so could he overnight me a new debit card.  He stated they could only do that to a person's residence, so I said, "This is my second home."  A slight lie--it's Daddy's but I needed that card.  Can't do it he told me, but I'll hold the card open for 30 minutes--until 8:01 pm for you to get to an ATM, get cash and fill up your car.

I raced barefoot to the ATM repeatedly calling Chris--no answer and then--card declined; to the gas station--card declined.  I called the bank back from the parking lot as I desperately at this point tried not to fall apart.  I knew my voice was shaking but I now explained to the woman what had been going on.  "I can't help you, but I can transfer you to another department who might be able to.  MIGHT!?!?!!  And did I hear disdain and disbelief in her voice--was she doubting my story?  My face flushed with what, anger? Embarrassment?  Shame?

I was transferred to another department and told my story again. "Well," she said, "You can't take any money because you are over $5000 overdrawn." "No," I shrieked, "I'm only $3000 overdrawn."  (I never thought words like that would come out of my mouth and that I would WANT to be $3000 overdrawn...)  "M'am, in the last 20 minutes several thousand dollars have been transferred out of your account."

Now if you're trying to figure out how someone can transfer thousands out while I cannot use my debit card for the same account--keep trying--I've had five days and I still can't figure it out.  I again tried to be calm and tell her that I needed money and when could this be resolved.  14-28 days she replied.  "Don't you have a credit card?"  "No," I almost proudly said, "We don't do that" (Another story..)  "Well, that would help you." Not seeing any option I swallowed my pride and went agains the financial promises Chris and I had made to each other and said, "Well can we open a credit card and you overnight it to me?"  "No m'am, not tonight--you're overdranwn."  For a brief moment I really thought a van would pull up and people would pile out saying, "Gotcha--smile you're on candy camera."  I mean seriously I felt like I was in a circular conversation and losing.  "Additionally," she added, "Because of this overdraft once you can open one your interest rate will be over 21%."

She then suggested I connect this card briefly to one of my other checking accounts and withdraw money from them.  This woman had no idea the state I was now in--but I knew she held all the cards...I couldn't stop myself from beginning to sob.  "You don't understand, first none of those accounts have more than $150.00 in them AND they are my children's accounts who are all in different states.  If I take their money they can't get home."  I thought that would soften her heart--instead I think she probably thought who is this lunatic woman who allows her children to be in different states, doesn't have a credit card and is overdrawn $5000?  I really think I heard her roll her eyes as she said, "There's nothing else I can do for you.  Thank you for calling Fifth Third; have a nice day."  She's very lucky I wasn't in the same room....

I kept trying to call Chris--no answer.  My mind was racing--what to do.  I headed back to the house where my good friend was waiting.  "I can just cover you." she said, "I know this is awful but we can make it work.  Most important is getting this figured out--both where the money is AND why someone can keep taking money when you can't."  It's wonderful to have good friends, but I was stil panicking.  I went into survival mode.

I tried to call Boss--no answer for over an hour.  Finally, desperately, I texted the girlfriend (a usual no no) and asked her to have him call me.  He called and I tried to explain this whole thing to him. "Bottom line," I said, "You have got to watch your spending.  I have no way to transfer money to you."  In that I know everything 17 year old boy voice he said, "I'm fine--I've got $135."  And I finally snapped.

"Do you realize it's only Wednesday and you are there until Sunday?  Do you realize that you have to pay for gas to get home?  Do you realize (and I thought this part--you entitled spoiled by me child) that it will take more gas than that?  And why are you paying for all the gas anyway?"  Back to the I know everything and have the world by the tail child, "Mama, gas is so cheap down here.  It's under $2.00/gallon; I'll be fine.  And I just hate asking people for money."  My head was spinning--you hate asking people for money?  Not me--you ask me..but I said, "Son, it may be cheaper down there, but here's the thing, you will drive through multiple states and you can't carry the pump with you.  It will get more expensive."  "Mama, I will be fine." he repeated, "You need to settle down."

Now I'm just going to say the way to get me to settle down is NOT to tell me to settle down.  Has this child learned anything in the 17 years he has lived with me.  I could feel myself getting out of control so decided to hang up.  I hung up frustrated--by what?By a 17 year old who thinks he knows everything? Well, yes, but also becaue that 17 year old is MY son in another state, and I can't help him--TEMPORARILY--what about those parents who live with that feeling all the time? And the truth is, I can help him--I just had to make a phone call to the parents he was with, let them know what was happening and he'd be taken care of. 

Immediately the phone rang--praise God it was Chris.  "My phone isn't working well, what's going on?" I tried to fill him in to the best of my ability.  We made a plan--he would go to the credit union bank, withdraw cash, and deposited it into William's account.  It would be available immediately, and I could have William's debit card for the rest of the week.  "The rest," he said, "We'll work out when you get home.  Try to relax and enjoy yourself. I'll deal with the bank.  They may lose us as clients. Oh, and I'll call Boss and make sure he knows I'll be able to get him money." He is the ying to my yang.

The next morning I sat on the beach, drinking coffee and I talked to Daddy as I do most mornings.  He and Marguerite were in Virginia but both said, "We can get you money if you need it.  We're heading back to Augusta today and can just drive some down to you."  I thanked them and truly was grateful they offered and grateful I didn't have to take them up on it.

All this verbage to get to the point.  What happens to those people who don't have supportive friends, a second account with money in it, a Daddy and bonus Mama who will bring you money?  What happens to people who have money stolen from them in this way or any way and have no resources to fix the problem?

I keep thinking about it--what if I was on vacation in a rental or a motel and all my money was taken and I had no resources?  I was in our family's beach home and could stay there for as long as I wanted--no one was going to evict me because I ran out of money.

What if I was a person living in any city USA and this happened, I had no other resources and children to feed, bills to pay and it would take 14-28 days to TRY to get it sorted out.  Sometimes it's hard to remember as we pay four tuitions and teenager car insurance so we think we are "struggling" that there are MORE people in the world whose struggles are just to put food on the table every night and to hope their paycheck stretches until the end of the month.

And the systems are set up to keep people down.  If this happened to someone with no other resources; no financial and emotional support--what would happen?  I know part of what might happen would be to have to take those loans at outrageous interest rates leading to a spiral of out of control debt and poverty.  People might be and are evicted, living in their cars or on the streets, begging for food.  People have to walk into food and clothing pantries, into emergency services like the 8 we have in Louisville (Association of Community Ministries), and they have to tell their stories over and over in an attempt to get help.  We will walk into the bank where we will tell our story with power because we have multiple accounts--we will tell our story backed by power--others have to tell their stories backed by pain. Telling these stories--even stories like mine where I was the victim--can elicit feelings of anger and shame.  Do we listen with compassion and empathy?

This incident showed me how people can so easily be victims--true victims and yet we so often look with disdain or think to ourselves, "If they would just...."  Just what?  Just have a friend who can easily lend you money?  Just have a husband who can leave his job in the middle of the day without having to sign out and lose pay so that he can go to your other account and get money for you while you lounge at the beach? Just have parents who will drive 100 miles to bring you money?  There is no just--and there is little justice. So many people are victims; victims of predators who use technology to steal and worse victims from systems that are not set up to help.

I wish I could wrap this up neatly--some succinct cute point to end with--something that will make us, will make me feel like a good person.  But I have no answers, what I do know is the questions have to keep being asked.  And they have to be asked not just by those who need justice but by those of us who have privilege--those of us who take justice for granted--How do we just bring justice?

I was a victim this week, but I am not a perpetual victim.  There are people who are....

Addendum: I feel that I have to add this three hours after I posted--a friend just said to me, "I was reading your blog and I was so nervous waiting for it to be over."  See, that's just it--for a mere 30-45 minutes I couldn't reach my husband, but I knew I would be able to.  And deep down I knew that with a few phone calls it would be sorted out--and meanwhile I'm at my family's beach house.  Yet, the panic I felt was real and palpable.  I can't imagine living like that 24/7 and no one should have to imagine it much less live that way--but they do, and it's wrong.

Who Cares if You're in a Sorority?

It sort of feels weird writing a second post in one day--kind of like breaking the rule of one instagram picture a day--or at least that's the rule my children tell me I should follow.  But like Glennon Melton of Momastery (Momastery) has said (and I paraphrase), when you are a writer (or in my case a wannabe writer) you have to write when the inspiration hits you--it's like having to pee and you dance and dance and can't get your mind of it until you just go.  And since my children think I am probably the world's worst dancer, I'm double posting.

Actually, this post rolled around in my head for days, but I put on depends and didn't write it because, well the truth is, because it happened right after SK had dropped out of sorority rush and I didn't want to be perceived as the bitter sorority mama (perhaps another topic for my therapist--my fear of being misunderstood...).  But after writing my post from this morning (I Go to UVA--So What?), there aren't enough depends in the world to keep me from writing.

I was in Texas for my favorite conference of the year (shout out to FORMA!!!) with some of my favorite people in the world.  I was having a great time until...the morning of January 29, I woke up and was on my 29th push up (I have this weird thing about remembering numbers) when I heard a report on the Today show.  Sorority women at the University of Virginia were being told not to attend fraternity bid day parties due to the recent allegations of widespread sexual misconduct which had been reported.  I began to shake and not because of the pushups.  "So," I thought to myself, "UVA only cares about keeping sorority women safe?  Are women who are not in sororities so hideous that certainly no fraternity boy would take an interest in them?"  I didn't say I was thinking rationally--my Mama Bear claws were out in force.  The truth is UVA was not the one who made this ban, a fact I learned later.  In fact, the sorority girls backed by the student council were fighting back against their nationals--it's an interesting argument and one worth reading about power dynamics (Sorority Women Speak Out).  I really hoped SK hadn't seen this report; who was I kidding?

Within an hour my phone was ringing.  "Mama, you are not going to believe what's going on."  I tentatively asked, "This weekends activities?"  "Yes," she replied clearly furious, "The sorority girls aren't allowed to go to the fraternity parties because they might get raped.  Guess no one cares if a non-sorority girl gets raped.  I mean seriously sorority girls have a ton of sisters to look out for them; who do I have to look out for me?"  (This was before she realized how true her friends are whether they are in a sorority or not--hat tip ladies, you know who you are.)  "I know," I responded trying to exhibit the sensitive, listening, mother with a good response instead of the shaking, furious, riled up head spinning baboon mother.  "It gets worse," she continued, "They've also had a safety training for all the sorority pledges but no one has thought about the other first year women, or any year for that matter, who aren't pledges.  Guess we don't have to be safe."  "That's awful" I thought I was sympathizing but really I think I shrieked it indicating the injustice and elitism that I perceived was going on.  I know I shrieked it because I heard an echo of outrage--of course I was in the stairwell walking down 15 flights of stairs which may account for the echo.  (I have to get my steps in, and I have a fear of being stuck in an elevator alone; I wouldn't mind being stuck with someone else, then it would be a party--therapist issue?)   I said, "I think I'm going to have to blog about this."  SK, "I'm sure you are--go for it."  (How did I rear a daughter that could careless what other people think and yet it sometimes paralyzes me?)

Later that afternoon SK called me again, "Amy (her roommate) is also furious about the fact sorority girls were given the training and others weren't.  She's going to address it."  GO AMY!!!!  "I am so glad," I said, "See this is not about all sorority girls or them thinking they are better than you.  Some sorority girls, probably a lot, also see the injustice and elitism in this."  Now I was just throwing it out there.  It did come across as elitist and exclusive, and I suspect SK was not the only woman at UVA who first heard the report and was either hurt or angry--perhaps both.  SK was probably not the only woman who thought people were not striving for the justice and peace among all people and respecting the dignity of all human beings.  (Well she may have been one of the few who thought about it in those Episcopal terms--BCP p. 304-305)  Whatever terms anyone thought about it, the pain of being considered less than cuts to the core.

Amy thought about it.  (She's Jewish--see this is about everyone not one particular faith.)  And Amy not only thought about it but recognized what so many people of privilege or perceived privilege don't, and that is people from the "inside" have to stand up for those on the "outside."  They have to speak out about the preferential treatment they receive and deem it wrong.  People on the "inside" have to recognize their privilege and knock down those walls of exclusion.  UVA students did that supporting Martese Johnson and Amy (and probably others) did it supporting the right to safety for all UVA women.  I am encouraged by so many in this next generation; they seem to get it.  I'm learning from them everyday; they are helping to lift the blinders I have--blinders I wish I hadn't learned to place on.

Both these posts today come from events I wish had never occurred.  But if we don't learn from the events in our world, if we don't recognize things for what they really are than transformation can never occur.  We have to recognize and name it, and then move forward.  We have to stop being afraid of being misunderstood and start being afraid of misunderstanding.  Thank you UVA; you offer many opportunities for alumni to continue lifelong learning; I'm continually learning from your students.

"I Go to UVA"--so what?

I have been refusing to write this post for several days.  But yesterday was the commemoration of Saint Oscar Romero and the Martyrs of El Salvador.  In Holy Men, Holy Women I read, "he preached a sermon calling on soldiers to disobey orders that violated human rights." (p. 286).  It was like a sign--so here goes...this isn't a sermon, but it's the thoughts swirling in my head, the thoughts I'm trying to make make sense.

It had already been a long day and not the best week of my life when I opened a text from SK, "Did you hear about the kid who got arrested here last night?"  I held my breath as I texted back, "No--what"  I really didn't want there to be another horrific story about the alleged behavior of a UVA student; I really didn't want SK to have to deal with another fear about going to UVA, about telling people she went to UVA--little did I know this was much worse... She sent me a link to the article (please be advised, this is graphic) Cavalier Daily--Martese Johnson.  Not wanting to jump to conclusions, I watched and rewatched the video.  I was sick to my stomach--I didn't know how to respond.  And if I'm totally honest I kind of wanted there to have been some sort of altercation before someone started shooting the video--but deep in my heart I knew there probably wasn't.  And all evidence seems to say there wasn't Student Not Belligerent.  But I get ahead of myself...

SK told me that she was going to the protest in Clarke Library that night.  I asked her to keep me updated.  I kept getting texts--it's gotten to big we're moving to X, and then the next, it's still too big we're moving to X.  Ultimately the community gathered in the amphitheatre and I didn't hear from her again until the next morning.  She told me it was emotional and amazing and that she then marched to the corner and beyond.  I was very proud of her and her friends.  (She has amazing friends--I love you Cammy, Fiona, Hannah, and Kathleen and am so happy you are part of the Doyle family!  You may not be ;)) But what I was really proud of was how she thought through not only the specific event but the messages we inadvertently send to others when we don't remember our places of privilege. How she thought through how previous behaviors may have played a role in this tragedy. I'll let her texts speak for themselves.

As I read her text and then rewatched for the upteenth time the video, I saw Martese Johnson himself try to use privilege.  "I go to UVA" he shouted over and over.  Please hear me loud and clear, I IN NO WAY THINK MARTESE SHOUTING THAT WAS INAPPROPRIATE.  (was that loud enough?) If I had been lying on the ground being beaten I would have used any and all connections I thought might help me too.  But I do think we have to recognize that he thought it would help him---it didn't. The anger in me is that he even had to try to use that; no person UVA student or a homeless person should be treated in any way other than with dignity and respect.  I wish the answer to the statement, "I go to UVA" was so what?  Regardless of where you go to school or don't go to school, you as a child of God deserve to be treated with dignity and respect.  Is force sometimes necessary to protect society--probably, but not in this case.  I believe even in those cases dignity and respect needs to be shown.  If I am to live the faith I profess, then I must act in this way.  The Baptismal Covenant in the BCP says,

"Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?" and "Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?" (BCP 304-305)

Each and every time I respond, "I will with God's help." I reaffirm my belief and I believe my statement of belief means absolutely nothing without practice.  SK modeled for me what it means to live that belief each time she gathered in support of Martese Johnson.  Practicing this means considering all the things we do; all the places of privilege we each have AND how we elevate others.

Last week Caroline and 9 classmates got to wear special occasion dress, miss school and go down to see and hear Prince Charles and Dutchess Camilla.  I admit it; I got caught up in the excitement. When she texted me she got to shake Camilla's hand and talk to her, I promptly facebooked it where I got 66 likes and 8 comments.  It was exciting, but I just wonder what it would say if 10 Collegiate students were chosen to wear special occasion dress, miss school and go down and shake the hands of the homeless?  What would it say if 10 Collegiate students went down and spent the day talking to and LISTENING to the homeless? And then what if all the parents posted that all over facebook and instagram?  I wonder how many likes and comments that would get?  I just wonder what it would say...I for one think it would say a lot.