Diary of a Delegate: Two megachurch pastors walk into a bar

Adam Hamilton, promo photo from the web

Given my previous post, it should come as no surprise that the highlight of my day yesterday was going out to an open air bar with some friends, old and new. It was a gorgeous night and we found a great spot to hang out.

When we walked in, one member of our group noticed the Revs. Adam Hamilton and Mike Slaughter sitting together at a nearby table. As mentioned previously, Adam had been a presenter for the Call to Action legislative proposals which, along with every other proposed restructure of the denomination, was shot down in committee. I imagine Adam was feeling pretty empty, too. Maybe he was just trying to relax with a friend and regroup for next week, just like me.

But it was hard to resist the temptation. Two UMC rock stars at the same table! More importantly, two powerful voices for reshaping the future of the church. Right over there.

Finally, after some deliberation and some pushing from my friends and tablemates (you guys realize you are that group at the party, sending your friend over to get a guy’s number, right?), I approached the table where the megachurch pastors were sitting, and inserted myself into their conversation.

Mike Slaughter, promo photo from the web

I introduced myself and confessed to Adam that I was @pastorbecca on Twitter, where I had, it seems, started a trend by tweeting “you can’t scare people into hope” at him, a tweet he’d mentioned as having gotten his attention (to be fair, I really thought I retweeted that from someone, but twitterverse tells me that they got it from me). I told him I hadn’t meant it to be a personal attack, but a sincere reflection of how I was feeling in the moment, and how I felt about the proposals from the Call to Action. We launched into a conversation about the nature of twitter and social media for a bit, and I thanked Adam for speaking with the young people who had raised questions.

“The problem, I think,” I said to them, “is that both of you have these huge churches that you’ve built and done so well in, and you’ve been given big voices along with that. We have little churches and littler voices, so there’s a disconnect. Some of what each of you says doesn’t resonate with us, because the context is so different. Twitter is basically all we’ve got, but it’s grassroots and open-source, and our voices get out there and get heard.”

We talked more about the church declining in the United States and how we struggle to be relevant. I shared my frustration with being so horribly out of touch with relativity as a church when it comes to homosexuality, and vented that while we struggle to find a way to be a global denomination, with polity and principles that can be shared by liberals and conservatives around the world and across the country, in the mean time, the U.S. church is dying, and I can’t make a very good case for it to live in my progressive town. Both of them encouraged me to keep seeking justice and be patient, which I thought was pretty refreshing. They’re good guys, but not ones I would normally turn to for advice in the perseverance against injustice department.

Finally, I shared some exegesis of my own (okay, so that may have been a bit presumptuous) about the text where the Syrophoenician woman comes to Jesus for help, and I said I thought our church was where Jesus was in that story: tired, anxious, and stretched too thin, our knee jerk reaction is to close in on ourselves, revert to what is safe and known, and push others away with words and actions that can be very hurtful. But the woman knows Jesus is more than that, and better than that, and calls him out, and he agrees. Those who criticize the church, I said, be it for its restructure attempts and the critiques we see there, or for it’s exclusion of the GLBT community, we know that the church us better than it is being right in this moment, and we’re calling it out. May the church rise to the challenge and open to the possibility that our faith is healing.

Adam said he thought that would make a good sermon. I expect my royalty check in the mail

So thanks to Adam and Mike, who were probably also stretched thin and could have shunned the woman from outside their circle, approaching their table and pushing into their conversation. you received me with grace and our conversation was good.

Of course, this morning I woke up with the one thing– the very one thing– I would have Adam Hamilton if I got the chance. Isn’t that always the way?

Diary of a Delegate: Days Four and Five- Let me be full, let me be empty

Twitter topic cloud for Friday 4/27 from @andrewconard

When Bishop Weaver gave his episcopal address a few days ago, he concluded by inviting us to share in the Wesleyan Covenant Prayer, which contains the phrase “let me be full; let me be empty…”

The past two days have been both full and empty.You’ll note that I don’t distinguish between the two days or what we did which day; I honestly can’t tell them apart.

The daytime hours have been filled with subcommittee and committee work (in rooms empty of even cell signal…). From the very beginning, it was clear that my subcommittee, dealing with issues of reproductive rights, was going to be a very conservatively-tipped body. Most of the votes, when we came to voting, split 14 to 9 in favor of conservative positions. However, we worked an entire day in a very collaborative way, rewriting the Book of Discipline‘s paragraph on abortion. At the end of the day, we had crafted something of which I am proud– and it needed only two changes to keep it from being a decided step back for women’s rights. Both amendments were made in the full committee, and in my opinion the petition we are supporting is an improvement to the current language in the BOD. I was filled with a sense of achievement for what we did together.

But on the issues related to GLBT inclusion and rights, we took major losses. Despite passing the most progressive legislation through sub-committee, the main committee of Church and Society B voted down any and all changes to the denomination’s stance that the practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching. We will bring the fight to the plenary floor as well, so it’s not officially over yet, but at the lunch break after the vote, I sobbed uncontrollably in the arms of Will Green, as he sobbed in mine, and then I did the whole thing again with Annie Britton. My dear, dear friends and colleagues in ministry, two of the most clearly gifted pastors I have ever encountered.

Someone put food in front of me and I ate it, but I have no memory of what it was. In fact, I’ve eaten so little and walked so much this week that I have dropped 3 pounds. My body feels empty.

Twitter topic cloud for Saturday 4/28 from @andrewconard

At one point in my committee work, I was so filled with rage I could barely speak; (presumably) straight white male delegates called for a vote by standing– as opposed to paper ballots or raised hands, “to expedite our voting.” This request was raised for the first time when we read the first piece of legislation that contained the word “transgender.” One old white man said “I vote my conscience and it doesn’t matter who is watching; it’s a matter of integrity.” Easy for you to say since the system is built to serve and protect you, (insert colorful descriptor here). The chair overruled the request eventually, and after the paper ballot was taken and the legislation protecting transgendered persons from violence was passed, I called for a moment of person privilege and laid the smack down from the mic. I said that the transgender community has suffered more harassment, humiliation, and violence at the hands of the church and the wider community than any other, and that calling for a standing vote on so vulnerable an issue was not about expediency, but bullying and intimidation of the highest order. I ended by saying that a vote won by intimidating others into silence would not be progress toward any end but an evil one.

Finally, as I could have predicted, the full committee voted to withdraw the united Methodist Church from the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice (which, when you think about it, is ironic, since withdrawal is no guarantee…). What was most frustrating about this vote is that a conservative delegate presented “research” she had done off the internet, and it was factually inaccurate complete and utter lies. She said the RCRC opposed any restrictions on late term abortion (they, like the UMC, support them only if the mother’s life is in danger), had made no changes in the policy and focus of being solely pro-abortion (they have, after much conversation with the UMC, shifted focus to maternal and fetal health, contraception, education, and advocacy for access to safe, legal abortions when they are needed), and that they support the work of pagan witch doctors (yeah, I dunno). But when we tried to bring a person who actually worked with the RCRC to speak, they would not let the “witness” if you will give testimony. Lies and dirty tricks, and women around the world– particularly those without health care and family support– will pay the price.

That was the last action of the day, and after all of that, my overwhelming feeling was emptiness. Shock. Numbness. Emptiness.

I left it all on the field, every ounce of energy, creativity, hope, and connection. We will live to resurrect some legislation for another day, and make our case on the plenary floor for full inclusion and the protection of women’s rights. But in that moment, there was nothing.

Later, again out with friends, I was filled with laughter, and the smallest glimmer of hope.

Today, we stand in recess for the Sabbath. Church continues, sermons are preached, justice marches onward, if not always in places we can see.

Diary of a Delegate: Day Three – Tears

Thursday in twitter topics, from @andrewconard

Yes, I know. Technically, I could subtitle any day at General Conference, or anywhere else for that matter, with that word.

I’m a crier. It’s me.

But Thursday there were more tears than usual.

I’ll give a shout out to Adam Hamilton, who after a lot of critique of the proposal he helped present, agreed to meet with the young people who had raised concerns. That was very gracious of him.

We had a long day in our committees and subcommittees, where, it must be noted, there is spotty wifi and very little cell reception (and so I’m not able to blog, facebook, or tweet).

As I had planned, I self-selected onto the subcommittee on reproductive rights, because that subcommittee was in need of progressive voices– and it still is. We’re pretty outnumbered, including by some who believe abortion is wrong in all– and I mean all– cases, including rape and incest, birth defects incompatible with the life of the child, and threats to the life of the mother.

But what our chairperson did was really wonderful. Before we discussed any legislation, she invited us to share where our hearts were on the subject of abortion. What followed was a truly holy conversation, with deep sharing of personal stories. There were tears and  hugs and similar experiences shared from around the world and across the theological perspective. I shared my story, and wept.

Mark Miller and many other delegates stood to express their pain and brokenness. (picture found on facebook, HT Joey Lopez- I don't know original source)

In the evening, as our legislation was wrapping up, Mark Miller, a delegate to this General Conference and often our music leader in times past, stood for a point of personal privilege. Mark was joined at the microphone by a number of other delegates who were willing to identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender voting members of the conference. As they stood together at the mic, Mark shared that many people (certainly not all– some had experienced wonderful conversation) felt bullied, abused, or wounded by the attempt at holy conversation the day before around human sexuality. Mark invited other delegates on the floor and visitors around the room to stand in solidarity as well. Although the presiding Bishop ruled the act of courage and solidarity out of order, he agreed to say a prayer on behalf of a wounded and broken church community.

Witness outside the plenary session.

As the room emptied later, delegates, volunteers, and guests lines the hallway, holding hands and standing in silence, or crying quietly, or later singing. So much pain. We gathered in the Coalition Tabernacle and debriefed and hugged and cried some more.

I shed one more round of tears last night and into the early hours of this morning. After all was said and done, I spent several hours sharing refreshments and conversation with some friends from my conference (and former conference). We laughed until we couldn’t breathe and I wept tears of mirth.

Diary of a Delegate: Day Two – bad roller coaster

Wednesday in Tweets from @andrewconard

Wednesday was a day of highs and lows, which will probably be a theme for General Conference in, um, general.

We began the day with three main addresses, one each from the episcopacy (the Council of Bishops), the laity, and the young people of the church. New England Conference’s Bishop, Pete Weaver, began the day with a rousing and tear-producing call to “Resurrection Revolution,” and reminded us that everything we do must be not about preserving an institution but transforming the world.

The laity address, which was shared between three lay persons, focused on the notion that the work of the church is indeed the work of lay people, and offered a metaphor I particularly liked: the church is like an orchestra or choir, with the pastor as the conductor. The conductor is silent, a guide and leader; it is the orchestra that makes all the music!

The young people’s address made use of technology to bring messages from young United Methodists from around the world, including a co-presenter from the Philippines who was unable to attend in person because she had not been approved for a visa. Illustrating how technology helps us live into our global church, the address lifted up the ways in which young people are charged, rooted, and united for ministry in the world.

After finally finishing up our rules, we met for the first time as legislative committees, and elected our committee leadership. A particular joy for me was that in my committee, Church and Society B, we had nominations in nearly every position of delegates coming from outside the United States. Our committee co-chair is from Liberia. Truly we are living into being a global church!

I snuck away for a time to lead a conversation on the “theology of ‘glee’,” also known as watching the previous night’s episode. We had a good time together, even if we were very segregated by gender. I may or may not have gone on the record calling actor Darren Criss proof of God’s existence.

At the evening plenary session, the lows come to the forefront. I think we heard some other reports, but the main report was from the IOT team presenting the legislative proposals coming out of the Call to Action report.

So many people (but mostly, or most notably Jeremy) have blogged about these proposals at great length and offered great critiques of them. I won’t try to summarize that all just now. But the presentation itself was truly awful. Methodist rockstar pastor Adam Hamilton presented the information. Adam is a master of persuasive speech and visual presentation—he’s a pastor of a large church and he knows how to work a crowd. So it was surprising that the visual metaphors and images that were used alongside the presentation were so striking. In delivering statistics that Rev. Hamilton hoped would wake up the church and drive home the reality and seriousness of the denominational decline in membership, attendance, and new members by baptism and profession of faith *in the United States*, Rev. Hamilton used pictures of empty pews, stark old churches devoid of life. Comparing the general boards and agencies, which I see as providing tremendous diversity and flexibility in our global church, to competing kayakers, the alternate proposal (which many have critiqued for its lack of diversity) to a monolithic crew team in one boat. Hm. The presentation ended with a video of a church closing, and one last tearful member locking the doors for the last time. Twelve hours almost to the minute from the time Bishop Weaver called us to seek the transformation of the world and not the preservation of an institution, a person presenting for the team said, “I want to make sure the United Methodist Church *survives*.”

Young people debrief after the evening plenary session.

Missing form the conversation were the voices of young people (although plenty was said claiming to be on our behalf), the voices of women, and most distressingly in my opinion, a sense of connection to a global church that is experiencing growth in many parts of the world.

Twitter exploded, with critique, with feedback, and in places with frustration and anger.

Frustrated and at the end of my rope, feeling that we had tried to scare people into “hope” and into voting to consolidate power in the hands of a few out of fear (Star Wars, anyone?), I desperately needed a worship service. Marcia McFee delivered, with my new favorite song, no less (“For Everyone Born” – if you don’t know this hymn, you should).

And finally, following the worship service, young people were invited to respond in the press room. Our conversation was holy, hopeful, and a deep blessing to me. My evening ended on a very hopeful note. And no one had to show me a video to get me there.

On a lighter note, I almost won the twitter war yesterday (beat out by @RevAdamHamilton by a bit!), and received the best tweet of my life: “Overheard @ #gc2012 : If I were into girls, I’d be kissing @pastorbecca (b/c of her awesome talk).”

Diary of a Delegate: Day One- of Worship and Wordsmithing

Altar during opening worship

The first day of General Conference was a wild and fun ride for me (watch here).

I’m an extrovert (obligatory pause while everyone who has ever met me offers a snide comment) and a church nerd (ditto), so I think I’m made to love certain aspects of General Conference. It’s wonderful to see so many friends– people I’ve met before and people I’ve only known “virtually” until now. Thanks to everyone who recognized me in my hot pink sunglasses and came up to say hi! You made my day.

I spent lunchtime in the Common Witness Coalition tabernacle, where I could live for all 10 days. Love it. More importantly, it is the place to feel beloved. Thank you for this deep blessing, Coalition.

As a pastor, it is rare that I get to really sit and absorb worship. Well, sit is the wrong word. I like to stand and jump around and dance during worship. Yes, even in 2″ heels. And Cry. I don’t like to cry, but when it’s a really good worship service I do. My borrowed hankie is getting lots of use, and fortunately, I’m in good company.

Outside the Tabernacle

Opening worship was amazing. Our worship leader, Marcia McFee, gifted us with powerful words, images, and music, woven together into a multi-lingual, multi-cultural, multisensory worship experience. Singing and praying and breaking bread with 4700 people from all over the world is an experience like no other. The colors alone are stunning– the richness of fabrics and visuals; the sounds are humbling– languages I recognize and ones I don’t; the taste of bread and juice is ever and always God’s grace.

I thought to myself during worship “How can it go wrong from here?”

I knew that we wouldn’t stay at the high of the worship service– it’s not possible to stay there all day, let alone for ten days. And first up were the rules.

Now, rules are important. I know I often talk like I want to burn down the house of structure and regulation, but rules form how we operate so that we can operate. The question is whether or not our rules free us for action or constrict and restrict us. One positive outcome was the passage (by a decisive 82% vote) of rules 26 and 27, which change the way we will handle substitute petitions and minority reports, focusing our time on the one motion that we will vote upon. This closes a sort of legislative loophole that resulted in the failure without debate of the majority report from the Church and Society B committee on human sexuality four years ago.

Preaching inclusion outside the convention center

However, there was an ugly undercurrent to the discussion of the rules.

In no less than three places, delegates raised proposed amendments to prohibit recessing or adjourning the conference session to allow for demonstrations or actions of conscience. In a clear response to last General Conference’s prophetic demonstration by SoulForce– an act that was not broadcast on the livestream, much to my disappointment as I watched from afar– members of the church are seeking to prohibit the expression of distension, as if the fear of being ruled out of order, removed from the premises, or even imprisoned can stop those who seek justice and inclusion (hasn’t before!). As I tweeted last night, we may as well amend the rules to state that those not engaged in changing money be barred from the temple court, lest they overturn tables.

I sincerely hope that these proposed amendments fail and fail spectacularly.

Whether they fail or not, however, I know that the powerful and faithful witness of all working for full inclusion will continue and will one day prevail. Look at how scared people are of voices of dissent! What a powerful witness our sisters and brothers made four years ago that the very thought causes people to tremble today! Persist, church!

 

Video: It’s not a sin to be gay

I was asked by the folks at the Breaking the Silence project to submit my belief in full inclusion for all people as a video. Here’s the link to that video:

It’s not a sin to be gay (full length)

(I also edited a shorter version, for those who don’t have 9 and a half minutes right now)

Diary of a Delegate: Wheels Up

General Conference logo, United Methodist Communications

I’m headed out to the airport in a few hours on my way to Tampa for General Conference.

Things on my heart as I journey:

- Following a lively discussion at my church yesterday, I’m even more interested to follow the petition to divest United Methodist funds from Caterpillar, Motorola, and Hewlett Packard in opposition to their roles in the Israeli occupation of Palestinian lands. It may change some in committee, but I’m hoping for an action that will help us literally put our money where we say our hearts are.

- Praying for a fully inclusive church. Although I’m not going to go all out and say that this is the year when we will strike down the “incompatibility” clause, grace abounds, God works in mysterious ways, and every step is another bend in that long, long arc of the universe.

- Praying that we can do no harm to women wrestling with life’s most challenging situations.

- Feeling broken about the state of our church, and the pressure to restructure as a response in fear. May we be motivated by hope and trust, not anxiety.

- Missing my kids before I even leave.

Justice and Joy! See you in Tampa.

Sermon: I’m a Creationist!

“I’m a Creationist!”

(it’s not what you think…)

(April 22, 2012) Scripture teaches us the importance of caring for all of creation as God’s good gift. This is never at odds with our work for social justice for the poor and oppressed, but an integral part of it. We give thanks for the earth this Earth Day. (Leviticus 25:1-12)

—

In preparation, I read (and therefore frequently cite) the essays at the front of The Green Bible. Great read.

How come your DS always comes for a surprise visit on the day you’ve spent most of the week prepping for General Conference, not crafting a perfectly postmodern worship service? Love you anyway, Brigid!

Diary of a Delegate: Reproductive Rights and Doing no Harm

General Conference logo, United Methodist Communications

Like all legislative committees, Church and Society B will divide into subcommittees to handle the categories of our (rather massive) load of resolutions and petitions. Although I requested this committee because of my strong desire to see our church change its policy on homosexuality, there’s a good chance I may volunteer for or be placed on a subcommittee handling reproductive rights, something else abut which I am passionate. As I wrote earlier, however, this is a conversation that I find personally painful. I’m therefore working on preparing mentally, emotionally, and spiritually for this task.

In my earlier post on the subject, I focused on how I found our language about abortion painful, especially in some of the legislation that is proposed (seriously, petition 20924, on p. 280 makes me want to revisit my most recent meal). However, I want to be a little clearer about what I think we need to focus on– and avoid– in the conversation about reproductive rights.

1. I neither want to debate, or think it’s fruitful to debate when life begins. I make an odd progressive perhaps, but I will say this up front: I don’t know when “life” begins, because I don’t know what we mean by that. But the only place where I can draw a line is in fact at conception/implantation (which are a few days apart). That’s when you have all the pieces and conditions you need to make a life. It’s not like there’s a day when you can say aha! Here’s an independent life! Well there is– a birthday. But as one who has been pregnant, I identified my baby as a person long before each was born. And I did identify the baby I lost at just shy of 12 weeks as a baby. Emotionally, that’s what it was.

But that’s not a legal or ecclesialogical argument. It’s important for pastoral care purposes that we recognize that women and their partners who are seeking counsel following abortion, pregnancy loss, or infertility, may use different words and concepts for fetuses at various stages. As with any counseling situation, the counselor should mirror the language used by the client/congregant. If I’m mourning my baby, call it a baby, even if the zygote never implanted. If I can only talk about the fetal tissue that I lost, call it fetal tissue; it may be too painful for me to say baby right now. Pastorally, in the practice of lay and ordained ministry, we don’t argue about when life begins. All we do is listen to the person.

2. This brings us to an important point in my mind: I don’t think it is necessary or helpful for the church to have a policy about when and how we think abortion is appropriate/necessary/permissible/not a terrible sin. This differs from the homosexuality debate. It matters as a church what our policy is about the ordination of or marriage of glbt persons, because as a church, we are in the business of ordaining and marrying. As a church, we are not in a position of providing abortions, fertility treatments, or adoptive services. We are in the business of being in ministry with women and their partners and support systems before, during, and after the medical situations and decisions. We don’t decide which treatments for cancer we think are best before we are in ministry with people living with cancer or families who have lost a loved ones to cancer. Our job is to be a compassionate presence. In order to minister with women who are considering or have had an abortion, we don’t need to make a statement as to when we think it’s okay. She may or may not have taken that into account. So what? Our ministry is now. Abortion happens. I think we need to say that we believe abortion should be safe, legal, and rare. The rest is not in our hands. What is in our hands is whether or not we are able to respond with compassion to the people who have walked that road.

3. And so, we need to first do no harm. Our language in the Social Principles in the Book of Discipline and in the Book of Resolutions has to do no harm to the women and their support persons with whom we hope to be in ministry. In order for people to seek out the church for counsel and support in this difficult time, they need to feel that they will be met with compassion, not judgement. If a woman believes that her church or pastor will condemn her as a murderer because she chose abortion when her life was not in immediate physical danger, will she ever mention it to the pastor? Lift it up in a prayer group? If she thinks the church or pastor will dismiss out of hand one of the options before her without hearing or caring about the complex factors involved, will she seek counsel? Not likely. She will bury it in the shame and guilt and pain she many feel. She will not seek the forgiveness she may feel she needs, or have the support of her church family in the midst of a difficult choice. Our language will have harmed her because it will have prevented her from seeking support, healing, and wholeness.

I have heard from a dozen or more women (and some partners and parents of women) who have had abortions or considered abortions. I’ve not personally encountered a single one who chose abortion because her life was in immediate physical danger. The reasons were as different as the women: massive birth defects that would cause the baby to live only a few days and in excruciating pain; mental or psychological well being of the mother; inability to care for a child mentally, emotionally, physically, or financially; being young and scared. And like their reasons, the level of healing they had or felt they needed differed wildly, from feeling they made the right choice and had nothing for which to apologize, to agonizing every day. Some had made the choice decades ago, and some during the time that I knew them and knew of their situation. Some were grieving, some relieved.

But across the board, they had one commonality: they wanted to speak to me “off the record,” outside my role as a pastor. Across the board, each of them said that they had not and/or would not seek the support of their church or their pastor at the time (I was not the pastor of any of these women– curious. A safe outsider perhaps?). Across the board, each of them said that they did not feel they could turn to their church or their pastor because the church believes abortion is wrong, or at least wrong for the reasons they chose it, and they each expressed that they felt the pastor and/or the other members of the congregation would condemn them for the choice they had made or were contemplating.

Sisters and brothers, there are people who are hurting. People at a crossroads, making what may well be one of the most difficult decisions of their lives. People who have done something they felt they had to do, and grieve it or feel guilt and shame for it. People who have been afraid and alone and with no one to turn to. And they feel that the church is the very last place they can go for help. Is this what we want? Is it so important to those who believe that abortion is wrong that we hold a principled stand? Is that more important than having the opportunity to minister with women in the midst of their decision? Is that more important than the ability to help someone heal or seek forgiveness (again– using the language of forgiveness only if that’s what she articulates she needs)?

It is not. In order to do all the good we can, we have to first do no harm.

I support language that says abortion should be safe, legal, and rare, and then focuses the rest of our attention on the compassionate response to those considering or dealing with the aftermath of abortion: education and advocacy to reduce unintended pregnancies, promoting maternal prenatal health, ministries that lift up all options for unintended pregnancies, strengthening the ministry of adoptive services, and bolstering support for single mothers and for women whose financial, psychological, social, etc. conditions make caring for a child difficult or nearly impossible. To do this, we have to be part of the conversation and part of the support network for women at all stages of this issue. And to do that, we have to do no harm with our policy so that we are a place women and their support persons can turn.

[Edited to add: all this, and I didn't even mention rape, sexual abuse, and incest. I can't believe I left them out-- I've never counseled a woman who disclosed that her pregnancy was the result of rape or incest-- but they are of course factors in the discussion as well. Let us never add trauma to trauma.]

Diary of a Delegate: End– or Beginning– in Sight

General Conference logo, United Methodist Communications

It’s my last official day of work before General Conference. The phone is ringing constantly with church work and with people calling delegates for last minute legislative pitches. It’s actually kind of fun in a strange, stressful way.

Here online, I want to give another thanks to UM Insight for reposting my thoughts on bullying (my original post). Nice to be once again sharing space with my buddy Jeremy, too. Looking forward to seeing you in Tampa!

On the home front, my 21 month old son has a massive infection in his eyes, ears, and sinuses. Nothing like leaving one’s partner with a sick kid. I guess Will thought that his dad needed a bigger challenge at single parenting. He’ll have some grandparent assistance, but it really takes a village to raise kids, especially when they keep getting sick, and Mommie is jetting off to Florida for a couple of weeks.

The next person who tells me to “enjoy the vacation” is going to get laughed at in a most cynical fashion.

Extrovert that I am, I am mostly looking forward to connecting and reconnecting with friends from around the country and around the world. If you haven’t met me before, in heels I’m almost 6′, and I’ll be carrying a bright red laptop bag and whenever plausible wearing hot pink ally-fabulous Darren Criss sunglasses, hanging around the MFSA tabernacle, and advocating tirelessly for justice, inclusion, tenderness, and love. I should be hard to miss.

At least that’s my intention.