Taking a Deeper Breath

In March 2020 I began sending a daily e-mail to family and friends. My goal was to lift spirits and provide both a bit of respite and some self care resources during the pandemic lockdown.  I had no idea that it would be more than a year before vaccines would make it possible for us to start to venture back out into the world again. Eventually, I moved the e-mails to this blog, and after George Floyd's murder I shifted my focus from daily messages to occasional posts about systemic racism, White supremacy, and White privilege. I   hoped that sharing some of my journey as a person of White privilege would encourage others who, like me, felt called to learn more about these evils and do more to reckon with our own complicity in them. Today is the first anniversary of George Floyd's death. As we mark this awful milestone, I am grateful that his killer has been tried, and that he was convicted on all counts. His attorneys have filed a motion for a new trial, and will no doubt appea

Women's History Month 2021 ends today. As with Black History Month, I pray that someday soon we won't need a special month to call attention to the  contributions made by people other than White males; I hope that we will see them as part of our history, period. And that we will read about them in our history books and celebrate them all year long.  In the meantime, where even to begin? There are so many great women to recognize. So many who have been profiled this month. Here are a few great women -- some famous, some not so well known -- who have been uppermost in my mind lately. 

It has been a year now since the United States began to lock down, and almost exactly a year since I began the daily "pandemic uplift" e-mails that later became this blog.  It has been a catastrophic year by any measure. No community has been left untouched by COVID-19. Many, including BIPOC communities, immigrants and refugees, and essential workers -- among whom there may be substantial overlap -- have been especially hard hit. Here in the U.S., over 530,000 of our siblings have died, and the death toll continues to climb. This is a solemn anniversary, indeed.  It has been more than a year, as well, since the brutal murder of Ahmaud Arbery. Tomorrow will also mark one year since Breonna Taylor was shot and killed by Louisville police after they forced entry into her apartment. So much pain and grief was unleashed by these senseless killings, and magnified by the killing of George Floyd, the paralyzing of Jacob Blake, and so many other assaults upon Black bodies.  We continu

Another Black History Month has come to a close. Perhaps it brought new knowledge to you, too. Recently I shared the stories of Frazier Baker, George Dinning, and Claudette Colvin, three Black heroes who were unknown to me before this month. I am grateful for the heightened exposure that Black History Month brings. And yet. So much more Black history was -- and still is --  outside my awareness. We did not have Black History Month when I was growing up. I remember when President Ford officially recognized February as Black History Month in 1976. But that was hardly the start. The story of Black History Month begins over 100 years ago, with  Dr. Carter G. Woodson,   a man now known as the "Father of Black history." 

It was 123 years ago today that  Frazier Baker,  a 40-year-old schoolteacher and postmaster of Lake City, South Carolina, and the youngest of his six children were lynched. The alleged crime? Doing his federal job. In 1897, Baker had become the first African-American to serve as postmaster of the Lake City Post Office. And for refusing to give up that post, he and his entire family were attacked in their home. Baker was one of hundreds of Blacks appointed to postmasterships across the South by the new McKinley administration after the election of 1896. The local White community tried to force Baker from his position. When that failed, a mob came at night to set fire to his family's home, which also served as the local post office. Baker and his wife were at home with their children. When the mob started firing at the trapped family, little Julia, just two, was shot and killed. Trying to save his family from the flames, Baker opened the front door to lead them out. He was immediatel

Like so many privileged people, I hoped for a time that life would return to some semblance of "normal" after the 2020 election and after the pandemic fades. As time went by, I began to hope as well for the "new normal" that pundits told us to expect. Months of sheltering in place and socially distanced connections had left me both longing to hug my loved ones and ready to let go of the busy lifestyle I'd had before COVID. I hoped that we could bring to our world the benefits of slowing down and traveling less that had allowed the air to clear and the oceans to quiet (see  April 22, 2020 post ).  I do still hope for that. But thanks to  Reverend Phiwa Langeni,   Ambassador for Innovation & Engagement of the United Church of Christ and founder of Salus Center , the only LGBTQ resource and community center in Lansing, Michigan, I no longer hope for a return to what I took as "normal"; my sense of that has  shifted. I have been challenged by Reverend

Today is Martin Luther King., Jr. Day, a federal holiday observed each year on the third Monday in January in honor of Dr. King's life and legacy. It is the only federal holiday designated as a national day of service, a  "day on, not a day off." In honor of Dr. King,  Story Corps  has collected powerful  first person accounts  of experiences with Dr. King, as well as other stories for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Here is a link to Dr. King's  "I Have a Dream" speech.  And here is an excerpt from his final speech, the one in which he says that he   " ha[s] seen the Promised Land."   It would be easy for us to despair. That speech was given over 50 years ago, and the Promised Land of freedom and equality -- of a world without our White supremacy -- may never have seemed more distant, especially in the light of these past four years and the deepening distress of the past two weeks.  And yet. We see the ever-growing commitment to Black Lives Matter. W

 In my faith tradition, we marked  January 3 as the Epiphany, commemorating the arrival of the Magi at the stable where Jesus was born. "Epiphany" is commonly used now to mean a sudden insight, discovery, or revelation. But here's what  Rev. Dr. Barbara Holmes,  a spiritual teacher, activist, and scholar focused upon African American spirituality and President Emerita of United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities says: "While in the midst of an epiphany, folks inevitably apply the term 'discovery' to lands, people, and ideas that have always been present. We use the language of strange and alien sightings when the more accurate statement would be, 'Eureka! I have just awakened to a long-standing reality that an inner unveiling has finally allowed me to see.' ”  I thought of her statement after last week's insurrection at the U.S. Capitol, when thousands of pro-Trump rioters besieged the Capitol complex. As more videos of the violence and more

It's early morning on New Year's Day, and I am more than ready to see 2020 behind me. I know that I'm not alone in my relief to see the new year arrive. This is the traditional day to begin New Year's resolutions, but I have none. It wasn't always so. I used to spend time in December thinking about resolutions to improve my life (or so I thought) in the year to come; I even tried to make promises to work toward goals that I thought would benefit others. The problem was that my resolutions were either too big or too small; they felt either too expansive and too constrictive. In the end, they didn't get me to the results I wanted. A "too big" resolution was one that eventually seemed unattainable. Maybe it took more energy or commitment than I had expected, or maybe I became frustrated or impatient at how much time it took to achieve. It's a common experience, I found, with so-called "self-improvement" plans.  Whatever the case, sooner or l