Dollar in My Pocket

When I started Education for Ministry (EFM) in Atlanta in 2015, I became a part of a special group comprised of people of all genders, ages and varied and fascinating backgrounds. It is a four year program, and the group rotates year to year. At most of the weekly meetings, the group, based on discussions had, would consider what is called a theological reflection.

I’ll come back to this.

I try but am not always successful in having a dollar in my pocket in case someone needs it. A few of the people in my EFM group shared their opinion that I was “making the problem worse” or perpetuating it. My response was that I did not know that that person was not God. We had some colorful conversations about this. One of them, maybe more, would come to EFM later in time and, in a sort of shy and curmudgeonly way, tell me that they had bought a meal for someone who asked for help. This thrilled my heart.

A woman once came to me as I loaded groceries in the car. She told me that she had not eaten in three days. I said, “let’s go inside, and I’ll buy you something to eat.” The woman turned and walked away. I realized that her hunger was not for food.

Another time, while roaming in Avondale Estates, a man was on the sidewalk yelling. He grew louder the more passersby did not respond. I stopped and said “what’s the matter,” and he said loudly, “I’m hungry!” I said, “okay come in here, and I’ll buy you something to eat.” There was a breakfast place right there where I had been before. A friend’s grown daughter worked there at the time and was there that day. The man started telling me how much money he needed for beer. I told him no one was buying him beer that day. He nodded. We sat at the bar while I noticed collective discomfort from the other patrons. I asked his name. He said his mother called him Charles but then gave a nickname that I now cannot recall. I said, “well, Charles, what would you like to eat?” He ordered and began eating with relish. My only regret is that I did not stay with him until he was finished.

In 2018, my husband and I went to Italy for a glorious two week trip. We started in Rome, dropped our bags at the Airbnb which was still being cleaned and made tracks to get the first installment of many helpings of gelato. While walking to the Pantheon, two women in front of a church rushed towards Bryan and then rushed away. Bryan stopped and told me his wallet had been stolen. (We have heard story after story from friends about this being so common and happening to them).

I stayed in front of the church where the two women still were while Bryan went to find a policeman. 

Two things are noteworthy here. One is that in all the charitable examples I provided above, that spirit of charity was replaced by rage. White hot rage. I was furious at the two women, one of whom had the gall to hold out her hand to me. I held out my hand to her. I was certain that they were responsible. Who knows if that is true.  It makes me think of Anne Lamott in Traveling Mercies stating something along the lines of feeling so much hatred in a moment that it would make “Jesus want to drink vodka out of the dog bowl.”

The other thing was that trying to find the police station felt like an episode of The Three Stooges. We spent hours trying to find it thoroughly jet lagged. When we did, it was pretty anticlimactic.

At the end of the day, it was just money. It was an inconvenience. Really. We were able to call our bank, cancel cards, make them aware and carry on with our trip. I would be lying if I said that I don’t remain wary of Rome. 

When I next went to EFM, I told my beloved group that I was a contradiction. I shared this story. In the theological reflection, the message that surfaced after much discussion and discernment is that we don’t like it when beggars don’t behave the way we want them to. I laughed out loud at myself.  

Who knows what those who steal are experiencing, how scary or threatened their lives may be. My job is to work on forgiveness because resenting what happened or who I think was involved will only hurt me. 

I still try to have a dollar in my pocket.

Journal Prompts to try:

1. Describe a time you felt like a contradiction.

2. Describe a time you held onto resentment and then realized you needed to let it go.

3. What is your idea of charity?

Let me know how it goes. I’d love to hear from you!

Wear the Bikini

It’s mid-August, and you might be thinking summer is almost over! In some places, school has started! I might then say it’s mid-August, and summer isn’t officially over until September 22 when the Fall Equinox begins. Mostly, though, I want you to think about wearing the bikini as metaphor. 

In the photo provided with permission (saucy language included alert) by a lovely and amazing journal workshop participant, the power of the post it note is strong. Like many, Dee, expressed a far-off-someday kind of wish that her body would be in just a right kind of shape and space to wear a bikini. 

This was a couple of years ago while I was facilitating a workshop partnering with Cactus Cancer Society. The focus is about reclaiming oneself and inviting intimacy after a cancer diagnosis and treatment. I have also facilitated a similarly themed workshop through the Therapeutic Writing Institute called the Body Electric for all women. 

When I walked the Camino de Santiago, my friend Jan and I noticed how comfortable Spanish women were in their bodies. They wore whatever they wanted regardless of age. Many had a lovely deep Fuchsia color to their hair - again - all ages. 

During the Body Electric, there were two participants from Spain on opposite coasts, and I remember thinking how lively the conversation will be including different cultures. What I learned, though, is that women learn early and deeply about shame and guilt around their bodies not being a certain way. It’s universal, and it’s insidious. Let’s change that.

What I continue to witness is that theme of once I get to [fill in the blank], I can wear the bikini. Or, maybe you have bought clothes that you have yet to wear because you’re waiting for your body to be in that certain spot. Far off. Someday. Let’s change that.

Wear the bikini on a post it note becomes empowerment, a “Towanda” as in Fried Green Tomatoes. I encouraged Dee that if she wanted to wear the bikini (literally), to go ahead and get the one she loved, wear it, love it, love herself and have fun in the process. To my delight, she did exactly that. Her joy was palpable.

Wear the bikini as metaphor is specific to the individual. It’s about choosing you and moving forward with what is important to you, loving yourself as you are. Now. Today. Like Bridget Jones - “just as she is.”

Journal prompts to try:
1. How can you love yourself right now, in this moment?

2. Whether clothes, a trip, a new friend - what small step can you take in the direction of something you want to do?

Let me know how it goes! I’d love to hear from you.