Jul 13, 2023·edited Jul 13, 2023Liked by Nadia Bolz-Weber
Yes. My Dad, who had a shitty childhood and then PTSD from being in New Guinea in WWII, and who drank to numb the terror, (and who nevertheless was a really good father), had a wonderful way of comforting me when I was a kid. He used to say, "Cheer up, it's always darkest before the storm." I thought that was funny till I was an adult (in ACOA) and realized that he was acknowledging that things were hard and maybe--likely--going to get worse, and that somehow we could hang in there. Which he did. He always got a kick out of small pleasures, always--wood ducks and carrots from the garden and grandchildrens' antics. I'm still trying to learn that.
Since I posted that, I've been thinking about the weather metaphor. I'm (more or less) a fifth generation Vermonter on my father's side, and though I happen to live in a part of the state that isn't washed out and/or under water, I'm devasted by all the damage. The national news has been focused on Montpelier and the roads, but so many farmers (especially the smaller ones) are just--done in by this. A very late freeze took out maybe half the apple crop, and the flooding has wiped out fields of vegetables and low-lying hay fields, and chicken coops. And more rain is coming. As it happened after Irene, we consider ourselves "Vermont Strong" and the sun will shine again, but. . Dad's metaphor works.
Like you I have experienced this beautiful dichotomy of spiritual experiences both in the church and in AA. Also like you I do a lot of prison work. I have been a Christian 25 years, out of prison 18 years, and clean almost 13 years. Last week I told the guys in a weekly class I'm teaching in prison that I don't know if anyone of will really get out and stay out but I just want to say thanks to them for helping me stay out. In AA it's very obvious to us we only keep what we have by giving it away and that is why there's more power in the basement sometimes than the sanctuary. Keep up the good work sister.
Thank you Nadia for sharing, I have read most of your updates from your time at DWCF, it helps me to feel closer to someone special there who attends new beginnings every week for years now. Our journey has not been easy and I have really struggled to be a good support system for her over the last year or so. I could not sleep this morning as I lie awake worrisome for the up and coming parole hearing that carries oh so much weight of importance for her. As I picked up my phone, your email came through and I am incredibly touched and deeply moved by your words today. Not just because of my own story but because you are so incredibly anointed by God that my heart is just filled with gratitude that the girls over there have you. You have no idea how much one program or one single person having the ability to make them feel loved and heard can literally change the course of their entire stay. I will be honest when I say that my other half has never really been one to come back and call me just to share a meaningful moment in that place, until you. She has called me on more than one occasion to share of her experience with you and pastor Samm. I was so impressed by your connection in every word you spoke in this email that I had to share this with you and thank you for giving a shit about those women! I tried to share my story so the other readers could experience hearing about what God can do in a place like a women's prison but the cap on how much I could write won't allow me to put it all in my bio, 😆 I hope its ok to attach here .
I the am just another human trying to survive the hardships of this world without blaming everything on God or feeling so sorry for myself, that I miss out on all life is trying to teach me. I was raised in a middle class, "claimed Christian" family with many secrets and no encouragement to speak up about it, like EVER. The black sheep as you might say and the most likely to never marry because of the shame brought on my life from being gay. My parents, more my mother than my dad, as he suffered from his own demons, decided to ship me off to conversion therapy in my early 20's when I so desperately came to them for help from my entangled life of struggle and torment. Of course they blamed it on the very loud and colorful lifestyle of mine. So instead of digging deep within themselves for truth that they had formed a thought process in my little head , and from a very young age told me everyday that I wasn't enough. I knew I would be punished for eternity because of who I chose to love. I struggled for many years after spending 9 months in Memphis, Tennessee listening to other gays speak of their sexual sins in front of a bunch of strangers, then go back to their rooms and cry alone, often asking "why God, why couldn't you just make me straight"? I am still friends with every single guy and girl I met throughout that program and I can laugh as I admit that each of us is still gay today. Sadly, I also think about how much good we could have done with the money spent just to be humiliated everyday trying to please a God that didn't even care about sexual preferences. It's a mystery to me, all the time and energy put in to changing us, or should I say fixing us, and not one of us really listening to God try and show us what was really important to Him and that was simply LOvE. Love is patient, love is Kind, it does not boast, envy or judge and it certainly doesn't shame another to the point where suicide is the only other answer.
I am now estranged from my entire family whom after I struggled for 20 more years trying to please, finally came to terms with my lifestyle when I landed myself in prison with a year sentence for some really dumb shit. My biggest struggle really ended up being "relationships", with pretty much everything and everyone. I had no clue who I really was but I say with too much bitterness that everyone else (the Church) seem to know who I was supposed to be. I spent a majority of my life showing up exactly how I was expected to and I can confidently say that the word Chameleon in the dictionary has my name in parenthesis next to it. Anyways, sitting in La Vista Women's Correctional Facility for an entire year was far more humiliating than any family and friends weekend at Love In Action (gay camp) ever made me feel. At the same time I never felt judged there, I actually ended up falling in love with the women there and it is now become my life's intention to go back in to the prisons one day and mentor. There is so much more of my story that's painfully riveting and joyfully ever changing so I am definitely thankful that God allowed me to finally see what is important at the end of each day and I hope that I am able to love the way He has always loved me...
Janay, thanks so much for this. So glad to hear your story. I do love those women so much and respect the ways in which they themselves lead and minister inside DW - they have such beautiful hearts. God bless, N
I have habitually protected myself from feeling. I avoid interactions which will make me feel strongly, which is its own kind of prison. I stay in ego to avoid the depth of feeling of spirit or true self. And that prevents me feeling my sorrow, but also my joy. And when now this year I open myself to my sorrow, and anger, and feel them fully, there is joy in the sorrow- because it is my feeling, and I am feeling it.
Was a chaplain in a women’s prison for a year and I’d like to add a hearty “Amen” to all you have written. I received so much more than I was able to give
I truly believe, at least for myself, I can be more honest more open where I feel safe, not under the hundreds of eyes watching as I walk to the front of a sanctuary. This being said, I need help, I am struggling with anger, really bad anger over one of my grandsons who is on the spectrum. He gets into trouble, I tell him repeatedly not to do something yet it seems it’s not connecting, so I get angry and mutter under my breath really mean hurtful words. Please please if you will pray for me. I do not like my being this way, please pray.
Hugs - for admitting your anger. Hugs - for your son on the spectrum. As a person who walks beside you with a kiddo on the spectrum, my best advice is for you to learn a communication technique for both of you called Social Stories by Carol Gray. It’s a proven methodology for explaining cause and effect in a highly personalized manner to help the neurodivergent mind understand. She teaches it methodically so parents like us can truly connect with our kiddos. If you need support - and a few communal prayers - in the process reach back to me. I’ll help you. Amen.
Robert, I will keep you in my prayers. I too had anger issues passed down from my father(not blaming). And my anger down to my son. We had some out and out fights. But once I started asking the Lord in prayer to take it from me, He did. It was like an out of body experience when my son would start because I wasn’t responding like I usually would. Keep praying for peace and the Lord to take that anger. I think you may be surprised at the relationship that is waiting for you both. It would also be a testament to your grandson. But give it to the Lord, let Him handle it.❤️
I so value your writings, Nadia as they come from an honest heart, a person who was broken and probably considers herself still broken, and a clear view of the world. This brought forth a memory from many years ago when I was still working as a PT in a rehab facility. Over several years I was working with a man who by societal standards was a no good drug addict, thief, and violent person. Ha had been incarcerated a few time, but at some point suffered a severe head injury. This is when I met him. We got on well and after a year or so we were talking while he did his exercises and he suddenly asked me what I would have done if I had met him on the street when he was at his worst and I replied that I would have crossed the street to avoid him. I then ask him what he would have done and he replied that he probably would have shouted and stared at me and try to hit me with thrown object. And then we fell about laughing for quite a long time because we had come to know each other on a much deeper level and we were just two regular humans
Thank you for explaining to me why it was that at my father's funeral I could sob uncontrollably as I followed his casket out of the church building, but when I got outside and saw that my daughter had arrived late from her wilderness campus, I could say, as we rode to the gravesite, "Isn't this fun!" I've always wondered how on earth I could have said that!
When you can be real with someone, you can experience true joy with them. I was watching an podcast from awhile ago where Sheila Gregoire was interviewing Alyssa Wakefield, a woman who escaped a life of abuse by "Christian" men. Her story is incredible. Anyways, one thing that jumped out to me was when she said that she discovered she didn't really know God. Lies had been fed to her all her life and she had to begin to discover who God really is.
I'm discovering that too.
God isn't the god who punishes me with the anxiety of my friends going to hell if my shy, introverted self can't get them to say the salvation prayer.
He isn't the God who views me as trash because of anything related to my sexuality.
He's not the God who forces me to constantly consider how I have fucked up and rendered myself unworthy of his love.
I think it's in those real, raw, crying that eventually turns to laughter conversations that we feel true joy and unity, but it also unites us deeper with Christ and who he really is.
One of the most grace filled hours I have spent in my life was at a recent memorial service. The man who had died had struggled with substance use disorder much of his life. He was in recovery and at a point where he was engaged to a woman he loved, working a job he was gifted to perform and had regained custody of three of his children. (His fiancee was a friend of many years.) A tragic motorcycle accident ended his life. The service was very informal. Prayers and some reflections were offered by a Lutheran minister, but there was no order of service. Instead, the minister offered the mic to anyone who wanted to speak about the young man. The first few reflections were deeply meaningful and I learned more about the young man than I knew moments before. I felt myself, at first, becoming restless as person after person took the mic and the comments seemed beyond the scope of what my traditional brain considered "appropriate." Then I thought about what you preach, Nadia, and I began to connect with the grief, loss and love that his friends and family shared. These were people who had journeyed with him through his and their own struggles. Each shared how he had helped them in some way. As I listened, the grace in the room flowed over me and I am sure over every person there. Traditions and orders of service would not have been a truer way to remember this man who struggled and triumphed, gave his life to Christ and shared it with anyone who needed it. I will never look at a funeral or memorial service as I used to, again.
When I was 5 years sober I was finally cleared to go into the Santa Cruz County Jail to take in an AA meeting to the women . A lot of the women came to to the meeting to get out of their PODS or maybe just break up their day. At first it was a little frustrating because I realized most of them were not even listening to ME! And then I really realized they are not even listening to me and I let it rip! All the gory, messing fucked up details of my childhood! (what it was like) OMG what a spiritual experience to be able to word vomit my truth. Years later this woman came up to me outside a meeting and told me she remembered me coming in to the jail, and after she got out what I had shared made her stop drinking. I excitedly asked what it was. She said "I don't remember". Still a mystery: am I being of service to them, or are they being of service to me.
This is so relatable. I’m 2 weeks into inpatient rehab for hip surgery. Certainly not incarceration, but definitely a journey into powerlessness. It’s been hard, painful both physically and emotionally. Ultimately a blend of crying and holding back crying. And yet, I have been simultaneously overwhelmed by of outpouring of love by my circle of friends and daily profound experiences of God’s presence. Pain and relief, grief and joy, deep loneliness and abundant belonging, heartbreak and heart healing……ALL AT ONCE!
Who knew I could experience these seemingly polar opposite emotions at the same time?! And I wholeheartedly agree, admitting to God to ourselves and to another human being ALL that is stirring in our souls, that’s the thread that sews together the sorrow and the joy. It has proven to be my path to learning (however slowly) how to savor and appreciate the bittersweetness of this beautiful life.
Yes. My Dad, who had a shitty childhood and then PTSD from being in New Guinea in WWII, and who drank to numb the terror, (and who nevertheless was a really good father), had a wonderful way of comforting me when I was a kid. He used to say, "Cheer up, it's always darkest before the storm." I thought that was funny till I was an adult (in ACOA) and realized that he was acknowledging that things were hard and maybe--likely--going to get worse, and that somehow we could hang in there. Which he did. He always got a kick out of small pleasures, always--wood ducks and carrots from the garden and grandchildrens' antics. I'm still trying to learn that.
Since I posted that, I've been thinking about the weather metaphor. I'm (more or less) a fifth generation Vermonter on my father's side, and though I happen to live in a part of the state that isn't washed out and/or under water, I'm devasted by all the damage. The national news has been focused on Montpelier and the roads, but so many farmers (especially the smaller ones) are just--done in by this. A very late freeze took out maybe half the apple crop, and the flooding has wiped out fields of vegetables and low-lying hay fields, and chicken coops. And more rain is coming. As it happened after Irene, we consider ourselves "Vermont Strong" and the sun will shine again, but. . Dad's metaphor works.
Mr Hunter thanks so much. I appreciate this so much!
Like you I have experienced this beautiful dichotomy of spiritual experiences both in the church and in AA. Also like you I do a lot of prison work. I have been a Christian 25 years, out of prison 18 years, and clean almost 13 years. Last week I told the guys in a weekly class I'm teaching in prison that I don't know if anyone of will really get out and stay out but I just want to say thanks to them for helping me stay out. In AA it's very obvious to us we only keep what we have by giving it away and that is why there's more power in the basement sometimes than the sanctuary. Keep up the good work sister.
Hey Damon. So nice to meet you! Glad you’re here, you’re out, you’re sober and you’re of service. Maybe we’ll meet some day!
Thank you Nadia for sharing, I have read most of your updates from your time at DWCF, it helps me to feel closer to someone special there who attends new beginnings every week for years now. Our journey has not been easy and I have really struggled to be a good support system for her over the last year or so. I could not sleep this morning as I lie awake worrisome for the up and coming parole hearing that carries oh so much weight of importance for her. As I picked up my phone, your email came through and I am incredibly touched and deeply moved by your words today. Not just because of my own story but because you are so incredibly anointed by God that my heart is just filled with gratitude that the girls over there have you. You have no idea how much one program or one single person having the ability to make them feel loved and heard can literally change the course of their entire stay. I will be honest when I say that my other half has never really been one to come back and call me just to share a meaningful moment in that place, until you. She has called me on more than one occasion to share of her experience with you and pastor Samm. I was so impressed by your connection in every word you spoke in this email that I had to share this with you and thank you for giving a shit about those women! I tried to share my story so the other readers could experience hearing about what God can do in a place like a women's prison but the cap on how much I could write won't allow me to put it all in my bio, 😆 I hope its ok to attach here .
I the am just another human trying to survive the hardships of this world without blaming everything on God or feeling so sorry for myself, that I miss out on all life is trying to teach me. I was raised in a middle class, "claimed Christian" family with many secrets and no encouragement to speak up about it, like EVER. The black sheep as you might say and the most likely to never marry because of the shame brought on my life from being gay. My parents, more my mother than my dad, as he suffered from his own demons, decided to ship me off to conversion therapy in my early 20's when I so desperately came to them for help from my entangled life of struggle and torment. Of course they blamed it on the very loud and colorful lifestyle of mine. So instead of digging deep within themselves for truth that they had formed a thought process in my little head , and from a very young age told me everyday that I wasn't enough. I knew I would be punished for eternity because of who I chose to love. I struggled for many years after spending 9 months in Memphis, Tennessee listening to other gays speak of their sexual sins in front of a bunch of strangers, then go back to their rooms and cry alone, often asking "why God, why couldn't you just make me straight"? I am still friends with every single guy and girl I met throughout that program and I can laugh as I admit that each of us is still gay today. Sadly, I also think about how much good we could have done with the money spent just to be humiliated everyday trying to please a God that didn't even care about sexual preferences. It's a mystery to me, all the time and energy put in to changing us, or should I say fixing us, and not one of us really listening to God try and show us what was really important to Him and that was simply LOvE. Love is patient, love is Kind, it does not boast, envy or judge and it certainly doesn't shame another to the point where suicide is the only other answer.
I am now estranged from my entire family whom after I struggled for 20 more years trying to please, finally came to terms with my lifestyle when I landed myself in prison with a year sentence for some really dumb shit. My biggest struggle really ended up being "relationships", with pretty much everything and everyone. I had no clue who I really was but I say with too much bitterness that everyone else (the Church) seem to know who I was supposed to be. I spent a majority of my life showing up exactly how I was expected to and I can confidently say that the word Chameleon in the dictionary has my name in parenthesis next to it. Anyways, sitting in La Vista Women's Correctional Facility for an entire year was far more humiliating than any family and friends weekend at Love In Action (gay camp) ever made me feel. At the same time I never felt judged there, I actually ended up falling in love with the women there and it is now become my life's intention to go back in to the prisons one day and mentor. There is so much more of my story that's painfully riveting and joyfully ever changing so I am definitely thankful that God allowed me to finally see what is important at the end of each day and I hope that I am able to love the way He has always loved me...
Thanks for listening
Janay, thanks so much for this. So glad to hear your story. I do love those women so much and respect the ways in which they themselves lead and minister inside DW - they have such beautiful hearts. God bless, N
This is my experience.
I have habitually protected myself from feeling. I avoid interactions which will make me feel strongly, which is its own kind of prison. I stay in ego to avoid the depth of feeling of spirit or true self. And that prevents me feeling my sorrow, but also my joy. And when now this year I open myself to my sorrow, and anger, and feel them fully, there is joy in the sorrow- because it is my feeling, and I am feeling it.
Hugs! What a beautiful and bittersweet blessing!
Was a chaplain in a women’s prison for a year and I’d like to add a hearty “Amen” to all you have written. I received so much more than I was able to give
You been walking around in my head lol! TRUTH! “It’s a broken hallelujah!!!”
I truly believe, at least for myself, I can be more honest more open where I feel safe, not under the hundreds of eyes watching as I walk to the front of a sanctuary. This being said, I need help, I am struggling with anger, really bad anger over one of my grandsons who is on the spectrum. He gets into trouble, I tell him repeatedly not to do something yet it seems it’s not connecting, so I get angry and mutter under my breath really mean hurtful words. Please please if you will pray for me. I do not like my being this way, please pray.
Hugs - for admitting your anger. Hugs - for your son on the spectrum. As a person who walks beside you with a kiddo on the spectrum, my best advice is for you to learn a communication technique for both of you called Social Stories by Carol Gray. It’s a proven methodology for explaining cause and effect in a highly personalized manner to help the neurodivergent mind understand. She teaches it methodically so parents like us can truly connect with our kiddos. If you need support - and a few communal prayers - in the process reach back to me. I’ll help you. Amen.
I pray for your healing, for the fear and hurt that is in you that gets directed to your grandson. Miracles happen. God can do anything.
Robert, I will keep you in my prayers. I too had anger issues passed down from my father(not blaming). And my anger down to my son. We had some out and out fights. But once I started asking the Lord in prayer to take it from me, He did. It was like an out of body experience when my son would start because I wasn’t responding like I usually would. Keep praying for peace and the Lord to take that anger. I think you may be surprised at the relationship that is waiting for you both. It would also be a testament to your grandson. But give it to the Lord, let Him handle it.❤️
Miss Mary, thank you so much. I will continue to ask, to seek Father taking this anger away, I will do so daily again thanks so much.
I so value your writings, Nadia as they come from an honest heart, a person who was broken and probably considers herself still broken, and a clear view of the world. This brought forth a memory from many years ago when I was still working as a PT in a rehab facility. Over several years I was working with a man who by societal standards was a no good drug addict, thief, and violent person. Ha had been incarcerated a few time, but at some point suffered a severe head injury. This is when I met him. We got on well and after a year or so we were talking while he did his exercises and he suddenly asked me what I would have done if I had met him on the street when he was at his worst and I replied that I would have crossed the street to avoid him. I then ask him what he would have done and he replied that he probably would have shouted and stared at me and try to hit me with thrown object. And then we fell about laughing for quite a long time because we had come to know each other on a much deeper level and we were just two regular humans
Love.
Thank you for explaining to me why it was that at my father's funeral I could sob uncontrollably as I followed his casket out of the church building, but when I got outside and saw that my daughter had arrived late from her wilderness campus, I could say, as we rode to the gravesite, "Isn't this fun!" I've always wondered how on earth I could have said that!
When you can be real with someone, you can experience true joy with them. I was watching an podcast from awhile ago where Sheila Gregoire was interviewing Alyssa Wakefield, a woman who escaped a life of abuse by "Christian" men. Her story is incredible. Anyways, one thing that jumped out to me was when she said that she discovered she didn't really know God. Lies had been fed to her all her life and she had to begin to discover who God really is.
I'm discovering that too.
God isn't the god who punishes me with the anxiety of my friends going to hell if my shy, introverted self can't get them to say the salvation prayer.
He isn't the God who views me as trash because of anything related to my sexuality.
He's not the God who forces me to constantly consider how I have fucked up and rendered myself unworthy of his love.
I think it's in those real, raw, crying that eventually turns to laughter conversations that we feel true joy and unity, but it also unites us deeper with Christ and who he really is.
One of the most grace filled hours I have spent in my life was at a recent memorial service. The man who had died had struggled with substance use disorder much of his life. He was in recovery and at a point where he was engaged to a woman he loved, working a job he was gifted to perform and had regained custody of three of his children. (His fiancee was a friend of many years.) A tragic motorcycle accident ended his life. The service was very informal. Prayers and some reflections were offered by a Lutheran minister, but there was no order of service. Instead, the minister offered the mic to anyone who wanted to speak about the young man. The first few reflections were deeply meaningful and I learned more about the young man than I knew moments before. I felt myself, at first, becoming restless as person after person took the mic and the comments seemed beyond the scope of what my traditional brain considered "appropriate." Then I thought about what you preach, Nadia, and I began to connect with the grief, loss and love that his friends and family shared. These were people who had journeyed with him through his and their own struggles. Each shared how he had helped them in some way. As I listened, the grace in the room flowed over me and I am sure over every person there. Traditions and orders of service would not have been a truer way to remember this man who struggled and triumphed, gave his life to Christ and shared it with anyone who needed it. I will never look at a funeral or memorial service as I used to, again.
Dear Nadia,
When I was 5 years sober I was finally cleared to go into the Santa Cruz County Jail to take in an AA meeting to the women . A lot of the women came to to the meeting to get out of their PODS or maybe just break up their day. At first it was a little frustrating because I realized most of them were not even listening to ME! And then I really realized they are not even listening to me and I let it rip! All the gory, messing fucked up details of my childhood! (what it was like) OMG what a spiritual experience to be able to word vomit my truth. Years later this woman came up to me outside a meeting and told me she remembered me coming in to the jail, and after she got out what I had shared made her stop drinking. I excitedly asked what it was. She said "I don't remember". Still a mystery: am I being of service to them, or are they being of service to me.
Love,
Kat
Yes, “still a mystery: am I being of service to them, or are they being of service to me?” Wisdom!
I find the same dynamic in my AlAnon meetings. The long timers laugh while the newcomers just do not understand that possibility yet.
This is so relatable. I’m 2 weeks into inpatient rehab for hip surgery. Certainly not incarceration, but definitely a journey into powerlessness. It’s been hard, painful both physically and emotionally. Ultimately a blend of crying and holding back crying. And yet, I have been simultaneously overwhelmed by of outpouring of love by my circle of friends and daily profound experiences of God’s presence. Pain and relief, grief and joy, deep loneliness and abundant belonging, heartbreak and heart healing……ALL AT ONCE!
Who knew I could experience these seemingly polar opposite emotions at the same time?! And I wholeheartedly agree, admitting to God to ourselves and to another human being ALL that is stirring in our souls, that’s the thread that sews together the sorrow and the joy. It has proven to be my path to learning (however slowly) how to savor and appreciate the bittersweetness of this beautiful life.
This is a dynamic I noticed in Tanzania too. Less guardedness, less safetyism, more acceptance of death and misfortune, and more joy.
🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂A BLESSING 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂WITH A 🙂🙂🙂🙂 🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂WELL TIMED FART !!!!🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂
....don't git no better than that.....
THANK YOU.