I float in a chasm of pain. Thunderous waves of sorrow spill from my heart as if I were a boat, sinking in the middle of a sea of despair. As the storm rolls around me I lower my lashes and hum mindlessly. Remembering a farm pond on a hot summer night. The home I can always drift back to, eyes glued to the stars, the laughter of those who have known me all along holding me buoyant. ... The eye of the storm I am at once calm and powerful. My lungs burst with air, my skin caresses the entire ocean. I ache, fully aware I am alive. I am in the midst of a break-up. I am gasping for air and expelling it to the tune of a Beyonce song. I am hurt and I am heartbroken at hurting. I am in a house with all windows shut save one cracked delicately sustaining me with fresh air. James Agee, my intellectual soulmate, articulates my heart: (No; no; oh, Jesus, no, no, no!). That it should come to this again. That all the lying on my back, staring up into the nothingness where God is acclaimed to reside, slipped me back into the devil's playground. That the walls of Jericho built up around my heart I let crash down should never have been removed. That the cross I beg to bear, in doing so, is invariably consumed by the cross I refuse. And I. I as passionate for life as birdsong and wildflowers in the sunshine of a spring day find myself inevitably swallowed by the reoccurring shadow of the oak. ,.. This is what it comes down to. Late nights and cups of tea and an alarm clock set way too early. A fear of incumbent darkness, of closing my eyes, of resurfacing memories. ... I sang my way down the Appalachian Trail- each day devoting a love song. I spent my summer waking and waiting for the hour to come in which I could talk to (and one day see) my lover. I learned to smile through life on the joy that I loved and was loved in return. I moved to another country because I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. In my faltering, my bruising, my abyss of sorrow, I cannot help but ask "Is it worth it? Is falling in love worth it?" Far more eloquently than I Hillary Clinton answers: "Never stop believing that fighting for what's right is worth it. It is. It is worth it." It is worth it to have discovered what I need in a partner. It is worth it to have discovered who I am and how I got here. To know, a little better and a little more boldly, what I believe about God and politics and this ironic thing we call life. It is worth it to once again be reminded that I am a strong enough woman to stick to my convictions when all the world seems against me. It is worth it to have found a broader community that understands from where I come. It is worth it to be getting a CMU education, to be striking out on my own, to be tackling the sh*t out of life even when it leaves me cracked and bleeding and dismayed in the process. And, above all, it is worth it to have loved deeply and wholeheartedly. It is worth it to have loved to the tune of a John Denver song. To a confidence that this kiss or this soup or this Christmas tree will be the first shared of a lifetime. It is worth it to have put my whole heart out there. To have exposed my innermost being. To have been mistaken so gracefully. It is worth it to know I am capable and I am worthy of feet up on the dashboard, hours on a park bench, schmaltzy songs in the kitchen kind of love. It is worth it to have been given the gift of the tenderest, most sincere, most serene parts of another human being. And it is worth it to have learned I can give that part of me too and let it be held and let it be cherished and let it be given back all the better for having known and having loved and having been returned with a note attached: Find a heart and a mind that can know yours all along.
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Dear Christian Friends,
I want to start by saying thank you. Thank you for believing in the goodness of humanity. Thank you for believing in its future. Thank you for loving the next generation and for standing up for what you believe in. Thank you for having hope. Mine is nowhere to be found. I've realized, as I sit with thunderous waves of grief and despair roiling from my chest, that calling you a hypocrite, that using harsh words, is not making this situation better. And after reading this article, I realized that I do love you and I truly want to respect you. But, yes, I would also be lying if I denied the strong conviction I feel to change (not your mind) but your worldview. I want you to see what exists beyond rural America. And, being the selfish person I undoubtedly am, I want you to share in the great burden for our country's future that sits on my heart. The first lesson I learned about alcohol is that when you get the terrible spins- you just have to ride them out. The same applies to deep soul pain. As I sit here, feeling disconnected, utterly alone, and as if I have no hope- please allow me to attempt at understanding that this is how you might feel if a pro-choice candidate had won. Please allow me to apologize for using harsh words- I am sorry for contributing to the hate. I am sorry for striking out at you in my despair. But please, please allow me to show you my point of view. First, know that I am not pro-abortion. I don't think anyone is. But I also know that I will never have to be. I was privilege to an excellent education. I have incredible support groups from Alaska to Kansas. I have parents that could take a child and me in without question. I have health insurance (actually, my parents have health insurance) that will cover a $1000+ IUD. I was raised to see sex as a sacred gift reserved for the context of love. But I know that not everyone has access to the same fiscal and emotional resources that I do. Know that we agree on the sacredness of life. Know that we both believe in healthy, flourishing families. Know that we both love babies (okay, I'm a little scared of them) and celebrate pregnancy and really wish our culture would stop selling and degrading sex. I think it is important and okay for me to say that these are some of the reasons I voted for Hillary. I voted for her because I do not think Donald Trump embodies these values. I do not think Donald Trump values the black grandmothers I met in Detroit. I don't think he values the Yup'ik and Tlingit men I worked with in Alaska. I do not think he values my LGBTQ friends. Living, breathing people whose lives matter. And I know that Donald Trump does not value the wild animals and wild spaces that I feel most at home among. And so, good Christian friends, whether we want to be or not, we are in a predicament. We are facing a presidency that does not value life in the same way we do. And while yesterday I accused, today I apologize, and tomorrow I hope we can all act. I hope that we can act with love and decency and kindness. I hope we can act against the bully of an administration that is striking fear into our fellow country men and women who are Muslim, hispanic, black, native, LGTBQ, lovers of all people, lovers of the earth. And while the time for blame has passed (and I'm sorry that it existed but I hope you understand that I do not always know how to deal with sorrow) the time for hope is here and now. It is among us. Love, Lizzie Dear Christian Friends,
If you voted for Trump solely because he stands on the pro-life republican platform: you are a hypocrite. Those are harsh words to write. I can imagine that they are probably harsher to read. I was not going to write this letter. It is not loving or positive or accepting-- three characteristics I try to embody. Instead, it is condemning, judgmental, and critical, incredibly critical. This letter is a response to a comment I saw on Facebook. I try not to pick social media fights- I don't think they resolve anything- but I am tired and I am weary of seeing comments such as "all the babies slaughtered in the womb" and hearing white, wealthy, Christian women give "a #violin for your #safespace." Before you call me a baby-killer, a murder, a child hater- know that I am not pro-abortion. I don't think anyone is. And while I would love to go in-depth on my personal views about abortion (if, of course, you would be interested in hearing them) this letter is not about abortion. It is about life. If you voted for Trump because you believe his platform is pro-life, you have been very, very mistaken. Although official reports have not been released, Eight transgender youth have reportedly committed suicide in light of Trump's win. The number of callers for some LGBTQ suicide hotlines have doubled. Living, breathing humans "formed in the womb" are already dying. Hate crimes against Hijab wearing Muslim women have skyrocketed since the election outcome was announced. The physical safety of people "made in the image of God" is in danger. And the environment (oh my heart aches) thinking about the imminent danger the planet and its inhabitants are in under a presidency that believes climate change is a hoax. The planet that God created and said "it was good" is in a grave, grave situation. I do not think I will convince any of you to change your minds. In fact, you'll probably feel more firm in your convictions that voting pro-life is the most important way to vote. And maybe you'll be angry, or embarrassed, or sad that I think this way. But as I sit here in Canada, safe from hate crimes, deeply grieving the outcome of this election, know that I wish I would have written this a month ago. I wish I would have conveyed every new iota of knowledge about the environment and theologians that have led to harmful Christian thinking I have learned this semester and over the past year. Know that I am kicking myself for choosing to be silent, for keeping these uncomfortable thoughts and accusations to myself and my like minded friends. Know that I am done shutting my mouth and backspacing on the keyboard. Know that I am probably one of the least qualified of your Facebook friends to be writing a post from a Christian perspective. Know that Christianity has caused me a lot of pain and that I have spent the subsequent year and a half calling God names and utterly failing at giving up on the church. Know that in that process I have become crushingly aware of my narrow-minded, sheltered, privileged worldview. Know that "The truth will set you free. But first, it will piss you off."* Love, Your deeply concerned, and a little hesitant, friend. Fellow Countrymen (and women), I've been meaning to write a post on moving to Canada for quite some time. Today, perhaps more than ever, is the appropriate time to write such a piece. Friends, I made many comments a year ago about moving to Canada if Trump became President. At the time both moving to Canada and a Trump presidency seemed mere impossibilities. They have, however, each become not only possibilities but realities. I did not move to Canada because I feared a Trump Presidency. In fact, until I woke up several times last night from dreams where Trump had won, I never imagined it would become reality. I moved to Canada because I had no solid game plan towards my next life move. Canada offered a private-school education I could afford that happened to be an hour and a half away from a man who has never failed to show me the selfless, giving, and forgiving love I still believe America is capable of. Canada is not perfect. Just like America, it has its own set of problems and, in many ways, continues to fail at addressing them. And to me, an American, Canada is missing the square-shouldered, forward blazing confidence that, although historically problematic at times, is definitive of the progress oriented, mover and shaker mindset that is so ubiquitously home. Over the past few months, as I have become accustomed to a new place and grown okay with not being in Alaska, I have realized how dedicated to my nation I truly am. Growing up in the pacifist tradition-- patriotism was often associated with militarism and therefore negatively con-notated. This is a misconception I have worked hard to overcome. I miss the vastness of America. From the Appalachians to the Tetons and Denali to the Grand Canyon, our homeland is as geographically beautiful and diverse as its people. America is a land where refugees can become citizens and, sometimes for the first time in their lives, vote. America is a place where a woman whose life has been greatly impacted by natural and medical disasters, still puts her time and energy in making sure her neighborhood is fed. America is home of the Krispy Kreme Burger and the Ironman Triathlon. It is a place where yogis, pastors, politicians, and scientists join together to cheer for a Superbowl win or clean-up from a natural disaster. It is a nation that was founded by immigrants, progressed by minority groups and women, and matured by its own mistakes. America, yesterday you made a mistake. Yesterday you chose hate, bigotry, and money to govern you. Yesterday you forgot your own rich and vibrant history. Yesterday you forgot what it was like to be a refugee, a stranger in a foreign land, a loving neighbor. To my American friends who see this mistake: cope. Run 7 miles, eat the damn chocolate, allow yourself a glass of wine, do what it takes to remember you are alive. But please, my white, straight, middle-class American friends, recognize that while telling yourself 'it will be okay' is largely true, telling your black, Muslim, LGBTQ(+) friends the same, is probably a lie. And my American friends who fall under the former category, those who are hastily looking up housing and immigration in Canada: close the browser window. Close the browser window and call your friends in the latter category. Tell them you love them. Offer to bake them something. And for the next day or two, mourn together at the power of hate existent in our nation. But my American friends, we will have to move on. We will have to do more than cope, than come accustomed to the tragedy that has begun in our lives. We will have to observe the patterns of history as it begins to repeat itself and we will have to learn ways in which we can convey those patterns to our neighbors who wont seek them out themselves. We will have to protect and serve our friends whose beautiful non-white/christian/straight selves are now at risk. We will have to answer, on every level, the message of fear and hate with one of love and compassion. I am living in Canada. I have friends and professors that have shown support and solidarity in my fear for my country. They do not understand what we are going through and they know they do not understand. And though Canada will be my home for the next 3-4 years, know that not a day passes that I am not utterly aware of my Americanness. Know that as certain as I am in my need to stay at CMU, to earn a degree, to cherish the man whose heart is as into making the world a little brighter and who feels as alive in nature as I do-- I have not given up or forgotten my homeland. Now, more than ever, she needs me. She needs us. Love, An American in Canada |
Elizabeth SchragAdventurer. Biblical and Theological Studies major. Borderline Vegan. Rebel with a cause. Archives
March 2017
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