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Dad is cleaning out the attic in his office in Calhoun and so he has been bringing me treasures for weeks now. Letters upon letters between Wade street and Harrison Ave. Camila was the best of pen pals. Old purses with buttons all over them and wicker frogs. I wonder now how cool I must of thought these things were. Then he hands me the last letter that Grandmother Hare wrote to me before she died. She was ever generous with her words. We have books full of them that I hold close to my heart. I read the letter and when my darling came home I told him to read it. I explained that this was who lived across the street from me while I was growing up. This woman with all of her cats and worn out blue head bands molded my life for the good. He read the letter and stood in amazement. He then told me how he'd never gotten a letter like that in his life. It was full of praise and goodness. It oozed with encouragement and confidence that the world would be my oyster. Every time she saw me she would hug me and tell me how much she loved me. Sometimes I hear her words today when doubt creeps in about the validity of what I'm doing or when I fear I have failed to be all that I was meant to be. They say for every single negative thing you say to someone it takes ten positive statements to counteract that one. Let us all offer up praise to God and to one another. It just might change someone's life.

wild goose

  Sometimes the weight of an experience doesn't hit me until it's over and this was the case with the wild goose festival . From the description I knew it would be a place full of people who love Jesus and people who didn't necessarily seem to fit into the mold of the typical church setting. I knew that it would be fine to wear my tye-dyed pants and to bring my hula hoop. That all were welcome and there would be a beer tent and also a 12 step meeting each day for those that needed it. There isn't a whole lot that motivates me to pack up all of our stuff and drive almost seven hours to set up camp in Shakori Hills, NC about 20 minutes from Chapel Hill but I just had a feeling about this.

            The theme of the festival was art, justice, and spirituality and it was very evident from the moment we pulled onto the dirt road of the farm. Everything was alive with color, kids were running around barefoot, and there were recycling centers instead of trash cans... it was great. There were prayer closets set up, peace labyrinths to walk, and stations of prayer for the world to walk through, read about, and pray as you go. We would meet people at the children's tent or while we were in line for some homemade Indian food (which I forced myself to eat even though tears were streaming down my face!). Each person was someone we thought we could be friends with. One night while the kids were eating pizza a man stopped and told us how beautiful our kids were and just started talking about life. We talked for about twenty minutes and then we found out he was one of the speakers, Frank Schaeffer, the son of Francis Schaeffer and Edith Schaeffer whose book I had recently checked out from the library about the art of homemaking. We started talking about homeschooling and then I found out his sister wrote another fantastic book For the Children's Sake based on some of Charlotte Mason's principles. We talked to Frank several times while we were there and were touched by the gentle nature of his spirit and his kindness. We then had the privilege of listening to Dave Andrews, this Jerry Garcia look alike, with an absolute heart of gold.

Imagine me being smitten with an Australian lad.

It was a beautiful time of sharing and being surrounded by people who just wanted to sit around and talk about all of the things that really matter in life. There were several talks about justice and our stance as Christians in regards to prison reform, immigration laws, and the marginalized within society. There were definitely some far left wing people represented and the issue of homosexuals who love Jesus was one of the topics as well as what our response to them should be.

Jesus isn't a white middle class republican.

I say this to myself.

The idea of Christians openly loving people that are gay, not just tolerating them, but befriending them is a novel idea and something that I don't feel like I have really ever even witnessed firsthand before this festival.

It is a difficult place because in my mind I can't bend the truth to accommodate someone else's choice.

I believe it is wrong.

I believe marriage is something sacred that is ordained by God between a man and a woman.

So equating something that God himself called an abomination to this holy bond is simply ludicrous.

But we are all people, not the sum of our sins.

They have faces and stories and pain.

They also have a God that loves them and has commanded that we do the same.

Self righteousness must be put to the side, not to say that we shall ever call what is wrong right, but that we will not focus on our need to be right because that point isn't creating forward motion.

There is only one way to proceed and it has been the way all along.