Invitations

When I say the tears are streaming down my face, I am not exaggerating for effect. For nearly three months now, I’ve learned to live with a constant low level of wetness in my eyes. Because, as we all know, things have been hard. I wipe my eyes quite a bit. But at this exact moment, a week after Minnesota became a focal point, I’m sitting on my front porch, after an emotional zoom call for work, just quietly allowing these tears to tumble out. 

Because writing is my way of knowing and listening and thinking, I just started typing, despite the tears. And here is what came out, no editing, no sleeping on it, no deep consideration, just trying to capture a real moment in real life.

Yesterday was my birthday and I am so blessed to be able to have pressed pause on the news feeds and just focus on my little world of three children, husband, puppy, garden, ice cream and rhubarb crisp and a dear handful of friends and family. It was sweet, simple and perfect. It was a much needed respite.

And yet….

All the things that we thought were normal are now seen with a new and very raw perspective. And as I look around, and listen, I’m pretty impressed with humans actually. Obviously not the few humans who suffer from a chronic and insidious source of misleading and misdirected energy. No. Not those poor souls. I’m talking about the regular humans. 

The mothers who have had to somehow keep the ship afloat. The fathers who have had to dig deep into their emotional wells. The employers who have had to broaden their understanding of how to manage. The employees who have had to change everything about their jobs, if they’re lucky enough to still have jobs. The people of color who have had their scabs ripped off yet another time and who are now just bleeding out. The police officers who feel deeply called to protect and care for their towns but are stained by severe mistrust. The community leaders and politicians who have had to shift into a level of functioning they didn’t even know they had available. The kids who have had to change almost everything about their lives, including their hopes and dreams. The faith leaders who have had to literally fall to their knees with desperate cries for how to shepherd their flock. 

The sheer strength of humanity is just oozing out from everywhere. Because when things are pushed to extremes we’ve never seen, and then pushed again, and then pushed again, we are reduced to the deep depths of who we are. And we are strong and beautiful, and capable of deep love and transformation.

Household windows are covered in cut-out colored hearts. People are buying groceries and gift cards for strangers, even when their own jobs are insecure. Truth is coming from unexpected and refreshing voices. Books on antiracism are sold out on every bookstore website. The lines between politics, social justice and spirituality are converging for people who have resisted allowing their coexistence. It is not overly dramatic to say that people are moaning and clawing at their hearts in exhaustion and agony. 

Me included.

And I have chosen to not say or do anything publicly. Which is unusual. For me. High Energy Gretchen is usually jumping in to be a part of it all. But I am so shaken, and humbled, and shredded to my core. I don’t need to explain why. Everyone knows what’s going on. I don’t need to explain what I think. This isn’t about me and my limited life experience. I don’t need to move, or act, or proclaim anything. I only feel the need to sit.

I need to sit. And cry. And let my kids see me cry. And pray. And let my kids see me pray. And try to do the meaningful, yet subtle exercise of absorption. 

Before George Floyd was murdered, some of you knew I was working on an essay called “Itchy Invitations.” It was another set of ponderings about the uncomfortable world we live in now that the global pandemic has torn the scales from our eyes. I see things I didn’t see before…and most of it isn’t pleasant, but it IS real. And thus, the time of inadvertent numbing to our reality has ended. And we see a darker, yet more authentic world. And therein lies some very Itchy Invitations for us all. 

It was a pretty decent essay, but, now “Itchy Invitations” sounds cute and trite and as much as I wish it wasn’t true, we are in yet another New World. Or more accurately, we see our actual world with New Eyes. Now I feel like my Itchy Invitation is to sit and cry. Not only for myself and my ignorance, but for those that I’ve been ignoring, the system I’ve been ignoring, the reality I’ve been ignoring. Now it seems like the Itchy Invitation is more of an Incredibly Important (and still Itchy) Invitation. 

This Invitation is also going to include action. I realize that I sit here and cry while I’m soaking in privilege. I don’t even understand the depth and width of my privilege. And I’ve had to stop myself from just wanting to drive into Minneapolis and to post pictures of my kids’ Black Lives Matter t-shirts and my Ta-Nehisi Coates book, because I humbly admit I do not understand and will never understand. So I acknowledge my ability to choose to sit here and cry. I also commit to the actions required as a result of doing the emotional transforming heart-work that I feel I need to do, SO THAT my actions that come next can make more profound change in our world. 

We have work to do. And my first task is inside of my heart…and for me, right now, that just requires a quiet sitting down, listening, reading, absorbing, with these hot tears streaming down my face. If we can’t accept this Incredibly Important (and Still Itchy) Invitation to find the strength to sit and cry, to see reality…then the destruction, the death and the devastation around us, and inside of us, will be futile. The movement for authentic change will sputter out, again. 

Sending you all the love and peace that my heavy heart can muster, as I sit on my porch, and cry.