Diligent Joy Blog

The Spirit of Intersex

I have written recently in The Federal Way Mirror, and in the Parenting by Strengths Blog about Intersex issues.  The media coverage of Caster Semenya, which coincided with my finishing the book, Middlesex,  has prompted these writings.  Our society, by and large, is woefully ignorant about intersex issues--the frequency of their occurrence, the number of issues that cause them, the difference between sex and gender in general.

Here, on my personal blog, I am struck by what God thinks about all of this, having created each and every individual exactly the way they are and loving us all--those of us who are intersex, along with those of us who are woefully ignorant about this topic and still use the outdated and inaccurate term "hermaphrodite." 

This video is a performance by Eric Bibb of his song, Spirit I Am.  I was introduced to this song this weekend at a Satsong at my favorite yoga studio.  I think it brings it all home.  We all live the spirit we are, in the bodies we have.  Amen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LTYmFMQ-4A

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Grace Among the Blackberries

I was picking blackberries the other day, and I got to thinking. Not native to our area, they are invasive, thorn-ridden pesty brambles that folks love to hate--except when they bear their annual fruit, at which time we all rush out to pick as many as we can to create delectable jams, cobblers, crisps and such.

As I navigated the thorns with bowl in hand, I began to think of the analogies with life.  Which parts do I look over, deeming them not good enough for my attention?  Which parts are not quite ready for my attention?  Which parts am I willing to make careful plans, go through thorns, and even put up with an injury or two to get at?  Which parts take me unaware?  Which parts are past any help?  Which parts stain my hands as I deal with them?  Which parts are sweet?  Sour?  Moldy?  Out of reach?  Hidden?

It's our attitude, I decided, that makes quite a difference in how we see things, be they blackberry bushes or life.  God created this plant, this life, and depending on our perspective (what's in it for me?), we see more prominently the thorns, the fruit, or the potential.

Fast forward to a meeting at church last night, where I was decidedly wearing thorn-colored glasses.  I vocalized my concerns, my complaints, my....issues.  This morning, as I was thinking about it, I was humbled.  I needed to take my own advice.  I was looking only at what was in the way and had forgotten to count my blessings.  I had forgotten that I am more than a body, more than a youth director, more than a congregant.  I am a Spirit, a Child of God, and I had momentarily lost my connection with that fruit and potential, only to be mired up in the thorny patch of "reality."

Reality is over-rated sometimes.  Or maybe I should say, what we define as reality is over-rated sometimes.  I am staring squarely at a choice of focusing on what could be or what is.  Byron Katie has done amazing spiritual work by living her belief of not only not resisting, but loving what is (she has a book by that name, by the way.....).   I can, as in so many situations in life, stay caught up in what I wish were true, what I think would be better or best, what I know could be only if....Or I can take stock of what is in front of me, practice gratitude, and move forward in grace.

This morning, I choose grace.  I've begun phone calls to let people know how I am grateful for them.  I am creating a new reality--one where I know I am Spirit in this body; much like our church is a place where God can hang out and inspire people to do Her work.  And I'm having blackberry cobbler for lunch.

Blinded by the light....

I took a walk bright and early yesterday, as it was the first day of school for one son, and I was up anyway.  I have to admit that my intentions of walking more regularly this summer did not manifest as I had hoped.  I simply didn't take the time to get myself out the door first thing in the morning, which is when I need to go or it just doesn't happen.

As I felt the familiar rhythm of my feet on the pavement, my mind began to settle, and what usually happens began to happen:  I remember stuff I need to do.  So, there I was, at 6:30 in the morning, on a beautiful late summer day, coming up with an acronym so I could remember all the stuff I needed to do when I got back home.  It wasn't very relaxing--more anxiety producing, because I began to worry I would forget all the stuff I was remembering.

As it was dawning on me that I was likely undoing any benefit from the walk by increasing my anxiety, I turned the corner, literally.  Then, as I was blinded by the angle of the bright sun, I noticed that the pavement seemed to be glittering, much like Edward does in the Twilight movie when he reveals his grotesque beauty to Bella (it took Stephanie Meyer to enlighten us that vampires don't necessarily burn up in the Pacific Northwest sunlight--they just glitter).  Anyway, at that moment, I turned the corner figuratively as well, realizing that I really could enjoy my walk, and it was the relaxed mind that remembered better than the anxious one.

Today, on the radio, I heard a new song by Francesca Battistelli, and some of the lyrics grabbed me:

I got a couple dents in my fender
Got a couple rips in my jeans
Try to fit the pieces together
But perfection is my enemy
And on my own I'm so clumsy
But on Your shoulders I can see
I'm free to be me

Now, this cute young thing is all of about 20, but still, I loved the message.  It's ok that I'm not perfect--in fact, God wants me to be me.  And the dents in my fenders and rips in my jeans just mean I've been engaging in life. 

It's like when my dear grandmother had cataract surgery a few years ago.  I called to see how she was doing.  "OK," she sighed.  "What's wrong?" I asked.  "Well," she said, "now that I've had the surgery, I can see how many wrinkles I have!"  "Grandma," I said sincerely and with as much love as I could infuse in my voice, "you've earned every one of those beautiful wrinkles.  They are your wisdom lines." 

Now, I am growing my own wisdom lines, and they come with a few dents and rips and aches in other areas.  I like to think this means I am living my life well, and using it up.  I can't take it with me, so I might as well give what I've got while I'm here, and enjoy as many moments as I can.  I'm pretty sure God would want that.  I just need to keep the faith that temporary blindness can make way for clear vision.