EMBER DAY AGAIN
This week I am writing an Ember Day letter to my bishop. I struggle with each letter to find the right tone. I want to be respectful, but not distant and I hope to be personal without being flip. It is a gentle dance of words that eventually find their way onto the page and the letter finds its way to the bishop.
Writing home in the midst of seminary is a peculiar act. One travels to seminary and travels the journey of self discovery and understanding that leads one to a very different place from the place one started years ago. Have I been too conservative and failed to risk enough in the course of this process? Have I travelled to far astray from what I believed when I started this process? I know that I am not the same person who started this process, but I am not certain that I am being the person the bishop expects to receive back after this process.
I don't really have a choice, do I? I am the person I have become. I came here emotionally mute and worried about each step I took. I am here today using my voice -- tentative at times and strong at other times -- and finding my way in the world.
I am not alone in this. God is in the midst of this guiding and leading, urging and cajoling me to come closer. I enjoy this dance and the growing intimacy with God and the people alongside me in the journey. We travel together not knowing exactly where this will lead us, but confident that we are on the right path and that there is no turning back.
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Where is the racism in today's entry? There doesn't seem to be anything to address or question. I pause to talk to a friend on her way to do laundry. It is her birthday tomorrow and will be flying home to spend the day with family. As she is heading off to the washing machines I remind her to separate the whites from the colors.
We laugh. Even our laundry is oppressed.
