Like a Mother Bird....

 The she-dove who built a nest on one of our bushes. Brian took this great photo of " Momma Dove" 

Brian took a wonderful photo of Momma Dove, the bird who has built her nest in our camellia bush. Today's Psalm appointed for Evening Prayer made me think of Mother God as a she-bird , carefully tending to the vulnerable , needy creatures in Her care. 

Months of Covid Life has me feeling tiny and vulnerable, much like a baby bird. Even as springtime offers its yearly resurrection, I am wary of expecting too much too soon. 

Let's look at the Psalm appointed for today. 

They set your sanctuary on fire;
    they profaned the dwelling place of your name,
    bringing it down to the ground.
8 They said to themselves, “We will utterly subdue them”;
    they burned all the meeting places of God in the land.

9 We do not see our signs;
    there is no longer any prophet,
    and there is none among us who knows how long.
10 How long, O God, is the foe to scoff?
    Is the enemy to revile your name forever?
11 Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand?
    Take it from the fold of your garment[c] and destroy them

 When COVID first hit our shores, we were told to " flatten the curve" by staying isolated for two to four weeks. Okay, I'd thought, this sucks but it is not permanent.  Yet as weeks slowly turned into months and people continued to defy the regulations put forth for the slowing of the virus, I felt abandoned by God and { more strongly } by my state and federal government. I watched COVID-related hospital cases climb to scary proportions while a majority of people in my county and state scoffed at wearing masks and staying home. 

I remember asking anyone who would listen " How long must we live this artificial existence?"

"How long, O God, is the foe to scoff?
    Is the enemy to revile your name forever?
11 Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand."

Brian and I found a wee bit of sanctuary in going to the water on weekday mornings. At least there we could commune with the non-human creatures and feel the sun and wind on our faces. 

  Then came September , 2020. Hurricane Sally roared ashore for an unexpected visit to Pensacola, dumping record-setting rain on the Greater Pensacola area. Thanks to some human error and negligence, the Three Mile Bridge was damaged and rendered unusable. As Florida Winter set in and daylight hours started to wane, I found myself falling into a serious depression. 

I am blessed to know God as a Mother Bird, because I see that aspect of the Godhead in people around me. Number one of my list is my spouse, Brian.  he loves me at my best and these past few months have seen him love me at my worst. 

  Like a Mother Bird, God protects and comforts us-- especially when we feel abandoned by Her. In Jesus-- God -with-Us, we are given a way to be that is the epitome of this Mother Bird God. Our duty as followers of Christ is to love each other -- all people-- the way a mother bird tends to her chicks. 

She feeds them. 

She defends them. 

She keeps them warm and safe from predators and the elements. 

She exhibits a sacrificial LOVE that can only be known to humans by gazing at Jesus on a cross. 

Amen. 

Sarah Elizabeth McCarren

Wednesday of Holy Week 2021

 

Pilgrimages....

 

    Lynching Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama. Brian and I, along with 40 other pilgrims, were there two years ago today. Photo by The Pensacola Hippie. 

The dictionary's definition of " pilgrimage is as follows: 

 "any long journey, especially one undertaken as a quest or for a votive purpose, as to pay homage:

a pilgrimage to the grave of Shakespeare.
People usually take pilgrimages to holy places such as Israel or Mecca, but there are opportunities for pilgrimage here in the United States . One such place is Montgomery, Alabama, home to both the National Lynching Museum and the Equal Justice initiative Racial Justice Museum. 
Part of what makes a journey a pilgrimage is that making that trip changes a person. To be honest, I really was not sure I even wanted to make this pilgrimage in the first place-- I had experiences the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington , DC and recall how physically ill I felt as I walked through the exhibits. However, my priest was certain that my going to Montgomery on pilgrimage would be a life changing experience. She was 100 percent correct-- I emerged from that pilgrimage a changed-- for the better-- woman. 
Each pilgrim's journey to this site is unique to that individual, so all I can fairly recount to people who might not have taken this trip is how it changed me.
I have always considered myself somewhat of a scholar on American history.  However, as I walked slowly through first the outdoor Lynching Memorial and then the Equal Justice Initiative Museum, did I realize how " Whitewashed" my rural Appalachian public education had been. Our 11th grade American History class ** might ** have mentioned the lynching of Black people, but I did not realize two important facts 1} Public lynching was the norm in this nation for much longer than I'd realized. 2. National and state laws were created in my own lifetime { Reagan's " Just Say No" Campaign comes to mind } in order to fill prisons with Black and Brown men. 
One parishioner who also was a pilgrim to Montgomery with me said succinctly "I am not too proud to be White right now. " 
Preach it, friend! While I certainly am proud of my Celtic and Ashkenazi heritage, there is no way that I can deny that my pale skin has afforded me a different American experience than our siblings-of-color. Through the gene pool I inherited, I am pale skinned with light eyes and reddish-blonde hair. 

                                              Brian and me.  We are clearly both very White, and that allows us opportunities that people-of-color might still not enjoy. 

The pilgrimage to Montgomery's sites affected me on a cellular level. before the pilgrimage, I felt fairly certain that I understood my own White privilege.  One meditative walk through the Memorial, stopping to look at placards stating the bogus ' reasons' why Black men were lynched unsettled me. Black men were lynched for such minor ' offenses' as LOOKING THE WRONG WAY{ whatever that means} AT A WHITE WOMAN. 
Now a lot of White people are not comfortable discussing racism and White Privilege, and I've discovered { the hard way} that messing with White Fragility can lead to confrontations . The trial of George Floyd's murderer happening now , and I know that this has re-opened some old scabs for many people. Prophets are never welcomed to upset the polite conversation, and I have endured some verbal stone-throwing for engaging in conversations around racial justice. I understand, these conversations are difficult--- especially for we White people who were raised thinking that it is enough for us to not be prejudiced. Realizing how much White people have benefited over the years from our skin color is a bitter pill to swallow. yet it is necessary " medicine" for the pain that systemic racism has brought upon humanity. 
Amen. Sarah Elizabeth MccarrenHoly Tuesday 2021. 

Ending This Lentiest Lent We've Lented" and Moving Forward in Faith

 

A dove's nest in a bush in our side yard. Nature seems to tell me " Don't despair, resurrection is happening this year! Photo by The Pensacola Hippie 

It is Holy Monday, 2021. Yesterday Christians around the world celebrated Christ's entry into the Holy City , followed by the story of His capture, trial  and death.  In that one service , we have a full gamut of human emotions. This year's Palm/Passion narrative is especially poignant as communities around the world prepare for our own post-COVID " resurrection".  There is no doubt that many Christians have been stuck in Lent since March , 2020. Many people felt the pain of Holy Friday & Holy Saturday as bank accounts took a dive and many { over half a million} people died from COVID-19. 

These past 13 months have been like few times in history. What at first was seen  as " a few weeks" of " flattening the curve" of COVID turned into months. March, 2021 has brought a full year of this Pandemic Lent. 

It was weird, and it will be weird for some more months as people receive the vaccine as they are allowed by law. Until we reach that " herd immunity",  we will continue to practice safe cleanliness & distancing protocols. 

Yesterday Brian and I  worshipped in-person , and among our loved ones. Its odd that such a common ritual  such as Palm/Passion Sunday takes on a new meaning after Year 2020.  While we are still practicing safety measures, the act of holding a palm branch took on more importance after a Holy Week & Eastertide of sensory deprivation. 

Worship-- like life-- is meant to be experienced with all five senses. After  a Holy Week and Eastertide of  gathering virtually for worship, my brain notices " normalcy" as it were a novelty. 

I've discovered that I tend to notice the bits of  pre-COVID life that are started to appear in my daily life. For instance, the simple ritual of watching the NCAA College Basketball games on TV with Brian and my Dad becomes something sacred. To a basketball family, the NCAA March tournament is a yearly multi-week ritual. When COVID hit our shores, the college basketball tournaments were axed completely from the schedule. Although this might seem like a small sacrifice-- and I suppose that it was in the grand scheme --the lack of college basketball games was hard for we McCarrens to let go. Sports -- both watching and playing them-- has always been part of being a McCarren. We love sports-- especially basketball. To me, this was let another ritual that fell to the Year Of COVID.  Necessary---absolutely, but the necessity of something does not take away the sorrow of the loss. 

As we anticipate  the rituals surrounding Christ's last week of Earthly life and move forward into Eastertide, I am grateful . 

I am also very wary. We know that the eventual return to " normal" will be different than our pre-pandemic life. 

We are changed, and will be changed when this resurrection has completed itself. COVID19-- and keeping ourselves safe from it, has taken its toll on us. We are not the same people we were in 2019-- merely staying health enough to come to this resurrection point in time has been costly. This pandemic has forced many of us to re-evaluate friendships with people who choose to deny science. Thanks be to God-- I have not lost anyone to a COVID death, but several people I know and love did get sick with the virus. I know several people who have lost family members to this illness and yet I also know others who are not sure about the worth of vaccination. 

It is my hope and prayer that the emergence from this " Lentiest Lent We've Lented" will  remind people that we are all one in our humanity. Let's work towards a kinder, more generous Way of Love that Jesus models in the Gospels. 

In the Name of the Earth-Maker, Pain-Bearer and Life-Sustainer....

Amen. 

Sarah Elizabeth McCarren

Holy Monday 2021

Target-Shooter for Gun Reform

                    A friend and myself three years ago at Pensacola's March for Our Lives. 

Three years ago today, I stood and marched proudly with over 1000 Pensacola-area residents  asking for reasonable firearms laws to pass in Florida. In our undeniably RED part of the nation, it was refreshing to see so many people asking for regulations that will keep dangerous rifles and high-powered ammo magazines out of the hands of troubled people. 

It is 2021 and the United states is reeling from yet two more mass shootings in two different cities. As I stand in solidarity with victims of gun violence and their families while simultaneously supporting our Second Amendment. You read that right-- I support our right to own weapons.  However, I think that the Second Amendment needs to be updated--- when it was written  people carried muskets. Today, laws that cite this amendment are written that allow anyone with a credit card to purchase military-grade machine guns so that they may have " a hobby". When our nation's founders wrote the Constitution,  life was different, guns were needed for survival on the frontier . Early Americans did not use muskets  as a " hobby".

In spite of what the National Rifle Association and other weapons' lobby groups will say, the 2018 March For our Lives was not about "taking hunting guns away from law-abiding citizen"s.  Rather, it was, and still is a movement to ask state lawmakers around these United States  to pass sensible laws that keep dangerous killing machines away from people who are dangerous to themselves and other people. The change that I-- and others-- wish for does not apply to hunting rifles. We ask that machine guns-- with only the purpose of killing as many humans as quickly as possible and the magazines that are designed for such weapons are not permitted for civilians 

Seriously, anyone who needs a big magazine to hit a target is a piss-poor shooter The rifle that Brian and I shoot has a maximum of three rounds before it needs to be reloaded. 

In the words of the band U2 

"I can't believe the news today
Oh, I can't close my eyes and make it go away

How long, how long must we sing this song?
How long? How long?

'Cause tonight
We can be as one
Tonight,,"

Amen. 

~Sarah McCarren

24 March 2021

Hope Blooms

                                      The azaleas in full bloom at the hedge in our yard. Photo by The Pensacola                                          Hippie 

I love Springtime in northwest Florida.  To me, it is the perfect temperature range-- warm enough to enjoy being outdoors and not yet hot and humid like summer. It fills me with joy and peace to walk around my Pensacola neighborhood and see the various azaleas in full bloom: a sign from Nature that warmer days are ahead. 

I noticed last weekend that the anoles who live in the crawl space under our house have been more active. These creatures hold a special place in my heart-- as in the early days of Pandemic hell, I would sit on the porch and watch the small lizards, finding community with them as I was stuck at home. 

This springtime, coming on the heels of late-Pandemic life, is especially poignant for me. As Americans move forward towards our post-COVID lives, I am aware at how much the " extended Holy Saturday" mood of the past 12 months has changed me. 

I've discovered that I miss the simple thing sin life: smiling at someone I know from across the room, knowing that they can see my smile.  I have also discovered how much physical touch is one of my love languages. I am not usually a fan of big crowds, but I look forward to gathering for live music events again with family and friends. Brian and I were gifted a pair of tickets to see Celtic Woman live in Pensacola, and I am grateful that the tickets we have will be honored in 2022. 

At the same time, my hope is also filled with some caution. After so many months of " laying down"  parts of our lives so that more of us could survive the pandemic, I am wary of being too hope-full. I am grateful for the good things that will come my way in the future, but pad my soul for possible heartbreak. 

Between the pandemic and the named storm that slammed the Pensacola area in September,  it has been hard to keep hope alive. I confess to " losing my shit"  several times over the last 12 months, and I do not apologize for the lost shit.  One lesson that I did  learn is that I cannot allow myself to " wallow in my shit" for long. 'Feel it, name it and let it go' is my motto. 

There is no doubt that the post-Pandemic world that is re-emerging is different. My HOPE is that humanity learns a huge collective lesson on what binds us together. I'm looking towards making our resurrected society kinder and gentler than pre-Covid life.  Perhaps this is God telling us to hit that reset button and love each other as the siblings we are meant to be 

Amen. 

Sarah McCarren

23 March 2021
 

A Full Book Rack

    Brian and I went to church this morning. As we sat down in the { physically-distanced} pew, my eyes were drawn to the book racks on the back of the pew in front of us. 

     { Books in book rack at St Christopher's Episcopal Church, Pensacola, FL. Photo by The Pensacola Hippie }

  I felt an odd sensation when I looked at the Prayer Book sitting next to the blue 1982 Hymnal.  After over a year of online-only worship and very sterile in-person worship, the pew books look oddly out-of-place in the book racks.  A quick glace at my service leaflet assured me that all the service parts  were indeed included in the document. 

 I sighed , feeling sad yet relieved. My relief comes from the fact that I am still wary of communal items-- the fear of the mere idea of touching the books made me shudder. Realizing how much the necessary sterile worship space had become ' my new normal'  on Sunday mornings saddened me. 

After all this time staying physically away from others-- and not engaging our human sense of touch- I do not know how I'll ever feel totally comfortable fully engaging in public life. 

Church people are my people, and I do feel safe within the walls and grounds of our parish's meeting space. Eventually, I'll pick up that hymnal and sing loudly  to my heart's content. 

I trust people in my faith community. However-- the fact that I felt unsettled by something as simple as the return of pew books shows me how COVIDtide has altered my brain and senses. 

For instance, eating in-house at a restaurant makes me jittery. Brian and I are taking a short and drive-able vacation soon, and since we will BOTH be fully vaccinated by then, we will enjoy " sit down restaurant meals". After over a year of take-out only, I have mixed feelings about eating in public. Of course we want to support small business owners and the people they hire--but eating among so many un-masked strangers worries me. 

What is even more surreal to me is my complicated relationship with face coverings. I hate them-- I hate not being able to fully read a person's non-verbal cues in their face. At the same time-- when I see people out in public maskless { or not covering their NOSE and MOUTH properly} I get angry. Masking  has meant safety and freedom for so long that it will be weird to reprogram my brain to react to people's full faces again. 

I feel anxiety about what this post-pandemic world will look like. Travel for me will be stilted-- as I feel  insecure about the cleanliness of airports. Too many people move through them, and I think that Brian and I will employ a " drive-only" policy for a long time. 

To make a summary, my COVID world has been lonely and sterile.  Yet at the same time I feel oddly comfortable in our small  bubble. Regarding other people outside of our bubble: I'll need to re-train my brain on how to act in crowds. As much as I crave hugs-- shaking hands with people I just meet is scary. 

Will my former painfully ,  freakishly shy Self re-emerge after this extended time in Pandemic Life? I hope and pray not-- as I've worked for years to bury Shy Sarah. 

Sarah McCarren

March 21 2021

Hands, Hugs and Smiles

Hands of three women{ myself included} together on the altar of the Chapel at Beckwith Camp & Conference Center.  Photo by The Pensacola Hippie. 

God-willing, I am scheduled to receive my first dose of the  Moderna COVID19 vaccination tomorrow.  As with everything that is scheduled to occur during this season, I wait with cautious optimism.  Procuring this initial dose for myself was NOT easy-- and I am grateful to my primary care doctor for writing the waiver for me { since my autoimmune condition is not listed on Florida's " approved " conditions. My condition is called Raynaud's Disease, and it affects the blood vessels in my extremities. 

Anyway, I've been contemplating what life will look like for me once I achieve full immunity. After a full twelve months of refraining from touching anyone but my spouse, I am ready to hug again. I realize that some people are not fond of  handshakes , hugs and other forms of close physical contact with anyone other than their immediate family, and I understand. yet for me,  a person for whom physical touch is one of my " love languages", the forced " hands off" policy is hard. 

God gifted we humans with five senses, and COVIDtide has forced us to show love for each other by staying physically apart. I love Brian, and am grateful that I have someone in my household-- I shudder to think what this past year would have looked like had I lived alone.  

After living life in two-dimensions, when we are finally able to venture into the world among strangers and I find that I am uncertain. As much as I adore hugs, handshakes, high-fives , ect from people I know and love, I am wary of returning to big crowds of strangers. I am so accustomed to veering away  from strangers I encounter in the general public that I am not sure how my psyche will handle long lines, crowded streets downtown, and packed beaches.  This is especially true in my area, where a certain segment of the population will NOT get the vaccine. { yes, Northwest Florida is full of fools who still believe COVID to be " a hoax"--- even after more than half a million souls perished. We cannot fix stupid!}

I've not hugged my own father in over a year, nor have I properly shaken hands with pew neighbors on Sundays. Its been a full year since I've assisted with Eucharist at church, bearing the sacred Cup and remining loved ones " The Blood of Christ, spilled for you. "

Regarding masks, I'll continue to wear one , but am weary of not seeing smiles. Again, God designed we humans to communicate both verbally and nonverbally, and much nonverbal human communication occurs using facial muscles.  As grateful as I am for being able to somewhat re-engage right now { Brian is fully vaccinated}, I admit that its still  totally creepy to look around me and see masked faces. While the masking is absolutely necessary, for me it is a sad necessity. I have learned to communicate much more using only my eyes--- and with deep-set eyes I can say a lot! 

The eyes have it--- at least right now. I am smiling her, but the mask obstructs it.

 Photo by Brian. 

 I still must wait approximately six weeks to hug my Dad and other people. I am on the home stretch-- I can do this... I SHALL do this. 

~Sarah McCarren

Feast Of St Patrick

March 17, 2021

 

Looking Towards Re-entry

 

It looks like, after a lot of sweat, tears & cuss words, that I'll receive Vaccination Number One on Thursday afternoon. I'm grateful, excited an nervous. My nervousness is a result of being denied the vaccine twice before--- so I finally got pro-active and procured a note from my primary care doctor  stating that I've  some conditions {autoimmune condition that affects the circulation in my extremities { It is Raynauld's Syndrome & rate enough to NOT be included on Florida's list of conditions }  Brian and I secured an appointment at a Publix pharmacy located near our home, and I am cautiously optimistic that I'll get the dose. 

Cautiously optimistic is how I plan to live into the gradual post-pandemic life. As much as I have missed engagement with " my " people, COVID life has left me very wary of strangers. To be honest, I've almost forgotten how to deal with large groups of people whom I do not know-- and this is unnerving. 

I don't think I will ever feel comfortable in a gym nor movie theatre again--- there are too many variables. I prefer outdoors workouts, but The Great Freeze reminded me that Nature can be rather grouchy, and bring a bitter cold to the normally mild southeastern winters. 

I am cautious and slow-to-trust what { and whom} I do not know because COVID tide has brought such heartache to everyone. Additionally, this season saw the ugliest political cycle in my lifetime--- if not in history.  This Presidential election , and its aftermath, brought more divisions among people who really do our best to walk in Christ's Love. 

A third factor in my wariness of life post-pandemic is the uncertainty of the reopening of the Three-Mile Bridge.  If one does not live in the Greater Pensacola area, there is no way to truly understand how much the bridge damage affects hearts, minds and souls here. My Gulf Breeze/ Navarre loved ones are affected the most by the bridge's closure , but we on the western side of the Pensacola Bay also feel the loss. the closure of this bridge precludes many Escambia County, Florida residents from enjoying our beautiful Gulf beaches. 

There are a few things that I look towards as the slow recovery begins. 

Be gentle with yourselves, my friends. 

~Sarah McCarren

16 May 2021

Open Letter to Pope Francis

                                    Sad but true. I totally understand why some people have nothing to do with " religion". Thankfully, this IS NOT my experience as an Episcopalian { there are a few a**holes in every community }and I am proud to be in a faith community that  Loves God , so we LOVE PEOPLE. 

 Dear Pope Francis: 

First of all, I am not one of yours. I am a proud Anglican  who is a member of a wonderful Episcopal Church in Pensacola, Florida. Your  rules do not apply to me. 

Secondly, I am a woman married to a man.  

Now you might ask why your encyclical regarding LGBTQ+ Catholics who want to marry their same-gender partner in the Church affects me. 

The short answer is: I am a follower of Jesus Christ. He, time and time again, taught us the Way of Love-- a Way that includes all humanity regardless of race, creed, gender, or sexuality.  I wasn't alive when Jesus was walking around teaching  lessons on how to be a good human, I gather from the Gospel accounts of His life and teachings that He would celebrate all forms of love . I don't always" get it right" , but my roadmap for being a decent person centers on the teachings of Jesus-- and NOT St Paul. 

Love God. Love People. 

Also, I know and love many same-gender couples and they are some of the most faithful Christians I know. Many of them have been together much longer than it has been legal for people in these United States. Denying people of faith the sacrament of marriage in the Church does not stop their love from growing.  It is on behalf of all the people I know and love who have spouses of their same gender that I  speak up. 

                                         Me with my opposite-gender spouse. Even if we were Catholic, the fact that we are an opposite-gender couple would allow us to be married in The Catholic Church. the same is not true for LGBTQ Catholics who seek to marry. I am grateful that Brian and I are not Catholic. 

Pope Francis, I disagree vehemently with most of what Catholicism teaches, but I also know many faithful Catholics from many backgrounds. There is so much that is life-giving about Catholicism, but even as a small child I disagreed passionately with most of the human-created dogma that the Church  Hierarchy forces upon the faithful. 

In your Church, a person of my sex and gender { and yes these are two different things} cannot explore a call to ordained life. Additionally, your all-male clergy tell people who possess uteruses that we cannot control our own reproductive destiny.  The choice to be a parent is between a person, their partner , their medical provider, and God. 

I know you will not see this letter.  However, I feel better after writing out why I never felt called to be a Catholic. I wish you well, but cannot hide the sadness I feel at your choice to tow the fraying line of The Catholic Church regarding marriage. 

Pax Christos....

Sarah McCarren

Florida USA

15 March 2021

Overturning Tables

                                                 At least we got a rare trip to the Gulf.  Photo by The Pensacola                                                    Hippie

There is a time for righteous anger at injustices. 

This is a time for such anger. 

 I was scheduled to get my first COVID19 shot yesterday. Brian { wonderful spouse } and I went all the way to the facility in Panama City, Florida. After almost three hours on the road in a truck, 

I walked into the main entrance to the hospital and told the reception person " I am here for my 10:55 vaccine appointment. "

Receptionist person said " I'm sorry , ma'am. We don't do vaccines on weekends, the nurse isn't here."

I felt my blood pressure rise.  Evenly I replied: But I have an appointment that was confirmed yesterday. "

" Did you make this appointment online?"

"Yes! "  I opened my phone and showed her the screen shot of the appointment's date, time and location. 

The woman peered at my phone. "I'm sorry , ma'am, but we can't give vaccines today. "

" But. I. Had. An. APPOINTMENT! "

Shrugging, she said " That will be fixed on Monday. "

" Bullshit, a lot of good that will do TODAY! "   I turned around and walked out the door before she saw me cry. { I would not want to give her the satisfaction of my tears. }

When I told Brian what had transpired, he felt anger-- both on my behalf and for the fact that we rove all morning  As we made our way around Panama City towards the beaches { let's not totally waste this trip} I called every number we had contacted in a vain attempt to hold someone accountable for the screw-up. 

I hate incompetence . I had done EVERYTHING possible to ensure that I would receive the shot-- and  because someone  did not dot their figurative I's.  In hindsight, I am glad I had enough sense to take a screen pic of the promised vaccine appointment , as I am planning to overturn some tables this week. { and for once, my mellow spouse is 100 percent behind table-turning} The fact that they don't offer the vaccine on Saturday is not the issue-- the table I want to overturn is the total incompetence that their Web people showed. My appointment yesterday was not the only one that could have been expected. Others were turned down for this important vaccine for the same reason { even though I'd bet that we drove the longest chasing this nonexistent shot}

I understand that we are all pandemic-weary and frustrated. But I expect more competence from a huge corporation that literally has lives of countless people in their hands.  It is bad enough that Florida residents have to even be strategic regarding finding vaccines-- but our health-care system should at least be ACCURATE regarding when and where these vaccines can be obtained. 

I will NOT forget this incident. 

~Sarah McCarren. 

14 March 2021
 

EP Thoughts: What will God have me do tomorrow

 

Me at Pensacola Pier , standing by the water at the harbor. We are slowly, carefully re-engaging with life again. But what will " normal" be now? Photo by Brian 

      Yesterday, during Evening Prayer, our priest asked us to consider this  question: What will God have me do tomorrow?'

     On a micro level, I can answer that question easily. House chores, care of spouse & dog, prayer time, outdoor recreation time. Pandemic life is and has been very much monastic in its rhythmic flow.  While I would not go as far as to say that living in a pandemic is now comfortable, it is predictable.  To be honest, there is a weird, sad comfort in the rhythm of right now. 

   Wear masks. Wash masks. Clean hands with rubbing alcohol a million times per day.  Chat online with friends who live in your part of town. Pull hair into a messy ponytail or bun.  Don't bother with lip gloss . Sit down to weekday Evening Prayer online with your priest & others to pray for the world. 

   I can see that the vaccine is slowly ushering a re-engagement with the world beyond our safety " pods". While i rejoice at the new tomorrow that is coming { slowly but surely}  I confess that i am a bit edgy. After a year of " no touching" how does one hug one's Dad? How does one behave in a restaurant? Will I tolerate someone other than myself or Brian touching my hair? {It is in dire need of a professional cut-- Brian's home trims sufficed but my locks need some TLC from Jacob }

   The big question is :What will God have ME do to serve others in this post-pandemic " tomorrow"? 

The answer is : I Don't Know.  After a year of living in a sterile environment, I am not sure what " getting my hands dirty" { figuratively} will look like.  Heck, I don't even think my introverted self can physically deal with crowds of strangers after staying  in a safe " bubble" of people I know & keeping them at arms length. 

   What will ministry look like for myself and other baptized Christians who have loved others by  following the CDC guidelines for ' no contact'. 

  I want to be an instrument of God's peace and healing. But post-pandemic, how do I find my work that God wants me to do? the public scares me-- after all that has occurred with the pandemic and the civil unrest that is just below the surface.  Our recent " yesterdays" are ones filled with illness, isolation, political unrest, and { for many} economic troubles.  As individuals and as a society, we need to move forward-- taking the lessons that this COVID season brought to us. 

  Tomorrow is coming. Am I ready? 

   Amen

  Sarah McCarren

  11 March 2021

Golden Rule: Love People.

                                              Photo, by the Pensacola Hippie, of the altar of the side chapel at my                                        church. 

   Sunday's Old Testament lesson was one that I knew by heart. It is also the only lesson from the entire Bible that I had memorized from early childhood. Growing up in an interfaith home, my younger brother and I were not familiarized with Scripture. We celebrated a secular Christmas and Easter & were given the " bare bones" stories of the Jewish feast days. { Purim , and Queen Esther, has always been a favorite story of mine} 

   Anyway, on Sunday the lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures is one that Mom always reminded us. her version is Treat others the way you want others to treat you. 

  The Godly Play story words the Greatest Commandment into these three simple yet profound phrases. 

  Love God   

 Love People

 GOD love YOU

God loves humankind so much and nothing makes the Creator happier than when we show our love for other people.  Surely, loving people during COVID is hard-- we've been asked to love others by limiting contact with people in our lives. This is a tall order, God did not create us to live as lone creatures-- we are our best selves when we are in community. Covid has turned on its head most of what we modern people know--- life looks different. 

 On Monday I had a Facebook notice come across my feed . Someone I know had spoken with a man who, through no fault of his own, ended up houseless.  I messaged her that I think Brian is willing to clean out his closet and provide this man with a few nice shirts for upcoming job interviews. 

  I have not met this man, but my instinct told me that he has fallen on hard times and is looking for work, a place to live, and a car. Brian gladly cleaned out his collection of dress shirts and added a nice jacket that we 'd picked up at a thrift store for next to no money. When we dropped of the clothing, I received  a report on this man's status. People around Pensacola had responded favorably to the inquiry about resources and basic needs , and avenues for help are being investigated. 

  Love God. If we love God, we love people. It matters not if we know someone in need, they are still our sibling. Many of our siblings are down on their luck due to the pandemic, so there are opportunities to share in our blessings with someone who is not so fortunate. Helping people in need is an act of faith-- it is not our place as helpers to judge someone's " worthiness". I don't know the man who got Brain's shirts. However, I do know that he is a person, just like me. He is a person who needs a little help to get back to living independently. 

  Love requires ACTION. Pray, then act. 

  Love God and love God's People because { no matter what!} God loves YOU and ME. 

  God's grace is amazing, indeed. Spread it around. 

   Amen.

   Sarah McCarren 

   10 March 2021

 

Midway Through " the Lentiest Lent We've Lented"

                                             Me holding my parents' puppy " Lucky".  Photo by Brian. 

     Sunday marks the this week in Lent, 2021. How are you doing? No, really how are you doing? 

It is not lost on me, or on many people I know, that it has been a year of Lent.  Of course it does no one any good to whine, but let us acknowledge that we've been in Lent since last Lent.  Both decency & necessity have forces most people into a whole year of self denial in order to benefit the common good. And while this lifestyle is necessary, I am not gonna pretend that it has been easy.  As a matter of fact, I've taken a different approach to observing Lent this year, because self-denial has become the way of life for now. 

The Right Reverend Audrey Scanlan, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Central Pennsylvania has this to day about Lent: 2021 on her blog: 

    " If the purpose of Lent is to prepare for Easter, and to draw closer to God, then how can I do it given that this year I (we) am (are) entering this season pretty well emotionally depleted?

What if I just stopped trying, and leaned into grace?

You know, grace- the undeserved gift of God’s love, freely given?" ~+ Audrey

Basically, that is how I am living into this Lenty Lent.  I am committing myself to activities that strengthen me spiritually & emotionally.  I am safely, now that Brian is fully immunized, foraying into limited, masked, and properly distanced activities.  No, now is NOT the time to' throw caution to the wind' I am not yet vaccinated & will wear the masks as long as needed. COVID is still a threat.  But after twelve months of self-denial, I am ready to  live fully human { albeit with safety regulations in place for myself & others ] today in hope of the upcoming Eastertide. 

This endless Lent has me finding joy in the simplest things, parts of life that I took for granted back before COVID. 

Life as we know it has changed. I am not a fool.  Leaning into God's grace requires trust-- trust that God will stay working among all our scientists and doctors. None of us really can predict what post-COVID life will look like for any of us. 

  Easter is coming, friends! Lean into God's grace-- in whatever manner your life circumstances dictate. Its true that we are in different boats in this storm, and it is up to each of us to figure out what is safe & practical for each of us. 

  It has been a Lenty Lent already, & we are not through yet.  So take time to remind yourself that you are Beloved. 

 Amen. 

 Sarah McCarren

 5 March 2021

 

"Cancel Culture", Dr Seuss, and Being Antiracist

                                                       Think. Respond, don't react. 

                                                      

I've seen a lot in media-- both social and traditional media-- about the inherent racist images/words in classic stories by Dr Seuss. To some people, the choice of the Seuss legacy to cease publication of certain storybooks is yet another example of cancel culture. 

 To be honest, I am tired of the term" cancel culture thrown around every time people are asked to re-evaluate a part of our collective life together through the lens of new material that paints our institutions in a negative light. 

  I am not much of a Seuss fan{ even as a child I found his drawings creepy} but I was a huge fan of Laura Ingalls Wilder's _ Little House_ books.  When I learned that the National Library Association decided to pull her name from their top children's book award due to some anti- Native American images and descriptions, I was sad. The " Little House" books were the first chapter book I read as a small child. 

  However, when I looked back objectively at some of the dialog and descriptions that Wilder uses when she talks about the family's interactions and perceptions of  Native Americans { meanwhile when the White " settlers" were squatting on land promised to these tribes in a contract with the US Government} I felt uncomfortable.  It is hard to look at some beloved books from my childhood in a new light-- but I owe it to our non-White siblings to understand how the words & images in literature harm them. 

   Maybe we should talk with our children about why these images appear in books, and why they are hurtful to Black and Brown people?  It has been my experience that children understand much more about injustice than they show we adults.  Part of anti-racism work is stepping into our own uncomfortable zones and see why some of our beloved cultural icons { such as Dr Seuss} can be problematic for our siblings-of-color. 

   Re-viewing books and movies with a mind & heart is not " cancel culture". No one is forcing anyone to stop buying/producing these works.  What people are asking of others is to take a second look at some of our cultural icons-- both of the literary variety and other art forms. 

   Here is what the New York Times article on this subject has to say about this sensitive topic: 

    "Children’s publishers and literary estates are trying to walk a delicate line by preserving an author’s legacy, while recognizing and rejecting aspects of a writer’s work that are out of step with current social and cultural values,” The Times’s Alexandra Alter and Elizabeth A. Harris.

My dear White folx, we need to move beyond our comfort zone. Seeing my beloved Little House books in a new light made me sad. But this is not about my feelings, it is about making a better society for all our children.

Amen

~Sarah McCarren

4 March 2021

 

Point to Ponder: How can my " golden scars" help others?

                                                 Candles. Photo by The Pensacola Hippie

   This morning, Brian and I woke early and headed to church for the special Lenten Early Mass that is held at 06:30 on Wednesdays during Lent. This makes for tan early morning for us, but the practice of driving to church at sunrise and worshipping among some of our people makes for a pleasant Lenten discipline

   In the homily spot, our priest told us about how the ancient Japanese art of  Kintsugi-a technique that repairs broken pottery with filled gold -is a metaphor for our own faith walks now.  She alluded to the story in Jeremiah-- where God is described as a all-powerful potter.  However, rather than destroy the imperfect creation. The Potter gently repairs the cracks, redeeming the vessel while the scars add beauty that wasn't there in the " new" clay pot. 

   This metaphor is both useful to describe my spiritual " brokenness" { and all of us are " broken" in some way or another}  Yet what really resonated with me is how my  chronic, painful , messed-up spine might somehow help me be a healer for others. 

   Since age 12, my back has been a source of pain on all levels. In sixth grade, the school nurse discovered that my back curved too much to one side. She referred me to my doctor, who then referred me to a spinal surgeon at Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh. 

  During the summer between my sixth and seventh grade year, I spent three weeks in the hospital, had TWO major spinal surgeries where titanium implants were used to put my unnaturally-curved spine together properly.  Before I was discharged, I was measured for a brace that went from my shoulder blades to my tailbone-- a contraption that I had to wear twenty three our of twenty four hours for months. 

  I went through seventh grade feeling completely " broken".  I was not permitted to ride the school bus, nor take Physical Education. 

  My reconstructed back has served me well until now. In high school, I managed to be on both the basketball and track teams. Until recently, I could still run a decent mile on the treadmill . Until recently, there was very little that I could not do with my repaired back. 

   Aging, with its many gifts, also has a cost. 

   Over thirty years later and my " broken " back is causing me more pain. Due to the hardware placement in my lower back, I have narrowing of the spinal column { spinal stenosis} and am in pain often.  Naturally the chronic pain amid a COVID pandemic messes with my feelings of self-worth.  I am a disabled 40-something with a spine that has been " broken" since childhood. 

  But I was reminded today that God loves me --- titanium spine and all.  God uses our scars and out places of pain to make us even more in the Image of The Creator. How can we use our own " golden scars" that we earn in life to help bring peace and hope to others? For me, my medical ordeal early in life has given me an appreciation for what the human body can do. It has also given me  the ability to feel compassion-- suffering with-- for people who live with chronic pain. 

  Amen

   ~Sarah McCarren

    3 March 2021
 

" How long, how long can we sing this song? " One Year Later

                                         Original Artwork by Sarah Beth " Badass St Joan"  Acrylic on                                               Canvas 2021

 As a mid-distance runner in high school, I was trained for endurance. I might not have been the swiftest runner on the Edison High School girls' track team, but I earned points for endurance.  

  As a matter of fact, the practicing for running for ' the long haul' is a good metaphor for my life.  I worked through college , pacing myself at my own speed. The same applies to finding my spouse: I married my best friend. 

 I 'endure well.  After all, I survived three weeks bedridden at Children's Hospital in Pittsburgh for scoliosis correction surgery. After that, I spent ten months in a rigid back brace as the fused bone material healed. 

 I can deal with tough shit. After all, I am a Scoliosis Warrior.

  However, the fact of this week marking one year since we have officially been in Pandemic Life is not lost on me.  I remember where I was and how I felt as a trusted doctor-friend explained to our congregation what the  novel coronavirus is and what steps we can take to stay safe.  At first, we'd naively hoped that the shutdown would be ' only for a couple of weeks--- maybe a month at the most'. Okay, I told myself, I can handle any crisis or upheaval of life on a short-term basis. 

 .  I watched with dismay as the Florida shutdown lingered for weeks. As weeks morphed into months, I began to know if people who caught the virus. { thankfully no one in my immediate contact circle has died, but several people I know & love caught COVID.} 

  " Zooming" became a tool that was useful and fun initially but  became a burdensome chore as months of social isolation continued. The longer the pandemic dragged, the less patience I had to endure Zooming.  I'd leave from a Zoom call feeling much more emotionally depleted than I went into the interaction. 

   As part of coping with the isolation, Brian and i found a safe refuge at a park in Gulf Breeze. We'd drive over the bridge in the morning and I would say my morning prayers on the kayak. Nature caught me in Her warm embrace during the Summer of Isolation. 

   In September, Hurricane Sally made an unwanted and very unexpected visit to Pensacola and South Alabama. While Brian and I did not receive much damage from this unwanted guest-- many others were not so blessed.  However, a wayward barge damaged the Three-Mile Bridge , rendering it unsafe.  The bridge closure altered the Pandemic Life of people on both sides of Pensacola Bay. 

  As a lifelong friend reminded me online  yesterday, I am not a quitter.  My faith tells me that  better tomorrows are coming, and evidence points to that reality. Honestly, this progress has been slower than anything I've experienced in my 40-plus years of life.  Over half a million Americans are dead from the  pandemic, and countless others are suffering economic hardships as a result of  the necessary physical distancing. 

   I am NOT giving up, but 12 months after entering this " temporary season" , I am weary.  My mind cannot comprehend people who violate clear instructions to WEAR A MASK OVER YOUR MOUTH & NOSE while inside buildings within the City Limits. 

  As much as I hate donning a mask, I do so --- not so much for my protection, but for the protection of others.  I cannot comprehend the selfishness of people who still refuse to do something simple  for the sake of public health. I wear glasses , and I totally understand  the annoying fog that coats my glasses due to the masks over my nose. Its annoying, but I wear a mask. 

   Every day, I wake to hope that we are one tiny step closer to our  post-pandemic life.  I try to keep from dwelling on all that we've lost & look to the future when we can safely reengage. This reengagement, when it happens will be different-- and I am okay with whatever brings be back fully with my people. 

  But right now, I am pausing to say I'm tired, y'all.  I am so damn tired.  How long, how long? 

Amen

~Sarah McCarren

  2 March 2021