Healing: Self and Mother Love

                           St Brigid, with crystals and fresh lavender in my authentic Prayer Bowl made by the hands of a Cherokee elder. Photo by The Pensacola Hippie

It is Spring { Eastertide for Christians} and around us healing is taking place. People are getting vaccinated, and the Center For Disease Control has relaxed mandates for people who, like me, are fully vaccinated.  People I know who were previously ' on the fence' regarding vaccination are making the wise, caring-person choices to roll up their sleeves. 

  Some, including Brian and me, are making plans to travel within the continental United States. 

   After a long, sad, lonely "Lentiest Lent"-- Easter is here. 

   And the people say : ALLELUIA. ALLELUIA ALLELUIA! 

   Healing is starting to occur. Granted, we still need to be careful engaging with others on whom we are not sure of their vaccination status. 

  For me, a lot of personal healing occurred last weekend . I was blessed to be among the parish women who had an opportunity to pray, play, laugh, cry  and BE with several women I love & whose FACES I'd not seen in over 14 months. 

                                                   Retreat Attendees. Photo by Brian

 There is room for healing during a retreat, and I came back home feeling as if a hundred-pound weight were lifted from my shoulders.  For the first time in over 20 years, I am not dreading Mothers' Day. 

  I'll say that again : I am NOT DREADING Mothers' Day. 

  I spent a lot of quiet time at the retreat meditating on these words from St Julian of Norwich { Who knows a bit about Pandemic Life} 

 Dame Julian says: " God feels great delight in being our Mother. "

For me, knowing that humankind is made in the Image of a God who is Mother and  Father made me look at my own life with a fresh perspective. 

 I never had children. Therefore, I'll never know the joys of grandparenthood. But, as Julian explained, and I witnessed in the lives of the women on the retreat with me: there are so many ways to be that authentic Mother. . 

  According to Julian, an " authentic Mother" has these qualities--- regardless of child-rearing status. 

~ Compassion.  Compassion leads to love in action. An authentic Mother puts compassion into loving action. She seeks to ease the suffering of others. 

~ Service. God the Mother tends to the needs of her world. So shall we. Service can be towards anything in this world, from tending to sick people to lovingly caring for plants in a garden. Service can also include serving the most needy  in society. 

~Protection.  I think of a she-bear: gentle until something { or someone} threatens her cubs. 

As I spent some quality " quiet time" with God during the retreat, I've realized that I-- a woman who is not  what society considers ' a mother'  in fact DOES a lot of  authentic motherhood'. 

 Realizing my own motherhood is a big step for my healing. I cannot change society's insisting on a narrow definition that restricts  motherhood to child-rearing , but I can change how I see myself.  I can recognize the compassion, service & protective qualities in others. 

Mother God is near us and shows Herself in many ways. I am grateful that She showed me ways to tap into my own Divine Feminine and realize the broad definition of " Mother". 

Amen

Sarah Elizabeth McCarren

30 April 2021

 

 

Sacred, Mothering Hands

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                                                Women's Retreat 2018 Saturday worship. Photo By The Pensacola Hippie 

                                  " God delights in being our Mother." ~ St Julian of Norwich. 

 Normally I HATE May and " Mother's Day" As a childless, middle-aged women , the entire month of May finds me avoiding stores that want to sell me stuff . I love my Mom, and do honor her on that allotted Sunday, but I cannot help but feel left out of the Mom's Club . Now that some of my age-peers are becoming grandmothers, I'm left with staring at my approaching " Crone" stage of life differently than the women in my circle who are mothers. 

However, my attitude is adjusted regarding this Mothering Season, thanks to the works of St Julian of Norwich { who insists that God is both Mother & Father ) and --- much more importantly-- the sisterhood of women who were on the retreat with me this year. We were smaller in number, but the Mothering God was there in all Her glory. 

I am reminded of a photograph that I snapped three years ago at this same retreat. It is a photo of my hand, alongside the hands of two other women. Our fingers gently touch as we gathered around the altar at Beckwith as we blessed the Affirmation Bracelets that we had created earlier that afternoon. 

This photo is one that I printed and keep in a memory book -- among other photos and mementos from that weekend-- and return to often.  

When this photo appeared in today's Facebook Memories, I knew I had to save a hard copy to my phone. 

If we think about it, the human hand is one of Creator God's miracles. We-- who are made in the Image of this God's Self-- have hands with opposable thumbs.  Among all the creatures of the Earth-- only humans have such appendages . Our opposable thumbs allow for us to better grasp and maneuver tools. Throughout the ages, human hands have evolved from merely survival into partnering with our huge, complex brains to create things of beauty. 

The same hands that chop roots and herbs for food can also help humans become co-creators. My hands are my avenue for birthing art in the form of either words or images. As a writer, painter and photographer, my hands are an essential physical part of me. I'm able to use my hands to bring images in my imagination to life with acrylic paints and stretched canvas. Each painting is a labor of love-- hours of collaboration between my brain and hands. My work-- the fruit of my mind and hands-- is often given as gifts. 

                                            "Brigid of Ireland in Clergy Collar and Chasuble " By Sarah Elizabeth McCarren Acrylic on Canvas 2020. 

Liturgically -- before COVID-- my hands were used to hold the Cup and offer it to loved ones at Communion. With God's help, I'll eventually be able to serve inn this way again soon. 

My hands have engaged in playing basketball and tossing a football with my nephew.  I depend on my hands to pull my niece's long hair away from her face and into a secure ponytail so that we can safely ride bikes together. 

I use my hands to lovingly bake home-made bread for people I love. I delight in the kneading of the dough, and in the stickiness of doughy hands. 

I think that as women, we often overlook all the ways that we-- and others--use our hands to create, nurture,  heal and sustain others. Our hands allow for us to be extensions of Creator Mother God in concrete ways. All of us are called into service as part of our authentic Mother. Our hands -- hands of each and every one of us is called to create, nurture, heal and sustain. 

Copy that, Hallmark? But in all seriousness, my goal for the next 45 years of my life is to live into my own sacred femininity. 

Amen. 

Sarah McCarren

Feast Of St Catherine of Siena

29 April 2021

 

Those Three Words: A Law & Order: SVU Fan Fiction

 

                                                      Those Three Words

                                    { I own NONE of the characters or story canon }

                                                    By: The Pensacola Hippie

The buzzing of a cell phone woke Olivia Benson from a fitful slumber.

Rolling over, she glanced at the phone’s face.  Stabler .

“ Shit! “

 She silenced the phone and groaned. It has been a hell of a night. Kathleen and Maureen, Eliot’s two oldest children , has asked her to be present at a scheduled intervention  after their father had been in a car accident with their youngest brother. Both Stabler and Eli sustained only minor injuries, but the two oldest children were worried.

Liv told Maureen earlier that she doubts her presence at the intervention would make Eliot listen.  After all, he had told her to back off. When she told his daughter as much, she replied. “ But you are the only one who can talk sense into Dad. He needs you. We need you. “

The phone buzzed again.  Stabler’s name popped up and again Liv did not take the call.

Olivia sat up and rubbed her hands through her messy brown hair.

“ Eliot, tell us what you need.”

“ I love you…”

He’s said the words she had longed to hear throughout their long partnership. She loved him, but she knew his loyalty was to Kathy and the children.

She flipped on the nightstand lamp and saw that a voicemail was waiting .

“ Damn you Stabler. “ she said

Carefully she held the phone in her right hand   as she felt her eyes moisten.

“ You mean the world to me, Liv. Now back off. “

He did not want her help with whatever demons lurked in his head.

There was a time when she could read him—that he could not  keep secrets from her. But that was ten years ago.

She traced her phone with a finger.

“ Damnit, El, I barely know you now.

 Yet she DID know him. She  understood the pain in his eyes that showed how much he missed Kathy.

“ I love you… I love ALL of you. “ he amended after an awkward silence.

She shook her head. Did he really expect her to expose her heart to him in front of all his children?  As much as her heart wanted to rush into his arms, she refused to add more trauma for his grieving children. Also, she felt wary about totally opening  her personal life to him—she and Noah existed together as a happy little family unit. She didn’t want Eliot Stabler to mess up her life by leaving both her and her son.

She did not want Eliot Stabler--- not after his sudden departure and radio silence ten years ago.

“ Eliot’s not coming back, Liv. Let him go. “  Cragan had  said.

Carefully , she picked up a framed photo that sat on her nightstand. It was an old photo of Stabler & her, taken when they worked undercover at the swingers’ club. This one photo was her reminder of what she lost when Stabler left. She’d rescued it from the garbage pile after Cragan insisted that she clean out Stabler’s squad room desk.

Did she want Eliot Stabler? Hell no. She—of all people—knows how toxic he can become. She needed Eliot Stabler. Kathy’s deathbed observation was correct: the two of them are connected in a powerful, metaphysical way that in inexplicable. He’s the other half of her soul.

She needed him, and she loved him.

Yet she felt a lot of anger towards him—anger mixed with a deep love. On an intellectual “ head” level, she understood why Eliot felt he had to make a sudden departure from the unit.  What hurts the most was that he left without even a goodbye hug.

She loved him, but needs time to trust him again. She needed him to work through his grief over Kathy and agree to some therapy. She deserves Eliot Stabler at his best—not the shell of a person that he’s been since Kathy’s murder.

She unlocked her phone and texted her former partner.

El. I love you too. But right now… I can’t. You understand. Get some help, please. What about your children? What about ME?

###

Seeing parts of " Mother God" in FACES ...

 

                                  A depiction of " Earth Mother", by an unknown artist. 

Life is sl-ow-ly returning to " normal. Granted, it is not the normal that was before the worldwide pandemic, but I see signs of new community life starting to bloom. 

This past weekend a smaller number of women from my parish gathered at Beckwith Camp & Retreat center for a weekend of worship and fellowship. The theme for the weekend was " Living Faithfully Through A Pandemic" and we studied the work of St Julian of Norwich. 

 Julian knew about ' sheltering in place' as she voluntarily lived in a solitary cell for most of her life  She also understood living through a deadly pandemic, as Bubonic Plague was present in wavs throughout her lifetime. 

However my biggest  take-away from the wonderful weekend with some of my Beloveds is this: There is no greater Gift than seeing Mother God in the { unmasked} FACE of someone you love. Along with some careful protocol, about 45 women prayed, played, ate, laughed and cried together.  Seeing the smiles of people I love warmed my soul--- in each face I saw part of what St Julian calls " Mother God."

 Before anyone reports me to my Bishop for unorthodox theology, please know that the concept of a sacred feminine is NOT new. Also, there are several mentions in Holy Scriptures that refer to God as  a Divine Feminine. Furthermore, the idea of a Mother God is not unique to Abrahamic faiths. 

Anyway, as I reflect on the entire retreat experience of this past weekend, I feel a sense of renewal that comes from spending a weekend in a beautiful part of Creation with amazing women. The ability to gaze into the faces of others gave me a glimpse into an aspect of the Godhead that is often ignored in Western Christianity.  In the faces of women I know & love, I saw compassion, protection,  and safety that one might associate with a Mother Bird or Mama Bear. I was reminded that a Mother Pelican, if food for her chicks is scarce, will pierce her own breast with her bill and feed her chicks from her own blood. I remembered Mama Bear, who would do anything she could to keep her cubs safe. 

I feel gratitude for a couple of senior ladies I know who give hugs like an Grandmother and show me how to live a life in service to others. During Communion on Sunday,  I felt my priest's hands as she pressed the consecrated bread into my palm { baked by human hands } & the smiles of the cup-bearer as I took my individual cup of wine.

Most of all, I'll remember the FACES of these women. Living in this pandemic has taught me many lessons: and one of the most profound is what we lose when a pandemic forces us to live behind masks and screens. Never again will I take for granted the smiles of people I know.

This weekend gave me a taste of what post-pandemic life could be like if everyone got in line for their vaccinations. I'm not naive-- I am fully aware that we still must live with caution-- the pandemic is not over yet. There are variants. But I trust that God has the doctors in Her care and with Her wisdom, we will find ways to combat this threat. 

Brian and I had to go to the store this morning, and again, the sight of masked faces in the stores both made me feel relief & sadness. Relief because people at least follow the masking rules at our local Walgreens'  The sadness came from the fact that I'd just arrived home from a weekend of vaccinated, unmasked faces. 

My hope/prayer/mission right now is to convince people to do their part and line up for the vaccinations. The Face of God is in all of us, and she/he/they want us to see Them in others' faces. 

Amen. Alleluia

In the Name of The Mother, Son & Holy Wisdom,

Sarah McCarren 

As Madonna says: " Express Yourself"

                                       Self-portrait of the author with her wild, curly, reddish-blonde hair and PURPLE temporary highlights. 

    Much to the chagrin of both my hairdresser and my spouse, I decided to adorn my crazy , curly, shoulder length  blonde-reddish hair with purple highlights. 

   Don't worry, its temporary hair dye. 

   Anyone who knows me is aware of my fondness for the color purple. My Mom will even say that I've " taken to" all shades of purple since my toddler days. 

   Purple, in ancient times, was known as a color meant for rich people & royalty. Apparently procuring purple dye was hard work  in pre-industrial societies. 

  Since I am a nerd, I did some Google research on my favorite color. Here is what I discovered: 

   Positive associations of purple: 

"Purple is cheerful–whimsical and playful. It’s associated with an escape from reality and magical images. Purple is often a statement of independence as it’s not abasic, primary color, and it’s often a sign of fusing the mundane with the innovative. Purple is also associated with bravery,"

Sounds pretty good , hunh? Well, my favorite color also has some negative traits: 

As purple lives balanced between red and blue, it can be seen as an unstable, non-traditional color. Notions of royalty and ceremony can be off-putting to more democratic sensibilities, and purple can convey feelings of arrogance and condescension"

Yup. For better and for worse, I relate to purple. 

https://www.sensationalcolor.com/meaning-of-purple/

After the year we've had of COVID-- and as we SLOWLY start to live full communal lives again, I will be mindful that life is short. If I want purple in my hair, I will have purple in my hair! 

Shalom...

~Sarah McCarren

21 April 2021

Verdict...

 

                                         

The jury came back--- quickly--- with a verdict.  

Chauvrin was found GUILTY of all three charges against in in the killing of George Floyd.

I am relieved. Yet I cannot celebrate. It does not seem like a victory to me at all.  

Yes, a bad cop and even worse person will never walk free. 

But George Floyd is still dead. No matter how the jury would have ruled today, a man died needlessly on camera.  George Floyd's life was snuffed out like a candle-- a candle that will never shine again. 

The conviction of George Floyd's killer is not cause for celebration.  Black and Brown men suffer needless violence by law enforcement every day-- and all that the Chauvrin case gives is some sort of public accountability for one man's deed.  It is my hope that cops everywhere are held to higher standards -- that ONE incident of violence against offenders of color is one incident too many. 

As a White person, I must again own the reality that cops are " safe people" for me and other people who share my skin tone. While I did not ask to be born White-- the fact is that the lack of melanin in my skin allows me to regard police as " safe". 

I am not a parent, but I am an Aunt. As my gorgeous nephew grows up, I pray for protection for him--  a protection that other Aunts need not pray for their nephews. 

I am also mindful of the wonderful Black men { and their families} who have been like brothers to me since they were freshmen in college. Their experience in America is wildly different from mine, and to pretend otherwise is not valuing Black lives. 

In an online discussion several weeks back,  someone said that Christians who are seriously working to be antiracist is a lot like living out our Baptismal promises-- each day we begin again. For sure, my own journey is one of constantly remining myself of my own privilege. 

But no one ever promised that prophetic work is easy. Changing a corrupt, cruel, outdated system is a process and an art.  Like practicing a faith, antiracism work requires constant delving into study. We White people have been conditioned by society to only look at current and historical events through the lens of Whiteness & I am a guilty as the next person . 

More than one person has asked me why I " always talk about race.". The answer is simple: in order to work for justice for ALL persons, we White people need to become mindful of other narratives.  I've been involved in antiracism work for several years-- and owning up to my own privilege never gets easier. I make mistakes. However, no one can accuse me of ' not caring" or " being silent".  In the throes of COVID life-- all many of us had as antiracism tools were words. 

Listening to others' words and using MY words to communicate my thoughts along my own journey. 

George Floyd should still be alive. He was lynched . 

Society-wide reform is needed if Americans will ever cure the cancer of systemic racism. All I can do is live out my Baptismal promise by continuing to be a voice for change. As we slowly come back to in-person gatherings, I'll be more action-oriented in my work. 

Black Lives Matter. 

Sarah McCarren

April 20 2021. 

9 Minutes 29 Seconds

 

   I did not watch the Chauvin trial. After seeing this White cop lynch a Black man -- who was only suspected of using a fake 20 dollar bill-- on live TV I did not subject myself to the images. It is not necessary--- the images of Chauvin's knee on Floyd's throat is forever seared into my mind. 

  A lynching took place, and the cell phone video made all of America privy to George Floyd's last few minutes of life on Earth. 

   Black lives matter. In the following weeks after the Floyd murder, cities everywhere gathered in protest of this state-sanctioned violence. Due to living with a medically-vulnerable person during the early COVID weeks-- I did not allow myself to participate in Pensacola's gathering of people from all around our area. My first task was keeping COVID out of our home-- so I " participated" in the Black Lives matter movement from my home .  To be honest, there was nothing more I wanted than to add my body to all the other bodies gathering peacefully at the Graffiti Bridge for two weeks after the murder. 

  As an Aunt to two beautiful multiracial children and as a Christian with Ashkenazi Jewish DNA, this was personal for me. I am not a parent, but when I heard George Floyd call out for his mother as he struggled to breathe, the nurturer in me felt sick. 

   A man was murdered on national TV over the suspected use of fake money. 

   A  man was smothered to death by a  cop. 

   NO ONE DESERVES TO MEAN THEIR END IN THIS CRUEL MANNER. 

  George Floyd was Black--- the cop who killed him on camera is White. 

   People I know have asked me " why must everything be about race?" 

   Humans of Planet Earth: this, the murder of a Black man by a White cop is nothing new. As a White person, I've had to deconstruct much of what I had been taught in school about post Reconstruction racial relations. Segregation did not end when the 13th Amendment was placed into the U.S. Constitution. 

One visit to the Equal Justice Initiative Lynching Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama will tell the entire sordid story of lynching of Black men for bogus " crimes". In the not-too-distant past, a Black man was lynched for allegedly looking at a White woman incorrectly. 

  Y'all, we need to continue to " talk about race" because it can be literally a matter of life or death to Black and Brown people. Does talking about how I-- a White woman-- have benefited from systemic racism make me feel warm and fuzzy? Hell no. It is hard work to come to terms with how Whiteness allows people with my skin tone to be raised to trust the police.  Black and Brown children, and their parents, do not enjoy this luxury. 

  I stay in this fight for many reasons. Two of my primary reasons for working to rid the world of racism and the police brutality that is so rampant are a seven and five-year-old who share my DNA and my last name. Their lives, and the lives of people with their skin tone, matter. 

  George Floyd probably has an Aunt or two who are mourning him. 

  I cannot imagine the grief and pain his family and friends have experienced as the defense vomited every mistake that Floyd had done -- as if his past choices somehow warranted his gruesome, cruel, public murder. 

   Bryan Stevenson said " Each of us are more than the worst thing we've done."

   George Floyd did not deserve to die. And he surely DID NOT deserve his last nine minutes and twenty nine seconds of his life. 

  Rest in Power-- George Floyd. 

  ~Sarah Elizabeth McCarren

    19 April 2021

  

The Slow Return to " Normal"

                                              Selfie by me. Hopefully this is my last " COVID Haircut". 

The second dose of the COVID vaccine was true to its promise-- it hit me hard yesterday. After a restless night { tossing & turning because the injection site was sore & tender} I felt half-dead when I woke yesterday morning. Every inch of my body ached, and I was literally struggling to keep my eyes open. . 

  I slept all morning, Brian unrolled the sleeper sofa in the living room and Harry { our dog} kept watch over me while Brian had to run an errand. Aleve helped to stave off the aches, and when I awoke from my nap I felt much more like an extremely-fatigued version of myself. 

 Later in the afternoon I was able to meet a friend for my first IN-PERSON coffee date at Dolce & Gelato { Pensacola, check them out!!) We sat OUTSIDE and enjoyed iced coffee and caught up  with each other face-to-face. It was surreal, after only interacting on Facebook Messenger for so long. 

 I also walked to the locally-owned bakery/sweet shop and bought some yummy desserts for Brian and me while my friend ordered pizza for her family at a local pizza shop in the same East Hill plaza as the coffee/ wine bar/ gelato shop. Again, it was weird to purposely walk into a non-essential store.

 Yes, everyone at all the establishments were masked { per citywide mandate } and the coffee shop served drinks in disposable cups. 

  Today , I have my first in-person meeting at church. People will have masks and stay safely apart, & we will Zoom the meeting for those who would rather join us in that format. Our Parish Hall has looked like an empty shell for so long. Tables and chairs had been rolled into storage and the coffee station had been cleared  since March of last year. 

  I'm grateful, but at the same time I feel weird . I hate Zooming with a passion, but it has been necessary for so long , its my default mode for meetings. Meeting in-person? What do I wear? How do I act? Will I manage to pay attention to " live" meeting presentations after so many months of online only work? 

Of course, safety is still a priority. I will not be attending public in-person meeting for a long time--- as I know that many Floridians are " on the fence" regarding vaccination. Some have even REFUSED to take the shot-- and I cannot afford to socialize with those who support the anti-vaccination movement. In the past year, I { and everyone else} has given up so much to stay alive and healthy until vaccination & I WILL NOT let people who refuse to believe in science steal anymore light from me.  

 Going forward , I will be careful about with whom I socialize in-person. If people cannot see that God worked through science to bring about this Eastertide via vaccination, then I will stay away from them. The New Normal for me will be carefully evaluating relationships in light of the COVID response.  This pandemic, and the political upheaval in which it occurred, has changed how I relate to other people.  The vaccine is a gift, given via science, of our Creator. In my mind, to refuse this gift is sinful on so many levels. 

It is true that no one can force another person to get their vaccine. But we CAN appeal to people's sense of community--that with the vaccination comes FREEDOM to live life in community again. Yes, we can make choices. But with freedom of choice comes the responsibility to the human community. 

 Vaccinate . Vaccinate. Vaccinate. 

~Sarah McCarren

   

Got my Second " Microchip" { really my COVID Vaccine }

 

                                          Photo of the group of AWESOME women at my church's 2018 Women's Retreat. The 2020 event was cancelled due to COVID but the 2021 event will be EPIC. ~Photo by Eleanor . 

  As of 3 pm Central Standard Time, I am fully-vaccinated. The experience at one of our Publix stores here in town was quick and easy-- I got in a bit early for my appointment.  I filled out the paperwork and then the pharmacy tech led me back into the vaccination area. I felt a bit of pressure-- no real pain-- as the needle entered my body. As I sat for the required post-shot fifteen minutes , I stared in awe at my " Freedom Card"-- my COVID Vaccination document. Since I do not drive, this is the single most important piece of paper in my life-- and I waited for over a year. 

  Its been a lousy 14 months. 

  We all know that Covid-Tide has been a shit show. I quick glance at my Facebook Memories every morning lately have been sad. At this time last year we had just finished A lonely Easter Day with computer screens and home Communion. Scientists were feverishly working on getting some sort of understanding of how this virus is transmitted, and all of us were on edge. Our nation's Commander-in-Chief at the time downplayed the risks of contacting COVID-19-- and turned public health into a partisan issue. 

 I'm grateful to medical science -- the minds behind these vaccines worked overtime to get some products that work to the most vulnerable Americans first. It was a long, frustrating wait-- and I am grateful that my turn finally came, due to a rare autoimmune condition that originally was NOT on Florida's list of " approved  conditions". 

  The only effects I felt from my first dose of Moderna was extreme fatigue. I've heard that the second dose can either knock someone on their butt for a couple of days or have mild side effects such as fatigue and a sore arm. I am ready for either scenario. 

  What I want to say to people I know and love who are against getting their vaccinations is this: Please do not fall into the trap of making saving lives a partisan issue." Vaccination is not only for your health, but for the health of people everywhere. Trust the scientific method--- medicine is an art and it takes many trials to get something right. You may not like him, but Dr Fauchi knows his stuff-- and he's served under Presidents of both political parties. 

 Please, if you are on the fence about vaccinations, remember that COVID19 is not partial. It attacks  " liberals and " conservatives" alike. It can severely harm, or even kill  otherwise healthy people. 

  For the sake of yourself and others, plan to roll up that sleeve. 

   Amen. 

  ~ Sarah McCarren

   Easter 2 2021

Liv's Letter: An SVU Fan Fiction Sequel to Piece of Paper

 

                                            Chris Meloni " Stabler" on Law & Order : SVU 

                                          Liv’s Reply: An SVU Fan Fiction

                                              By: The Pensacola Hippie

                       I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS. CREDIT TO DICK WOLF

Olivia Benson sat at her small dinette . Noah had just gone to bed, and Liv decided that tonight was the night that she would respond to Eliot’s letter. It has been a week since she opened the letter he wrote to her, her and much has changed. Kathy, his wife, is dead and Eliot is working on something that he refuses to discuss with her. As a matter of fact, he’d asked her to “ back off”.

That stung. They’d always shared everything and now her former partner will not even let her know anything about his job here in New York.

 Lived put a smooth sheet of yellow paper on the table and uncapped an ink pen. Tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear and donning a pair of black reading glasses, she began to write.

Dear Eliot…

I read your letter. In light of all that has happened since you originally penned that letter to me, I am finding words fail me.

As I said before. YOU were the most important person to me, and one day Cragan tells me that you quit. Did Fin tell you that Cragan made me clean out your old squad room desk? “ Eliot’s not coming back, Liv” is what he said.

Now you’re back, and I won’t deny that I’ve missed you. When you left, I was partnered with another cop, Nick Amaro. He was good for me in ways that working with you was not ; I’d grown more confident in my role as a cop while Nick and I were partners.

That’s all Nick and I were to each other: Partners.

He was a great one, and always had my back. I could count on him to save my life. But I could not count on him to know how I like my coffee. Working undercover as a “ couple” with him was awkward.

I love you, Eliot. To be honest, I have always loved you. I kept our relationship platonic because I respected the fact that you love your family. I worked damn hard to assure Kathy that you and I were never sexually intimate , but she knew that we were closer than many married couples. She once told me that I know things about your life that she will never know and she’s correct. She understood our soul connection much more than we ever credited her—even when she was on that hospital bed she recognized our soul connection.

“ Look at the two of you, just like the old days. Always in synch”.

And that is why your leaving hurt me the most, Eliot. You could not, or would not, give me the courtesy of discussing your idea to retire. You. Just. Disappeared.

I moved on with my life after you left—not because I WANTED to, but because you left me with no choice. You were gone from my life, but I still had a job to do. I worked with other partners, and even dated some men.  However, the accomplishment of the past ten years which gives me the most joy is my son, Noah.

You are a parent, so you understand the parental urge to shield our children from heartbreak. My son has already been through more heartbreak than most adults I know—so I am VERY careful whom I let into his inner circle.

I don’t want Noah to learn to love you only to have you disappear from our lives.  I would LOVE for Noah to get to know Eli and your other children, but I need assurance that you are not a flight risk.

Can you promise me that, Eliot? Can you PROVE that you will not disappear again?  I love you, Eliot—and I always will. But that does not mean that I am ready for us to resume our close relationship—both of us have been through hell this past week. I know you are hurting at losing Kathy, too, and I don’t want to stand in the way of your grieving. Please, take time to grieve.

Eliot, we still have a lot to discuss. Why did you tell me to ‘ back off’ when I asked how you were feeling? Don’t bullshit me—I know there is something that you are keeping from me. I’m tired of the silence and secrets between us, Eliot.

We both need time to heal.

I love you, too.

~Liv

Olivia put down her pen, folded the paper into thirds, and stuffed it into an envelope. Carefully she wrote Eliot’s name on the front of the envelope,  and vowed to drop it off in the lobby of his apartment building tomorrow.

She checked on Noah and went to her room, trying hard to not think about how right Eliot’s arms around her felt as she held him after the news of Kathy’s death,

Ten . Long. Years.

###

Just A Piece Of Paper: A law & Order : SVU Fan Fic

 

I  DO NOT OWN THE CHARACTERS.     OLIVIA FINALLY READS ELIOT's LETTER....

                                      JUST A PIECE OF PAPER: A _Law & Order: SVU_ Fan Fiction

                                                                    By  The Pensacola Hippie

Olivia sat on her couch an open can of beer next to her. Noah had gone to bed, and Liv , dressed in gray sweatpants, was wide awake. Her fingers gently caressed the long envelope that Eliot had given her earlier.

Sighing, she shook her head and got up to walk to the small kitchen in her New York City apartment.  Grabbing a butter knife from a drawer and walked back to the couch. Tucking up her legs under her , she carefully slit open the envelope and shook out its contents.

“ Ten years, Eliot. I didn’t hear from you in TEN LONG YEARS. “

She thought about Noah. Her son has asked her on several occasions who ‘ the sad man’ is and how he knows Olivia.

“ He used to work with Mommy a long time ago, “ she told Noah one morning as she was driving him to school.

 Donning her reading glasses, she picked up Eliot’s letter. After all, it was just a piece of paper, and after ten long years, words meant little to her when it came to Eliot Stabler.

Dear Liv…

I know you are pissed at me. Hell, I’m pissed at myself. I called Fin first, because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. And to be honest, I would not blame you if that is the case. Fin tells me that you’ve moved on: attaining the promotion of Captain and being a mom to your son, Noah. Fin says that you are a fair and honest boss, and he is proud of you.

I am too, Liv.

Regarding my leaving without saying goodbye, I knew that I had become a liability to you and to the unit. You know me better than anyone else—and I could not look at your face as I told you about my plans for early retirement. You know I love you, but I also love my family.  I left because they deserved to have a father/husband at home rather than prison. Back then I was a ticking time bomb.

Liv, let me be real here. I also left because I love you. As I said long ago, you and the job are sometimes the only two things in life that keeps me together, and I couldn’t bring you down. I knew then, and I am certain now, that you are where you need to be. Had I stayed, God only knows what might have happened that would bleed into your life.  I’m glad that my absence has allowed you to grow as a cop and as a human.

Kathy knows how I feel about you—and she tried to talk me into discussing my retirement plans with you. “ You are Olivia are two parts of the same soul. “ is what my wife told me “ Its wrong to just walk away from your partnership without a goodbye. “ But Liv, I could not come to you and tell you about my plans—because then I know I could never go through with it. Kathy is correct—we are two parts of the same soul—and I hurt you.

I love my family, Liv. But I also love you. From the day I first saw you in the squad room, I knew how special you are. You are the only person who calls me out on my macho bullshit.

I’m so sorry, Liv. I am so sorry for everything. I know you well enough to understand that you will not forgive me immediately, and I accept that fact. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I do hope that you’ve read this letter through and can find it in your heart to not hate me.

I love you.

~El

Olivia through the letter on the floor and took a huge gulp of her beer.  Damn him! After all this time, she wanted him back in her life. But she thought of Noah. Olivia has been very careful with the people she chooses to bring into her son’s life—and she knew that letting Eliot Stabler back into her life would affect her son.

Turning out the light, she walked into her bedroom and closed the door. She cried until she fell asleep.

###

What IS " Normal"?

                  View last evening from our spot at the outdoor-seating restaurant.  Photo by The Pensacola Hippie. 

Brian and I, along with my parents, my brother, and his family did something weird yesterday. We went to a restaurant and ate in-house  { actually , it was outdoor seating only}

    Vaccinated life is glorious. 

    Many people are still worried about catching on of COVID's mutations, and I totally understand the need for concern. However, after over a year of self-denial and isolation, I think we can trust Dr Fauci when he tells us that it is okay for vaccinated people to get together in small groups. masks were required in the restaurant, so we wore them when we ordered and paid for our food. Medicine is an art-- and art evolves. 

    I am okay with whatever " new normal" post-pandemic life throws at me.  Vaccination brings back so much of what makes us " fully human" & if I must wear a mask in public for awhile longer  I can deal with that--- as long as I can see other vaccinated loved ones' unmasked faces & hug people who have been inoculated. I cannot-- and shall not--- live the second half of my life in total isolation. 

   What IS " normal" anyway? That is the question for all of us as we move closer to the herd immunity goal. 

  We are changed -- both collectively and individually. We survived the worst of this pandemic, but none of us are who were were thirteen months ago. 

To be honest, it was strange to sit at an eating establishment -- after months of the rare take-out venture with Brian. As we move forward, I think many of us will feel like we do not know how to act in " public". 

   For instance, I do not know when I will feel safe to fly in an airplane again. Bria and I have to trips planned for this Spring & Summer, and we will add miles to our truck in order to avoid being cooped up in a airport with too many people whom we do not know.  

  I am naturally an introvert-- and when I've missed being with MY PEOPLE during this pandemic, the introverted soul I am is okay with staying away from  crowds of strangers. As much as staying 6 feet away from my loved ones was horrible during the early days of the Pandemic-- keeping a heathy distance from people I do not know { the general public} is okay with me. 

  It is possible that I'll not feel safe again in a theatre, and this saddens me. Breathing the same air in a closed space as strangers bothers me. The same applies to going to my hairdresser-- I trust him totally, but am wary of the other clients/ stylists' vaccination status. 

  It sucks to feel so wary of strangers, but people's behavior during the worst of COVID-tide has shown me that many people do not care about the health of others. I've seen a lot of humanity's worst side during this pandemic and it scares me that some people refuse to get two simple shots in the arm for the protection of everyone. 

  What is " Normal"? 

   I am clueless. 

Holy Saturday Weirdness

          Lynching Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama. Photo by The Pensacola Hippie

Today is Holy Saturday, the day in the Church Year that we modern liturgical Christians are not ** quite** sure how to handle. Our Holy Friday observances are over--- we've walked with Christ from His arrest to His death. 

 Today, we sit with the fact that Christ is resting in a " borrowed" tomb. His { male} disciples are hidden in the Upper Room-- afraid for their lives. His mother must be in the pain known only to mothers who have lost children. Barabbas is probably at home with his wife and children-- grateful that another person took his place on the Hill Of Death. 

 The people who walked with Christ during His earthly ministry had a good reason to be scared and depressed-- the One Whom they thought would bring a new ' regime change'  is dead. After three years of following this particular rabbi and healer around the countryside-- they were left bereft . 

  We modern Christ-followers do know " the rest of the story'. Yet, as a friend pointed out today, we still do not quite  know how to handle this day in our cycle. There is a Holy Saturday liturgy that essentially reminds us that " God is dead"-- but it is a mere half page. 

This Triduum, the weirdness is even more marked in my practice since COVID protocols preclude the annual Easter Vigil--- one of my personal favorite worship services of the year.  At the Vigil, we are reminded that Christ did overcome death-- and that the women who came in the wee hours of the morning to tend to His body found an empty tomb. The Vigil, when the Light of Christ is kindled from an Easter fire, marks the turning point in the Triduum for many liturgical Christians . 

Its been a year of Lent-- " letting go" and showing sacrificial love for others.  In the grand scheme of Year 2020 and all that we've laid down, missing the Easter Vigil is no " big deal".   At the same time I am wondering when I should make that shift from sorrow into joy?  In observance of Holy Friday, I stripped my home altar on Thursday--- and look forward to setting it up to celebrate Eastertide. 

Holy Saturday is weird, indeed. 

Sit with the weirdness for awhile , longer, friends! 

Easter is coming! 

Amen

Sarah McCarren

Holy Saturday 2021