A Complicated Stance

                                          Well, I'd never thought I'd make a public statement on the Israel/ Palestine conflict before... but here we are. 

M name is Sarahbeth. I stand with Israel. 

Normally I'd never make such a clear statement on such a controversial subject{I gave up politics on social media years ago and my life as been much better since then} 

However, as a Christian--- and a Christian with Ashkenazi Jewish DNA, I must stand with Israel. 

To me, this conflict is not about politics. I'm putting aside my understanding of Israel's complicated, controversial history in favor of standing up for what is morally right. 

As An American of Ashkenazi descent-- I understand all too well what state-sanctioned murder can look like. 

Murdering innocents of a people who you neither like nor trust is never okay. 

My forbearers were refugees from a cruel minority party that rose to power by murdering innocents. 

I support Israel because the horrors of the Holocaust are real-- in spite of what some deniers might insist. 

Israle hasn't always been right in every conflict-- especially in recent years. 

As an American, I am aware of this fact. 

As a person of faith, supporting Israel in this war is essential. 

State-sanctioned terrorism is never okay, and Hamas are terrorists. 

Let me also say that I've also never been a Zionist. I respect people I know, and love who think that Israel is blameless, but that is not what I see. 

My support of Israel is coming from a place of faith and a humanitarian concern rather than " playing politics" with Americans who see things differently. 

For we Christians, we are preparing to remember the birth of a baby.. a baby born to Jewish parents in a territory that was occupied by the Roman Empire. 

It is for that Baby's sake-- and for the sake of so many families torn apart by the actions of an evil group-- that I support Israel. 

Peace, friends...

Sarahbeth McCarren 

21 Nov 2023

Heavy Burdens.. and a safe space

 

                                           Brian and I walked the labyrinth on our church's campus thus afternoon.  Photo by Me . 

Happy Holidays, y'all. 

 Saying " Happy Holidays IS NOT a battle in the imagined " war on Christmas", it is merely acknowledging that many Americans celebrate a myriad of special days during these last two months of the Gregorian calendar year. 

But I digress {again} 

The holiday season, one that is rooted in joy and thanksgiving, is hard for many people. 

It is extremely difficult for many of us to live up to the Norman Rockwellish  portrayal of this time of year that Madison Avenue and Hallmark's Christmas Movie marathon tries to sell us. 

Scrolling through my Facebook feed, I see countless ads for " Black Friday " deals. Coming from retailing families on both sides of my lineage, there is NOTHING " fun about the Friday after our National Day of Thanksgiving. 

Furthermore, there is that White-washed, inaccurate, racist and harmful narrative about the " Pilgrims" landing here in search of religious freedom.  I've had to totally reframe T-Day from a national celebration to a personal one: the entire month of November is a month where I celebrate the bounty that The Divine has given to me in the waning year. 

All this to days that I struggle with Seasons al Depression during what marketers tell us is The Most Wonderful Time of the Year. 

Today I was really struggling with the seasonal depression, so Brian and I drove to our church and walked our beautiful outdoor labyrinth, which is set as the centerpiece of our Meditation Garden. 

This special, sacred PUBLIC place is the result of A LOT of dreamers ... and even more doers in my congregation.  While this place sits on the property of a Christian church, it is a place for all people to come, sit under the shady or carefully walk the beautiful labyrinth. This space was paid for and is maintained by generous volunteers in my congregation. 

Am I proud of this space? Yes!  

More importantly, I, like many others, need this space this season. While security measures leave many houses of worship locked, or at least monitored by security cameras, this outdoor meditation space is open twenty-four hours seven days per week. The two metal arbors welcome all who seek-- whatever they seek. It is here where people can commune with Nature. 

Plants, trees, and the Earth herself welcome world-weary humans and invite us to lay down our burdens and be reminded that we are enough.  

Before Brian and I walked the labyrinth, I picked up a heavy white stone and put it in the back pocket of my blue jeans. When I arrived at the center of the labyrinth, I placed the heavy white stone in the center of the labyrinth. As I made this simple gesture, I felt my burdens, at least the burdens that I carried today, lift. Turning around, I walked from the center towards the beginning of the labyrinth. 

In case any of my readers are clueless, as to what I am discussing, here is the dictionary definition of  labyrinth . 

I am grateful that this space exists in Pensacola, and I am even more grateful that it exists on the property of  St Christopher's Episcopal Church, Pensacola   

Namaste...

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Nov 17  2023 

Being fully seen{ and NOT judged} as Neurodivergent.

                                          My piano, with the VERY HELPFUL note stickers on the keys. My teacher gave these to me when she realized that I am struggling with eye" tracking" when I change hand positions. 

My name is Sarahbeth. My pronouns are she/her/hers. I was born in 197- {I'm not telling, suffice it to say I am a proud Generation X member} 

I am neurodivergent. Thanks, to my mom's doctor's choice to pull me into the world with forceps, my brain works differently than typical brains. 

As a person who is neurodivergent, but due to the time when I grew up, I had to endure education in a subpar public school. Since my brain is not that of someone with classical autism, nor am I male, my differences were never addressed in school. It is true that a few of my symptoms are that which fall on the " autism spectrum", but many of the neurodivergent traits I have are not in that classification. Plus{and I know some Autism Parents will jump on me for this .. but I know no other descriptive term} I am very " high functioning".  My communication skills were and are not stymied by my neurodivergence at all. 

Do I possess an " autistic" trait or two? Yes. 

Am I " autistic?" No. 

I do not even fit the criteria for Aspergers' Syndrome-- although again, some of the traits do overlap. Anyone who knows me well is aware of my tendency to be a Smarty Pants. 

" Book-learning" except for math, came pretty easy for me. I love to read, and I retain what I read with scary accuracy. 

However, my fine motor skills leave much to be desired, and learning simple skills like typing was difficult {I finally developed my own system of typing accurately, and I am sure my high school typing teacher would shake her head in dismay.} 

P.E. class was disastrous, as I am clumsy, and my eyes do not " track " well. My balance and coordination are not good, so typical " girly" activities like cheerleading and ballet were not possible for me. 

In my adult life, very few people-- even medical professionals, have bothered to ask me about my neurodivergence-- how {we think} it happened and how I am affected daily. 

I don't drive because I cannot drive. I certified occupational therapist evaluated me and attempted to teach me to drive & affirmed that I am not safe on the road. Not too long ago, a woman I knew said to my face:

" It must be nice to have your own chauffeur. " 

No, it is NOT " nice" to not be able to do something that most Americans over the age of sixteen take for granted.  As a matter of fact, it sucks. But I cannot grouse about what I physically cannot do-- grousing never changed a damn thing. 

Bottom line is: My brain works a wee bit differently than most typical people's brains. I've accepted that I am neurodivergent and am learning to celebrate that unique perspective that being Different but Not Less Than { Dr Temple Grandin} gives me. 

In spite of the birth trauma, I am not, and never was, " broken". 

I am a whole, holy child of my Creator. 

I am, just like every other human, am " fearfully & wonderfully made..." 

                                                                - from Psalm 139:14

~~Sarahbeth McCarren

Life With Chronic Pain : Getting it " Fixed"

                                           Me hiking in NC. I was healthier here. Healthier, but still in pain. 

My name is Sarabeth and I suffer from chronic nerve pain. 

At the age of twelve, I needed TWO major surgeries to correct severe scoliosis. 

A titanium device called a Harrington Rod was inserted into my spine in order to correct a seventy-five-degree curvature. 

I was twelve. I'm forty-seven now. 

The surgery to correct the curvature of my spine was necessary. Yet now it is a main reason why I suffer from chronic nerve pain. 

My official diagnosis is " Failed Back Surgery Syndrome" While my scoliosis surgeries did not fail in the technical sense {My back is somewhat straight now}, the problems I deal with now are caused by the implants in my spine. 

For close to four years now, I've been battling the health care system to get a pain-and drug-free solution to my problem. The pandemic, and a need to change pain clinics {that mess is another story for another day} 

Let me say one thing: I DO NOT LIKE DRUGS. As part of the hunt for a solution, I've tried physical therapy, yoga, CBD rubs {which actually does help temporarily} and a TENS unit. 

None of this works for nerve pain. Imaging of my lower back shows that the nerve roots of my lumbar spine look like frayed rope. 

Ouch. 

Currently I am taking two very different medications to control the pain. 

One is Gabapentin, a medicine that works on the central nervous system via the chemical receptors to the brain. It is not a controlled substance. 

On really bad days I take Tramadol, which IS a controlled substance. Due to its potential for abuse, and a family history of alcoholism, I only use this medicine when NEEDED.  

I am waiting for a procedure that will {HOPEFULLY} erase the need for me to take copious amounts of drugs. It is called Radiofrequency Ablation. Here is a good article about the procedure. 

https://www.mayoclinichealthsystem.org/hometown-health/speaking-of-health/radiofrequency-ablation-pain-relief 

In order for my insurance to qualify me for this procedure, I had to undergo TWO injections of a nerve-blocking medication into my lower back. Yuck. 

Thankfully, my messed-up back passed this " test", and I am scheduled for the nerve ablation on October 24. Per insurance, I can only get one side ablated at a time. 

Damn. 

Thanks, Humana.  

I also suffer from a condition called Vasovagal Syncope, which is a fancy word for fainting at triggers. I discovered that was a problem when I went in for a steroid injection at my previous pain clinic and nearly went into cardiac arrest when the nurse stuck an IV in my arm. So, I am not thrilled about TWO IV insertions, but at least I know to tell the nurse to have plenty of IV fluids immediately available. 

A tired, hungry , scared and dehydrated Sarahbeth is a recipe for another near-death experience. 

Y'all I , am tired of being in pain. 

I'm in my late 40s-- with hopefully a long second half of life ahead of me. 

If you pray, please pray that this procedure works. 

All I want is to feel " whole" again. 

Sarahbeth McCarren 

Oct 8 2023
 

Humans are beautiful creatures

Born with this body type, height and bone structure. Photo by Brian 

Friends, it is time we talk about bodies. 

No, not that talk. 

Rather, we need to talk about how we judge each other based on our physical "packages."

Women, especially, are harmed by the ever-changing world of fashion and manufactured " beauty standards. 

For instance, I am tallish {5 feet 6 inches}, long-limbed and small-boned. My wrists and ankles are tiny. My legs are proportionately longer than my torso. 

While I definitely would not say I am a curvy woman, neither am I " built like a teenaged boy", as one woman casually and cruelly said to me when we were sitting around a campfire. My body is that of a woman-- regardless of my lack of curves. 

I am not a man, and a sure as hell am not built like a boy. 

My husband never complains about my figure, and my doctor says I am healthy { albeit a wee bit underweight, but that is for health concerns} 

This caustic remark by one woman hurt me deeply.  

I saw a Facebook post today that showed two cartoon women standing next to each other in bikinis. Thought bubbles above each head read " She's so beautiful". 

Friends, that is what we should say/think when we see someone.

She's so beautiful. 

He's so handsome. 

They are so attractive. 

Each of us is made in the imago Dei , or Image of God. 

God made each human like God made each plant or animal. 

During this Season of Creation, some of us prayerfully consider how we may better co-exist with all f Creation. Maybe now is a good time to also pause to see the diverse beauty that is evident of a creative, loving Creator in each human face and body we encounter. 

God made us, and we are lovely in God's Eyes. 

Look in the mirror, YOU, my friend, also are made in Imago Dei. 

Amen. 

Sarahbeth McCarren

 

Make a Difference: Mentor

                                     Bill and Marsha, two people who " Took Stock"in Sarahbeth. I cannot begin to list all the lessons they've taught me over my lifetime. 

I am blessed to be " retired. While we certainly have enough money, Brian and I cannot fund huge philanthropic projects. 

We do, however have time to spend. As a person of faith, AND a good citizen, I believe in serving others in however way I am called to serve. There are a lot of needs, and no one can do ALL the work that needs t be done for a more just and equal world. 

I had wanted to get involved with my local Big Brothers/ Big Sisters organization ere in Pensacola. Since I do not drive {NOT my choice}, I felt that it would not be fair to a " little" if I could not treat her to outings such as ball games, festivals, etc. 

I knew of a family whose student went to college on a Take Stock in Children scholarship over in the neighboring county, so last year I began investigating becoming a mentor with this organization. 

Here is the web site: 

https://www.takestockinchildren.org/

My student is an 8th grade girl. I cannot, for privacy's sake, share too much about her publicly, but suffice it to say that she is a delightful child whom I am enjoying getting to know. She and I are still in the " getting-to-know-each-other" phase of our mentorship, and we have much in common {her grades are way better than mine ever were-- especially in 8th grade!} She and I share some hobbies and interests, too. 

Throughout my life, I have been and still am blessed with people to whom I look up-- people I choose to have in my life. Bill and Marsha, pictured above, are two of the most consistent people who " took stock" in me but there are many others. I am grateful to have an opportunity to share some of the wisdom I've gleaned from almost 50 years of life.  

Mentoring is a natural fit for me since I thrive on one-on-one relationships and prefer a five-year commitment to one student rather than receiving a new young person to mentor every August. 

My neurodivergent brain thrives on consistency, so long-term commitments are not a problem for me. 

I've also discovered that my personality suits mentoring an older student rather than helping a pre-kindergarten student with her reading. Of course, that was fun and extremely worthwhile, but just not a good fit for my personality and skill set. 

Time is a treasure that each of us has and spending it wisely to help others is such a blessing-- and our calling as people of faith. 

Amen..

Sarahbeth McCarren 
 

Book Review: The Forgotten Girls A memoir of Friendship & lost Promise in Rural America

                                            Mountain Deer in western NC

I am reading a fascinating book called The Forgotten Girls: A Memoir of Friendship & Lost Promise in Rural America .  The author, Monica Potts, goes back to her small, mostly White, rural community in the Ozarks to try to understand why so many girls in these communities across this nation. 

Both Monica and her best friend, Darci, are promising young teens in Clinton, Arkansas. 

Monica ears a scholarship to an out-of-state school. Darci chooses to party and chase boys in high school and gets stuck in their rural hometown. 

This is a story that I saw get played out many times while growing up in rural northern Appalachia. I am only halfway through the book because it is so damn sad. 

The book talks about how poor, rural girls and not as encouraged to earn good grades and attain a college degree.

Both Monica and Darci came from poor families. My family was solidly middle-class, but I grew up around such rural poverty as theirs. 

Did I experience rural poverty firsthand? Thankfully the answer to that is NO. 

However, I DID see the sort of poverty that the author discusses in this book. Let me tell you about my lab partner: I'll call her Patty. 

Patty and I met in high school. We took many of the same classes but ran in completely different social circles. We spent a year dissecting various preserved critters in Anatomy and Physiology during our senior year, but never became friends. 

Her friends considered me " uppity". 

My social group was baffled that I'd even want to be friends with someone like Patty. 

I do not know what became of my bright lab partner. I do remember her telling me that she'd be the first in her family to attend a four-year college and that she wanted to study nursing. 

I hope she got out and stayed away. 

The book talks about how poor, rural girls and not as encouraged to earn good grades and attain a college degree. 

I got out, and I am forever grateful that my neurodivergent, creative hippie chick self had the opportunity to follow my parents to Northwest Florida. 

Please understand that I love the folks with whom I'd grown up. Most of them are hard-working, good people. Yet to be honest, I never " fit in" there. 

I was a shy and awkward teen. No one would have considered me " boy crazy", and I surely was NOT popular. I honestly did not care about dating and the last thing I thought about when I was in high school was settling down into marriage and motherhood at an early age. 

Although I could have been a better student, I knew my intelligence would be my ticket away from that community that always felt foreign to me-- even though that was where I'd lived for my first twenty-two years of life. 

I lived there, but it always felt like I did not belong-- and could not wait to get the hell out. 

Rural America is great for some people, but not for me. 

Sarahbeth McCarren