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Unbundling My Bias

“Let me first say that I am biased now and always will be,” Rob said, after I finally found the guts to call him.  It seemed safe to confide in him since he lived so far away.

I called hoping Rob would know how I felt – since he had also spent time in a close-knit Christian community that didn’t – on paper – approve of his daughter’s sexual orientation.  I was still in the early stages then, not yet talking locally about it but needing to know I wasn’t alone.

He did know how I felt, and talked me through it.  Continue reading “Unbundling My Bias”

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Who You Are

In the grand scheme of things, I’d only just found you, but today was our day. At age 24, I could barely call myself a man as I woke up for the last time as a single person.  Just out of college, I’d had a trip to South America, a year-long city plunge in L.A., and a summer camp job bizarrely combining night security and children’s music.

I was finding myself, as they say.  I wanted to leave all Continue reading “Who You Are”

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10,000

I’ve been feeling out of control lately.  Increasingly aware that loving someone means part of my heart is strapped into the passenger seat of their car.  Though seat-belted, there is nothing safe about it.  They are at the wheel, and their impulses affect my outcomes.

There is much in life I can control.  I like those things.  Even if they involve hard work. I can study to learn a skill that takes my career in a new direction.   I can, with help from a good counselor, learn to speak up for myself and break the cycle of people pleasing.  I can save some money, buy a map, and go on a trip to Ecuador.

Lately though, I’ve felt so out of control that I’ve done something desperate:  Continue reading “10,000”

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The Wall

It’s time, again, to go out.  Out beyond the known walls.  This has meant so much more than a Sunday change.  It’s about hearing new voices, meeting and listening to new people, reading new authors, engaging and participating: not as one with an agenda but as one who has a lot to learn.

I could have written this as a 21-year old finishing college, and I daresay I did. I went off my security grid and into a gritty part of LA, listening to lives as different from my own as I could imagine.  Teens in the neighborhood didn’t give a damn about Continue reading “The Wall”

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Living the Painting: Advent Week Four

If the Return of the Prodigal Son were a theater production, which part would I audition for?  After spending Advent immersed in the story, I know I could play either son well.  But do I have what it takes to play the father?

I set out on this writing project without knowing it would end where it started:    Continue reading “Living the Painting: Advent Week Four”