On Parade

Every summer when my children were young, we went to the Webster Fireman's Parade. We arrived early for a front row seat and spread our blanket on the curb. Eating sandwiches we packed or food from a local vendor was part of our tradition. My children loved the screaming firetrucks, especially when the fireman threw candy into their eager hands. I personally loved the majorettes who wore their colorful costumes and danced their way through the streets while twirling their batons with uncanny precision. Even for a grown woman like myself, the spectacle was captivating.

Recently my life went on parade, and I am the spectator on the curb watching each and every event whether good or bad march before me. Sometimes the mistakes scream like firetruck sirens through the montage of my memories. Other times the sweet candy of desire is thrown at me trying to entice me into what I choose to reject. The dancing majorettes are people who were party to my indiscretions. They are waving at me as if to say, "Do you remember?" The problem is I do. I remember with regret.


When the parade first begins I am intrigued, but isn't that how we are lured into the enticing trappings of sin. When I open my eyes and see the parade for what it truly is I am paralyzed, not by fear but by the recognition that I once marched in the parade. I was the majorette trying to grab the attention of a wayward soul. This past week I was promoting a new class in Creative Nonfiction. I went to six classes and shared a piece I published about an event from over 25 years ago. Every time I read, I became more and more uneasy in my spirit until the last day. On that day, the professor in the classroom said, "I like the angle you took because I can see you were not the victim but rather a strong woman who endured a terrible moment." I left the publication on my dining room table and my daughter read it. She sent me a text about how amazed she was that I could handle such a situation. They were both right. The grace of God gave me strength to make it through one of most difficult experiences I ever had to endure.


The parade isn't just a sinful past. It is memories of harder times, times when I was fighting against cancer. This past week a woman died who I met last year at the Wendi Logan Breast Clinic. She had ovarian cancer and opted to have her breasts removed as well. She was so healthy when I saw her last. When I went to the clinic last week, I was going to inquire about her but I forgot. I saw her death notice on Sunday and was floored. She was so vibrant and beautiful and now she was gone like a vapor in the wind. Of course, my survivor's guilt kicked in again. Why did I live? What did I have to offer? These are questions that always come to mind when I lose someone to cancer. They are questions I may never have an answer to in this lifetime.


This morning I realized that when the parades start in my life or I start questioning my mortality, I tend to bring out the big guns in an attempt to fight the battle on my own. I don't need to. What I need to do is rest in the arms of God. I need to let God fight my battles for me. I need to stop trying to arm myself with worldly defenses and let God be my defense. I can't win the battle on my own. I am clueless about warfare. When I have a tremendous General willing to defend me against the enemy, one who did it at the cost of his very own life, I should let him take his rightful place. I can let MY defenses down because "when the enemy comes in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him and put him to flight" (Isaiah 59:19). I can fly higher without the big guns. In fact, I can soar.


Now on a good note. My parade often reminds me of the good things in my life. I have a husband who has loved me unconditionally for over 30 years. He has been my rock. I have children who are now grown and having babies of their own. In one year, I have been blessed with three more grandchildren, two were born within the past three months. I watched Harrison come into the world on October 6, and it is a memory I will cherish forever. I have created a beautiful family,and I will never do anything to dismantle this precious gift given to me. When I see this parade, I stand with pride. For all I have lost is but a pittance in comparison to all I have gained. So let the sirens blow for this spectacle because it is worth celebrating. I am truly blessed.

There But For the Grace of God, Go I.

I have the gift of mercy. Whether it comes from having my face in the miry clay of sin most of life or because it is a God-given gift, the fact remains, I extend mercy to those whom many believe are undeserving of it. A friend recently left his wife because of an affair. It was heartbreaking news because, by all appearances, he had the quintessential marriage. In some ways, I was jealous of what they had because they shared so many common interests. My husband and I are polar opposites, but maybe there is some level of truth to the old cliché: “Opposites attract.” I felt his wife’s pain. I felt her loss. But I also understood the internal conflict and guilt he was feeling because I had been in his shoes. What did Atticus Finch say in To Kill a Mockingbird? "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." I equate it with going through cancer. No one understands what it feels like when chemotherapy hits your veins throwing you into a wall of internal chaos. No one can even fathom what it is like to throw up every time you try to eat or what it is like to see your hair on your pillow every morning. No one understands what it is like to screw up your marriage because of bad choices unless they have been through it themselves.

So I reached out my hand in encouragement to my friend, and he reached back with his feelings of guilt. I knew his heart. Is there a problem? Yes. I am often judged for showing empathy, compassion, and mercy to someone who, by the world’s standards, has screwed up their life. Therein lies the problem. When did we take God’s place and become judge and jury? Doesn’t the Bible say, “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

Showing mercy, for me, goes far beyond identifying with someone. Currently, I am doing

a Social Justice: Homelessness and Poverty theme in my ENG 101 class. I want my students to reach beyond their inner circles and into their community. I never knew when I started this journey that I would find so many students who have experienced homelessness and poverty and would be willing to share their stories with me. My heart soared but, at the same time, I felt such deep empathy for their experiences.

I have been out with the organization Streets for Christ. The leader, Ryan Ballard, wants “the power of the Gospel of Jesus Christ [to] transform the lives of the homeless and encourage them towards a new direction.” His faithful warriors, who go out on the street every Friday night, strive to show unconditional love toward everyone they encounter. When I went I found it to be a powerful experience. Extending mercy changed my life, and I knew the old saying was true: “There but for the grace of God, go I.”

Recently, Sister Grace Miller, from The House of Mercy, was arrested for protesting the homeless being locked out of the Civic Center Garage, one of the only warm places in Rochester for the homeless to sleep. There are not enough shelters for the homeless population, so where are they supposed to go? "We're willing to risk arrest for the homeless that the county does not care about,” Grace Miller told the media. Sister Grace is the epitome of the gift of mercy. She was willing to go to jail for her desire to keep the homeless warm, for understanding their plight, and for meeting their needs. She is my role model for extending the mercy of God.

Having empathy, showing mercy, and being a compassionate person should be part of the human condition. Unfortunately, it is not. Many people would rather judge harshly than show mercy. My challenge to everyone reading this blog is whenever you encounter an injustice, a mistake someone has made, or anything you find offensive, put yourself in their shoes. Think before you speak. Listen to their heart. Extend your hand of mercy rather than pull it away in judgment. Two words come to mind: Unconditional Love. Also, remember these words: “There but for the Grace of God, go I.”

July 10th, 2014

I intended to write about something said in an email message to me recently: “Stop striving and start living.” Today, I had a different thought because I was struggling yesterday with the assumption that God is not in the business of answering prayers anymore. This past year I have prayed diligently for people who have died or have had a recurrence of cancer. It is disheartening, but I had an epiphany today.

We have been waiting for the arrival of my newest grandson, Teddy. Yesterday, Heather’s blood pressure was high, so she was sent to triage where they monitored it. They were concerned about preeclampsia. I prayed! I put her on the prayer chain. I prayed some more. Three hours later, she was sent home because her blood pressure went down. I knew it was an answer to prayer. I knew it was a little nudge in my spirit saying, “I am listening Kathy.”

In my devotions this morning, I read, “Silence takes the emphasis off words and builds intimacy where they’re no longer necessary.” I realized that “stop striving and start living” and this quote are in the same vein. They speak of trust. Sometimes we long to hear the words and to have the answers to the prayers of our heart, but we need to step back and just breathe. When we strive, we fail to hear the still small voice that tells us that HE has everything under control. I am a control freak, so it isn’t easy for me to just live and let God do the work he has planned in each of the situations I am praying about. But when I trust, it builds intimacy.

Recently, I spoke of my “radio silence.” Sometimes there is either “radio silence” with God or I am on the wrong frequency. But if I just trust that everything will work out as he planned it, my intimacy grows with the lover of my soul. When I trust, I grow! When I grow, I trust. It is really very simple. So, I guess it is time to stop striving and start living. It’s time to trust those moments of silence knowing it is all part of building intimacy.