I'm a Survivor

I was driving down the road one day and had the radio on. I typically listen to a local country station, one that played both new hits and older hits as well. I was surprised to hear a song that I had not heard in a very long time, but a song that I love dearly.

Reba McEntire’s, “I’m a Survivor”.

For those who have not heard this song, I highly recommend that you take a moment to listen to it.

The song describes a woman’s struggle throughout her life and despite the struggles she had since childbirth and raising children, she describes herself as a survivor.

Whenever I think of this song, I think of my mother. The woman in the song and my mother led two different narratives, two different lives, but I can say without a doubt, that my mother is a survivor.

My mother was the youngest of five children, one of whom did not survive childbirth. She was a rebellious teenager, but had compassion for the world. She struggled with her own form of depression, which almost claimed her life through suicide. But through Divine intervention, she survived her suicide and depression. She married an abusive man and helped raise his children before having her first child (my sister). A few years after their divorce, my mother discovered that her daughter was being sexually abused by her ex-husband, which haunted her for many years. My mother lost her second child through miscarriage and was forced to give up her third child because of her father’s racist attitudes. She then bore her fourth and last child (me) who was diagnosed on the Autism spectrum and needed additional support and attention throughout childhood.

During all this, she worked several hard-working jobs, many at the same time. She finished college with high honors, and would eventually become the first person in her family to earn her Masters in Special Education. She worked years working with the mentally differently-abled and those with cerebral palsy. She counseled distraught families and teenagers and cared for the elderly in a care home. She then taught children on the Autism Spectrum and was perceived as a saint at Forest Pines Elementary in Raleigh, North Carolina.

She was stubborn, but had a heart full of love. She cared for the opposed, especially the young, who needed a voice in this world. She wanted nothing but the best for all her children and the children who were not her own. When she re-joined the church, she became a leader in our local congregation of Wake Forest Christian, especially in her efforts of outreach and children’s ministry.

Along with her emotional baggage’s, she also damaged her back that lasted the rest of her life and suffered from lupus for many years. Near the end of her life, she suffered from Gastro-cancer, which would take her life.

The world truly lost a Saint on November 3^rd, 2011.  

Despite my mother’s death….My mother is still a survivor.

Often, the word survivor implies a person who has overcome death or an event that threatens life.

I don’t agree with this implicit definition.

For me, a survivor is someone who has overcome one, if not more, obstacles in life, and has not relinquished their humanity.

The song describes a woman’s struggle to work two jobs, raise kids, and deal with a recent divorce. The author of the song knows about the obstacles of life. But despite these obstacles, the author says the woman has “gentle hands and the heart of a fighter”.

Too often, it seems like a better choice to go through life’s obstacles with bitterness, instead of gentleness. Now, I can’t judge anyone’s bitterness. I have not lived their life and I have not faced their struggles.

But I would like to ask: Is it hard to carry that burden of bitterness? It almost seems like bitterness becomes just another obstacle to overcome in life while trying to overcome all the other obstacles we face.

However, being bitter is very different from having anger during your struggles.

Anger is a necessary emotion. It is the emotion in the body that informs us that something is wrong and needs some form of correction. This includes the need for resolution, expression of hurt or grief, and even justice seeking.

While anger is necessary, it is not without caution. Anger can lead us to causing harm toward other people and even ourselves. But it is not the emotion of anger that causes harm, but the choices we make in the midst of our anger.

My mother was not without anger. She had every right to be angry. Her first husband abused her daughter. She lost both her second and third child through death and separation. She lost her oldest sister and father to death. She suffered from lupus. These are only a few out of many reasons for my mother’s anger.

And I don’t blame my mother for being angry.

But I don’t believe that my mother was a bitter woman. My mother, while stubborn and stern at times, was also gentle and kind as well. She knew how to fight, but was not embittered from her struggles. Even during the last months of my mother’s life, as she laid in the hospital bed with a lot of pain, she made sure everyone else was being taken care of, even the nurses who were there to take care of her.

My mother is a survivor.

And because of my mother, I am a survivor as well.

My mother’s life, my mother’s struggles and how she overcame her struggles not only gave me the support to overcome my own struggles, but taught me how to overcome future struggles as well.

That is what survivors do. They teach us how to survive, with love and compassion and not with bitterness.

So I invite you to take a moment to recognize the survivors who are in your life. And how they are teaching you to be a survivor as well.

And once you recognize your survivors, take a moment to thank them. Not only for their survival, but for teaching you how to survive as well.

And perhaps, once we recognize and express gratitude, we can begin to teach those who are struggling in their own obstacles.

This is my hope for you and for me as well.

May you walk with your truth, your story, and your Ruah always.

Peace, 

Is Jesus Really Coming?

One day, after a long morning and afternoon session at the hospital, I am driving down the highway when I notice a large white truck…with a large cross in the truck bed. And on the cross, the message, “Jesus is Coming” was written in large bold print. As I got closer, the rest of the truck also had the same message all over it. As I passed the cross and the truck, I left feeling…uneasy.

Sure, it sounds like a nice message. “Jesus is coming”. But what does that mean? And more importantly, who is this message for?

“Jesus is coming”…why is Jesus coming? Well, several New Testament scriptures state that Jesus said himself that he would return one day to restore everything again. But I still want to know what does it mean for Jesus to come back again?

Does that mean no more suffering for the marginalized? Does that mean no more pain for the sick? Does that mean no more oppression or violence or injustice?

If the answer is yes to all of these questions, then I can get behind the message that “Jesus is coming”.

So then, why do I still feel uneasy?

I feel uneasy because when I hear that message, I often see the implicit messages included with the statement, “Jesus is Coming” which can include: “Don’t Worry about Your Troubles Now, for one Day Jesus will Take Care of All of it”.

Again, a nice message; however, it’s easy for the person who is not in the midst of oppression, injustice, and marginalization to say that they can wait for Jesus to take care of everything.

And the irony is that when Jesus was on Earth, all he did was sit with the oppressed, stand up for the marginalize, and teach about Love and Justice to all he spoke to.

And now Jesus’s message of his return is being used implicitly to say, “Don’t worry, someone [Jesus] will take care of your problems on day”.

I am uneasy with this message, because it puts all the responsibility on Jesus and takes all of the responsibility off us.

I want to say that one day Jesus will return again, but I don’t interpret it that Jesus will take care of all our problems for our problems are here and very much real.

Instead, I think we should be more like Jesus: Putting all our actions into loving our neighbors and standing up for injustice when we see it.

Perhaps that is how Jesus is coming back to give us hope. Perhaps Jesus needs to act through us in order to bring back love and peace into the world.

Can you imagine how much the world might change if we all acted like Jesus by loving and caring for all the people we come into contact with every day? That is a future that I can “wait” for, not a future where we wait ideally by for a Savior to take care of everything that we can be working for right now.

So as you reflect on my words, may you look at the life of Jesus and learn how to love and stand up for the oppressed now like Jesus would when he was on earth. And may you Love all your Neighbors as much as you would Love your Entire Ruah!

Peace, 

Camp Communities Change Lives

Summer 2009. Seems like an eternity ago since that summer and yet it was the summer that would make a huge difference in my life. That summer was the first time I experienced church camp.

I just finished my Sophomore year in High School and my mom and a good friend of ours from church were wanting me and two youth from church to go to a church camp called Camp Caroline. I resisted going, but the decision was made for me.

It was such a long drive. While the two other youth rode with the Hillyer van, another disciples church in downtown Raleigh, I rode with my parents. That comforted me, but the entire time I kept wondering how I was going to make it an entire week alone. I assumed I would be alone because I assumed that no one would hang out with me or be my friend. It was the nature at school so I assumed the same for all social situations I encountered.

We eventually arrived and got registered. My parents left and the adults led us in some weird dance activity. I hide in the background, hoping no one would notice I wasn’t dancing. Then the directors of the camp spoke to us and said we would be split into small groups. They announced who was in which small group, but I didn’t hear my name, so I just joined the last group to be formed, who thankfully I knew the leader (she was my minister’s wife). I stuck with their group for about 20 minutes, until someone came by and asked, “Is there a Kevin over here?”

My first thought was, “Did I do something wrong?” The director explained that they had been looking for me because I was in the wrong small group. So, I guess I did do something wrong, or that was my assumption anyway. I felt so embarrassed, but no one was upset. He walked with me through the dark camp ground to my right small group, who were really happy that I wasn’t lost and got there to meet everyone. It was the first of many moments that week that made me feel loved.

The week continued and throughout each day, I discovered the nature of what camp is all about. Camp is about community. Through the camp community, we created a sanctuary from the stresses and pain of the outside world. Through the camp community, we reminded ourselves of the power of God through the love we provided for our neighbors and ourselves. Through the camp community, we welcome new people to experience how camp communities change lives.

I used to believe that the camp grounds were magical and that whenever people came to camp, community was already established.

However, while my experience can lead to this assumption, the reality is that camp is not magical simply because of the location or program or God being present there (those these certainly do help!)

The real magic of community comes from the actions that we teach and lead while at camp.

When you see a person sitting alone or not feeling included, speak to them, invite them, listen to the stories that they bring into the community!

We all want to feel welcomed, to have a sense of belonging, and to know we are loved for being who God made us to be. When we welcome all people into the community, then we implicitly say to the person you are welcomed, you belong, and you are loved for being You!

To anyone who needs these reminders in life and needs a community that gives them a place to belong, camp can lead to a major change in a person’s life!

However, when this welcoming atmosphere is not present, camp can lead to not so good changes in our lives.

I’ve heard plenty of horror stories of people, either as adults or children, who attend camp and were ignored, discriminated against, or rejected by the community for one reason or another. These reasons can include, but are not limited to: one’s identity, one’s actions in which the community deemed were “sinful”, or simply for being different.

If this has been your experience, I am truly sorry. This is not what camp communities should be about.

Camp communities should invite differences of all people. Camp communities should not be concerned with “sinful actions” but recognize that people’s actions do not define the whole person. Camp communities should be a place where people experience the love of God through the love of others.

It is my hope, for all people who will be at camp this summer, that you create a loving space that will help change people’s lives in meaningful ways!

I have been blessed that my experience my first summer was a life changing experience. And after my first camp in 2009, I continued to have life changing experience at various weekend retreats and summer camps for the next few years. Even after I graduated High School, I volunteered as a counselor and worked as a camp staffer for several summers. Last summer, I was even honored to serve as a Camp Staff Director at Christmount. It now seems strange that this will be my first summer in eight years that I will not be participating in any camp program. Instead I will be participating in a different kind of ministry through the Hospital system. I am truly going to miss the camping season this summer.

For all the campers who are planning to attend camp this summer, I wish you many wonderful memories and lifelong friends that you will create and experience!

For all the counselors and camp staffers, I wish you a chance to share your gifts and joy with all the campers you come to enjoy your week (or weeks) with!

For all the Directors and Keynoters, I wish you peace in the midst of camp chaos and the chance to share your guidance with all the campers and counselors/camp staffers you get to lead!

For all camp communities, I invite you the chance to create a life changing experience, for ALL people, so that they realize they belong now into your community for life.

May your camp experience change your life and may your Ruah always be with you,

Peace,

Different, Not Dis

A few weeks ago, the church that I work at took our youth to a roller-skating rink to start off the new year for youth group. Along with our youth, we had several parents, the associate minister, myself, and another congregant who for the purpose of this story I will address him as Max. Max is an older congregant and he had never gone roller-skating before. It was something he had on his bucket list to do and we were determined that he was going to be able to do it.

Like all new roller-skaters, Max had difficulty in maintaining his balance on roller skates. There is a certain ability in maintaining one’s balance on skates. Some people naturally acquire that skill while others need time to practice acquiring that skill. Max falls into the latter category. To be sure, he was very scared to go out onto the rink. I helped him, and stood next to him, holding on to him so that he didn’t fall and hurt himself as he slowly skated along the wall of the rink. While I was holding on to him, several people passed us and stared at us. Their stares were noticed by Max and he could tell he was being judged for not being able to naturally skate.

The people staring did not say anything; however, I can make an educated guess into what they may be thinking or what labels they were casting down on Max. It’s a label I hear too often:

Disabled.

I don’t like this label. In fact, I would even argue this is an oppressive label. It’s similar to other oppressive systems. There is a “norm” group that is set up as higher on a hierarchical system and those who don’t fit that “norm” group are treated more harshly.

To say someone is “disabled” is to infer that this person is lesser than a person who, I suppose, would be defined as…what able? I certainly don’t go around defining people as “abled” so why the hell would I want to define a person as “disabled”?

This label is a subtle form of ableism, but unfortunately is not usually seen as ableism. Disabled has been used for so many years as a “PC” term that so many people don’t even realize the danger of using it.

When you say someone is disabled, you place them separate from other people based on abilities, be they physical or mental, that you deem as needed or normal. If you speak a different way; if you walk a different pattern; if you see the world in a different view; if you interact with others and yourself different…

Notice how in each of those situations, I used the word “different”.

That’s because they are different abilities. For this reason, I prefer the term “Differently Abled”.

The term “Differently Abled” is much more inclusive and gets rid of this false hierarchy of abilities that we have created in our society.

However, when I was talking to someone about this term, they made an important observation. Even if we change the label of “Disabled” to “Differently Abled”, doesn’t that still create a label that separates people with different abilities to people with “normal” abilities?

I thought about this for a while and my response is yes and no.

The distinction is how we use the term “Differently abled”.

For five summers, I worked and volunteered for a camp called Camp Sunshine. Unlike other camps, this camp was for adults. The adults come from different places, both group homes and individual homes. To all the adult campers, this is their favorite time of the year. Many of them even use this week as their vacation time from work to come to this camp.

All of the adults have a variety of different abilities, so they could be labeled as “differently abled”. However, recognizing their different abilities is one thing, but if I was to put the label “differently abled” on the campers, then that is a different thing all together.

Saying they are “differently abled” does honor the fact that their abilities are not lesser or superior to mine. But there is a sense that “different” is still lesser.

Thus, when I use the term differently abled, I am not speaking to just people who do not fall into the “norm” abilities. In fact, I’m challenging that there is such as a thing as “normal” abilities.

In other words, we are all differently abled.

There are no normal abilities or abilities that make people better or lesser from one another.

When I volunteer at Camp Sunshine, I may be a counselor, but my abilities are not better than any of the campers. Just different.

Max’s abilities may not include coordinated balance, but anyone who receives a letter from Max feels like the most special person on the entire earth.

My abilities as a Non-Neurotypical person may make social situations scary and a bit awkward, but I have developed my listening abilities because of my more timid and quiet nature.

Some people may talk differently. Some people may walk differently. Some people may interact with the world differently. Not only is that okay. But it is sacred.

If you walk away learning anything from this post, please take away this important lesson: Don’t label, judge, or make people conform based on one’s abilities.

Recognize the person you interact with wholeness and love and as a sacred being.

Honor your different abilities, honor the different abilities of others, and remember you are loved with your entire Ruah!

Peace

Sharing Our Stories- The Good, the Bad, and the 2016

Two days ago, I was sitting at the Pittsburgh airport, waiting for my plane to arrive. However, I was about two hours early before my plane would depart. Luckily, I my books with me to pass the time. Out of the five books in my bookbag, I chose Karen Scheib’s “Pastoral Care: Telling the Stories of Our Lives”. This book is required for my January Term intensive course, Pastoral Care within the Congregational setting. While I am not finished quite yet, I would recommend it as so far it is a good and interesting read.

Gradually, more people arrived at the gate. During this time, three women sat down to my right. Two of the women were either friends or related and the third woman was a stranger to them. While I was engaged in my book, I listened to how the three women engaged in conversation with each other. They shared different stories about where they were coming from, where they were going, what they were going to do once they reached their destination, and everything else in between.

The encounter made me smile. First, because of the irony of the fact that I am reading a book on how to provide pastoral care by telling and listening to the stories we have. And second, because I was witnessing the true power of sharing our stories with new people.

We are embarking on a new year. Through social media and face to face encounters, people have told me that they cannot wait for 2016 to be over. It seems for many, this year has been harmful, painful, or just disappointing. I cannot deny that many events this past have not fit this description.

At the same time, it is hard for me to truly generalize this entire year as terrible. I had moments that I hope to never relive again. But I also have moments that I hope I get to experience again as well.

I experienced my first job at working in a grocery store.

I survived two more semesters of Seminary and completed many classes:

History of Christianity I, Theology II, Ministry of Pastoral Care, Spiritual Life and Leadership, Educational Ministry, Ministry in the LGBTQIA Community, and Christian Ethics.

I became the 2016 Camp Staff Director at Christmount for the entire summer.

I crashed my car in the middle of downtown Dallas and thus bought my own car for the first time.

I took on the ministry intern position at Ridglea Christian Church and have gradually experienced new forms of leading in ministry.

I have traveled and visited friends and even had my best friend visit me in Texas.

I have begun the process of struggling financially as I become more and more like an adult.

I have witnessed the country’s greatest mistake to occur within our modern era.

There are many stories, both good and not so good, that are present within each of these major year events.

And I am sure each of you have had moments and experiences this past year that were good and terrible as well.

For all those who had moments that were just horrible for them, I do hope you never have to relive those moments again.

And for all those who had experiences that gave them meaning, enjoyment, and love, may you get to experience those experiences again!

But what does this have to do with our overall stories?

Well, 2016 is a part of our continuing story. Both the good stories and the not so good stories.

Often, we try to hide the not so good stories and pretend they are not our own. These stories may be embarrassing for us. They might be damaging to our health. They might be viewed as unworthy to be shared.

No matter what your reason may be, I am truly sorry if you feel you cannot share your stories with others.

I am a believer that sharing stories with others can be a healing event. It is within sharing our stories that we share who we are with another. It requires vulnerability and within that vulnerability, we can see the harm within a person and our own souls.

It is my hope that no matter how many terrible events that have happened this year, we can still share these stories with others. There is truth in the phrase, “misery enjoys company”. We are not born to live in isolation. We are not meant to live without sharing our stories.

My hope for you, is if you have a story, from this year or another, that you feel you cannot share, find a good friend, family member, or even counselor to share your story with. Someone you can trust and know they are listening to you and will love you after the story if finished being told.

And for everyone else, my hope for you is that you take the time to listen to the stories that need to be listened to. You never know what a difference you are making when you sit down and listen to someone who needs their story to be heard.

Happy New Year Everyone.

May you embrace and share the stories you have, for they are worth embracing and sharing.

May you embrace and listen to the stories others have, for they are worth being embraced and listened to.

May you remember you are loved and your Ruah is always with you,

Peace, 

Ten Years Ago, My Life Changed

This is a Personal Letter to my home church, Wake Forest Christian Church. As they celebrate their 11^th Anniversary, I reflect on how ten years ago, I joined Wake Forest. As I reflect, I wanted to express a personal thank you to this church that had affected my life while also providing testimony that churches can provide a great place for people to grow and cause great change for anyone. Thus, I hope my testimony is an encouragement to current churches that YOU have the power to either create a space filled with love and welcome or a space filled with exclusion and hate. I hope for anyone in religious or church leadership reading this testimony, you choose the former.

Out of the many lessons that I am learning and will continue to learn throughout my life is that everything is subject to change.

Many changes have occurred throughout my life, both positive and negative. However, one of the biggest positive changes, that occurred Ten Years ago, was when I officially became a member of Wake Forest Christian Church, joined the Disciples of Christ Church, and was baptized as a Christian.

So many people today are surprised when I inform them that I was not raised within the Christian Church. In fact, I wasn’t raised in any religious setting growing up. The closest I came to organized religion was when I was under 5 years old and I would play in my Aunt’s Methodist Church basement.

But even then, I did not know anything about God or Jesus or what the church was all about. I do not regret my non-religious upbringing. I do not believe that one must have a religious upbringing to have a good and moral life. My mother and father raised me to be respectful to all people, not matter who they were or where they came from.

So I’m sure you must be wondering how come I started to attend church?

I have my Mom to thank for that.

In 2005, my Mom was searching for a new teaching position outside of the town we were living in PA. She looked in several different places, but one of those places was at an Elementary School in Wake Forest, North Carolina. I still remember the short visit we had down to North Carolina and how much I hoped we would not move down there. However, my Mom was hired and she accepted the position and by August of that same year, I was now a resident of North Carolina.

Several months had passed. I was still adjusting to the move. It was the Sunday after Easter. My Mom knocked on my door and announced, “We’re going to Church”. Barely awake, I replied, “What?” At the time, I did not understand what would cause my Mom to suddenly explain that we were not going to church.

However, hindsight always makes the picture much clearer. A few months before this announcement, my Aunt Sissy had passed away after a year of battling with Lung Cancer. It greatly affected my Mom and I know she was wrapped with guilt for moving away from her family. I can imagine that my Mom was seeking a religious community to provide care and support during her own process of grieving.

But why Wake Forest Christian Church?

Well, my Mom worked at Forest Pines Elementary. Another teacher who worked there was Leah Eubanks, the wife of Jamie Eubanks, Minister at Wake Forest Christian Church. My Mom and Leah quickly became friends and through personal invitation, my Mom wanted to try out Wake Forest Christian Church.

I barely remember the visit itself. The main things I remember was how small and intimate the church was. I also remember how warm and welcoming the church members were as well. There was maybe 15 people there or less. Thus, it was perfect for me to not get overly crowded for my first church experience.

As I am currently studying to be a minister, I have learned that churches cannot stop at just welcoming new people. Church’s must make people feel wanted in the community and loved all the same. That is how I felt at Wake Forest. I remember two members, Albert and Susan Coffey, visiting our home and offering us a pastry dessert. I remember how each Sunday as we returned to the church, different people kept asking me about my life and wanted to get to know me better. Jennifer Friedley and her children quickly became close friends to me and my family. Emily Currin and Carol Hanson always made feel warm and welcomed when I saw them. Anne and Carl Flick were always so kind and generous to not just me but to everyone. Jamie and Leah treated me like I was one of their children. The list of people who were a part of the church around that time may be small, their loving actions are continuous. And as more members and visitors came to Wake Forest, the more love and support I received from everyone in the church.

On November 19, 2006, after several months of being a part of this wonderful church community, I made the decision that had greatly affected my life. I wanted to join the Disciples of Christ Church and be baptized as a Christian.

I joined that day and after church services, got baptized at a fellow Disciples church, Hillyer Memorial Christian Church (Wake Forest didn’t have a baptistry).

The change that occurred that day was not sudden or miraculous. I did not see a blinding light and heard the name of Christ like Paul did. My quiet and timid personality did not suddenly change into an evangelizing extrovert.

However, the change that occurred that day was a continuous process. The change that occurred led me down the path of becoming a leader within my home church. That change eventually got me introduced to the wonderful ministry of Camp Caroline and Christmount. That change got me interested in religious studies and eventually pursue becoming a ministry.

If it was not for that moment ten years ago, I do not know what kind of person I would be or where I would have ended up, if anywhere else in life.

Joining Wake Forest Christian Church was undoubtedly one of the best decisions I ever made for my life.

So I want to thank you, Wake Forest Christian Church, for not only continuing to be my Home Church after so many years of being away from home, but for being so warm and welcoming to me and for wanting to hear my story and encourage me to grow into the person I am today.

I love each and every one of you and I celebrate another year of wonderful ministry that has occurred from this small, and yet incredibly amazing church!

Peace and Prayers always be with you and again…Thank You!

Where is the Hope Now?

I am not a political person. Never have been and most likely never will be, but even I paid close attention to the election of our new President for I knew our future would be made no matter who won.

But last night…last night was brutal. As I watched how the United States map slowly turned red, a fear crept into my heart and I fought terrifying tears from falling from my eyes. A fear that undeniably came true.

And so many people surrounding me share my fears and still are incredibly fearful for our future.

And the worst part about all of this is where is the hope?

I find myself struggling to find hope in the midst of these fears.

However, as a Christian, I have to wonder…where was the hope for the Jewish people in the midst of persecution throughout the Hebrew Bible? Where was the hope for the early Christians in the midst of persecutions from the Roman Empire? Where was the hope when Jesus, died on the cross, and only a few heard and saw his resurrection?

And as an American, where was the hope for the Native Americans when the Europeans and later identified Americans took over their homes? Where was the hope for the African American slaves and persecutions of African Americans under Jim Crow and Racism? Where was the hope for women when submission and being dominated was all they could do to get by? Where was the hope for gay men, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, queer, asexual, and questioning people when even the police would raid and terrorize them in their sacred homes? Where was the hope for all differently abled people when they were locked up instead of receiving the love and support that all people truly need?

The truth is hard for us to admit, but there was none. They had no hope. Those were terrible times to be living in and there was no light at the end of those tunnels. We know now that there was hope for their future, because we are their future, but at the time, they did not know that.

I know many people, both Christian and non-Christians, are really scared of the future we have in store. I share your fears with you.

And there is nothing wrong with our fears. Our fears come from a real and horrible reality. But we do have a choice what to do with our fears.

Our fears can paralyze us, cause us to do nothing because why try in the midst of no hope.

And our fears can embolize us, keep standing strong and do all we can in the midst of no hope.

So…this is what I want to encourage to you…do not give up. Do not give in to the paralyzing impulse of your fears. Instead embrace the embolizing impulse of our fears. And within that embolization, we will find our hope.

Our hope does not lie in the president of the United States. Hope lives within you and our ability to not give up and to press on and encourage each other and support each other is going to get us through these troubles.

So, my friends, we will get through this. We have hope.

Will you join me in not giving up and fighting harder for those who need our help?

May the Love and Peace and Stability of our Ruahs be with us and everyone we meet,