Hey, y’all!

I am writing in the middle of what’s been a bit of a challenging week here. I hope that your week is going smoothly and bringing you glimmers of hope and peace. But if you’ve also had a challenging time, for whatever reason – I want you to know that you aren’t alone in it.

The week hasn’t gone like I would have liked and we had a farm/homestead tragedy that included losing two of our animals (who were some of my favorites). But I had a pretty incredible experience on Saturday, and its sustaining me though all of this. So I wanted to share it with you!

On Saturday, my family drove up to a trail to do a group hike with our church. The trail we went on winds through some woods but also meanders alongside a lake for a good portion of the trail. When the hike was announced, I immediately wanted to go – because this particular trail has been incredibly special and important to me.

Back when I was a graduate student at Lee University, a small private Christian college, I finally came to a place where I accepted myself as a LGBTQ+ person and began to believe in the goodness and affirmation of my full self. It’s remarkable really, considering this is in direct contrast to the school’s stance on sexuality and gender. Still, I found connections I needed and learned enough about critical thinking and understanding scriptures from a different lens that I could discern for myself what I truly knew. And holding on to that knowledge while not being able to speak the truth of my life or be out in a meaningful way started to take a toll on me, especially as I was training as a therapist and leading worship in non-affirming spaces.

Finding places where I could be my full authentic self took a lot of intention and work. I never knew how friends would react when I came out to them – and thankfully, it went well much of the time. Other times, it led to heartbreak and pain. But I found a place where I never had to worry about how I would be received. The woods, refuge among the trees. Specifically, this trail that’s part of a state park in my hometown.

On many Saturdays, you could find me hiking or mountain biking along the trail. I couldn’t seem to get there enough. The trees didn’t care I was gay. The lake listened to me as I cried over my first broken heart from telling a woman I loved her – even though I knew she didn’t love me back in that way and that she was straight. My feet found firm footing among the roots and green moss that offered me peace for my troubled and shaky spirit after listening to classmates who were future therapists say terrible things about LGBTQ people. A deer walked a few feet away from me alongside the path as I steadied my breath and she kept me company to remind me I was in no way alone.

Many wonders around me helped me feel held and seen in that time. But one natural wonder seemed to stand above the rest. A tree which had grown semi-sideways in a curve over the path at a small boardwalk. My friend Kim led meditative prayer sessions at retreats I would sing at while she spoke – and in this one meditation, she asked us to “imagine the tree that is the tree of your life.” Without fail, this tree came to my mind. I had met the tree of my life – and each time I passed this tree, I felt a wisdom of bending without breaking and enduring heaviness while thriving being spoken to me.

I loved this tree, and when I took my girlfriend who would one day become my wife to hike on this trail, I was eager to show it to her. As we rounded the curve, though, I could see something was wrong. My tree had fallen, broken into several large pieces and only some of the trunk remaining standing. At the time, I didn’t know what to think – but I was worried that somehow, I had heard or interpreted something wrong in the message I was so certain I had received.

Fast forward to now – over a dozen years later walking on the trail for the first time since then – but this time with my wife, our daughter, our son, and our spiritual community we have grown closer with in the past couple of years. My 42-year-old feet walked the same path as my 27, 28, and 29-year-old self. Only this hike, I was not alone at all. I had found and created beloved community that also communed with God in the woods. We took a group photo at a bench where before I sat alone. We talked about belonging and hopeful things in the spaces where I had worked through shame and loneliness and fear. When we walked by the place where my tree once stood, I stayed back a moment and looked around, unable to even find the exact location of the tree. I touched a couple of stumps and the moss below them.

I continued on, realizing something powerful – that I no longer needed that tree. That tree was there when I needed it most – telling me to continue on. But once I began to stand tall in my own life, that tree didn’t need to bend over toward the ground anymore. Once I fully affirmed myself in living in embodied affirmation – the tree of my life also stands tall and stronger for it. After this realization, I remembered one time Kim led that meditation and the tree began to stand straight – it bothered me, and I worried it meant my sexuality was actually broken and needed repair. But now I know what this means – that by dropping that weight fully and freeing my spirit from the shame of who I fully am, I can thrive and not break.

What about you?

Reflection/Journal Prompts: What would the tree of your life look like? Have you had a special place in the wilderness that speaks to you? How might you offer that same kind of belonging to others?

Peace to you this week,

Charity

PS: If you are still thinking about enrolling in my LGBTQ+ Cohort Program “Free Spirit”, time is running out! And it’s a great way to shake off the shackles that come from the effects of fundamentalism and toxic religion. Or would make a great gift for someone you know who could use it. Enrollment closes at 11:59PM EST on March 16th. More info here: Free Spirit​

Where I'm finding Inspiration/Hope:

1. Wild by Cheryl Strayed - it's been on my reading list for a while, and wow!
2. Recent connections with delightful people and the simplicity of sharing a meal or cup of tea and good conversation.
3. The return of the tiny wildflowers that come up in springtime. It always reminds me of the e.e. cummings poem "when faces called flowers float out of the ground" - and that's a favorite.

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