A Fall Reflection

During this time of sheltering at home, I’ve been blessed to be able to lose myself on long walks in the woods of Rock Creek Park, just a block and a half from our house in the Crestwood neighborhood of Washington, DC.  Given the timing of the pandemic, I’ve borne witness to the circle of life on these walks – as buds emerged from trees and grasses from the earth, as leaves broke open and wild flowers bloomed, and finally as the canopy turned brilliant shades of red and orange while leaves fell to the brown earth below. 

Last week, as I finished a 2-hour hike, before I emerged out of the forest and back into our neighborhood, I stopped to absorb the beauty of the moment.  It was so quiet, so still, that I could actually hear the soft snap of leaves as they broke from their limbs and then floated to the ground.  It struck me in that moment, that perhaps our lives are like the leaves of trees.  We emerge from something greater than us, we live for a brief season, and then we die.  Once we break from this earth, perhaps we just float around a bit and then rejoin with what gave us life in the in the first place. 

On today’s walk, as I sometimes found it hard to find the path in front of me because it was so strewn with leaves, I listened to the final moments of the book “Just Kids” on Audible.  If you’re not familiar with it, it’s the beautiful story of Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe’s relationship as remembered by Patti.  After Patti shares the story of Robert’s death from AIDS in 1989, she reads aloud the lyrics to her song, “Wild Leaves.”  Her reading of the poem became intertwined with my reflection of last week.  I became lost not only in the woods, in the leaves, but in Patti’s words and in my own thoughts. 

Because the song ultimately reminds us that our brief lives have meaning, I felt compelled to share it with anyone who might be interested.    

Wild Leaves by Patti Smith

Wild leaves are falling
Falling to the ground
Every leaf a moment
A light upon the crown

That we’ll all be wearing
In a time unbound
And wild leaves are falling
Falling to the ground

Every word that’s spoken
Every word decreed
Every spell that’s broken
Every golden deed

All the parts we’re playing
Binding as the reed
And wild leaves are falling
Wild wild leaves

As the campfire’s burning
As the fire ignites
All the moments turning
In the stormy bright

Well enough the churning
When enough believe
The coming and the going
Wild wild leaves
Wild wild leaves
Wild wild leaves

This pandemic has claimed the lives of so many people and will leave an indelible mark on all of us.  My prayer is that in the quiet of these times, even as creation welcomes home the souls lost to this world, we are all reminded of the significance of life, that we search for and find our path, that what we say and do matters, and, most importantly, that we live wildly while we can.      

Breaking Up with Social Media

Have you ever felt like your relationship with social media was out of control?  Like a romance that starts with an instant connection, quickly spins into manic obsession, and eventually causes you to lose your self-control?   I did.  So, I decided to break it off – almost completely – for 40 days.  It’s probably the best decision I’ve made yet this year – a trial separation that changed my life so much for the better, that I’ve decided to keep it that way.    

My relationship with social media started off passionately over 20 years ago while I was in college.  My first social media crush was named AOL.  It was the early 90’s – a world of desktops and dial-up modems but no Google or Yahoo.  If you were around then, you’ll remember the outrageous direct mail AOL sent with floppies of their free software and a free trial offer.  I fell for it.  I liked the idea of my own personal email address (mikeh@aol.com) and easy access to the best of the Internet.  Once the software was installed, I quickly discovered AOL chat rooms.

Almost every night, I dialed in and spent countless hours working my way from chat room to chat room and connecting with people from around the world who shared similar interests (i.e. just about anything with M4M in the chat room name).  To be clear, as an impressionable college student in Nebraska, who was coming out during the HIV/AIDS epidemic, AOL chat rooms opened up a new – only sometimes sordid – universe for me.  Chat rooms allowed me to connect with men quickly and easily without the stress of gay bars and clubs. 

Then I met Friendster.  At some point a friend, way cooler than me, told me about this new website called Friendster.  It was kind of like a dating site, but different.  On Friendster you created a searchable profile and networked with other people, sharing messages, comments, and photos.  Friendster was fun.  I flirted with some really amazing guys from around the world.  I gave MySpace a try, but it just wasn’t my jam.

And then came Facebook. 

At first, I treated Facebook the same as AOL and Friendster – as a way to meet guys.  But as its popularity grew, the site evolved more into a way to connect with friends and family.  And then it launched an app for mobile phones, and it became a way to stay in constant contact with friends and family, many of whom had been lost for a long time.  And then everyone was on it, all the time, including my mom, a few crazy aunts and uncles, influencers and advertisers, etc.  And then big data got smarter, and my feed got creepier.  And then Russian bots began spreading fake news that pissed me off so much that I composed epic posts that I had to monitor constantly for responses.  And then I got a side piece, Instagram, and I posted way too much about myself and cared way too much about how many people hit “LOVE” or “WOW!”

Too.  Fucking.  Much. 

So, for Lent this year, I decided to do a trial separation with social media, to hit reset on my relationships with both Facebook and Instagram.  

Maybe you’ve thought to yourself that you spend too much time and energy on social media but can’t imagine your life without it.  Social media has come to play such a significant, and at times valuable, role in our lives – a widely accepted way of announcing big life events, sharing up-to-the minute news and information, inviting people to events, etc. 

I was concerned that I might miss something important, too, so I came up with a strategy.  First, I removed all of the app links and icons to Facebook and Instagram from my computer and mobile devices.  Second, I limited my time to about an hour every week, on Saturday morning before the rest of the house got moving.

Then came COVID-19, and I briefly reconsidered my decision.  Was this really the time to isolate myself from the buzz of the world?  Yes, that was the whole idea.  What if something happened to someone I loved?  They would call or email.  What if I missed some important piece of news?  I would read about it in the Post or see it on CNN.  I decided to stick to the original plan. 

It has paid off.  Not only have I not missed Facebook and Instagram – hardly at all – I’ve experienced at least two incredible benefits from my separation from social media. 

Immediately, I got back hours in every day.  Yes, HOURS.  I’ve done my best to spend that time wisely.  Here’s how: 

  • Real one-on-one interactions are occurring organically with my friends and family.  I call my best friend a couple of times each week.  I call my sister.  I engage with my partner both more often and in more meaningful ways. 
  • Fitness is no longer something I aspire to, it actually happens.  I have worn through a pair of walking shoes exploring the city on foot (and caught up on my podcast queue). I hit the yoga mat more often.  I tried Fitness 305 with a great friend.
  • Chores that have been put off for months are getting done.  I have done some spring cleaning, purged a closet, and planted a garden.    
  • Prayer and reflection are a priority.  The world needs them.   

It’s amazing what I’ve accomplished by making the time, redirecting my energy, and staying focused.  Facebook and Instagram are easy distractions.  I had to get them out of the way in order to get to what really matters to me.    

And over time, I’ve noticed that I’m experiencing less anxiety.  Facebook and Instagram injected unnecessary angst into my life.  Not anymore.  By way of example:

  • Donald Trump no longer controls my moods.  Love him or hate him, the little orange guy is a wizard at dominating the spin cycle, but take away Twitter and Facebook, and you take away so much of his power. 
  • Accurate information and informed perspective win out over misinformation and bias.   When COVID-19 started to hit hard, social media perpetuated a flood of misinformation regarding its enormous impact, how to prevent it, and when and how we will recover.  It seems far wiser to seek out this critical information on my own from trusted sources rather than having it spit at me from who knows where. 
  • FOMO is real, people.  At least I know it was for me, which is why I was checking my Facebook and Instagram feeds almost every time I picked up my phone or logged onto the Internet.  You have to trust me on this one – I rarely feel like I’m missing out on anything.  I might have been a couple of days late to the game on D-Nice’s sets on Instagram Live, but…meh…so what? 

I’m breathing easier these days, after coming clean from all of the negative ways that social media has impacted my life. 

I’m now ready to re-embrace the positive aspects, and so, you’ll find me on Facebook and Instagram more often, but not without controls. Here are the guidelines I intend to follow and recommend to anyone who wants to move social media from the crazy obsession zone back to the friend zone:

  • Hide the app links and icons to your favorite social media sites.  Out of sight…out of mind.  I don’t know about you, but I’m a red bubble chaser.  If I think someone sent me a message or tagged me in a post, I want to check it out immediately.  It can wait.
  • Limit the time you spend to whatever is reasonable for you.  Your time is valuable, spend it wisely.  During my separ, I accessed social media once per week.  Now, I’m checking once in the morning and once in the late afternoon.  That works for me.
  • Choose your friends wisely.  You know that guy you met at a party ten years ago and haven’t seen since – the one who posts twenty times a day about Bernie?  Delete.  Same goes for all the thirst bait you’ve accumulated over the years and now regularly scroll past. 
  • Unfollow crazy people you can’t delete, but don’t want to hear from on a regular basis.  You know who I’m talking about – that brother, aunt, or coworker who fills your feed with fake news, political crap, or angel memes.  Click on the three dots in the upper right-hand corner of their last post and then hit “Unfollow [Insert Name].”  They’ll still be a friend, just not one who bugs you all the time.      
  • Engage with people.  Instead of shameless self-promotion, try posing a question.  I broke my cleanse during the first week so that I could ask my network for book recommendations.  Libraries were closing for COVID-19 in two days, and I needed to stock up.  I received over 40 responses that resulted in some solid suggestions and great conversation. 
  • Maintain your perspective above all else.  Decide how you want social media to fit into your life and then stick to it. 

Coming out of my 40-day trial separation with social media, I feel as if I’ve kicked a bad habit.  I’ll continue using Facebook and Instagram on my own terms to stay connected to the people and organizations I value, but that’s it.  I’m not clicking on the lascivious headlines, taking the silly quizzes, trying to change people’s political affiliation with a post, or following guys with great abs but nothing to say and no actual job.  I’m keeping it real, light-hearted, fun.  So, keep the memes coming “Shithead Steve,” the videos rolling “Animals Doing Things,” and my world spinning “@AngelPorrom.”  I’m really glad we can still be friends. 

Coming Out Sunday 2017 Sermon

Over the Rainbow by Todrick Hall

Come Out. Come In. Come Home.

Scripture – Acts 9: 1-19 (Saul’s Conversion)

Thanks to all of you for being here today as Lincoln Temple recognizes National Coming Out Day.   I’m excited to share my reflections about coming out with you this morning. The song I just played is from the album “Straight Outta Oz” by Todrick Hall. Both David and I love it not only because Todrick Hall is insanely talented, but also because the music holds deep meaning for us. Todrick retells the story of the Wizard of Oz through the eyes of a little boy growing up different – deep in the heart – and the churches – of Texas. It’s Todrick’s coming out story.

If you heard all of the words to this song, you might be wondering why I chose a song where a dad figuratively throws the Bible at his son and tells him he’ll never get to heaven if he doesn’t change the way he loves. I chose it because it reflects an unfortunate reality for many people.   It reflects the pain inflicted on LGBT people by the church, the pain that many people carry with them as they seek spiritual refuge here at Lincoln Temple and at other Open and Affirming congregations. The message I want to share with you today is how we, the church, the Body of Christ, are called to help people work through that pain and come out of the closet.

Please pray with me…

Stillspeaking God. You are so great, so beyond understanding that we know your truth is not contained to just one book scribed in parts by different people over many years long ago. As you have spoken to us from the beginning of time through those whom you have chosen to share the truth, we know you are still speaking to us – sometimes through unlikely people in unlikely ways. God, I’m not a preacher, a teacher, a prophet nor a poet. I am an unlikely vessel. Speak through me today so that your truth is revealed to all who are here to listen. Amen.

As I look out at all of you, I’m pretty sure most you have a good understanding of what it means to come out. But just in case there might be one or two of you who don’t, let me quickly share with you how our nation’s largest LGBT civil rights organization – The Human Rights Campaign –– defines coming out.

“Coming out is the process in which a person first acknowledges, accepts and appreciates his or her sexual orientation or gender identity and begins to share that with others.”

While coming out is often used to describe that exact moment when someone tells someone else that they are lesbian, gay, transgender or bisexual, it’s actually a process that occurs over time. Think of coming out as three phases: 1) Opening Up, 2) Coming Out, and 3) Living Openly.

The coming out journey begins when we first hear the whispers that we’re different, when we feel something nudging us in a different direction than everyone else, when we start to seek out people who share our difference.

The journey continues when we start to come out to the people we love the most – our family and friends. This part of the journey is different for everyone. Some people come out to love and acceptance and others come out to disappointment, hostility, and even estrangement.

The journey is completed when we live our lives openly all the time to all people. We are at home with ourselves in the world. It does not mean that we are longer oppressed.

“Coming Out” are words that have been used primarily by LGBT people, but if you think about what coming out really means and the process of coming out, we could easily be talking about any marginalized people…anyone or any group of people who has been forced to squelch their truth because it doesn’t jibe with the conventional wisdom of the day.

Has anyone here seen the movie, “Hidden Figures?” It’s the true story of three black women who are mathematicians at NASA during the Space Race of the 1960’s – Taraji P. Henson plays Katherine Johnson, Octavia Spencer plays Dorothy Vaughan, and Janelle Monáe plays Mary Jackson. All three of the women are brilliant, but in the white-male dominated world of NASA, they are kept hidden in the basement and assigned to menial computations.   One by one, they emerge from the basement and are assigned to different divisions of NASA. Even as they make significant contributions in their new roles they remain largely invisible – both by their own choice (preferring to stay under the radar) and by a deeply-rooted system of inequality. But as the story unfolds, each of the women experiences a “coming out” process where, with the help of each other and allies like astronaut John Glenn, they begin to realize their own worth, excel in their careers, stand up for themselves, and demand to be recognized.

The first point I hope to impress upon you today is that even though YOU may not be lesbian, gay, transgender or bi, if you’ve ever had to find the strength and courage to find your way out of the darkness and loneliness of a basement or a closet – if you’ve overcome false stereotypes people have held about you because they perceived you as different than the norm – if with the help of your of your friends and allies, you’ve found yourself in a better place – then you know something about coming out and you are a living witness to the possibility of transformation.

Let’s take Paul as another example. Paul – who was also known as Saul and is the subject of our scripture lesson today – was a powerful man. He was a Roman citizen and he was Jewish – a Pharisee, a member of the very group that Jesus condemned as hypocritical, illegitimate and corrupt. Our scripture lesson tells us that Paul was uttering threats with every breath and was eager to kill Jesus’ followers. He wanted to seek out followers of The Way and bring them back in chains. Paul would be the most unlikely person to “come out” as Christian, but he did…and in a really big way.

The scripture lesson tells us that while he was traveling to Damascus on his mission of persecuting Christians, Paul experienced something that began to open him up to the truth. A light shone down on him, he fell to the ground, and he experienced the risen Christ for the first time.

Paul’s companions picked him up and took him to Damascus where he laid blind for three days – not eating or drinking – until a messenger of God showed up and laid hands on him. The scripture tells us that scales fell from Paul’s eyes and he was filled with the Holy Spirit. With his sight fully restored, he got up and was baptized.

And that brings me to the second point I hope to make today. Sometimes the people, who are most in need of a good coming out, are the people you would least suspect. They are people of power – the oppressors, not the oppressed. These people can be hard to love, but they actually need it more than anyone. They are trapped themselves in closets full of hate and need someone to open the door for them, and guide them out of the darkness and into the light. As I look at what’s going in places like Charlottesville and other places around our nation and the world, I think this is especially true right now.

Let me now get straight to the final point I hope to share with you today. Where today’s scripture lesson leaves off is where I believe the real message for all of us begins.

After Paul is baptized, he begins to eat and regain his strength. And the very next verse tells us this. “Saul stayed with the believers in Damascus for a few days.  And immediately he began preaching about Jesus in the synagogues, saying, “He is indeed the Son of God!”

Paul begins to convince people that Jesus is the Messiah. There were some among the believers who doubted Paul’s intentions, but those who had spent time with him vouched for him. He remained with the apostles and was sent out with them to continue preaching. And the scripture tells us that church experienced peace and grew in numbers.

Is there a lesson in Paul’s coming out story for modern churches like Lincoln Temple?

This is the big message I have for you today. If you remember only one thing, remember this. In the same way that the disciples of the early Christian church took Paul in, cared for him, encouraged him and sent him out to do God’s work, we are being called to do the same for the people who walk through the doors of this church.

Like the churches of the early Christians, we are a small and growing community. New people visit our church almost every week. Many, if not most, of the people that God has sent our way are here because we are an Open and Affirming congregation. Some of these people have been completely out of the closet for many years and are seeking to live within a community of other LGBT believers and allies. Some have just come out to disastrous results, like being kicked out of there home with nothing but the clothes on their back and money for a one-way bus ticket. And others have just started to explore their gender identity, feeling trapped between their physical body and the gender that they most identify with. We became an ONA church two years ago because, although we had always extended a radical welcome to LGBT people, we hadn’t proclaimed that welcome through official ONA status within the United Church of Christ.

It’s time for Lincoln Temple to continue our own coming out journey. That’s why Rev. Breland challenged me to start thinking about how Lincoln Temple could grow our LGBT Ministry. In fact, she asked to put together a write up and share it with her. This isn’t it, Rev. Breland – still coming. There are just some preliminary thoughts and a request for help from all of you.

After taking time to talk to all kinds of people, observing how this church engages its LGBT members and visitors, and praying for direction from God, I’ve come to three conclusions:

  1. This isn’t a job for one or two people. Paul didn’t act alone. He worked with a broad network of churches and church leaders while establishing his ministry. Especially because we’re a small church and all of us are spread thin, this is something that the entire church has to embrace and support. And this is where my first point comes in. Even if you’re not lesbian, gay, transgender or bi, you have something to offer. From the outside to the inside of the church, from the organizations we partner with to the way we conduct our worship service, there are things that each of us can do to ensure that we are here to welcome LGBT people and encourage them on their spiritual journey. Think about what you can do and share your ideas with Rev. Breland and me.
  2. We need to live our ONA status out loud. You’ve probably noticed the big multicultural rainbow Pride flag hanging above the entrance to our church. That’s a start but its not enough. Each of us – on our way into church, during the passing of the peace, after church is over, on our walk back to our cars, as we live our lives throughout the week, on our website, on our Facebook page, through new partnerships – needs to let people know that Lincoln Temple is here for them. And this is where my second point comes in. Sometimes it’s the people you would least expect that are most in need of our unconditional love and acceptance. Don’t make assumptions about where people are on their faith journey. As the body of Christ, we are called to love everyone unconditionally. We often say, “No Matter Who You Are or Where You Are on Life’s Journey, You are Welcome Here.” If we say that, we have to mean it, and put it into practice. Even if that means someone who threatens our current way of doing things. If you meet a visitor and your Stranger Danger lights go off – I know mine have – that’s ok…just do like the apostles of the early church did with Paul. Get to know that person and engage them in our ministry.
  3. Finally, it’s not enough to just extend a welcome hand to LGBT people and provide a safe space for them to worship and fellowship. In the same way the early church leaders took a leap of faith by sending Paul out to preach, we must get to know people as unique individuals, identify their spiritual gifts and get them involved. The early apostles didn’t provide a waiting period before John was accepted in to the church. They didn’t put him through three months of new member classes. They got him going immediately and taught him on the job as he was out preaching. We may not have a lot of time to provide ministry to some of the new folks joining our church, especially the young ones. As their housing and job situations change, they will move on and away from us. We should treat every week with them like its our last chance to help them come out, take off the shackles and pain of oppression, and let them know how much God loves them and wants them to be a part of the church no matter where they end up. We’re already connecting with other ONA churches to partner on opportunities for ministry and fellowship, but there’s more to be done. We invite all of you to join with other Potomac Association ONA churches in the Walk to End HIV on October 18th

Lincoln Temple, are you ready to come out of closet? We’re almost there! We’ve heard the whispers and felt the nudges from God. We know who we are, and we know how important LGBT people are to grow our church and our ministry. We proclaimed our ONA status so now the whole world knows that we affirm the full inclusion of lesbian, gay, transgender and bisexual people in the life and ministry of the church. We need to back that up living loudly every where we can both inside and outside the walls of this church. There’s just one more thing we need to do. We need frequent opportunities for LGBT to fellowship with each other and to become ministers of the Good News to other LGBT people. Once we’ve accomplished those three things, we will have built a church that helps LGBT people – no matter where they are on their journey – Come Out. Come In. Come Home.

Thank you.

 

 

Have You Ever Thought About Having Kids?

People often ask me if David and I have ever thought about having kids. The answer to that question is that, yes, we have thought about having kids, and at this point in our lives – in our late 40’s – we’ve decided not to.

While most people accept that answer and move on to another subject, I’m always a little surprised when the response back is something along the lines of, “But you would be such great dads,” or “It’s not too late – older guys have kids all the time.” As if we really haven’t really thought through the idea thoroughly. But trust me, we have.

To be completely honest, when David and I were younger and single, we both thought that we would be dads one day. We love kids.

I love holding sweet-smelling newborns, rocking back and forth and staring into the never-ending depth of their sparkling, curious eyes. I love watching babies discover their tiny fingers and toes and the world within their gaze. I love being with kids when they experience things for the first time like seeing a bedazzled ballerina twirl across the stage or riding a skytram over the lion exhibit at the zoo. And I even love coaxing conversation out of reluctant teenagers as their minds begin to expand along with the world around them.

The truth is I’m jealous of the moms and dads in my life. Being a parent is awesome.

I love and truly appreciate that, for most of the people in our little bubble, the idea of David and me raising children is completely normal. We’re lucky to have several close friends who are gay and raising kids, and, when we walk into a restaurant in DC with two other men and at least one kid, no one does a double take. But let’s be real…10-20 years ago, when David and I were in our prime childbearing years, two guys with children drew attention no matter where you were (and to this day, in most parts of the country, it still does).

David and I met each other 10 years ago on his birthday. I was 38 and he was 37. I knew he was the one right away. He had me at dimples and “I’m from Omaha, too.” We were pushing 40 when we started talking seriously about sharing our lives together. That was 2008 – the year President Obama was elected president, Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was still in effect, gay marriage was legal in two states and banned in most others and none of our close gay friends had kids.

David and I wanted to move in together, but, thanks to the real estate crash of 2007, it made absolutely no financial sense, and we decided to wait a couple of years for the market to rebound. We started to talk about having kids together and think through how that process would work once we lived together in a home other than one of the tiny one-bedroom apartments we both lived in at the time.

Becoming gay parents meant that David and I would have to bamboozle biology. We’ve never been at risk for having an “accident” that results in a kid. Whether through surrogacy or adoption, for us to bring a child into our lives, meant we would have to make very deliberate decisions and commit enormous amounts of time, effort and money.

Do the math. If David and I wanted to be dads, it wouldn’t realistically happen until we were well into our 40’s. Our conversations went something like this.

“Do you want to become a dad at 45?”

“I can’t operate on a few hours of sleep anymore. Can you?

“I don’t want to give up my career, but we both travel a lot, and one of us would need to be home more often. Would you do that?

“How do you feel about our kid being raised by a full-time nanny?   Can we even afford one?”

“How in the hell would we keep up with a teenager when we’re in our 50’s? Is it even fair to the kid to have two parents that age?”

“How do you feel about sending a kid off to college in our 60’s? What if he/she needs to move back in with us after college?”

“I don’t think I can do this. What do you think?”

“No.”

Yes, we thought about having and kids and we decided not to.

Does this make us selfish people? I’ve asked myself that question, but I don’t think so. Children deserve and need parents who really want them, who are fully present and engaged in their lives, who are supportive and willing to make sacrifices and who have the energy to be patient and forgiving. Being a good parent is tough, and if you’re not in it to win it, then don’t put yourself in the game. I think David and I made the right decision for all the right reasons.

Do I regret our decision? I’ve often said I don’t regret anything I’ve done in my life, (and I’ve done some things that could be considered regrettable). Not being a dad may be the only regret I have in my entire life. We both love kids. Being a parent is awesome. If David and I were ten years younger, we would likely be making plans to bring a kid into our family instead of plans for a new backyard. And yet, I don’t regret our decision given our circumstances. Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.

Have you ever thought about having kids? That’s a loaded question. And I’ve just unloaded the answer. Next time I’m asked, I’m just going to tell them to check out my blog and change the subject.

The Birth of a Blog

On June 4, 1970 I was named “Tot of the Week” by the Cherokee Iowa Daily Times. The son of the Rev. and Mrs. John Hargreaves, I was described as a “young charmer” with “mischief-laden eyes” who liked getting into other people’s things and wouldn’t take no for an answer. What can I say? They got their story right.

47 years later, I’m still an ornery preacher’s kid. Ornery being the word that my father used to describe me while I was growing up gay and creative and expressive in conservative, flyover states. I’ve never been without an opinion, and I’m rarely at a loss for words. Neither are my brothers and sisters. We all inherited our father’s loud mouth, which is why he took to fondly calling us his “awnry” kids, pronounced with the remnants of an accent he developed growing up in Younkers, New York – the same way he said “awrnge” instead of “orange.”

Now you know the story behind the name of this blog and how it’s properly pronounced. With ashes swiped in a cross across my forehead, I gave birth to my first-ever blog, Ornery Preacher’s Kid, on the first Wednesday in March 2017. It represents my commitment to give up ranting on Facebook about a certain awrnge man, the deplorable people who support him and anything else that is under my skin at any given moment.  Instead, I plan to shift my thoughts and energy to right here and keep Facebook saved for lighter life updates.

While I started the blog five weeks ago on Ash Wednesday, I had some technical issues that took some time and attention to resolve.  That’s why you’re seeing my first actual post today. You’ve probably figured out by now that I don’t intend to be disciplined about posting on a regular basis – only when inspiration hits and I have a few minutes to write.

Thanks for giving Ornery Preacher’s Kid a first look! I hope you’ll come back from time to time to check in.