52

On my birthday weekend five years ago, my world came crumbling down; I spent the better part of Saturday lying in bed motionless, wishing my life would end. Sunday, my birthday, included spending over two hours at my parents’ grave listening to all 42 chapters of the book of Job.

These last five years have been a journey, excruciating and enlightening, offering periods of deep despair and glimpses of hope. There has been betrayal and acceptance, suffering and joy.

There have been days I wanted to close my eyes and never wake up, moments of utter hopelessness. If not for the boundless love of God, a few close friends, and knowing how my absence might impact a handful of people, I might not be here today to write these words.

This journey has shaped me, changed me, broken me open in ways I never imagined. I have faced childhood wounds, unhealthy habits, and deep flaws, while also discovering unknown potential, finding healing, and learning to love myself.

In late 2021, I got my first tattoo. I never thought I would get a tattoo, but felt the need to imprint the image at the top of this post as a reminder of where I have been, where I am going, and the One has been with me along the way.

It is the Hebrew word chesed, best translated loving-kindness or giving oneself fully, with love and compassion, and appears over 200 times in the Hebrew Bible. This image on my arm serves as a reminder of God’s chesed for me and my mission to bring chesed into the world. When I couldn’t love myself, God’s love sustained me. When I didn’t think God loved me, I trusted the idea of chesed. It has been an anchor and a safe harbor, sometimes the only thread of hope left to hold onto.

Inside the word chesed is a rainbow, a symbol carrying multiple meanings for me. It serves as a visual reminder of God’s promise of an everlasting covenant with me and all of creation while also symbolizing my full acceptance and love of myself, including my sexuality. The meaning of each color in the rainbow brings even more depth of meaning to this symbol on my arm: red = life; orange = healing; yellow = sunlight; green = nature; blue = serenity; purple = spirit.

Over these last five years, each has been an important part of my journey. I have found new love for life, healing from past wounds, warmth from actual and metaphorical sunlight, peace in nature, previously unknown serenity, and deeper connection with spirit within the divine flow.

Music has been another significant source of strength. While a handful of songs have spoken powerfully along the way, a song which has served as a constant anthem is Son by Sleeping at Last. You can listen to the song HERE; Below are the lyrics:

Show me who I am and who I could be.
Initiate the heart within me until it opens properly.

Slow down, start again from the beginning.
I can’t keep my head from spinning out of control.
Is this what being vulnerable feels like?

I swear I’ll try, try, try to breathe ’til it turns to muscle memory.
I’m only steady on my knees;
One day I’ll stand up on my own two feet.

I’ll run the risk of being intimate with brokenness.
Through this magnifying glass, I see a thousand finger prints
On the surfaces of who I am.

Show me where to find the silver lining
As the mercury keeps rising,
’Til the glass or my fever breaks.

Show me how to struggle gracefully.
Let the scaffolding inside of me be strong enough
To hold this tired body up once more.

And I will try, try, try to breathe ’til it turns to muscle memory.
I feel the pressure in my blood building up and liberating me.
So I will try, try, try to breathe ’til it turns to muscle memory.
I’m only steady on my knees.
But one day, I’ll stand on my own two feet.

I’ll run the risk of being intimate with brokenness.
Through this magnifying glass, I see a thousand finger prints
That ran the risk of being intimate with my brokenness.
I was given a gift of hope in a thousand finger prints
On the surface of who I am.

Completing this 52^nd year of life, I realize how much has been learned and how much remains to be discovered. I am only six years from my mom’s age when she died; a sobering fact, bringing the brevity and fragility of life to the fore. This reality compels me to consider what to do with whatever days remain in this life.

The time has come to turn the page to a new chapter, one pursing deeper purpose and meaning. A blank page brings risk, fear, and uncertainty, but also opportunity and hope, dreams to discover and pursue.

I am incredibly thankful for those who have accompanied me on the journey. In some strange way, there is a even a certain thankfulness for those who have brought pain and suffering, or at least for the lessons they taught me or pointed me towards.

New friends have come into my life; some old ones have left. Others have walked with me for a season along a stretch of the path. Each has brought something valuable, things such as insight, challenge, compassion, and love. Whether still present or a fond memory, each holds a special place in my heart.

Like the lyrics above say, I have run the risk of being intimate with my brokenness. That intimacy has brought disappointment and fulfillment, suffering and joy. It has not always been easy or enjoyable, but it has been good. While still a work in progress, I continue moving forward. My greatest hope is it has all made me a better human being, allowed me to experience a deeper sense of God’s chesed, and given me opportunities to offer my whole self and a some chesed to those around me.