Kardia Kaiomenē: Belonging

Potomac River

…true belonging is a type of belonging that never requires us to be inauthentic or change who we are, but a type of belonging that demands who we are — that we be who we are — even when we jeopardize connection with other people, even when we have to say, “I disagree…”
Brene Brown, Braving the Wilderness (2017)

Harper's Ferry, West Virginia

We find ourselves a stone's throw from the Appalachian Trail in the wake of the wedding celebration of Leah and Lydia (below), two dear friends from our days in Southwest Detroit. They were married in the backyard of Lydia's childhood home in rural Maryland. The ceremony was supposed to be held under a centuries old Sycamore, but thirty minutes before the wedding, as guests walked across Catoctin Creek (a tributary of the Potomac River), the bridge collapsed. A half dozen friends and family members were rushed to area hospitals.

Of all events, weddings resist trauma and grief. They are occasions of reconciliation, resilience and reunion. Bridges are built, not broken. But out here in Appalachia this past weekend, grief soaked a celebration that was already under more threat than any union of committed love and lifelong partnership ought to face. Queer couples like Leah and Lydia continue to be dismissed by too many who, as we put it in the wedding reflection we were invited to give, are "confined by old, constricted categories." Categories which keep them having to unjustly and tirelessly fight for legitimacy and authenticity, while the rest of us are deprived of deep wells of truth, beauty and goodness beyond the confines of these illegitimate walls we erect. Our reflection continued:

Heavenly hospitality has nothing to do with tired, colonial-scripted loyalties and limitations around gender or sexuality, race or ethnicity, nation or state citizenship, political party, socio-economic class, or religious affiliation. Heavenly hospitality has everything to do with generosity, compassion... and justice.

Real life hospitality is what ensued. In exquisite fashion. When the bridge cracked, this beloved community crested into action with affection animated by tears, hugs and sweat. We held the bridge and held each other. For hours, we gripped grief and gratitude in powerful tension. As we received surprisingly good news from hospitals (concussions and bruises), a small circle surrounded Lyd and Leah and we discerned that the show must go on. And it did. With a fierce, grief-soaked, clear-eyed, somber, and joyous blend of vows and affirmations, drink and dance. We experienced true belonging as we bore witness and proclaimed that, surely, the covenanting together of this exquisite, exemplary, courageous, compassionate, wise, and authentic Love brings with it a bright Light into this present darkness. The day was equal parts heart-rending and heart-expanding, devastating and delight-filled. What an honor and deep gift to get to journey with Leah, Lyd, and the vibrant, expansive, deep wells of Beloved Community that follow them wherever they go.

As we catch our breath, we ask for prayers for Leah and Lydia and their friends and family members who were on that bridge when it collapsed. For strength, healing and recovery. For resurrection to become a reality.

September was an adventure. Here's more of what we took in.

On the Upper Deschutes trail among the Aspens.

On the Huron River.
(Ypsilanti, MI.)

A new tattoo to reclaim the name,
just a week before the 8-year anniversary of the day we lost Lindsay's Dad.

A birthday celebration for Tom with Nephew Milo...

...who was dressed for the occasion!

We floated the Deschutes River a few
days after the Fall Equinox...

...and then it snowed a few days later (Sept 28)!

We facilitated our first lectio divina circle in Bend at
the home of new friends Amanda and Kyle. Their son Matthew
made love notes for everyone in attendance!