Joy of Obedience, Joy of Enough: Belated #househuntersdetroitThanksgiving Edition

We're so close to so many things, readers. Christmas. The New Year.

Rebecca and I are very close to some things. A joint week off. Having the new apartment set up. Paying off some debts.

And the one you're waiting to hear: closing on the house.

We signed paperwork this weekend to set the closing date for Tuesday, December 8. Yes, a week from tomorrow. We're waiting on the seller to agree and on a couple concessions, but our realtor anticipates that we'll get through this one.

I'm preposterously happy. If you see me, you might catch a dreamy look and goofy smile cross my face for seemingly no reason. 

I'm reminding myself that the last house fell through, that we haven't closed yet, that something could still happen. I'm reminding myself that there are more houses out there and that we're glad the last one fell through because this one is better.

 I don't want my happiness predicated on the possession of an object, especially not a specific one. 

There is no lasting joy in possessing an object.

The joy I have comes from the miracles I have already seen in the process, the goodness of the people who have helped, the blessing that comes from following our calling, the anticipation of living in a true community and creating a loving space. 

We are blessed through this home search process even if we don't close. I believe we will, but if we don't, our eyes are open to the financial and educational blessings we have, the strength of the relationships we've cultivated, the synergy of life with a true helpmate. None of those things disappears if this particular object (yes, a house is an object, albeit a large and hard to purchase one) disappears. 

And if we do close, those blessings will sustain us through the challenges ahead - because closing on this house will have been the easy part. (It's about now where the anxious part of my brain starts making lists and the other part starts repeating, "Fino is good at his job. We have the support we need. Gaye would have told you if this is a bad idea. You've gotten through so much worse with so much less.")

What I have is more than I realize and more than enough.

Let me say it again, as we go into the holidays and are bombarded by advertisements trying to convince us the opposite:

What I have is more than I realize and more than enough.

We're called to obey, we're called to join community, we're called to gratitude. We're not called to consumption. 

The joy is in pursuing the calling, not in pursuing possession.

Coming Out: I'm a Feminist, & Here's Why

This started as an e-mail response to the writer of a Christian non-profit that focuses on women's safety primarily in the developing world. As usual for this blog, I won't disclose specific names, as the goal of this post is to address the underlying belief, not to guilt or shame a particular entity. Also as usual, I've been thinking about these concepts for a while but this post responds to something of a catalyst in the form of a newsletter from the aforementioned non-profit.

Dear Writer,

You say that your daughter's generation falsely believes that your organization is feminist and that they state wrongly that feminism is a belief system in accordance with Christianity. You assert that your generation correctly believes that feminism is problematic, bashes men, and has fascist tendencies.

I am of your daughter's generation, I suppose, if we must sort people by age, and gender, and country, and all of these other artificial divisions, and in that artificial division you have created, it is not "us" who have feminism wrong. You have mischaracterized feminism and even implied that feminism is a profane word we should avoid using.

The following is a description of my logic for supporting Christian feminism. Those not adhering to Christianity have a completely different process for arriving at feminism. Because you identify as a follower of Christ, I hope that you will find it clarifying.
 
Given that all good things come from God
Given that humans are created in the image of God
then the Christian God must have all of the positive characteristics culturally attributed to both genders
and from that it follows that as we become more like Christ, we will attain more of the positive qualities ascribed to both genders
And
Given that God created humans in the image of God
Given that God sent Jesus to save all humankind
Given that God calls all humans into a relationship with the Trinity
Given that Christians are called to proclaim the Gospel and use the talents God has endowed them with to advance a world of peace, justice,  and unconditional love
then it follows that Christians of every gender must advocate for humans of every gender to be treated as having inherent value and thus afforded all rights and opportunities associated with such value.

In truth, the Christian feminism your daughter's generation holds is the belief that many women may be called to more than cleaning house and being sexually available to a male partner - a belief I know that your nonprofit shares. It is the belief that current constructions of masculinity prize aggression, hypersexuality, and stoicism, and that hurts men and women both.

Christian feminism calls for vulnerability for all, protection (physically, emotionally, and spiritually) for all, and says that men too, are harmed by an artificial binary wherein men are strong and women are sensitive.

You know that many of your women are physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually very strong. You know that many men are compassionate, sensitive, nurturing. 

I don't see how acknowledging the soft side of men or the strong side of women or the coexistence of both of this is twisting what humans - male and female - were created for, as you imply it does. We don't need a new word to use instead of this supposedly profane "f" word, though some have been using "equalism," if you are still in search (problems with framing the issue as equalism will be deferred to a later post). We don't need a new word. Those who have distorted and denigrated the concept of feminism need new insight. I hope that this message provides a little, as the word itself is viable and vibrant and not going away.




In fact, the feminist movement is the reason that my generation generally has been able to take for granted that we will attend university and get the training to pursue our callings. It is the reason we have a voice for the women you serve who have no voice. It is probably even the reason you are able to head an influential nonprofit. It is the reason we have female legislators to pass laws to protect women. It is the reason that you and your women in the United States can hold your own paychecks and bank accounts instead of giving their income to a father or husband. It is the reason that you and the women you protect who become US citizens can vote. In short, it is the reason that women in the United States are (mostly) no longer viewed as property, a belief your organization hopes to spread to the developing world.

This is why "my" generation says that your nonprofit is feminist. We value the dignity that your organization gives to all people. We see your team as helping all whom they help to move closer to God and closer to their God-given callings. I don't know what would be profane or fascist about that.

 

In short, you are a feminist, whether you believe it or not.

Blessings,

Erin

Confessions: I'm Thankful that My Wife is Working Today (for surprising reasons)

I'm thankful that Rebecca is working today.

Not because I wanted to spend the day without her - I wish that I could spend this holiday and every holiday with my beloved helpmate.

Not because of the holiday pay, though I believe she will be paid a little extra.

Not because I approve of the kinds of shifts they've been forcing her to work - today is only 13 hours, but she averages 80 hours a week on rotations like this and has worked shifts as long as 28 hours this month.

I'm thankful that she is working in the ICU today because I can't imagine a more challenging holiday than having a loved one in intensive care, fighting to survive. I can't imagine having to discuss whether to intubate or resuscitate a loved one on a holiday like this. And I know that Rebecca will be as compassionate as possible. I know that she will explain to them gently, answer their questions, and keep patients as comfortable and dignified as possible. She will, today as all days, put the family in family medicine.

I would want that if a loved one or I were in the hospital, especially on a holiday like today. I take comfort in knowing that staff at a major metropolitan hospital - staff such as my wife and her colleagues - is there to care for the families struggling through illnesses.

She is away from her family. So are the other residents, nurses, attendings, mid-level providers, custodians, cooks, cafeteria workers, social workers, paramedics, and so many others. If you are not in the hospital and don't have a healthcare worker family member on the list, it's easy to forget the sacrifices they are making to care for people. It's easy to take it for granted. It's easy to sit down at a table in front of a home-cooked meal and forget that those at the hospital are lucky to get enough of a break to make it down to eat cafeteria food. It's easy to pat a full tummy and lay down for a nap while healthcare workers fight to stay awake near the end of a long shift.

I am thankful that my wife is working today, because it means we live in a place where we can count on medical care. I am thankful that other families will have compassionate providers to help them.

Even if I miss her.

Confessions: I Hated Being Poor

I just read an article posted by a friend of a friend about the trend of tiny houses and the glorification of poverty or "the simple life." You can read The Troubling Trendiness of Poverty Appropriation
for yourself - it's definitely thought-provoking. It isn't demonizing the practice of minimalism for a reduction in consumerism, but it criticizes the middle class and wealthy, particularly hipsters, of romanticizing and copying behaviors or items they associate with poverty. Pretty sure reusing Mason jars counts. Ditto the obsession with "authentic" dive bars, dumpster diving, and a trend I don't understand where anarchists go on welfare to avoid participating in capitalism (yeah, read the article, I guess people do this, though given how hard it is to go on welfare in Michigan when one actually has no other option, I don't know how they manage).

I read the article introspectively - things were really tight for a while during the Recession while I was underemployed/underpaid/underinsured and Rebecca was in med school, and as members of the LGBT community, we also faced oppression in terms of some of the systems we could have used. Our marriage wasn't recognized, which affected our tax status and my access to her insurance. So as you know, we were on food stamps for a little bit, I calculated the price of food per pound, I worked two jobs with irregular hours, avoided seeing the doctor so I wouldn't have to pay a co-pay or deductible, visited the student food pantry, and rented out our second bedroom to lower housing costs. That's around the time I started playing the remnant game, too.

It wasn't simple. It wasn't easy. It was really, really hard, even with an end date. Some of you remember the story about the second worst day of my life and 72 hour psych holds, which happened in the thick of this. With the benefit of hindsight, of course, I know that we didn't stay broke forever, and that I would mostly get my mental illness managed on much lower amounts of medication than I thought possible, and that someday we would be buying a house, and that having money drastically reduces the likelihood of having to sleep on someone else's floor. At the time, though, it wasn't glamorous.

And in some ways, for us it was a choice for Rebecca to follow her calling (into a career that admittedly hasn't made enough room for people with even slightly limited means, such as her, let alone people who grew up in poverty). She could have remained a despairing pharmaceutical engineer with a high salary and no integrity. We could have lived in a nice suburb, driven nice cars, eaten whatever people eat in that situation. We still had access to credit that helped prevent the worst effects of poverty and the knowledge that it would be over someday, or even that if it came down to it, Rebecca could leave med school (or I could take a position in Asia that paid a significant amount for the teaching of English).

Our poverty was clearly temporary and to some degree, optional, and it was still incredibly difficult. Romanticizing it, and worse, capitalizing on it, is strange. I learned a lot during that time, and I hope I will continue to use my resources well. 

I also hope I will never have to scramble like that again.

Stop calling women irrational; It's just lazy

I've been female all my life.

So for a long time, I didn't realize how many beliefs I held were socialized to be appropriate for me, as a female, but weren't necessarily true, or weren't things male members of the population thought about. Once I started realizing that the rules are different for males and females, I started noticing that males don't necessarily realize that. A few friends have posted this link about that very state of affairs. I was shocked how much it resonated, despite the fact that I'd consider myself generally fortunate.

The TL;DR version of that article is that because men don't experience sexism or may not see how pervasive it is, they don't understand why women are upset by it or how much it affects us. The author explains that all women (#yesallwomen) have to de-escalate situations or work around their gender on a daily basis in a way that makes them deeply aware of their femininity in a way men may not have to persistently carry their masculinity. She also optimistically suggests that if men saw this more or we told them about it, they would be different.

I have a post percolating on the number of moments in a day that I choose not to do something because it is on the list of behaviors that would get me victim-blamed if I were assaulted. It includes activities such as stopping to help a motorist with the flashers on, taking the stairs instead of the elevator, wearing pencil skirts, and sitting in my car to make a list after I've gotten in. Yes, at some point, all of those have been suggested as choices that could increase the likelihood I would be sexually assaulted. None are moral failings.

I also have started mentally noting when I do things at work that I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have to worry about if I were male. Picking clothing carefully - even things appropriate in an office environment could draw comments from male students (and somehow adolescent males get even more a pass on appropriate behavior), softening comments, adding the word "just," being meticulous about paperwork and not seeming "hard to manage." It's a lot of little things.

I have even brought this up with male coworkers or posted about it on social media and had debates with male friends.

And I'm concerned.

I'm concerned that many of them, even when women explain, disagree. I'm concerned that they continue to call women "crazy" or "irrational" -

because it's easier to disregard women's comments as unfounded or unimportant than to consider that the rules are different (and worse) for women.

Some of those social media debates have resulted in a male friend victim-blaming consistently and then messaging me later to tell me that after thinking about it, he realized he was wrong. And getting that message was great - as a teacher, there's little more rewarding to me than helping someone have an epiphany - but getting there was exhausting. Being told I was wrong about my own experience (and that there was something better to handle it that I didn't think to do already) was really, really hard.

And I've had similar conversations with no epiphany. I've had similar conversations where I defended my actions or the actions of my fellow women, tried to explain the underlying reason for a behavior men didn't understand, only to be laughed at or discounted because the male person had never seen this. And having to defend myself, being laughed at, being told I'm irrational or silly or wrong - I should be used to it as a woman, but somehow it's worse when I'm trying to share an experience like this, when I'm being vulnerable and trying to let a man into the club of people who understand the female experience, and he decides it's easier to say that what I'm doing doesn't make sense.

No, I get that he wouldn't do that thing.

It wouldn't make sense for men to do or say many of the things I do or say. 

 That doesn't mean that it's irrational for me to do it. And dismissing my choice and my planning and then subsequently victim-blaming me when I fail to prevent an undesirable situation or don't de-escalate something successfully makes me disinclined to continue going on trying to let men into the club. After all, according to the rules, vulnerability is a moral weakness committed mostly by women. According to the rules, men's perspective is more important than women's.

And honestly, it's not my job to educate those who seek to oppress or discredit me. It's not my job to leverage anecdote after anecdote and statistic after statistic to convince someone that I deserve to be treated like a human being. I sometimes choose to. But that information is out there on the interwebz, available for men who truly want to be enlightened. If I choose to share my personal experiences, it is a gift to the man in my company to be trusted enough that I am trying to bring him into the club. It is not an obligation. Failing to provide an experience that strikes a chord doesn't mean I am less deserving of consideration.

So men, don't call me irrational when I do something you don't understand. Women, don't accept or perpetuate that label. It isn't accurate.

Calling women irrational when they protect themselves isn't considered or strong or rational.

At best, it's lazy. At worst, it's dangerous.

Silver Linings Club: I'm Exhausted but Grateful

The last three weeks have been a lot. I've spent much time overwhelmed, in tears, and calling in reinforcements to keep me from utterly falling apart. Everything is moved into the new apartment in Southgate, the essentials are unpacked, furniture is arranged into a non-deathtrap configuration, the cats are settling in, and our rent will be $150 a month cheaper. I have an awesome team of family and friends that came together to help.

Not to mention that although our dishwasher is smaller, it actually works. There are six washers and six dryers in our laundry room, meaning that I could do all of the laundry at once if I get there at a time no one else is using them. We have one of those spray-nozzle-hose thingies on our kitchen sink. The dishwasher is in a location that makes sense. The stove has two big burners instead of one. The leasing office staff is actually . . . nice, and our lease here isn't written in size 9 font. We're 3/4 mile from I75. There's a heat lamp in our shower area - I haven't had one of those since I was sharing a community bathroom with 30 other women in my 1 South Mason crew (Rebecca included). Our walk-in closet is set up to maximize space. Actually, the whole apartment is, unlike the last one.

Beyond that, I am warm. I have running water. I have enough food. I have a helpmate who loves me and provides compassionate medical care for a living. She had a day off yesterday (I had to work in the morning), so I came home to three loads of laundry done, and we got to unpack together and make dinner and marvel over the conveniences of this apartment together.

And we're on track to close on our house (well, mostly). And it's a beautiful home that will allow us to do so much, in a beautiful neighborhood with wonderful neighbors. I can't wait to live beside them. When I think of them, my face relaxes into a smile, almost involuntarily. Pulling into my neighborhood, my driveway, walking up to my door, I am so grateful that I will get to do these small things.

I'm looking for silver linings, and every one I find seems to beget another. Gratitude begets gratitude. Joy begets joy. Let's choose gratitude together.

Call Me Muslim Today - Here's Why

This post has been in draft form for weeks, because I didn't think anyone would much care what I have to say on the subject - until the media lit up of the violence in Paris yesterday. There's a lot I could say about this. A lot. But I'm going to say what I've been thinking about saying.

I grew up in a church that emphasized missions. We got apologetics training (basically an education in how to proselytize effectively) that included, of course, how to defend Christianity against those who would attempt to discredit it, but also some training in why other religions and atheism are wrong.

In some ways, I am grateful for the global perspective and comparative religions training this gave me at a young age. I read biographies of missionaries and began to realize that not everywhere is like my home. My sister is currently a missionary with the Wycliffe Bible Translators partly because of this.

On the other hand, some of this training resulted in glossing over possible flaws in Christian history and doctrine and then exaggerating similar flaws in other religions. As a major world religion, Islam was included in this mischaracterization. I'd like to touch on a few of those criticisms, because I'm sure I'm not alone in having heard them.

In terms of theology, one of the biggest critiques I've heard is of the doctrine of abrogation, which basically means that to resolve inconsistencies in the holy writings, the policy is that the one written later is correct. The speaker (I couldn't tell you his name now) ridiculed Islam by choosing part of the text very early, contrasting it with a later-written portion, and then stating that the doctrine of abrogation was inconsistent or foolish.

EXCEPT Christianity basically does that too, to resolve conflicts between the Old and New Testament. If there's a law in the Old Testament that we don't follow, it's typically explained that Jesus came to fulfill the law and has given us different instructions, more recently. I don't see how that's substantially different that the doctrine of abrogation. I just don't. I'm sure someone with a degree in religion could explain the exact theological difference, but for purposes of this discussion, it's not enough to discredit an entire religion.

I have also heard people refer to Islam as a cult, given that it focuses on a single leader and supposedly follows an adapted version of another religion. It's a long complicated thing, and you can read about it more elsewhere - except by that logic, Christians would be a cult too, given our focus on Jesus and the fact that we're sort of claiming to be Jewish but not really.

Another criticism: Islam doesn't treat women fairly. EXCEPT how many denominations of Christianity still don't allow women to become ministers, regulate their dress, tell them to be dominated by their husbands, say that a woman's place is in the home, blame victims of sexual violence for their own abuse, and regulate female sexuality? Kind of a lot. And how many Muslim women are accomplished, liberated, strong, independent? Both religions have successes and failures on this front. So pot, meet kettle here.

And lastly, though this is the one most relevant to this post's timing: the criticism that Islam encourages violence. Yes, a few people who claim to follow Islam do terrible things and blame it on their religion.

EXCEPT what religion does Westboro Baptist Church claim to follow when they picket military funerals, churches, clinics, etc? What religion would most KKK members claim? What religion prompted the rape and pillage of the Americas in the name of its deity? The Crusades? The bombing of abortion clinics? Hint: it wasn't Islam.

If we are going to judge religions by the worst people who claim to follow them, if we are going to let those who perpetuate violence and hate define said religion, then Christianity isn't looking good. 

I haven't read the Quran in full, though it is on my lifetime list of things to achieve. I don't have the pillars memorized, but here is a list I Googled, for those even less familiar than I am: faith, prayer, charity, fasting, and pilgrimage to Mecca. I find the first four in the Bible as well, and I know many Christians who do travel to the Middle East to learn more about their faith, share fellowship, and experience the history more deeply, also.

There is a reason that Muslims refer to Jews, Christians, and themselves as People of the Book. Yes, there are differences. Yes, some people who adhere to these religions do horrible, evil things. But I hope you're getting by now, readers, that extending one characteristic, one description, especially a negative one, to an entire group is a dangerous line to walk. I hope you're seeing that while I believe strongly in the importance of the Gospel, I cannot claim that the Christian church has always been perfect.

 The Bible would refer to Christians vilifying all Muslims because of this one incident as calling out a neighbor for a speck in their eye when we have a huge plank in our own eye (see Matthew 7).

So if you would still like to criticize Islam on this one incident, criticize me too. Criticize me for valuing faith, prayer, charity, and self denial. Criticize me for the days that I don't adhere to Christianity, don't love my neighbor as myself, don't love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, criticize me for believing that one person can change the narrative and the way we relate to God, criticize me for believing Jesus when he says that we shouldn't stone women for infidelity even though the Old Testament says that we should. Blame me for Westboro's transgressions.

I stand in solidarity with Muslims around the world when I condemn this violence. I stand to say that we should not malign Muslims or Islam because of this incident. I know many Muslims are afraid, justifiably, for their safety.  For the Christians who still aren't convinced, let me end with a line from the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10):

Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?

Confessions: Sometimes I Don't Feel Married

As most of you have gathered, Rebecca is on an inpatient rotation this month - she's working 80 hours a week, with only 4 (yes, just 4) days off the whole month. I've lost count of how many 28 hour shifts she's working, but several, including one that's probably a violation of residency rule restrictions. She's helping families and saving lives in the ICU, and finding it important and fulfilling to bring her family med perspective to such critical situations. But I know that she is also exhausted. Not as exhausted as she was from trauma surgery, and more fulfilled than when she was on radiology, but exhausted just the same. Helping families make life-or-death decisions, managing end-of-life care, and the administrative tasks that come with such a role can be a lot.

And so this month is a lot for her. We're also moving. I'm in a bit of a transitional time at work. The holidays are coming. We're still working on buying the house (I turned in more documents to the bank this morning! :)). On months like this, when she works so much and life gets so busy, things shift.

I get into a mode of semi-singledom. I have tried to train myself to plan social engagements, to go out to eat by myself, to attend church alone (although I only walk through the doors alone, and then my chosen family is there), to plan meals and housework and laundry differently.

I doubt this has anything to do with us being a same sex couple, really, although the length of time we went without a legally recognized marriage took its toll and may affect me forever on this front. I think it's just part of being a DO wife, or any kind of doctor's wife, though I should write sometime about DO wife life specifically.

I think most of us, as medwives, learn to be alone without being lonely, because if we can't learn to be alone, we just can't BE. That's the cost of loving someone, marrying someone, supporting someone that works nights, weekends, overnights, 30 hour call, etc to keep your spouse, your mother, your child safe and cared for in the hospital. That's the cost of watching my helpmate glow with satisfaction because a family finally got the support they needed, or flush with anger that someone wasn't treated as a human being. But some days, usually about this point in the rotation (most rotations are about a month, so I'm about halfway through), it's hard to really feel married.

If I'm honest, some nights when she is working, I sleep on the couch because it doesn't feel like there is simply too much space there. The cats are more likely to tuck themselves into the bend of my knees or the crook of my arm there and stay snuggled for long periods, as if they know that I am trying not to feel the emptiness next to me that should be my helpmate's warm body.

And I don't feel married in that schmoopy way romantic comedies paint love and marriage. I still feel that I am a helpmate, charged with supporting another human being, but the ways in which I love her are different. It may be as simple as boxing leftover lentils into a lunch-sized, microwave-safe container, and then not getting upset if she forgets to grab them on her way out the door at 6 am. It may be bringing a cat to snuggle her in bed when she sleeps during the day and I'm getting work done. Some days, it means directly asking if there's something I want her to do, instead of hoping she'll think of it, because I know that she's too tired and she can't think of it.

I don't know. Maybe feeling married isn't a thing. I see friends post about their husbands on facebook and maybe it's the social media halo or maybe healthy hetero relationships are different or maybe I'm just doing this wrong.

But some days, right now, I don't feel married. I'm grateful to see my helpmate realize her calling and love people like Jesus would. But it's not a fairy tale. It's not a romantic comedy.

It's messy, and it's hard, but that's how real love is.

Confessions: Writing Every Day Doesn't Feel Transformative Yet

I have now been in NaNoWriMo for 12 days, though I started posting more often before the month started to get used to it. I don't know exactly what I expected. I guess I thought I'd have good ideas every day, and the energy to treat them with the compassion and logic I usually aim for. I didn't think, when I decided to do this, that this roof leak and mold thing would happen or become such a big thing or that I'd be moving in the middle of a month when my wife is working 80 hours a week.

I didn't think that all I'd want to write about is how mad I am at the leasing company, and how overwhelmed I am with the number of things I have to do, and how I'm frustrated with work. It is a lot. And I get to be frustrated. And some of it is also my SAD kicking in, especially since I've been missing vitamin D doses, and so I'm doing the stuff that always happens this time of year: crying a lot (sometimes over very small things), splitting (everything is either good or bad), catastrophizing (everything is going as wrong as possible), and perseverating (getting stuck on things, in my case, usually things I've done wrong or perceived faults). And I'm trying to tell myself that it's okay to feel that this is a lot and that these other things will simmer down when we're moved and closed on the house and I get my vitamin D levels back up.

And so writing every day hasn't been the magical experience that I hoped for. At least not yet. I've had a few posts that got a fair number of hits, but none that knocked it out of the park the way some past ones have. I haven't been offered a speaking gig or a book deal or any pay for my writing. That's not really how this works.

That said, I've learned that I do have time to write every day if I make it a priority. I've started thinking about which room, in the house we're buying, will be for writing and what I would need in there to get a lot of writing done. Maybe a little part of me is starting to think of myself as a writer - not just a blogger, not a dabbler. And we'll see, at the end of the month, what happens, but I think I'm learning that writing isn't always as much having epiphanies as it is about sitting down to write when you just. don't. feel. like. it.

And hey - that was worth learning.

#househuntersdetroit - Why We're Not Buying a "$500 House"

As some of you know, I've wanted to live in Detroit since at least 2008 or so. Before the first emergency financial manager took over the school district. Before the Grand Bargain. Before Midtown was at 100% occupancy. Before EAA. Before they revitalized the River Walk. (Yes, before it was cool. So hipster.)

We tried, in fact, to move to the city in 2012 when Rebecca started her medical school clerkship at Henry Ford Wyandotte. The money just didn't come together. We hadn't factored in the cost of car insurance, we hadn't realized how much rents had risen by then. We ended up in Wyandotte.

The current #househuntersdetroit story picks up this past spring, when I went to a Land Bank Open House with a friend. I wanted to see the inside of a very grand Boston Edison home, and this was my chance. We weren't planning to buy a home. Rebecca wasn't even with me - she was working that day.

After my friend and I looked at the featured home at the open house, we checked out a couple more. And I fell in love with one. It wasn't as big. It wasn't as grand. But it was full of light, and color, and architectural details, and the day was sunny and the neighborhood was brimming with joy, and I could see us there. I could see us in that house. So I got more information about purchasing from the land bank.

I'd heard about the land bank before. It's where the urban legend of the "$500 house" in Detroit originated, I think. Without getting into too much detail, the programs shift a little through the years, but for this one, the homes were tax foreclosures and that sort of thing. They were auctioned off, and then the new owner had a certain amount of time to bring them to an occupable state. If they're not finished in that amount of time, the land bank can take the house back. Because of that condition, traditional financing is very difficult.

So I visited two different credit unions with the address of this house and some land bank information sheets in hand. I read up a lot and asked a lot of questions. And despite assurances from the land bank that they're looking for owner-occupied dwellings, regular people, neighborhood stabilization, what I found out made me convinced that this is enabling a land grab. We couldn't get financing through any reputable financial institution. Without cash up front, and a lot of it (we were almost certain, based on past auctions, that the house would go for $20,000 or more, not the $1000 they usually start at), it would have been impossible for us to win the house at auction. And then even if we had that amount, we would still have to find cash to renovate, usually significant renovations, hard to tell exactly since there was no way to get an inspector in before we bid. I tried. I asked. No way.

I'm not saying that we deserved this house or belonged in that neighborhood. I'm not pitching a hissy fit about privilege and crying that I wanted something and didn't get it. After all, we're on schedule to close on an amazing home in a neighborhood we absolutely love and doing it with a financial institution we trust. We are incredibly blessed to be financially stable enough to be approved for this mortgage, to have had the privileges that have lead to our solid credit scores, to know that we can stay in the Detroit area for employment for long enough to make buying a house worth it. We are not the ones harmed by these policies, not really.

But if we couldn't buy a house from the land bank, if we couldn't get financing given the privileges I just mentioned, if we couldn't be sure we would fix it up in time, how could the people who have less than we do? How could people barely eking out a living despite working multiple jobs? I don't watch Rehab Addict much (I think I've seen two episodes - people ask me all the time if I love Nicole Curtis. She's doing good work, but it's not really my thing), but I know one thing she will say is that every square foot of renovation comes out to about $1000. Some of these houses could cost hundreds of thousands to renovate or restore. We found a house we liked down the street from the one that we're purchasing now that needed every square foot gutted and renovated. I looked at a fire-damaged house in University that was similar. In some cases, you can't renovate them for what they're valued at, even if the house were signed over for free. The average Detroiter that needs a house can't come up with that kind of money.

You know who can?

Foreign investors. Slum lords. People with the ability to endlessly create new LLCs. These people also have an advantage in negotiating with the tax office to avoid the foreclosures that put the property back into the land bank.

That house I fell in love with, that sunny day? I watched its auction, and it sold for more than $80,000. I've driven past it a few times as we've searched. A couple times, I've seen people working on it. I wish them well. I wish Boston Edison well.

But the costs of a $500 or $1000 house are higher than many think. It's not a quick fix for the poor or the homeless. There's a lot of liability in those kinds of houses. I'm not saying that I would never do it. But by the time we're able to, we would no longer be the kind of owner the land bank claims this program is for. We would be able to buy a second home, or an investment property, or a rental property. And while I wouldn't do what the owners of the last house and our current house are doing - neglect the property (and neighborhood) until it's time to make money and then try to cover up the issues to sell high - we probably could do so legally if we tried a little. I hated seeing foreign investors gamble on the University District, on a house that is just right for a family. I hated seeing the game they were playing.

I'm not buying a house to gamble, or play, or rescue anyone. I love the house we're buying, but what sold me is the neighbors, Christmas caroling, neighbors knowing each others' stories, pumpkin patch, block parties.  Of course, we looked at the price point, the space, the floorplan, the long term issues we'll have to face, and we factored them in. But it comes down to the fact that this is not wholly a financial decision. If it were, we wouldn't do it.

I wish, I so very much wish, that I could get the foreign investors who owned the home we tried to purchase before this one to come to Detroit. As far as all the documentation read, they had never seen it. I don't think they'd ever been to the city. I wish they could have stood in the Florida room to feel the breeze, seen the children riding bikes up and down the block, gazed up the trunks of the massive oak trees. I wish they hadn't looked at the house solely from a financial perspective.

Because a house is so much more than a sticker price.

Fine, I Won't Ignore the Starbucks Red Cups

Okay readers. I've seen a lot of posts about the red cups. A lot of outrage.

From the people that don't care about the cups. And are making fun of the people who do care about the cups.

Except I've seen hardly anyone fussing about these cups. Of course, these people exist. I'm sure there are a few people upset about the red cup controversy, and there a few people promoting this. Donald Trump has now weighed in to suggest a boycott. But I think this is a minority, a small, trace number of people. Even the War on Christmas Christian Persecution Complex group for the most part seems to realize that this isn't the biggest issue.

And so people are making fun of this ridiculous thing. Some conservative people are playing into this whole mess, but the vast, vast majority of Christians are focused on the more important parts of the season: charity, family, reflection. The vast majority of Christians is chastising the group complaining about the red cups.

Those of you making fun of that tiny group are fanning the flames by giving them press, and you're encouraging them to double down. If they're this upset over something so meaningless, no social media meme is going to get them to be reasonable.

I avoid Starbucks when possible, though if students ask to meet there I usually acquiesce. I don't do that because of the cup color, but because I try to support local, family-owned shops as much as possible, I don't like paying $5 for a latte, and honestly, a lot of Starbucks shops are too loud for me to get work done.

Here are other things I avoid: coffee that isn't fair trade - I don't need trafficked children producing my food. I can spare a few extra cents for the workers to be treated well. Chocolate that isn't fair trade - not only is fair trade cocoa better for workers, it tends to be better quality and taste more delicious.

I do believe we vote with our dollars. And I think voting for kind treatment of children and families all over the world is more important than what color a cup is. I believe that if we as consumers push for ethical treatment of all and put our money where our mouths are, we can accomplish great things. I believe that because we are so removed from our food and the producers of almost everything, we have lost sight of how important is that people work with dignity. So let's leverage our dollars to tell corporations that we want workers to be treated well, that modern day slavery needs to end, that we value quality over quantity.

Confessions: I Fell Apart Today - Good Thing Rebecca is My Glue

It's been a while since a MI Gay Day post. It's time for another. Today's gay agenda:

6 am-ish - I barely remember, but I think Rebecca kissed me goodbye before leaving for the hospital

7:30 am - I got up, made huevos rancheros and coffee, got dressed, threw on moisturizer and blush, and snuggled my kitties

9:00 am - Called our mortgage agent to check in about our close date and having our credit reports checked. Ended up leaving a voicemail.

9:15 am - Called a leasing office about an apartment. Printed documents to help them verify our income.

10:30 am - Arrived to said leasing office to view apartments. Saw a few units, found one that would work, filled out an application, asked a LOT of questions. Drove home.

1:00 pm - Got home, microwaved something out of the freezer for lunch because I don't want to have to move frozen items. Checked e-mail, got a message asking me to work tomorrow, sent a volley of messages requesting more specifics

2:00 pm - Dropped off a form at our current leasing office, went to the pharmacy, got my flu champ (didn't flinch or fuss), got a call from the mortgage agent letting me know that we're on track to close on time and that having our credit pulled shouldn't be an issue (BEST news all day)

4:00 pm - Came home, was gearing up to make a bunch of phone calls to get the new apartment set when the new leasing office called to let me know that the unit fell through.

I had a meltdown. I lost it. I kept it together enough to stay coherent on the phone, but the leasing agent knew I was having a hard time. They found something else to put on hold for us - it's at a higher price point, which is less than ideal, but I told them to hang onto it for us for now. Once I hung up, I sobbed. Uncontrollably. The kind of sob where you don't make a sound because your face is frozen because you could barely handle the situation and now somehow it is worse and you just don't know how this is going to be okay.

4:35 pm - Rebecca texted to say she was out of work early and headed up. Thank goodness. I sent another message about the work situation I still hadn't heard about.

5:00 pm - Rebecca arrived home. I had another meltdown where I told her how overwhelmed and alone I felt. I explained what happened with the apartments and the new unit and the phone calls and the work situation I still hadn't heard back about. She started going through the to-do list, filled out her part of the rental application, pulled up the floorplan of the backup apartment, reassured me that we could make it work, and asked me what else she could do.

5:45 pm - I started dinner, more things out of the freezer, because if there's any part of a to-do list I CAN get through this week, it's emptying the fridge and freezer of most items, and somehow it's comforting to use things up and save on the grocery budget when I'm feeling vulnerable financially.

7:00 pm - A friend messaged to let me know that she can come help me start packing tomorrow. That's such a relief, as I'm not great at packing and will procrastinate. Anyone else who wants to come help will be hugged about 15 times and fed brownies, coffee, and pantry food. Also baked French toast or huevos rancheros if you're into that.

7:30 pm - After Rebecca agreed, I called someone else about the work situation I still hadn't heard on. She started looking into it, and it became apparent that I wasn't the only one out of the loop, which was both frustrating and comforting.

8:00 pm - I started a batch of homemade brownies, because brownies make any day better and I wanted to finish up some things from the pantry.

9:00 pm - Brownies came out of the oven, the roommies best friend stopped by for dessert, and I got an e-mail canceling the short-notice shift for tomorrow in recognition of the fact that it's a short shift.

10:00 pm - I settled into the couch, got my writing for the day started, and tried to make a list of all the things about the new apartment that will be better than the current one. Silver linings club. And let myself smile radiantly about the news that we're on track to close. And that Rebecca and I are going to have a house. And that somehow this amazing woman knew how broken I am, and where all my cracks are, and (presumably) how many more times I would fall apart, and signed up to put me back together and tell me it will be okay and love me unconditionally.

I'm crying again just thinking about it, but I know we'll be okay, because my brilliant helpmate said so.

LGBT Advent Advice: How to Welcome LGBT People During the Holidays

I thought about simply re-posting my article on this topic from Easter, but Advent is its own holy time and deserves its own post.

For one thing, Advent is a more extended window in which we spend more time with family. For members of the LGBT community ostracized by their biological family, or for those walking in celibacy despite longing for a helpmate, this time can be a very lonely one. For those ostracized by previous churches, this season, with its reflection on birth, redemption, long journeys, and challenges, can bring up desire to connect but also feelings of rejection. Some may slip into a pew in the back of a Christmas Eve service. Some may attempt to avoid festivities. Some find other ways to celebrate.

Some have families and friends that accept them just as they are, and they celebrate much as any straight Christian would.

Here are more suggestions (on top of the ones from the Easter post, which definitely still apply) for welcoming the LGBT community from any background during Advent:

1. Include them in reflective activities that aren't at the church building

Having a Christmas party? Watching a favorite family Christmas film? Going caroling in your neighborhood, a hospital, a senior center? Invite them, sincerely.

One of my favorite Christmas movies is The Nativity Story, which conveys the story of Jesus' birth in a fairly accurate historical context and with high production value. It gives a picture of the condemnation Mary faced as a young, engaged woman pregnant with a child not of her intended. The powerful message, that sometimes the world doesn't understand the full story yet, and that we are planned for so much more than we can understand, is one that resonates deeply with me, and I suspect many members of the LGBT community would say the same.

2. Feed their bodies and souls

This time of year, most families have traditions. Traditional food, traditional activities, keepsakes that are retrieved from attics and basements and placed with care. It took me a long time to realize that being White Baptist is my ethnicity, and during this time of year, I crave my community's traditional foods more often than usual. For me, this is green bean casserole, my grandma's cranberry sauce, stuffing, and a half dozen or so different types of cookies. I have learned to cook most of these, but for those away from home without the skills or time (or ability to eat a whole batch if they live alone), inviting them over for dinner, even on a regular weeknight, can be a very meaningful gesture.

3. Understand if they don't want to participate

Inviting is great. Please do it. But if this person says no, don't press for details. Don't pressure. Don't insist, even if your church is the most gay friendly place in the world and the event is amazing and they would be so super welcome. If they're not ready, they're not ready. The fact that they know that you are thinking of them, sincerely, may be enough for now. They may reach out again. They may not.

MI Love: Cranberries - Yes, You CAN Make Homemade Cranberry Sauce

Few things say holiday season in Michigan more than cranberries, and cranberry sauce is probably the most quintessential method to prep them. A lot of people buy their cranberry sauce in a can or think that only their grandmother can pull it off - I did for a while. Then I asked my grandma for the recipe, and it turns out it's a pretty easy three ingredient process with an easy ratio - 4:2:1 (four parts cranberries, two parts sugar, one part water).

That's right, three ingredients - and that's if you count tap water as an ingredient.

This is not health food, not really, given how much sugar you're putting in, but cranberries are nutritious and the color alone is enough to brighten your day, and you can always throw this as a condiment onto a lean turkey/lettuce/whole wheat sandwich or whole grain pumpkin pancakes or something else healthy to even it out. Or, you know, stir into seasonal cocktails, spoon onto ice cream, or eat with a spoon. You will not want to stop eating this.

So here's what you will need:

A medium size saucepan
A pretty casserole dish with a lid (or if you're going to serve warm and immediately, a pretty serving bowl)
4 cups of cranberries (Michigan cranberries recommended - can be from frozen if you like)
2 cups sugar
1 cup of water

Rinse and sort through the cranberries to remove any leaves or twigs that might be in with them. Bring the water and sugar to a simmer until the sugar dissolves, then add the cranberries (or you can just dump everything and bring to a simmer, but finding the simmering temp for the water will give you a better idea how hot to keep your burner). Stir frequently. Cook until the berries start to explode, the liquid has frothy light pink bubbles and is starting to get thick and syrupy. The longer you cook it, the thicker it will be (if it doesn't thicken completely the first time, don't despair. You've just made the loveliest cranberry syrup. Try again soon and cook longer next time.).

Turn the burner off, pour the cranberry sauce into your dish (if I'm doing very casual entertaining, I'm not above leaving it in the saucepan), let cool for a little while, and then put it into the refrigerator to finish setting. You can also spoon some over double cream brie while the sauce is still warm and serve with crackers or crostini for a simple but elegant holiday starter.

Variations:
Instead of water, use red wine, Vernor's or orange juice. (Consider reducing the sugar in this case.)
Add a dash of vanilla, a little grated orange rind, a splash of bourbon, or a little brandy.
Saute apples in the saucepan for a few minutes before adding the water and sugar, then proceed as normal.
Add a mulling spice packet to the sugar and water; remove it after the cranberries finish cooking.

You can combine the above variations to create a signature cranberry sauce for yourself or to pair it more successfully with whatever else you're serving. Taste the liquid portion before adding the cranberries and make sure to taste near the end also (but be careful: it's hot!).

Moving Now Seemed Impossible: We're Doing it Anyway

For those of you following the mold saga of our apartment, it has become clear that our management company has no intention of fixing the mold situation and would prefer that we move out. So we are starting the process of finding a low cost small apartment - studio or one bedroom - and storage unit for our things so that we have a place to live while Labra Design+Build gets our house into shape.

For those of you following the #househuntersdetroit saga, we got word this week that the appraiser believes our house will be worth the amount we're taking out as a mortgage and that our paperwork is moving to underwriting - on the last house, we got stuck shortly before this step, so we're into uncharted territory, but I believe we're in good shape. We should make our closing date; I'll speak to the mortgage agent tomorrow to find out more.

This is a hot mess. Moving now, when we'll be moving in six months, is a lot. I started this process thinking it was impossible. It still seems like it might be. Best case scenario, we will close very soon, be able to store some furniture at the new house, and will get a very affordable little love nest someplace to hole up in until the house is ready. If the timing isn't synced, we'll have to store some items for at least a little bit. Worst case scenario, if this house doesn't go through, we'll be in a tiny apartment for a while until we find a different house to buy. That will allow us to squirrel away some money, which wouldn't necessarily be a terrible outcome. I'm trying to do what I tell my students to do, which is to break down this huge problem into manageable steps and look for strategies or resources that make it possible.

If you have a trailer and/or a strong back and would be able to help us move, we would be incredibly appreciative.

Confessions: #transdayofscreaming & I was quiet

I've done well at this #nanowrimo challenge so far - written every day, with a fair amount of length, and I think most of the posts have been solid. But I missed yesterday. I started it, and then some impostor syndrome crept in - the feeling that I"m unqualified to be writing for public consumption, the belief that I don't have something worthwhile to say.

And on trans issues, I feel that way especially, because I'm not trans, and while I'm blessed to love and be loved by a few people who are trans, it's not my story to tell. And yet some of my readers may not have someone out and trans around them to hear the story. They may not be reading the news articles I see or the commentary I sift through. Yesterday was the #transdayofscreaming and I want to somehow amplify and honor those voices.

And so, instead of a post, let me share a list with you. A list of unlawfully killed trans people from this year alone (taken from Wikipedia - which yes, I know may be considered slightly unreliable, but then, gathering this kind of data is tricky and may never be complete).

• Papi Edwards
• Lamia Beard
• Ty Underwood
• Yazmin Vash Payne
• Taja DeJesus
• Penny Proud
• Bri Golec
• Kristina Gomez Reinwald
• Sumaya Dalmar
• Keyshia Blige
• Vanessa Santillan
• Mya Hall
• London Chanel
• Mercedes Williamson
• Jasmine Collins
• Ashton O'Hara
• India Clarke
• K.C. Haggard
• Shade Schuler
• Amber Monroe
• Kandis Capri
• Elisha Walker‍ 
• Tamara Dominguez
• Fernanda 'Coty' Olmos
• Kiesha Jenkins
• Marcela Estafania Chocobar
• Amancay Diane Sacayán
• Zella Ziona

 I've supplied the link to the Wikipedia document, which has information about each of these people, and I hope you will read their stories. I wish you could hear their stories from their own lips. I wish we lived in a world where the LGBT community, and particularly the trans community, lives in well-placed fear of violence and hate crimes. That is not the world we live in.

But that's why I'm Committing in the Mitten. Will you commit with me?

Erin's Pep Talk: Last session before the standardized test

With the November SAT coming up, I wanted to share something with you - it's the advice I give to my ACT/SAT/GRE/MCAT students, but I think maybe someone else needs to hear it today.

After so many years (more than 3 with my current employer, and a few before that) in test prep, I have my advice the day before the test honed. I go through what to do the night before, what they will eat for breakfast, to do a math problem and read a short passage. But more than that, here is what I tell them:

You are more than what happens on test day.

The score that you get is a reflection of how the test went, but it isn't a reflection of your inherent value, intelligence, or future. It's one day, one indicator. You can re-test. (You are also more than your GPA, the number on the scale, your hourly wage, or any individual number.) The test will not tell the world if you are kind, funny, brave, generous, artistic, strong, etc. It will tell them how you did on this one test.

You can do well, so don't let anxiety overwhelm you.

You know how to solve problems. You know how to solve a lot of problems a lot of different ways. If you can't see an approach or strategy right away, try a different question, come back later, and see if you can find a way to solve it. That may be to chunk it, or to eliminate wrong answers, or to paraphrase, or many other strategies. You know how to do this; your goal is to show that in your score.

Practice self-care, before, during, and after the test.

Breathe. Your brain needs oxygen to work. Stretch. If your muscles are tired or there's blood pooling in your feet, it isn't circulating to give you energy. Eat well so that you're nourished. If you're getting frustrated, take a few seconds to pull your shoulders back, tilt your chin up, and inhale all the way to the bottom of your lungs. You're worth it, and your score will show it.

Dear Houston: You Just Cut off your Nose to Spite your Face

Most of my readers have probably already heard that Houston voted down a measure barring discrimination for a variety of groups, including (but very much NOT limited to) the LGBT community. If you haven't, read the HuffPo piece here.

I could write about the constitutionality of voters deciding whether people should have rights (hint: a majority voting to oppress a minority isn't constitutional, and it's not what the Founding Fathers intended for democracy). I could write about gerrymandering, the attempt in many places to disenfranchise certain voting blocks, or the inaccurate campaign to convince voters that this measure was somehow about allowing men in women's bathrooms.

Instead, I want to point out the hypocrisy of this single-issue-voter, reactionary conservative mindset to withhold protections from the LGBT community, share which other groups are left vulnerable, and assert that this will have an impact on the perception of Houston and the willingness of young professionals to relocate there.

So, here's the list of other groups who are now unprotected in the name of allowing people to discriminate against my group, and reasons this is horribly hypocritical:

Race - if we want to say that everyone has an equal opportunity, that racism no longer exists, or that White privilege isn't a thing, then no one should be bothered by this. If you're still trying to protect people's right to discriminate based on race, well, then, admit that the Civil Rights Movement isn't over.

Age - If you say you love senior citizens, if you're opposed to physician-assisted suicide, if you believe that the elderly have much to offer and should be protected, well, why wouldn't protecting them make sense? And if you believe "kids these days" need to work hard, why wouldn't you want them to have opportunities for employment and safe housing?

Pregnancy - Big one here, Houston. If you're pro-life, you have to be pro-pregnant women. Protecting them from discrimination in employment and housing might be the single easiest thing you can do to reduce the rate of abortions.

Sex - again, do you want to admit we still need feminism? Or do you want to pass something that you're effectively arguing is unnecessary, in the name of getting protections for the other groups on this list you purport to care about?

Color - see Race comment.

Disability - if every life matters, then protecting the disabled is our duty as humans, and as adherents of any religious background.

Military Status - our military serves every day to protect us. Isn't it time to protect them? If this measure would keep even one active member of the military or veteran from homelessness, wasn't it worth passing?

National Origin - Houston is an incredibly diverse city. Kind of thought y'all would want to keep that up.

Ethnicity - see Race comment.

Religion - believe it or not, the Constitution guarantees freedom of religion, and this would actually protect all the Christians that the right is claiming are under attack, if they really are.

Sexual Orientation - So this was what you supposedly actually objected to. I obviously disagree, but that's not the objective of this post.

Gender Identity - See Sexual Orientation comment.

Genetic Information - You know who has different genetics? People with certain predictors of breast cancer. People with Down's syndrome. People with Huntington's. If the Right is actually pro-women and pro-women's health, pro-life, pro-disability, again, why would they pass up the opportunity to protect such groups?

Marital Status - this is a critical one for many women. Marital status has been demonstrated to be a point of discrimination in situations like hiring and promotion. Again, if you're truly pro-women, pro-pregnancy, and pro-life, why not pass this?

Family Status - want to truly be pro-family and promote family values? Preventing discrimination here would be a key step. Allowing employers or housing offices to discriminate against those with children isn't pro-life, pro-pregnancy, or pro-child, since guess what? Most pregnancy end with a child and a change in family status.

I have already spoken to people who refuse to move to Michigan because of a lack of these kinds of protections. In fact, my wife and I refuse to relocated to Texas given the disregard for civil rights there (and maybe you think that isn't a loss, but I happen to know you have a shortage of people who can care for pregnant women, and my wife is a family med physician with a lot of training in managing pregnancies and deliveries. I also know that you have a teacher shortage, especially in ESL and bilingual, and I'm looking to get back into public school education.).

So maybe, if you could set aside the details about people that you don't like and look at the bigger picture, you would see a world that's a little more just, a little kinder, and a little more principled.

Gay Agenda: Wedding Dream Jar

Things are rough right now, and the part of me I wish were smaller wants to write angry, complaining posts. Today, I'm resisting the urge and writing about something good, lovely, and kind: dream jars.

I've mentioned these in a couple places but never put out instructions or a full description.

When I returned from a semester in Ecuador, which was a great experience and something I had wanted to do for a long time, adjusting was a little difficult. One of the activities I did to help was scrapbooking (yes, #sobasic I know). I had scraps of things left and I don't remember exactly why, but I decorated a clean peanut butter jar, wrote other hopes and goals on the slips, and put them inside. I kept it for a long time, until after we got married, in fact. At some point, I got one started for Rebecca. At our wedding, instead of a sand ceremony or a unity candle, we dumped all the slips, written and blank, into a single jar, with this liturgy:

Rebecca and Erin, I invite you both to place your dreams in the jar.

Rebecca, please repeat after me: Erin, I will cherish your dreams, just as I cherish mine, that together, we might make our dreams into a reality.

Erin, please repeat after me: Rebecca, I will cherish your dreams, just as I cherish mine, that together, we might make our dreams into a reality. 

Mold, Leasing Office, Homelessness: The Mess You Didn't See

I swore, at some point, never to be homeless again. I've been homeless twice - not the kind everyone thinks of, sleeping on a park bench, but homeless nonetheless. I couch-surfed or slept on people's floors. I was blessed to have a network of people to stay with and a car, but having no permanent address or key is still very difficult, more than just logistically. I've written a little about this before, once in a list of bad days before the very worst day, and then the second worst day, happened.

We thought once Rebecca became a doctor that we were safe. And then something happened recently that brought back the fear of coming loose, possessions in once place, us in another, and I realized there is never a guarantee that you won't become homeless, no matter how hard you try (unless, maybe, you are the 1%?). A large percentage of Americans are one missed paycheck away from homelessness. We're better off than that now, but recently, we had a roof leak that lead to my closet molding. At first, it was just inconvenient, but Rebecca and I both have mold allergies and knew that it was probably a matter of time before we started reacting. I diligently informed the maintenance about this, about every other day for a week, until I woke up Saturday completely congested.

And having sneezing fits - debilitating ones. I spent the day exhausted, but didn't really put it together until Rebecca got home and started up too. We're allergic to our bedroom.

I called maintenance, again, to let them know, and called them again the next morning. No one was helpful, and no one came (it had been more than a week since the initial leak). One of them pointed out that if it was unsafe, we shouldn't go home to our apartment and should inform the office that we are withholding rent until the issue is resolved (he probably shouldn't have done that, but it wasn't an actual option since the cats were still there anyway).

And I sat down on the floor of the church multi-purpose room, where I had stepped to take the call, and sobbed, quietly. And thought of all of the things I would have to do - find a spot for the cats, figure out how to pack clothes out of a closet that kept me from breathing, stop the mail, contact the health department, figure out what to do with the contents of the refrigerator, start making calls to find out who had space for one or two more people, let my employer know not to mail any materials to me . . . I thought about the fact that I had no idea how long the homelessness would last this time, that I didn't want to move to a new apartment now just to move to our house in a few months, that I didn't know if I would ever feel safe in this apartment again now that we know that the leasing office doesn't care about us.

Some would say this is an overreaction. Those people haven't been in this situation. They haven't been homeless. They don't know that planning ahead and orchestrating everything might be the one way to end up with a home again after and all of your things still intact, if it's possible at all. They may not know what it is like to listen to an authority figure say one thing and know that it actually means that your health, your life aren't worth urgency, aren't worth a rush order, aren't even worth a phone call.

And readers, I know you think that I'm strong. Many of you have told me I'm brave. But you didn't see me crumpled into a puddle of tears on that church floor, trying to decide whether to go home or not. You didn't see me yell at the leasing office staff because I was so frustrated that a severe allergic reaction wasn't considered an emergency. I was less kind than I want to be. I extended less grace than I hope to.

Someone came today and sprayed the mold with bleach. I don't know if it will help, but I hope it will. It doesn't change the feeling that we don't belong in this building, and it's time to stop renting. I know that owning a home is difficult, and owning a historic home in need of TLC is more so, but at least it will be my decision when to call a mold abatement crew and which one. And we will also have more space to shift things into or other places to stay if one room is impacted.

And maybe that is where I am finding some of the joy of almost being a homeowner: in that it will be much harder to evict me, in that it will be harder for someone in charge to tell me I don't matter, in that I can then extend a welcome to others who are in a messy living situation. 

Because we all have messes people don't see, and sometimes we don't ask for or receive help before they get worse.

Writing Challenge: Modified NaNoWriMo

A friend and I had talked a few months ago about doing National Novel Writing Month together - except  neither of us is writing a novel. She will be working on her dissertation, and I'll be trying to get out a blog post every day. Yes, for those of you who love reading this blog, for the month of November, I will be attempting to post something every day. I am hoping this will start a trend of writing consistently, responding more promptly to current events, and improving readership. The accountability of doing it with a friend seemed like a good plan.

So, what might you learn about this month? I drafted a list of titles in case I have writer's block, so that I can't use not having a topic as an excuse. Here are some that might make an appearance:

Stop Silencing Women: Stouffer's Commercial is Stupid
My God is Genderqueer
Why I Drive Woodward (Instead of the Expressway)
Ben Carson, MDs, WSU SOM, Detroit: Affirmative Action
Stop Calling Women Irrational: You're Just Lazy
Erin's Standardized Test Pep Talk
In Defense of: Bourgeois Stuff Like Paid Sick Days
Marriage Secret: Mango Yogurt Principle
Serfdoms, Sharecropping, and the Modern U.S.
Jesus Came From Blended Family
What We Learn from Expectations and Narrative

Do you have other topics you hope I'll tackle? Comment below!