Let My People "Go"

I did something rebellious this week.  I'm an American Christian and I shopped at Target!

I've been avoiding the whole "bathroom issue" on social media for as long as I possibly could. (Which, trust me, I'm usually the initiator of all things potty talk. This showed great restraint on my part.)

Then, this week, "the" letter from the White House was published and a whole new influx of ignorance exploded online.

Well, if the noisy minority gets to have their say, then I justly have equal rights to voice my common sense, er... opinion.

I'm obviously referring the issue of where transgender folk are allowed to pee. 

If I were reading that sentence from the eyes of any other generation, past or future, my first thought would be, "Is this what has come of the great America?! They've become so sparse on things to be offended by that they tried to take away a human's right to vacate their bowels and bladders?" 

And, yes. My past/future self would be correct. Apparently, that is what this nation has come to.

Well, I can sense that the imaginary blood pressure meter I've connected to this blog post is starting to rise through the roof. But, stick with me. I've suffered through your opinions for long enough. Take a quiet moment to sit through mine.

Here are some things to consider on this issue:

Everybody pees: The missed point of those opposing the right to choose which restroom one identifies with, is that the whole topic exists because people need to pee and poop. Whatever spin you're putting on this debate is simply spin. Any imagined fear over what else may possibly happening in public restrooms makes me wonder if you've ever set foot in one. Everybody poops. Everybody's got to do it somewhere.

That's not how bathrooms work: It seems that the women's room is the facility that is worrying protesters the most. As a woman who frequents a female potty multiple times daily, let me address this fear for those who have never had a peek in there.

To the men who stand at urinals, with their junk on display for all to see, know this: The women's room has nothing but stalls.

Here's an additional anatomy lesson for you: We have to sit down for anything we do in there. We don't have urinals. We don't see each others private parts. We're behind closed doors for the entire show. And, those doors even lock! This is why someone may feel safer in here. It's a private space. 

Something else to consider: Any new rules or regulations have not made your children "rapist bait" any more than they were before, because they aren't in there alone! Mothers don't allow that. Many mothers even have their sons in there because some men don't want to be bothered with that chore. If we want to start a protest, how about "Equal Shares of Diaper-Changing Duties Between Dads and Moms"? Because your toddler is crawling under my private stall.

How would you even know? Last I checked (yesterday) there was no bouncer at the women's room door. No one was signing in pee-ers by driver's license or birth certificate. And, I'm so thankful that no one was checking for proof of genitalia to register my toilet use. I had to go! I didn't have time any of that nonsense. And, you know what? I didn't even see another living soul in the 90 seconds it took to do my business. If I had, would I have even known their "true" gender? Probably not. They've been peeing somewhere for all these years and have succeeded at being discreet about it. 

Laws and written rules allowing fairness are not legalizing sexual assault: Let me now address those who swear up and down that they're not discriminating against transgenders, but against those who are pretending to be. 1.) Are you really? 2.) Because, that really doesn't seem to be the case. 3.) This is the strangest attempt at trying to sound politically correct I've ever come across.

Let's just call a spade a spade. You're uncomfortable with the idea of a human being "spayed". (Come on! At least give me credit for the pun!)

It's the twenty-first century and it's high time we stop being intimidated by everything that's different than yourself. So, you don't understand it? That's okay! I don't wholly either. I was born female and identify as female, so it's not a topic I've had to struggle through. You can either choose to educate yourself on the topic or choose to ignore it. But, what you can't do is take away the human rights of someone, just because you don't understand them or agree with their way of life.

Most crimes involving transgenders are ones where they are the victim. This is the issue at hand here. Allowing someone to relieve themselves in a safe and private environment. This does not make it legal for any man in a dress to army crawl underneath stalls peeking and touching at whatever he pleases. If someone really tries this, he will be kicked in the face by a high heeled shoe! Dumb move. Illegal move. He's going to jail.  

Maybe you're the perv: Who's dreaming up these scenarios, anyhow? And, aren't they kind of the perverts in this debate? The people who really scare me are the ones so vocal about who they think is in the next stall and what they think they're up to in there.

Why is your imagination going to such places? Are you having sex or doing questionable things in public bathrooms? If not, why do you assume that anyone else is? The only people I'm now worried about in the restroom, are the ones who are going to be taking it upon themselves to police the joint. I don't want anyone sizing me up and deciding whether they think I'm dainty enough to be a "real girl". I'm not the most delicate flower. Your assumptions may exclude me from using the women's room and I'm not okay with that.

This seems like a repeat of the homophobic rants I'd witnessed when gay marriage was the hot button topic of the day. "They're perverts!" "Do you realize what they do?" "It's disgusting!"

The simple answer to that is: Well, then, stop thinking about it so much!

For the record, I'm not picturing any of you in sexual scenarios with your spouses, boyfriends, girlfriends or lovers. So, why dwell so publicly on fantasies of what you think the people you're offended by are doing behind closed doors? That's between them, their partners and the Lord. 

You're not welcome into anyone else's bedroom or bathroom stall. When tempted to "preach" your opinions of others, take a moment to pause and focus on what the Bible preaches first: "...Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise." (Philippians 4:8)

God doesn't want us wasting so much time imagining what we think are the sins of sinners. Remember, "For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23) We're all in the same boat. Do you want me dwelling on whatever I think you've been up to in your lifetime? Let's give each other a break and the benefit of the doubt. 

What Would Jesus Do? The most frightening part of this debate is the attempt to spin this into a Christian issue. Any church of any denomination trying to stir their congregation up into a frenzy over this has me in great fear over the reputation of all Christians. If you're a part of any religious ministry, you should already know this verse well: "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." (2 Timothy 1:7)

Your responsibility is to teach, guide and encourage your flock. Not to rustle up fear and anger amongst them. Teaching the Word is a great responsibility and God is watching very closely the example you lay forth. "My brethren, let not many of you become teachers, knowing that we shall receive a stricter judgment." (James 3:1) And, speaking of judgement, we all know what the Bible says about that not being our job either. (Romans 14:13, Matthew 7:1-5, Luke 6:37, James 4:11-12... shall I go on?) 

We all can agree that indoor plumbing did not exist in biblical times. There's no mention of bathroom matters in the Bible, so don't pretend that this is a biblical topic. They had to go wherever they went back then and I can venture to guess that it was a lot less private than the stalls you're so worried about today.

What we do know, though, is how Jesus treated others. He asked us to show more love to others than we show for ourselves. We can't do this by inciting fear. We're not doing this by regulating others' bodily functions. We're not showing this when we're misrepresenting Christianity on social media and in our political discussions. America has guaranteed us our freedom of speech. Be cautious of how you use this right. If you're going to throw the Bible on a topic, be sure you're taking note of who's words you're quoting, their context, and who you're representing in your statements.

It breaks my heart that there are people who hate Christians, just because they have come into contact with someone who has been misrepresenting us. Don't form a belief just because a pastor or teacher told you it was the right one. Don't repeat an opinion if you're not truly convicted of it. Your church leaders aren't your only spiritual resource. Search Scripture on your own if something doesn't sound right. Go to the Lord yourself in prayer for guidance if you're unsure. All humans are flawed. Pastors make mistakes and speak out of turn sometimes too. Don't be a blind follower. Because, blind followers who are vocal become false prophets. 

Target is the Bomb: Let's face it. If Target was clubbing baby seals in their restrooms, I'd probably still shop there. It's the closest grocery store to my house and they have the lowest prices on dairy in town.

You can disagree with me. You can unfriend me on Facebook, unfollow me on Twitter, or gossip about me in the gender-assigned restroom of your choosing. But, please, do me a favor and save your breath with me on this topic.

Whatever you say, whoever you vote for and whatever on earth you choose to believe, you will never ever convince me to be afraid to pee. 

9/11

I don't know why I even applied makeup this morning. I knew I'd be inundated with 9/11 sob stories. I knew it would be unavoidable today. I knew I'd be going to my brother's house to do my weekly Bible study with his kids. I knew I should try to work Patriots Day in somehow. But, dealing with ages ranging from 5 through 14, I was stumped on ideas how to.

As a warm up, I listened to part of a 9/11 sermon that was playing on the radio on the drive over. It was by one of those "shouty" preachers, so I'm not even sure what his message was about. (I've never responded well to shouty preachers. If I'm not being grounded, stop yelling at me!) But, just the topic at hand forced images of falling bodies into my head and I started weeping on M-5 at 65 mph.

For some reason that's my 9/11 image. For some people it's the image of one of the planes hitting one of the towers that will repeat in their heads on constant replay this weekend. For some people it's the image of the massive skyscrapers tumbling to the ground like a stack of blocks a toddler kicked over. Maybe, for you, it's the people in face masks running helplessly from the billowing wave of ashes and soot. For me, it's the jumpers.

I've created a theory that comforts me when I think of these bodies. When I was about eight years of age, I fell from a tree in the backyard. I couldn't have been more than fifteen feet off the ground. I don't remember falling. I don't remember landing. I only remember waking up a few minutes later to my mom checking my eyes for a concussion. I believe God built us with a mechanism of losing conscienceness when our bodies are facing a state of shock. If I couldn't stay conscious throughout a fifteen foot drop, my hope is that these victims that fell had their spirits taken from them long before impact.

I comfort myself with that thought, but it's the witnesses I cringe for. I watched a documentary a few years back that just happened to be following a team of firefighters on that fateful day. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/9/11_(film) From its footage is that famous shot of the first plane flying low throughout the skyway of NYC.) These firefighters, trying to save what lives were still savable inside before the buildings would inevitably collapse, had the added concern of having to avoid the falling bodies and listen to them each one hit ground. A sound that on film I will never forget. How much must it haunt the ones who were forced to hear it live? Another touching documentary from the History channel (102 Minutes That Changed America http://www.history.com/interactives/witness-to-911) is made up of footage from everyday citizens that got caught up in this madness and happened to have their home video cameras at hand. These were not trained emergency professionals. They've never been drilled in advance for such an attack. How on earth do they cope with these memories?

Well, I managed to wipe away my tears on the road and pull it together enough to get through Bible study. After our devotional I asked the kids if they knew today was. After slightly accurate guesses of "Sunday", "your birthday" and "The Sabbath Day" I hinted a little by telling them the date. The oldest, of course, knew much of the events of September 11, 2001. She was four years old at the time and she's been learning it in school and we've been answering her questions about it for years. The nine-year old knew it had something to do with planes crashing, but wasn't sure if it was just some sort of accident. And, the five-year-old was content enough to just know it was my birthday weekend and would we still be going canoeing?

I explained the events of this tragic day in the most child-friendly language I could create. Somehow that lead me to tell the story of United 93 and what heroes those passengers were in fighting back. In the middle of the retelling I began to no longer recognize the voice coming out of my mouth. Oh no. I'm crying again. Instead of stopping to gather myself, I made the mistake of pushing on and overcompensated by talking even louder. Oh no, now I'm sobbing. I know this because the kids all looked up at me to see what strange kind of creature had stolen my voice and taken over my body.

The action of me trying to cheer myself up and sound audibly decipherable again led us to stories of good things that came during this tragic time. I taught them how in the Pentagon, renovations were being done at the time, so the area that was hit wasn't nearly as populated as the terrorists would have hoped and was actually better built for such an attack then any other side of the Pentagon's structure. (http://whatreallyhappened.com/WRHARTICLES/911_pentagon_renovations.html) Insanely good luck or God's intervention?

I told them of how God provided for our own family's distraction. My older sister was pregnant with my twin nephews at the time. Not being due for another two-and-a-half months, the day after 9/11 she went into early labor. (The doctors blame toxemia, a small part of me still blames the terrorists.) These boys were forced into the world much too early for expected survival. But, after months of touch and go health and development, these babies got to come home before their due date even! Such love provided to us to focus on and distract us from the worries of the world. That's our 9/11 story.

I know there are people that doubt a loving God would even allow something like the attacks of 9/11 to ever happen. These people don't acknowledge that God chose to create us each with our own free will. There have been those who have chosen to use theirs in the most despicable of ways and others choose to do good work. He never promised us He would seize control of any of our actions, just that He'd faithful to those who believe. Faithful to some, might mean shielding us from any bad event that could possibly come our way. But, is that really what faith is?

I know my family prayed and prayed as this tragedy unfolded. I know we were met with even more shock and confusion in the possible loss of my first two nephews, my parent's first two grandsons, my sister's first two children that she so badly wanted... and we prayed and prayed some more. I'm glad our family's 9/11 story had a happy ending. I'm glad that we were granted the peace that passes all understanding that we certainly weren't providing for ourselves. I can't answer the spiritual mysteries of the world with my tongue or with my hand, but they've certainly been proven to my heart.

I don't know if I made a mistake in teaching a kindergartner of these events too young, too soon. I left out the jumpers, I baby-talked the definition of "hijacking". I don't know how the families of the victims of this day carry on and explain it to their young. None of us are perfect. There's no engraved rules on how to tell this story and which parts to leave out. I'm just thankful that as surely as I too will never forget... I have also been blessed with the gifts of coping and of moving forward.