Botham

When a national headline is about someone you knew, something inside of you stirs. And it’s more than pity. Way more than just sadness. It’s like that nagging headache that just won’t go away. It’s an endless loop of questions playing over and over: “Was it an accident?” “How did this happen?” “Did they know each other?” “Was it because he was black or because she was scared?” “Will we ever know the truth?”

And it’s caused enough discomfort that I’ve just finally decided. When blatant injustice occurs, you have two options: do nothing, or act.

But here’s the thing, no matter if the apartment door was ajar or not. No matter if Botham and Amber were connected in any way or not. No matter what was in his apartment once searched. A man was killed unjustly in his home. The same injustice as if someone walked through your door this very instant as you quietly read these words and fired a weapon at you. 

This has to stop. And it starts with me. A young white woman who wants to understand and then change this narrative. It saddens me that the disparity between white people and people of color feels like this endless abyss that is becoming more distrusting, more dark, and more insurmountable. And it keeps happening. Over and over. 

So here I we go. I’m on a quest to better understand what white privilege fully means, where it exists, what it looks like, how it got there, how I live into it, and how I can stop perpetuating it. To lay down my defenses and my desire to push back in frustration. To stop denying it and just hear people out. This isn’t a conservative or liberal or Christian or secular effort. It’s a human one. How do I understand minority groups in a way that values them as people? People who have been through the ringer and are suffering as a result? Am I capable of shedding my worry of how people will perceive me if I express concern over this? Is how I respond to this crucial time in history something that my kids would be proud of? 

So here’s what I’ve started with:

1. An episode of a documentary series on Netflix called Explained. The episode is titled “The Racial Wealth Gap.”  It’s ~16 minutes in length. I don’t know the agenda or the political standing of the creators of the show. That information neither encourages nor discourages me from watching it, because I’m just after more overall information here. 

2. I’ve been reading this book I’m Still Here—Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown. It’s an honest account of her experience growing up as an African American girl in a middle class white environment. It’s about how she discovered her “blackness” and became empowered to exist between white and black circles as an individual. It’s made me laugh, hurt for her, feel defensive, sigh in frustration, and audibly gasp. But how it’s made me feel as a white person isn’t its purpose. The point is that a very brave African American woman is giving people like me access to her story and her experiences. That is a treasure and one that I don’t dare take lightly. Why do I feel the need (or authority) to decide whether it’s legitimate or not? It just is what it is and I’m thankful to her for it because it’s helping me learn.

What about you? How are you responding? Are your efforts defined by your social media statuses....and that’s kind of it? Are you like me and melt into the “non confrontational” zone quietly reading the dialogue between the passionate ones from your phone screen and scrolling on? No matter what your comfort zone is or what kind of responder you are, I challenge you to try two things:

1. Make one goal for yourself in understanding what is happening here. Intentionally interact with someone else’s thoughts and experiences completely foreign to you. A person. A book. A blog. A show/documentary. Ask someone if you can talk openly and ask them questions safely. 

2. While completing #1, decide beforehand whether you can listen without feeling the need to determine the legitimacy of what you’re hearing. Listen to the person, knowing that despite whether it is ultimately true or it isn’t, it is REAL for them. And that is what makes it worth listening to. Their perception is as real to them as my perception is to me. They believe it is true just as much as you might believe that it isn’t. Decide to listen first and remind yourself to back down and just listen when your defenses start to surface. The goal is to hear. Not respond.

For my Christian friends, doing these two things doesn’t make you “more secular.” In fact I’d argue the opposite. But it may very well change your perspective. Which might spread to your inner circles. Which could change your neighborhoods. Which just might save the life of a black man sitting in his apartment. 

I’m committed to being better. What should I read/watch next?

“I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I qmust confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.”- Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Letter From a Birmingham Jail”

present

present (n.) - the period of time now occurring. 

The past 6.5 years I've been living in a transitional space. I'm not referring to the everyday "things are always changing" kind of transition. I'm talking transition as in, "Girl, you better plant shallow roots cause this train is leaving in 6 months," kind of transition. Processing through this has left me amazed at just how unstable my last few years have been. Moving to college. Making friends. Leaving friends to study abroad in Zambia. Making new friends abroad. Leaving Zambia and the precious relationships formed there. Transitioning back to the States. Losing loved ones and friends. Changing my major. Graduating college. Saying goodbye to friends-turned-family. Moving cities. Getting married. Beginning grad school. Moving into a new apartment. Meeting more new friends. Finishing grad school. Moving out of that apartment. Saying goodbye to those new friends. Moving into a house. Working 6 months. Looking to move to a new city to start a new thing. Finding that thing. Moving out of that house. Saying goodbye to more friends. Saying goodbye to family. Moving across the country. Starting a new job. Starting a new ministry. And here we are. 2018.

Every single thing has been short term and I have self-soothed by settling snugly into a transitional state of mind. All places, apartments, and friends are temporary. Nothing is reliable. Attachment leads to pain. "See you later" is a less emotional way to say "goodbye."

However, that dismal state of living I called "normal" is no longer the case. In other words, I've reached a point in time in which my "now" is, well, going to be my now for the foreseeable future. There is no big thing on the horizon to plan or prepare for. Day-to-day right now could very well look the same in a year. I haven't been able to say that in 6 and a half years.

Since moving to Seattle I've had boatloads of restlessness and anxiety with no where to put it. I've trained myself to put it into the "next thing" but what do you do when there is no concrete "next thing" on the calendar? Well, apparently you end up putting it into the now (i.e. my life the past 6 months). My current default is an endless loop of making lists and thinking ahead. "What's in our pantry for dinner?" "Is the laundry done?" "Shoot, I just ran out of mascara." "Got to grab some more creamer." "Milton's out of food." "Dan, we need to clean the bathroom before our friends come over tonight!" It's been a hectic pace of incomplete thoughts, wandering eyes, and a restless state of being that is never. ending.

I've seen friends establish a "word" for themselves at the new year. I've never done this before, but I absolutely swoon at the idea. Having something to come back to as a person who floats, wavers, and forgets is so intriguing. The simplicity of one word is beautiful to someone like me.

And in an effort to move (okay okay, force) a hesitant and hanging-on-by-a-thread Holly from a transitional state of being to a more rooted one, I've decided to choose a word: present. I want to silence the head noise and enter into my current reality. Instead of feeling constantly guilty for what I need to be doing, I want to allow myself to feel inexpressible thankfulness for where I am.

So friends, I've decided to stay where I am for a while. Nesting my heart to this new city and looking only at today when I glance at my calendar. Here's to a year of less guilt. Less attachment to my phone. Less multitasking. Less anxiety. Deeper breaths. More eye contact. Internal rhythm. Letting small things catch my eye. Embracing simple. Shedding expectation. Forgiving myself when I'm not present and allowing myself to move gently back to that word.  Decreasing my reliance on others for affirmation. And planting deep roots. Here's to a year of being present.

Here is one of mine and Daniel's go-tos whenever we are hosting a meal or needing a cozy something for dinner on a rainy day. Almost everyone has asked me for the recipe when we make it for our friends. I love it because it's simple, impressive, and YUMMY.

White Bean Chicken Chili

- 1 lb. boneless skinless chicken breasts (chopped)

- 1 medium onion, chopped

- 1.5 teaspoon garlic powder

- 2 cans (15.5 oz. each) great northern beans, rinsed and drained

- 1 can (14.5 oz.) chicken broth

- 2 cans (4 oz. each) chopped green chiles

- 1 teaspoon salt

- 1 teaspoon ground cumin

- 1 teaspoon dried oregano

- ½ teaspoon pepper

- ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper

- 1 cup sour cream

- ½ cup heavy whipping cream

1) In a large saucepan sauté the chicken, onion, and garlic powder in oil until chicken is no longer pink.

2) Add the beans (drained and rinsed), broth, chilis, and seasonings.

3) Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer uncovered for 30 minutes.

4) Remove from heat and stir in sour cream and whipping cream.

sabbath

Sabbath. That Jesus-sounding word no one knows what to do with. Sometimes I call it Saturday. Other times I don't call it anything because frankly, it's just not in my week. I have time off, but I fill it. I fill it with meetings, catching up on cleaning and grocery shopping, mindlessly switching between apps on my phone, fulfilling promises I made to people, and just plain old overcommitment.

There's just no pure, unadulterated rest in my life. And boy am I feeling it.

I feel tired.

I feel anxious.

I feel unable to quit.

And when your mind can't quit, but your body quite literally shuts down on you, it's high time to re-prioritize. 

So, Sabbath. What was that middle-eastern guy from centuries ago named Jesus talking about anyway? Sleeping in? Netflix? Junk food? Hermit-ing into your room for a day? Taking a walk outside? Trying new restaurants? Napping? 

I don't know exactly what the most effective Sabbath is, or even the full meaning of that word, but our Seattle team tried it in a way I haven't before. We Sabbathed together. You see, usually when we hang out with people there's a plan.

We're meeting around this time.

We're going here.

We're eating this for dinner.

And now it's over. 

Our Seattle team is reading a book called Building a Discipling Culture by Mike Breen and it's been a pretty easy, yet fantastic read.  In one of the chapters Breen talks about the rhythm between work and rest and how crucial that constant rocking back and forth is to your effectiveness as a human, but also as a Christian. He challenges the reader to practice Sabbathing with others--inviting people into your rest space, showing how you rest and recharge, and then doing that together. No schedule. No plans. No prep. No times. Just meeting up and giving an entire day to each other.

And that's exactly what we did. We met up, had a late brunch with a wide spread of yummy breakfast food, and then had no plan but to let our bodies rest in the same space together. 

Now, it must be said here that I'm an introvert. Actually probably an ambivert. But, in my rest, I'm a full out introvert. I like dark, quiet, and alone. So, I was pretty unsure about this way of resting. But, I just tried because...why not? Ok...I agreed because Dan really wanted to try it. But it ended up being completely opposite of what I expected. I expected for everyone to feel rest except me because we were hosting it at our house. So that meant stocking everything and keeping tabs on how everyone is doing. Not dark. Not quiet. Not alone. 

So I made a pledge to myself and told myself sternly, "I'm not doing anything I don't want to do." Plain and simple. And a little bratty. But dang it, this was my Sabbath too. And I wanted this way of Sabbathing to be a good experience. (Plus, I had another week of work before I made it to the next Saturday and I wasn't going to have this one hijacked. Pretty bratty, right?)

So, in my stubbornness, I stuck to that pledge. And wowza I'm glad I did because it was one of the the most restful Saturdays I've had in months. We didn't have a plan but we ended up doing so many things together: going for walks, flying a kite, snacking, laughing, talking about Seattle, painting, looking through magazines, watching Netflix, ordering pizza, and jumping on some trampolines. It created even more depth between us as a team--as friends--and allowed us to see each other recharge. We didn't get a thing done except deepening our connections with each other. So, in other words, we were most productive in the least tiring way. Maybe that's what that Jesus guy meant.

So I don't know exactly what Sabbath looks like for you, but I challenge you to try a group Sabbath. Call a friend or two (or seven like us), pledge an entire Saturday to each other, and don't plan a thing.

...except these awesome-possum sausage balls. You gotta make these 😉

Mamma's Sausage Balls (makes 3-4 dozen sausage balls)

- 2 rolls of sausage (pick your sausage based on your preferred level of spicy. I like to mix 1 roll of mild with 1 roll of hot and it typically is tame enough for both preferences to tolerate)
- 3 cups of shredded cheese
- 4 cups of Bisquick

Mix with your hands until all Bisquick and cheese are absorbed into sausage. Roll into small ~1.5" balls and place on large cookie sheet. I typically freeze them on the cookie sheet (uncooked) so that I can bag, save, and use them for other mornings. Especially since this recipe makes 3 quart-sized baggies full. 

Bake however many you want at 375℉ for 25 minutes. Eat with grape/strawberry jelly!

bread + wine

Hi, I’m Holly and I love to eat. Now, before you “back” the page and mumble to yourself, “Well, that was embarrassing,” let me explain.

I love to eat. I love to eat because I love the satisfaction that comes with being full and feeling fed. And out of that place comes a passion I have for feeding others. Nothing makes me happier than to look at my calendar for the day and see

Game night with ____, ____, & ____ @ 8:00pm

 or

Hosting dinner with _____ @ 6

Now, don’t mishear me, I by no means am claiming Pioneer Woman/Rachel Ray status (TBH, I still get the meaning of vegan and vegetarian mixed up and that’s like Hipster Cooking 101). I’ll be the first to admit I still have to call my mom to ask where things are in the grocery store and honestly; I really think there’s a tad less joy in life when you’re on a hardcore clean-eating diet.

I just like to feed people. It’s my thing. I love to host, house, and extend hospitality. But for me, it has to do with more than the food part. There’s just something about having people around a table. Maybe it’s because it’s a shared experience where we’re all getting full on the same food, looking at each other and commenting on the yummy-ness of it all.  Or maybe it’s because in that moment all who are present are sharing in victories, bad news, light-hearted conversation, and old stories. I think it's just gotta be both.

There’s just something about sitting in the presence of another, creating something between people that wasn’t there before.

I’m in the middle of reading a book by Shanna Niequist’s book "Bread and Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes". Homegirl gets me. The whole book is dedicated to the food that gathers people around the table and the guest called Love that pulls up her chair when we're all united there. So far she's talked about fond memories of certain dishes, her sassy and sweet group of women that make up her dinner club, and her life-long struggle with her weight and loving herself in spite of it. At the end of every chapter she puts the recipe of the dish that was involved in her story in that chapter.

I. Love. This. Book. It has affirmed and inspired me to live into my passion for gathering people and join God in His redeeming work there. That's what this blog is about. Telling stories that happen around my table and inspiring you to begin your own "Bread and Wine" journey. So, if you love to eat like I do, pull up a chair. Dinner's at 6.