Rambles | betsybeadhead

Originally posted on FB 11-22-12

A few years after my parents died, I was faced with a pretty bleak Thanksgiving. My boyfriend at the
time had decided to go to South Carolina to visit family, and I couldn’t go because I had to work that weekend. I was bummed about that too because I didn’t normally work on the weekend at Sweetly Southern, which was a store at the Choo Choo that sold American-made crafts. Everybody else had asked off for that weekend, so I was stuck with it. And it was the weekend after Thanksgiving, so it would be insanely busy. And it was my birthday. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself.

Then I thought, I bet there is somebody else who is facing a pretty lonely Thanksgiving. I thought about a friend of mine in the medieval reenactment group (SCA) I belonged to back then. Rowan! Yeah! He’ll surely be alone for Thanksgiving. His family is as dysfunctional as you get. So I asked him the next time I saw him at a SCA meeting. “Hey – Rowan, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” He told me that he was fine and gave me a winning smile. Something didn’t sound right. I asked his roommate. As I suspected, Rowan had told me that everything was fine when it really wasn’t. He didn’t want me to worry about him. He had nowhere to go and was also going to be alone. Time to change tactics. I went back up to him. “Hey – Rowan – my parents are dead. My boyfriend is going to be out of town. I’m going to be alone for Thanksgiving. —-What are you doing for Thanksgiving?….” I said pointedly. He got it. He gave me a huge smile. “I’d love to spend Thanksgiving with you!” he exclaimed. Then two other people overheard. “ Thanksgiving at Betsy’s house? Yeah – that sounds like a great idea. We can ditch the parents!” Then others caught the excitement.

One couple had ordered a turkey already and then their plans had changed – so they had a turkey and nobody to eat it with. This was a perfect solution. Another couple always dreaded going to their respective parents’ houses – too much driving, too much drama all in one day. Other people had nowhere to go. Other people were grateful of an excuse to get away from their families. The Orphan Thanksgiving was born. I ended up having a dozen people in my house, none of whom I was related to. I provided a place and spiral-cut ham. They provided everything else, including washing-up. There was laughter and love, and the best kind of family gathering ever – the family that you create out of choice.

They say misery loves company, and this case, it got mixed up in a sort of alchemy where misery got transformed into love.

Originally posted on FB 2-27-12

I’ve noticed that a lot of the images that appeal to me either involve paths or stars. Generally, they are paths that have nobody in front – it is a clear path, leading on. From the perspective of the photographer or painter, s/he is the only person on the path. There might be folks behind – but there certainly is nobody up ahead.

And then there are stars. Part of why I like stars is because of the three Magi. They followed a star, in the dark, to an unknown land. No map, no idea of where they were going – but they followed. They knew that something special, something never before seen was at the end of that journey.

My life’s journey is like this. I feel called. I know what the end is. I’m just not sure how to get there. And for the longest time, I wasn’t sure that I was the one to be going on that journey. Me? Really? I have a mental health diagnosis. I’m bipolar. Society doesn’t look well on the mentally ill. Folks look at you differently when you tell them such things. I’m running a risk here by writing about it. But – that is the way I’m made. It is a genetic weakness – a chemical imbalance. I take medicine. I’ve been in the hospital twice – but both times were where I noticed that something was wrong and I asked for help. It was over a decade ago that I was last in the hospital. One doctor even said I was the sanest person she knew. But that didn’t mean I was healed – I still got a prescription, and I still took it.

But paths, and stars. I’m not going to say what I’m called to – not here. That is really big, and private. And I’m still concerned about embarrassing God. So many folks say that God has called them to something, and they do it in a very human way and it falls and fails. And yet again, God’s church looks laughable. So many times I remind myself that I follow Christ – not Christians. But I don’t want to be part of the problem. I don’t want to be a bad example. I don’t want to be that person who makes those not of this faith think that Christians are goofballs. There are countless examples for this already.

So I follow, blindly. I follow without a map. I walk, one step in front of the other. I trust in the Star. I trust in the Light that shines. I follow because that is how I’m made. I have come to trust that I was made the way I’m made (bipolar disorder and all) because that is how I’m needed. I have come to trust that force, that pull, that call that tells me to create something new. That force that tells me to create new out of old. The same creative pull that got me to break apart old jewelry from thrift stores and redesign the beads into a new creation is at work here. That was prelude. That was practice. It gave shape to a need to reform, retranslate, rebuild.

I follow God because that is how I’m made. It isn’t an easy path. I don’t even know how I’m going to get there. I’m only vaguely aware of what “there” is. But everything else He has ever told me was going to happen has happened. So I trust, that this, the first thing He ever told me, will too. This call, from so many years ago, has kept me going. Like the Magi, I walk in darkness, seeking the Light. Like the Magi, I walk over unseen territory – unmapped, unknown. Like the Magi, I have faith that I am not being led in vain.