Get Back in Your Box and Other Such Nonsense

One of the most difficult things for me to deal with as a woman is the social pressure to be less, smaller, quiet. I am none of those things. And while I've always cared about other peoples feelings and social pressure, I've never been those things. I am big. I am loud. I don't like to be behind the scenes. And I have lots of feelings. Unfortunately, because I am intelligent, I am often in conversations or environments where those things about me, particularly my big feelings, are treated as a liability rather than an asset. I cannot tell you how many seasons of my life I spent trying to tame the beast that is me. I tried to be quiet, to be small, to be less. I am, sadly, still given that opportunity from time to time and it is a difficult thing to resist. 
And yet there is this other raging voice that comes in and wants me to burn it all to the ground. It makes me want to throw in the towel and just rage at everyone and everything that might want to correct me, change me, reason with me, disagree with me, etc. This reaction to refusing to get back into the box is normal. It's part of how we deal with a philosophical shift. We react in a big way and lean hard in the other direction. I also believe this "box stuff" is triggered by my church trauma and so being reactionary also touches on an area of grief and loss for me. 
The problem with living in this world with a black and white brain is that I've come to the point in my process where my life is giving me opportunities for a middle ground. I will not get back in the box, that much is absolutely secure. And yet, can I live in community with people who are in those boxes but are not willing to get out, or who do not agree that they are a problem or who claim they love their box? Am I strong enough to resist the temptation to climb back in? Am I discrete enough that I won't jump in to their box and rip it from them? Can I respect their process?
I can't imagine that there are only a few boxes and we're all in them or out of them, but rather that each person has boxes that they stay in, burn down or reason with. So my box might work for someone else but it is bondage to me. Can I be shaped by or vulnerable with someone in my old box? I feel my life knocking on this door and I want to run so badly. I want to burn it all down. I am afraid to face those boxes, even as a stronger, more confident version of myself. I want to stop fighting growth because growth hurts and moderation is for suckers. Becoming more mature and healthier is so, so hard. I'm scared. And yet, drawing a line in the sand, and declaring "I'm done sitting in my stuff!" to the world feels like losing. I know that the more I go down this road of personal development, the more growth, joy, peace and freedom I will find. No one can put me in the box again. But being unable to be around my old boxes is just a new kind of box, isn't it? I will not let my fear dictate my life. I won't. 

What is My Fair Share?

I was recently told that my family is not "paying our fair share" in taxes. Sadly, this was said by someone who is really in our life and I had wrongfully assumed, understood that our circumstances of underemployment are hopefully temporary. That being said, after the shame voices faded (more than a week later), I'm ready to process the idea of what we all owe each other as a society and how we choose to "pay" it. And if we have a choice in how we give or if our contribution must be mandated.
I remember when I was in college and my ministry partner had to give the "Communion Talk" at church one Sunday. In the church of Christ tradition, we always pass the collection plate (which is viewable for all to see...never sat right with me) after we pass the crackers and juice. It was the first time I heard someone encourage people to give what they had to the community (and in this case, to God) no matter what that was. He encouraged all these college students who weren't particularly flush with cash to find other ways to give. Give your time. Give your talents. Give a listening ear. And I remember thinking, "the money guys are going to be annoyed" and "huh, that's kind of cool." Little did I know what a progressive I would become!
I was always taught that giving was financial. And obviously, that's the first way to give that comes to mind and should not be underestimated (I know you can't pay the light bill with warm fuzzies). And yet, how reductionistic is it to assume that finances are the ONLY way a family can contribute to their community (and by extension, their local and national government). Once again, my true response to what was said to me only came after I calmed down the shame voices.
This is what my true response told me. 
1. My husband and I both work and both pay taxes. 
2. We have our taxes returned to us and we receive a refund because I have a small business that allows me to write off expenses and because after that, we don't make a lot of money and have two dependents. 
3. We don't make a lot of money on purpose. Not to leech off the government (again, hopefully we will outgrow the programs we're gratefully using) but for exactly the opposite reason. We value our community SO much that we willingly take non-profit work for poor pay in order to benefit our community. We just haven't found that "home" yet in this transition. 
4. I have sold over half a million dollars worth of wellness products since I moved to this community. I've contributed to the local economy as an individual in a fairly big way and have helped an important industry grow. In turn, the building of the wellness industry has SAVED a ton of money in medical expenses. My source says for every $1 spent on wellness products, $28 are saved in medical expenses. Theoretically, I've single-handedly saved $14 million in health expenses in the last 11 years and I've done it at home with my children part-time. 
5. I've chosen to be a stay-at-home parent. I believe that brings value to my children and to my community. I've been able to teach my children our values of tolerance and love at home in hopes that when I launch them into the community, they will make it better. * 
I'm sure there's more. But the point is, we contribute. We matter. We've made a difference. We need to be careful how we judge someone's contribution to the community. We need to check our privilege if we've never been in their position. If we're reducing everyone's contribution to taxes paid, we've got a lot of corrupt corporations to thank for being good citizens. Let's start passing out gold stars to big pharma, big oil, Wall Street and Monsanto. Sure, these are the people poisoning our food with chemicals, sending jobs overseas, and not giving their employees livable wages but hey, the economy benefits! Thank you for your contribution. 
What would happen if we expanded our view of what social contribution looks like? Yes, putting the money you can into the communal pot but also living with our hands outstretched to each other? Being willing to give our time, our energy, our resources to our neighbors on either side of us? What would it look like if the government didn't have to pry money out of our cold dead hands to help single mothers go to college and  keep our roads paved and our fire stations functioning? I understand we don't trust our politicians. That is a huge and legitimate issue and I don't toss that aside easily. But, do we trust each other? Can we have enough integrity to take from the pot what is truly needed and know that there will be more if we need to come back rather than grabbing everything we can just in case? Scarcity is a real thing when you're poor so I don't mean that as a judgment. I actually mean that for those who lack compassion for the poor. By reducing our contribution to taxes, you're diminishing our value, silencing our voices and ultimately, missing out on the fullness of true community. In our obsession with money, we're actually short changing ourselves.

 * I wanted to be careful with this one. While I find stay-at-home parenting worthwhile and the right choice for us, I know many women who contribute to their community and their families by doing important professional work as well as good parenting at home. This is by no means a judgement on them. I admire you.

Looking for a Little Chaos Now and Then

This time of year makes me miss my family. Not only my actual family members, but also our communal Christmas experience. I come from a huge family, both immediate and extended and holidays were a mix of crazy and chill. Kids everywhere. Cards. Food. Dominoes. Blaring TV (my dads contribution). Puzzles. The various in-laws hiding in corners reading books. Beautiful, glorious chaos. 
As per family tradition, I married an introvert with only one sibling. We live in the Northwest, 2 hours from my mother-in-law and 3 from my sister-in-law, while my family gathers in San Diego (and in small pockets all around the country). As you can imagine, most of our holidays are spent with my husbands family and local friends. This has been a surprisingly seamless transition. My Sibley family has always been kind to me and I assimilated very early on. I'm so glad to live in the Northwest and am very happy with our life here with Tim's family and our friends. 
That being said, when we're having a small holiday gathering here (10 now, we're growing!) sometimes I miss the hooplah that is my family of origin. On Christmas Eve, we would all sleep at my parents 3 bedroom house, which meant we had people on the floor, in the bathtub, little ones piled 3 deep into beds head to foot. Absolute bliss. And every year, when I climb into bed with my dear husband on Christmas Eve, I can't help but miss all those nights whispering excitedly with my brother about what Santa would bring. Whoever woke up first immediately woke the other and we would open our stockings excitedly. We'd try so hard to go back to sleep as we couldn't get away with waking everyone else until sunrise. There's something so precious about those childhood years with your original family. It was sweet. It was simple. It was always enough.
My brother, Reid, is 3 and half years older than me. For all intents and purposes, he is my opposite and my other. We present very differently. I was always blonde and clean cut. He often had green hair, piercings and a skateboard. But as only Christmas Eve jitters and sharing a room can do, we have a firm attachment. We don't get to see each other often, so when we do, I really try to soak it up. He's very transient and off the grid and that's just him. 
We have so much history between us. Not just the childhood sweetness (and many instances of not-so-sweet...remember when he shot me with his homemade bow and arrow?) but also some very adult seasons as well. Reid is a recovering drug addict. I won't get into specifics because to me, it is not who he is. His life with drugs has had a profound effect on him, of course, but when you start throwing around that label, it puts people in a box. Let me tell you, my brother doesn't fit into any box. 
There were many years when we didn't quite know where he was, fearing that when we did get word, it would come from a newspaper clipping or the police. Despite what you may assume, he's not an asshole. He is just someone who values all experience. He's found light within himself that he can take into really dark places and he is not afraid of anything. Seriously, do you know anyone who's not afraid of ANYTHING. It's mind-blowing and wonderful.
When I drove him home tonight to NE Portland, he was bummed about the plight of his beloved neighborhood (it's gone trendy). He feels most comfortable in dangerous places. He lives with a woman and her motley crew of "family" who, along with her partner, has always given him a home base. She runs a food bank right from her front porch. It's amazing. 
As a caretaker, I used to worry that he was cold and alone somewhere, not knowing how I could help him, but wanting to so desperately. Pulling onto his street tonight reminded me, my brother really is okay. He has like 3 possessions (and they're all books) and he has absolutely everything he needs. He has coffee, work, reading material and a real community. That's more than a lot of people in fancy houses with typical "successful" lives can say. 
Just having him here with us tonight gave me that piece of home I needed to take with me into Christmas Eve. I love how we can talk about anything. He's incredibly well-read, has always been a bit of an anarchist and has the most open mind of anyone I know. Anyone who knows my penchant for deep conversation can imagine my utter delight in two cups of coffee, a couch and a long talk with my brother. 
As a child, I was able to take risks only after I saw him do it first. He'd climb a tree and then reach down and pull me up. He's a rebel in the truest sense of the word. As his rule-following younger sister, he exposed me to a world that was bigger than I would have ever seen on my own. And now that I'm really coming into my own, he reminds me there's still so much to see if I'm willing to just keep climbing that tree.

Be a Joiner

One of the values Tim and I both are enjoying living into so much is what I'm going to call Participating*. I was sheltered as a child from the world around me, including my neighbors. This was not intentional, per se, but we lived in a wealthy neighborhood and everyone pretty much kept to themselves. We went to private Christian schools, predominantly outside of our neighborhood and participated in daily bus trips or carpools in order for my parents to live into one of their highest values, private education.
When it became time for Tim and I to decide how we were going to educate our children, we decided to go with public school for a number of reasons. Financially, we were in the same position as my parents were. We could afford to privately educate our children but it would hurt. A lot. If that was a high priority of ours, I know we would find a way to make it work financially, just as my parents did (we had a very leaky roof when I was little. Luckily, it rarely rains in San Diego!) What we decided was that we really wanted to participate in our neighborhood life. What better way to do that than to put our precious children alongside theirs to learn at school every day. I know a lot of Christians who care very much about assimilating into their neighborhood and being a real presence there. Do it! This is one of the ways we chose to participate. If education isn't where you want to do it, there are other ways for sure. Be home on Halloween for Trick or Treaters. Host block parties, holiday parties, garage sales, whatever sounds fun. There's no wrong way to be a good neighbor. One of the best ways to be a good neighbor is to be home and to answer the door when people knock. (This will probably be another value discussed in the future).
We've lived in the same townhouse for 9 and a half years. We love it! Our cul de sac is tiny and most of our neighbors have been here as long as we have or longer. Our kids ride their bikes in the street and everyone looks out for each other. I called the fire department when our neighbors smoke detector didn't turn off a few years back. Our next door neighbor called the cops when one of our teen girls was getting beat down by another high school girl in the street. We all came out. We got involved. We all stand up for each other. We've got each others backs. I can't help but wonder if part of that is because we aren't wealthy. This is probably my own prejudice speaking. But there's a certain group mentality that comes from actually needing each other, asking to borrow things we don't have, sharing our resources and being in each others lives that I did not experience growing up on an affluent street as a child.  
One of the teachers reading to the kids.
As you can imagine, this has greatly affected our public school experience. Our school is a Title 1 school, which means we get extra funding because we're considered poor (this was a funny realization for us since we've always felt incredibly blessed). The teachers are committed, well-educated and just all around kick-ass at their jobs. Macy's first grade class is 50% ESL students. It's a great, close-knit, diverse school environment. Macy's education has been fantastic (I've found that often Christian schools are more focused on protecting children in a "safe" environment than giving them a better education). I've been impressed by the moral values emphasized in the schools behavioral expectations as well as the consistency with which they deal with infractions. Everything is clear, streamlined and fair. At Curriculum Night this year, I was blown away by the Class Pledge Macy's teacher had created with the children's input. It read, "In our class we try our best to be respectful to each other. We are nice and kind and think of other peoples hearts. We are friends with everyone and we try to share. We help each other out and cheer each other on. This is our promise to ourselves and each other." Can you imagine if this was posted on our streets, in our stores, in church, on government buildings...This would change the world. And you know what? It is changing the world, with these 21 1st graders who read it every day in class.  
Waiting to sing!
When you go to a school event after hours, the PTA is there, the principal, many teachers, the community liason (she helps families with financial needs) and a gang of parents and kids. In the 15 months we've been involved with our school, we've participated in fundraisers, book fairs, a family dance, Thanksgiving feasts, Back to School nights, Curriculum Nights, conferences, performances, skate nights, bingo nights - you name it. Last night, Macy and I attended the school Barnes & Noble Book Fair. Barnes & Noble hosts the whole school (during normal business hours) and they give the school 20% of all purchases made by participants back to the school. The children display their artwork. Many classes sing and dance. There are trivia games between parents and kids. We even had a renown illustrator there to speak and sign books for the kids. As you can see from the photos, this is not really a conducive environment for such an event. But we don't have an auditorium at our school to accommodate all the parents and kids. So, for our school Seuss-themed holiday night, we sat on the floor of Barnes & Noble with children standing on blue tape lines 3 inches in front of kids sitting in the audience. 
Sorry it's blurry - trying to inconspicuously capture the parents.
We had a boom box playing the accompaniment. We had children in sweatpants, fancy gowns and everything in between. Faces streaked with cheesecake samples from the baristas, these beautiful, messy children sang their hearts out about the Grinch, Christmas, family and love. I gotta tell you guys, I was a freaking mess. What a beautiful experience! All of us crammed in together celebrating community, love, life and children. Turns out, the accommodations weren't amazing when Jesus was making his way out of teenage Mary's birth canal either. But his entrance was grand in all the mess and beautiful chaos that I can only imagine ensued. (Mary AMAZES me but that's a side note). 
Macy proudly showing the gift she made to decorate the walls.
This is my community. I wouldn't trade it for the world. Participate in the world all around you. It's ripe for the taking. It's easy to think, "they don't need me. Last night would have gone on even if I hadn't come." That's true, except if every person there had the same idea, those hard-working music teachers, art teachers, principals, children and awesome Barnes & Noble workers would have done all their work for nothing. No books purchased on behalf of the school. No one to impress with Seuss-themed artwork. No one to clap while they danced and sang. Your community wants your participation. It's the better for it. And so are you.

 * If you're unfamiliar with my series on personal values, see my previous posts on honesty, kindness, sharing, giving dignity and decency. 



Sharing is Caring

This is the third post in my series on personal values. If you missed the first two, you can read my posts about honesty here and kindness here. I'm really excited to talk about sharing. I originally thought of this concept as generosity or giving, but what I really believe in, above all, is sharing. Sharing connotes a certain level of value the sharer assigns to what is being shared. I think generosity (something I also really value) and giving can also include things that the giver may no longer need or assign value to. It can come from excess. Sharing has an elevated meaning to me. When I choose to share, I am offering a resource that I also need.
Let me share an example. I have two severe food intolerances. I have not gotten a chance yet to write about them and how life-altering it's been for me (and my family) to implement the necessary diet changes to keep me healthy and functioning. That being said, just about everything I eat has to be made from scratch. When this process began, I didn't particularly feel confident about my cooking abilities and the idea of cooking EVERY MEAL from scratch (as in, not even using pre-made ingredients) with a 4 month old baby, a traumatized kindergartner and a spouse recovering from a psychotic break felt pretty damn overwhelming. It was also the holiday season, so I missed a lot of the joy of food last year.
Back to the example. Because keeping myself fed requires what feels like hours a day in front of the stove, chopping vegetables and washing dishes, sharing my food is a big deal. If I choose not to share my food, it means I can eat out of that pot longer and I have more free time. And let's face it: most of the people in my life have a lot more food freedom, which means they can eat anything I want to share. When I choose to feed my friends at girls group, invite people over for dinner, give my children and my husband the specially-made food I've prepared, it's an act of love. I'm giving my food, yes, but I'm also giving my time, energy and heart (again, cooking feels vulnerable - have I mentioned I'm a perfectionist yet?!?!) Often my ingredients cost more so there is also a financial ramification (we have a very tight food budget). It means I may go a few days at the end of the month without that particular ingredient. 
One of the things I like about sharing is that I don't HAVE to do it. When I'm weary of cooking and my friends are hungry or I want to offer the people in my home something to eat but I'm not in the spirit of sharing, I make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sharing with healthy boundaries means that I share when I feel compelled to do so. I am under no duty or obligation to share (though this is not what most adults teach their children - what would happen if we actually lived like we expect our children to?) It also means I don't need pats on the back for it. I don't necessarily want the people I love to feel the hours of work I'm giving them by feeding them, unless it feels like a compliment. Because the sharing is not obligatory, there is no guilt in receiving the gift! It's an actual gift! (I think this is more what the Bible intended when encouraging giving without the right hand knowing what your left hand is doing, etc.)
Growing up in church, we were told that we needed to give because we were Christians (ironic, since this is by no means exclusive to Christianity). We were supposed to put money in the giving tray because we needed to pay the light bill. Giving must be thought out, planned and budgeted. It was about self-discipline, duty and obligation. We were giving because there was a need to give, not necessarily a desire to. What we put in that tray was a measure of our faithfulness to God. I learned a lot about what we call "financial stewardship" in church and I think there is some merit to it, especially in our consumer society. Our financial priorities should come out of our budget first. And to me, being a believer in Jesus, does require some sort version of giving, however that may be interpreted. I was on the receiving end in a big way of this giving when I was a missionary for an entire year after college. Writing checks can be really important.
Perhaps the danger in writing a weekly budgeted check is that it makes us feel like we're done giving. When we give because we're supposed to, and not necessarily because we want to, it inhibits our generous spirit. It creates resentment. Sharing feels more personal to me. It can be spontaneous or  planned. It can include anything you want to share: money, food, clothing, books, coffee, time, childcare, flowers etc. Sharing requires relationship. When we live out of a spirit of sharing, we learn to share more. We find that our material possessions, whatever our resources, do not own us. We own them and have the freedom to do with them what we want. They don't control us. We learn to do without. We learn to listen to those around us. But here's the beautiful thing: we don't HAVE to share. We see needs and sometimes we feel compelled to share and sometimes we don't for whatever reason. I often find that my sharing spirit goes awry when I'm not taking care of myself. Such an important balance. You must give to yourself first.
One of the most amazing things I've learned from sharing is that things always seem to work out. I'm not in control of my life or my circumstances. Things could change at any time. But holding on to all of my resources doesn't change that at all. Not. One. Bit. Guess what, no matter how much you save, money will eventually run out. What doesn't run out when given love and care? Relationships. When you live in the spirit of sharing, it is also returned to you. It is in no way transaction-oriented. This is not tit for tat. Sometimes our community change as people move, divorce, die, etc. But when you have the back of people in your community, they will have yours as well. I get to share the things that others have shared with me. And it has made my life full. Instead of feeling resentful of "having" to give, I'm setting boundaries on sharing what I have and trusting that me and mine will be just fine. In fact, we might even be great.

Living Honestly

Disclaimer: many of my discoveries living outside of the church environment are based on my specific church experiences, personality, personal hangups, background, etc. My posts are not meant to be a full reflection of what American Christianity looks like or what I think other believers should be doing. It is purely my experience.
Last week, I posted about why I no longer go to church. It was a big move for me and not surprisingly, I received a lot of feedback. One of the amazing things about this season of my life and the experience of sharing my story is that I am learning to receive all kinds of responses without feeling required to react immediately or to respond at all. This is why it has taken me 10 days to post. I'm learning to mull and live out of an incredibly empowering place that isn't reactionary. That being said, I'd like to thank each of you who read my post and contacted me in some way. There was a lot of concern and kindness coming my way.
After careful consideration, I'd like to take the feedback from a very supportive friend and share what patterns and values I am building into my life as a result of leaving church (as opposed to merely presenting what I'm not doing). Getting out of the church environment, I've been given more space to carve out my own personal values and live into them. (Some of this is a direct result of being in professional ministry, rather than just being a Sunday churchgoer). I'm no longer pouring myself out at church, which leaves me with much more energy for the very real self-work this season of my life is about. 
The first value that I have more space for now is honesty. Honesty is such an invaluable quality, and something that has required a lot of space and counseling for me to live into. Not because I am a big, fat liar, but because of my ministry baggage and the care-taking tendencies that ministry rewards, I completely lost touch with my feelings and thoughts. The ones I did experience were internally judged and put through the filter of what was God-approved or disapproved based on our particular interpretation of the Bible before I reacted to them. I could identify which thoughts were "temptating" or "selfish" or "Godly" and respond accordingly. When I took off the filters and began to listen to the stories of the beautiful people all around me, the thoughts in my own heart, and incorporate what I'd personally experienced, I found my place of honesty. And you know what? In my honest place there are a lot more "I don't know's" than there were when I thought I had an answer to most of the big questions. 
I find a beautiful correlation between honesty and vulnerability. If we're unwilling to be honest with ourselves, our relationships with others can only go so far. When we all have our guard up, conversation remains superficial because we feel like everyone else must have their shit together. Guess what? They don't. So they're either hiding it too or they aren't ready to see their own mess yet. That's okay for a time or for certain places. Everyone starts there and some environments aren't a safe place for vulnerability. But I live in deep relationship with those who are ready to see themselves and the world with the humility and grace that comes from knowing things aren't as black and white as we wish they were. We sit in the difficult reality that not everything that happens in our lives is a direct result of our choices. We acknowledge our lack of control. Let's face it. Shit happens. To everyone.
This is where community begins, with honesty. When one person lifts their veil, they're giving you an opportunity to lift yours. This is an act of huge generosity. This is the beauty of giving and receiving. In the church environment, I felt that giving was celebrated and receiving was shameful. (Let's pretend that I'm not tempted to rant about Christians shaming those on public assistance right now.) 
We cannot be honest when we view the world from a posture of always being the giver, the speaker, the one who knows. We are not in touch with our very real human struggle. We see ourselves as the ones who have and others as those who have not. That tragic perspective keeps us from being open. We are quick to speak but UNABLE to truly listen. I find this attitude is more pervasive in churches bent on engaging in American culture wars and politics. And I know without a doubt that I am not the only non-churchgoer who is vehemently turned off by it. We've got to embrace our humanity.
Living in "the world", I see tremendous value in receiving. You cannot receive the generosity of others if you aren't honest enough to show your need. It's a beautiful, frightening relief. Give yourself a chance to exhale. There's no reason why we all need to be independent. Independence is a high American value but to me, it creates isolation. We need connection! Instead of building higher fences in our backyards for "privacy," we should be engaging in the world around us.
Honesty requires an openness to being wrong, to re-think what you thought you knew, to listen to the stories of the people around you without judgment. It requires us to be willing to be uncomfortable. It gives us a chance to try to see things from another perspective, to walk in someone else's shoes for awhile. It also creates space for people to judge us, as we have possibly judged them in the past. Let people in. It's a fine line because I've let a lot of things in and I've also set some better boundaries by sending things out as well. The thing is, I get to decide what informs my values, my theology, and my faith, not my pastor, my husband, my church, or one interpretation of the Bible. 
I imagine living honestly looks differently for everyone. For me, it looks like not cleaning my house before people come over (unless I actually want to) and not apologizing if it's messy. No one wants to visit with a friend so they can see how much they don't have it together in comparison. And if I pour myself out cleaning before they get there, I'm not able to be as present in our conversation, really enjoying that time in relationship. What's the point of getting together then? To impress each other? I'm wholly uninterested in that. (This is also why I didn't wear makeup for more than a year. It's okay to show your real face). 
A big piece of living honestly for me was learning to say no. It begins with listening to my inner voice and then actually using it. I can't imagine how much of my self I've wasted on things I have no passion or gifting for because it was asked of me and I thought I should. The world would be a much healthier and honest place if we all did away with "the should's" entirely. 
I could go on and on about honesty. It's one of the greatest joys in my life right now. But I'll conclude with this: I've gotten some great feedback from writing this blog and I'm really enjoying the process. The most common reaction I get from readers is a commendation on my honesty. It takes courage to be honest (courage will definitely be a topic in this series of posts) and the world needs more of that. We respond to what we wish to see more of. The world around us needs our honesty, no matter how scary it may feel to lift that veil. In lifting my own veil, I've discovered that people a lot more alike than I ever thought we were. What a beautiful gift we give to humanity when we focus on our shared experiences rather than on our differences. This is the kind of giving that I can get on board with, not the guilty, rote or obligatory tithe, but the gift of vulnerability, the decision in the moment to lift the veil and to take a risk.