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/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

In the words of the Blessed Backstreet Boys (paraphrased), “OhmyGosh, I’m back again….”

I realized I hadn’t written or published anything since March of 2023—that’s a really, really long time to lay something down, and there’s a lot behind the whys-&-the-hows, but let’s just say that my priorities got out of line…my spiritual walk got a little loopy…and life got really, really busy. Between wrestling with theology, work commitments, and having former friends stab me in the back, twist the knife, laugh while I bled, and kick me off of the bridge (nah, I’m not bitter), it’s been a minute. 😊

I had a management position that I loved…I had the best boss of my life…I had a team of employees that I worked hard to build rapport & transparency with…and then I didn’t. After my manager was unceremoniously disposed of by an institution he worked for over 20 years, a former friend of mine became my manager. In full transparency, it was a trainwreck, & I fell apart from a mixture of straight-up bullying/gaslighting, a lack of support, an overload of work, and my own lack of respect for the position this person had attained. Combine this with an employee who valued her own emotional preening over the truth, & you have an untenable situation that I gladly walked away from (truthfully, I would have gone on in that toxic situation until the stress killed me. I don’t have a lot of “quit” in me. However, I found myself facing a choice that didn’t really leave me much of an option, along with a son who point-blank asked me “why are you doing this to yourself?!?” He was right). The anxiety absolutely crushed me; the loss of the position crushed me. And as I have so often done in my life, I found myself face-down on the couch, crying out to God: “Where else can I go?” (You can read the previous blog post for more on this quote that I may as well get tattooed on my face.)

Once the decision was made, I felt like a huge weight that I hadn’t even realized was there, lifted off of my shoulders. “This isn’t punitive,” said the Lord. “It’s deliverance.” And He was right—my theology, particularly in the absence of attending church regularly, had begun to get muddled. Loving people out of one’s own resources rather than out of an abundance of the Holy Spirit meant that I was trying to pour out of an empty cup. I was trying to sustain the mental & spiritual energy it takes to guard my heart while reaching out to others. When you don’t strengthen your armor through prayer & support, it gets weak, and “hath God not said,” gets pretty strong in your mind…

Thus began my #AdventuresInUnemployment this fall.

David & I have had random periods of unemployment throughout our almost-20 years of marriage, but honestly, I’d not been out of work since 2008, & the world has CHANGED in regard to finding a position. I struggled with an identity crisis—did I still want to be in management? Nope, not for a minute. PTSD can be defined as a persistent, anxiety-inducing issue that lasts more than 45 days, & believe me, I had work-related PTSD. This position was not my first management position, but it was in education, & I just didn’t have the foundation I needed to do what I wanted & needed to do. I didn’t have the support to manage well or to understand the expectations, & I spent more time caring about my employees than pushing them beyond what they wanted to do. I have no regrets about leaving my own comfort zone in healthcare & transitioning to education, but I do have regrets about not voicing real issues over voicing the emotions those issues elicited. I have regrets about not setting personal boundaries…about all of the nights & the weekends I spent supporting departments & programs and cleaning up messes…about spending half of my vacation answering emails, & about the anxiety I let build up that suffocated my joy. I have regrets about not protecting myself, and ultimately, about not protecting my family from the burnt-out mess I became.

In a beautiful, glorious tapestry that only looked messy to us at the time, David lost his job last spring. He found another one just before school started, & then I lost my job in the fall. The next few months would change our lives…

In August, we received a phone call that my mother-in-law went on hospice. My brother-in-law & my sister-in-law gave up everything to move in with my in-laws to take care of her, along with my father-in-law (who had dementia, as did my MIL).

In November, my brother-in-law died unexpectedly, & we were devastated. My husband lost his best friend; we lost the most giving, kind man we’d ever known. And on top of that, we lost my mother-in-law’s caregiver, who understandably needed to take time to mourn the shock of losing her spouse of close to 40 years.

We utilized a hospice benefit so we could hold Eugene’s funeral & temporarily placed my MIL into a nursing home…where she broke her femur. We began the process of finding a place for her to recover, even as she continued to struggle with hallucinations & the delusions of dementia.

In December, I received a call from my biological dad’s caregiver & friend, Tammy: “Your dad’s in the hospital, okay?” Me: “Well, really, what’s new? I’ll come up and see him in the morning.” I had a huge interview that day…the kind of interview where you go Business Formal, you suit up, you psych yourself up. The position was thiiiiiiiis close, and this was my last step to a salary & a position that could restore so much to my family & put me back in community service….I finished the interview and drove out to the county hospital…where I discovered my father was in the ICU & was dying of congestive heart failure, COPD, and cirrhosis of the liver.

I wasn’t ready.

I used to say that whenever my biological father died, I’d not shed a tear. This, as it turns out, is a lie. I was devastated.

I was devastated at the loss of a potential relationship. I was devastated at the loss of a terrible relationship. I was devastated at the time that was wasted to abandonment, addiction & abuse. I was devastated by his own admission that he was a terrible man—which we all knew–& I was devastated to be the one to call my sister to come & say goodbye.

Two years ago, God called me to reach out to him & to try to restore communication. It was HARD—I was angry, & I had to hand all of that over to God even as I unpacked it all & processed it with therapy & prayer. I loved my phone calls with Dad—neither one of us likes to talk on the phone—they were short-&-sweet, & he always ended with, “I love you, baby.” “I love you too, Daddy.”

Even typing this, I can feel the tears fall. I won’t get to hear that again this side of Heaven…but I know my Dad knew Jesus. Broken, ornery, abusive, & straight-up wretched—he made his confession of faith, & Jesus welcomed him Home. For those that Fred hurt, they may not be happy to hear that, but I sure am, because we’re all the same in the eyes of God.

I got to see my sister say goodbye…I got to see my dad lay eyes on the daughter he hadn’t seen in 13 years, & I will never, ever forget what that looked like. My son got to say goodbye to a grandfather he’d gotten to meet (which I had once said would never happen). Even my husband got to say goodbye, & my best friend, Vinita, supported us through the entire journey (as did her husband, Casey—he took care of Jericho during our last day with Dad, & I will never forget that).

My dad died without pain, surrounded by his kids (& Vinita, who’s a bonus sister), 90’s country music, prayer, & knowing he was loved. He didn’t die alone—that was so important to me, as I’ve lost 2 uncles who died alone in their home, & I didn’t want that for my father. Does anyone deserve the dedication of people who surround them in their going-home, as long as it takes?

Yes. Yes, we do—NO ONE deserves to die alone. Everyone deserves a human presence next to them, praying them into eternity. That’s a gift, & I am so, so thankful my sister, my best friend, & I got to give that to my Dad.

I wound up getting a different job than the one I’d had the “big” interview with, & I’m back in healthcare again. I may wind up going back into management after I learn the business part of this new organization; I love that I get to combine education & healthcare, & that I’m doing something I’m marginally familiar with while learning alllllllllll kinds of new things. I’m realizing that the stress of my previous position literally short-circuited my brain & affected my health to the point that I was starting to wonder if I had a neurological condition.

News flash: I don’t, at least, where my brain is affected. 😊 I was just overworked & unsupported. It matters.

Having those weeks of unemployment allowed me time to get my thoughts in order…to focus on healing, on what I did wrong, where I could improve, what I needed to do in regards to my career….I focused on organizing the house, learning new recipes, and FINALLY, on how to cook the perfect chicken breast. I feel like even as I was dealing with trauma on multiple levels, the time I had gave me an outlet to rediscover my joy in everyday life. I LIKE organizing things. I LIKE cooking new recipes. I LIKE having my house in order, building shelves, and getting things sorted out. I like my solitude, and my time to cry/laugh/talk to God.

We went back to church. We found a small congregation close to home that keeps us in the community, has denominational support & accountability, and has solid leadership. We’re still working on introducing ourselves (we got waylaid with the flu that took us out for 3 weeks in February), but I think there’s a lot of potential there. It’s healing to be in a body of people that worship together…

But we weren’t done with trauma, it seems….

In January, we received a phone call that my father-in-law was left unattended in his home & fell down the stairs. He passed away, & our family was devastated. Three major losses in three months, on top of David’s mother being on hospice & my starting a new job…then the flu…fighting Medicare for coverage in the nursing home & dealing with taking over administrative tasking for my in-laws…issues in my family stemming from my father’s death that I don’t even understand & still have me reeling…There’s a repeated theme in my life of abandonment & silence when behaviors are not what is expected, & being on the receiving end of it so many times, is excruciating…but seeing my child on the receiving end of it, is so much more than infuriating.

I’m struggling with loss, with anger & sadness & grief. I’m frustrated, worried about my husband, & fighting the urge to wrap my arms around my son & protect him from everyone-&-everything to an extreme.

I’m working my way out of the wilderness & I suspect it will be a very long time until I feel the branches part….but the beautiful thing in the mess is that I know, even if I die in this wilderness, I’m not alone. I’m “leaning on my Beloved,” per Song of Solomon 8:5.

So, where do things stand? I’ve just written over 2,000 words about the utter s—show our lives have been for the last few months, but here I sit, grinning like a Cheshire cat as I type this line.

THERE IS STILL JOY. We’re still laughing, and every chuckle is a giant flip-off to the demons that circle to steal the peace God has poured over us. We are drowning, but we’re laughing at the hair in our eyes as we cling to the life raft of God’s love. We don’t know when or how we’re going to get our feet back under us, but we’ll hold each other’s hand & fall down together. We got into an argument last night that lasted all of 10 minutes & ended with a hug—we’re broken, loud, ridiculous, & we’re basically walking disasters, but We Belong to Jesus, & we know He has us in His hands.

“The human world—it’s a mess.” Sebastian is RIGHT. It’s messy. Our son is 12—he’s almost a teenager—and he actually keeps us grounded when we’re extra-ridiculous. He keeps our sense of humor rolling at the most inappropriate times, & sometimes it’s hard for me to reprimand the sass when I’m snorting back a roar. It’s hard to bawl when you’ve been Rick-Rolled for the 75th time that week, I mean, c’mon….

We’re in The Waiting as to how we heal, what happens next, and how we put one foot in front of another. We’re leaning on our Beloved. We’re (generally) laughing with each other and occasionally foraying into Trash TV because it’s mind-numbingly pacifying. We’re getting ready for Baseball Season (woohoo) & I am so, so grateful to be employed, especially with it being something I enjoy & with management that is supportive and patient.

We’re resting in the Lord as much as we can. We’ll move forward; we’ll occasionally take a step backwards. We’ll mourn & laugh, & we’ll look at each other a few years from now and say, “how in the world did we get here?!?” (We do that now, in all honesty).

And most of all, we’ll continue to be thankful for the support of friends and family, physical and spiritual, who give us the “grace to grieve” & the space to process…

We’re grateful.

We miss you every day, Dads and Eugene. Hold Hannah for us, give my Grandma a hug,  & save us a seat…

“Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes–Turn & Face the Strange”

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / Leave a comment

I haven’t blogged since the end of July!! Having COVID really, truly rerouted me. I’m not sure how I can even begin to sum up the last 2 months, so the words of David Bowie come to mind:

“Strange fascinations fascinate me
Ah, changes are taking
The pace I’m goin’ through

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes
Ooh, look out, you rock ‘n’ rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Turn and face the strange
Ch-ch-changes
Pretty soon now you’re gonna get older”

And older, I am…There are definitely times where I feel every bit of the 43 years under my skin, but I think having a third grader keeps David & I feeling somewhat spry (at least, that’s what they tell us). Jericho started the third grade in mid-August, & thanks to some of the tutoring we did over the summer, it seems to be going well. If only he could stop talking out of turn–so many ideas, so many words, so little time!!! It’s the story of my life. I deeply empathize with my kiddo, but that doesn’t mean he gets out of the consequences of pulling cards when he misbehaves at school, even if they’re related to his “excess verbiage,” as one teacher told me when I was a kid. He had two–TWO–face plants/head smacks in a 2-week time that nearly sent us to Urgent Care (if only one was available without a two-hour wait, under our insurance plan). My mom patched up one, and I patched up the other. He’ll have some cool scars, but other than that, he’s fine. He started Ki-Do Defense Systems, and it’s exciting to see a third-generation martial artist come out of our family!

David continues to do well with his job; the only drawback is the hours, so I am praying that he gets a slightly-earlier shift. I’m very proud of him! I’m also very thankful to the Lord–David landed that job in the middle of the pandemic, and it has been a huge blessing.

Speaking of jobs….deep breath….after 10+ years, I have resigned my position with the University of Missouri–St. Louis, and have taken a position at another University in our area. For the first time in over twenty years (21!!!!!), I will not be working in healthcare. It’s a realization that is staring me in the face, & I’m in a bit of shock over the decision. If God would not have so clearly opened so many doors, this would not be happening. Leaving the security blanket of a good job, good benefits, mostly-nice people, etc., is a big, scary, Nestea-plunge into unchartered waters!!!!!

But it’s time.

I think I’ve grown hermit-ish. I think I’ve grown comfortable, like a fat cat lounging in a windowsill. I felt the Lord ask me last year, “are you tired of being comfortable? Are you ready to make a change? Or do you just want to stay with the familiar?”

At the time, I said, “I’ve been here this long. Let me stay. It’s easy–I’m in my comfort zone. I can deal with the one-or-two people that make things difficult. I can do this.” And then the pandemic hit.

I realized that I didn’t want to do this anymore. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I knew that it wasn’t this–it wasn’t any major blow-up kind of thing. I just missed my family.

I’ve missed almost every morning of school. I’ve missed almost every bedtime. I’ve missed conversations with my husband, and I missed walking the dang dog. I’ve missed countless plans or evening meet-ups; I’ve missed relationships because I’ve had to be in bed by 8:00am. I’ve missed people.

When I missed the entire month of July because of COVID & found myself deeply, deeply struggling with anxiety, anger, bitterness & even resentment, I found myself face-down with the Lord, wondering what in the world needed to happen? I’d been looking at other positions, but nothing seemed to fit; when this position opened up, I didn’t think I had a chance (much like I felt when my UMSL job opened up), but to my surprise, they picked me! Then began the process of leaving, and it’s a difficult process, indeed.

There are so many things I’d like to say, but I think I will leave it at this: I am thankful. I am so grateful for the time I’ve had here; for the experiences & the opportunities; and mostly, for the schools I’ve been able to work with, with our Mobile Eye Van project (please-oh-please, click the link!). I’m thankful for those I’ve met along the way, & for those that took the time to teach me the importance of what they do at the Center for Eye Care offices. I’m thankful for the communities I’ve been able to connect with, and for every single school nurse that shared a laugh in one of the many meetings in which I awkwardly tried to convey the importance of optometric care (“If you can’t see, you can’t read, and if you can’t read, you can’t succeed!” Trademark pending!!!!). I’m thankful for the other vision service providers who tirelessly drive their RVs up-&-down the streets of St. Louis to care for kids and even adults and senior citizens. I’m thankful for the staff that have come together to provide patients with the best care manageable, and for the doctors and students who work seamlessly to diagnose, to treat, and to educate patients in a way that makes sense. It’s been a privilege to be a part of this team.

I know that it’s time to move forward towards new things, new people, & new adventures. I know God is delivering me from anxiety (it’s not “my” anxiety anymore. It’s His.) & that He is with me on this journey…If I fall, He’s there. If I fly, He’s there. If I stay grounded, if I get it right, if I screw it up–He’s there. What do I have to fear? I’ve found myself singing a song that a friend wrote several years ago; the whole album was my go-to during my pregnancy with Jericho, & I’m listening to it daily as I make this new transition. The song (“Jacob,” by Bizzy Grapperhaus) has the line, “there’s one way out of the wilderness…leaning on my Beloved.” I’ve been holding onto it like a childhood teddy bear, a security blanket of sorts. I need a constant reminder that He’s got a plan, and the closer I get to Him, the more peace I have. When the fear or anxiety threatens, I lean in harder. He always calms the storm.

My biggest hope as I leave this institution is that people knew/know that my faith has been more important to me than anything….that my relationship with God is the only thing that has carried me through the last 10 years (so many highs-&-lows)…and that with all of my skills and/or flaws, I tried my hardest to work in a way that honors God. I’ve done my best, and I’m leaving with that peace in my heart. I’m thankful for that. I’ve worked hard, and now I’m going to go work just as hard for someone else! Keep us in prayer as we make this transition, as a family–and please, pray for me as I take on different responsibilities in an entirely new field.

I’m looking forward to the new adventure…starting 10/4. 🙂

Annual Title IX Training, AKA, Where Bible College Failed

/ Cassidy S. Cooley / 1 Comment

I work for a University. It’s not hard to figure out which one; I draw very little attention to where I work, because, DUH, public forum. I like where I work. It’s a very different world from where I grew up, and how I grew up; it’s a very different way of functioning from what I’m used to, and I’m very grateful that I have the opportunity to be here. It’s time for our Annual Title IX Training, and I have a few things to get out of my system…

I grew up in a small town (no stoplights!), and I graduated from a small, private school (in a class of 6 people, I was the valedictorian!). When I went to college, I went to my third- or fourth-string pick of a Bible college in Florissant, Missouri, not too far from where I’m currently employed.

I still don’t know why I wound up there. Honestly, it was down to the wire to make a college decision, and my choice of a school in Tennessee was firmly shot down, as was my choice of a school in Webster Groves, so here I was, in this tiny, little Bible college at 17, feeling out of place and completely on my own.

I grew up in a charismatic church, and was partially sold on my Bible college by a man who told me the school was “non-denominational.” This was, in fact, technically true…but not practically true. Sure, there wasn’t a governing body or a synod, but the Bible college was full of people from what’s called the Independent Christian Church, which I was unfamiliar with.  The basic theology was the same amongst 70-80% of my peers and professors, which was fine at first, but the longer I was there, the more it rankled me. Even as I went on to represent the school for over 3 years in various events and committees, the cracks in the foundation became wide-spread faults, and by the time my academic career ended with the school, I was in counseling as a devastated, spiritually-void trainwreck.

I was a shell of who I’d been just 4 years earlier.

As a freshman, I’d been excited to learn new things, and try out new clubs, meet new friends, and start a life outside of Franklin County. I sang, I taught Sunday School, I received decent grades, and even though I lost 1 scholarship my freshman year, I made up for it with 4 different scholarships over the next 3 years. I pushed myself harder than I should have; I got sick more often than I should have. I made terrible financial decisions, and I brought a lot–A LOT–of hard times upon myself…but not all them came by my own hand.

I loved (love) Jesus, and I wanted to serve Him. I wanted to reach out to people, to work with teenagers and junior-highers, and to eventually parlay that into a writing career. I didn’t really have a career trajectory, but I knew I wanted to work in the public speaking circuit. More than anything I knew I wanted to be a wife and a mother, which really played to the whole, “get your MRS. Degree” stereotype that every woman heard as she went through Bible college. None of us, of course, could ever hope to make it in ministry without a husband, didn’t you know that?

So, I got a boyfriend.

That was a mistake.

Between the emotional intensity of being 18-19, the lack of maturity, and the understanding that as a woman, I was automatically an inferior being, I was not prepared for the level of temptation that came with autonomous free time and a boyfriend at that age. I made some bad decisions. When I tried to rectify those decisions, my right to decide was taken away from me, and after that point, I knew God didn’t want me anymore.

I didn’t want me, either.

Wouldn’t you think that in a Bible college, a woman would have solace in knowing there would be someone she could identify with? Someone she could talk to, someone she could pray with? Doesn’t God have forgiveness and healing for all of us, not just for men? Nope.

I had no one, and I was nothing.

Although I never came forward with my story, I knew of 2 other girls that had similar situations happen with a guy. One actually had the bravery to come forward, and the shame she endured from leadership is TEXTBOOK for what NOT to do. Since my college years at that “fine” establishment, I know of a professor who was terminated because he dared to speak up about the inappropriateness and lack of proper reporting amongst students and faculty, and has basically been blacklisted because of his willingness to take on the topic. I know of at least 10 other people, men and women, who have endured sexual inappropriateness and harassment at this same institution, yet the school itself refuses to acknowledge any incorrect behaviors, responses, or situations that have repeatedly been reported to them, and has in fact taken great pains to silence them. Taking the time-tested path to “sweep things under the rug” seems to be their modus operandi; I’m assuming their Bible takes Luke 8:17 and chucks it right out the window.

There is something to be said for the simple acknowledgement that a wrong has occurred. There is something to be said for the basic acceptance that “bad things have happened,” and “we failed to respond, we failed to acknowledge, and we failed to provide a place of healing in an institution based on the very grace of a loving God.” 

The level of sexual harassment I endured on campus over the course of 4 years would not be tolerated today. I know this, because I’m current on my Annual Title IX Training (which, at last check, my alma mater does not require…but they sure do appreciate those government dollars for student loans and grants, don’t they?). It was common for women to be shamed for ANY kind of dress, thought or words deemed to be sexual, but for the guys? It was practically honored. The girls were actually subjected to an entire evening of “well, we’ve heard rumors of sexual activity,” that was nothing more than an attempt to get us to rat out our friends, and an overwhelming reminder that impure thoughts and behaviors meant that we were unlovable and terrible human beings. We were shamed for even THINKING about sex, and if we’d already had it?!? OMG, we may as well surrender any thoughts, hopes, or dreams we could ever have, because we were “Damaged Goods.” It was purity at the cost of hope, and more than a few of us lost both.

So much for being a “place of healing.”

I’ve been working on a series of blogs this summer about the “Pesky Umbrella Graphic” which firmly places women at the bottom of the totem pole of the Good Christian Family. My goal is to redefine this graphic, and place men and women in the roles God designed. I have one blog left to write, about the Role of a Woman in the Church, and it’s been simmering. I believe this blog had to come first–I had to get this out of my system, because for me, my role as a woman was never so undermined as it was over the course of 4 years in Bible college. It took 4 years to wreck who I was as a person, as a Christian, and as a woman; it took 13 years to heal, to hope, and to have a clearer understanding that as a woman, Jesus loves me, He understands me, and He sees me as relevant, with all of my hormones, emotions, and crazy detours that paint anything but the “perfect” Christian life.

My Annual Title IX Training is often referred to (by me) as our Annual “Don’t Be a Terrible Human Being” Training. I think we take it for granted that people understand that sexual inappropriateness of any kind is wrong, but we have people in national leadership and in Christian leadership that consistently prove us to be incorrect. People don’t understand inappropriate sexual behavior. Now, I could launch a diatribe on how the media takes a turn on this; how the rampant rise and access to pornography takes a turn on this, and how being scientifically reduced to molecular accidents takes a turn on this, but that’s an entirely other conversation. The reality is that EVERYONE needs annual training on abuse, discrimination, sexual inappropriateness and how to report it, how to respond to it, and how to understand that IT’S NOT OKAY.

It’s not okay for “no” to mean anything other than, “no.”

It’s not okay to make the “joke” or the inference.

It’s not okay to make women feel inferior. It’s not okay to discriminate against anyone, and it’s not okay to make someone feel differently or to be robbed of opportunities because of their gender, religion, skin color, race, or orientation.

Your (My) Christianity does not give you a “Get out of Jail Free” or a “Bypass” card. Your (MY) Christianity does not give you the right to play judge or jury to that person who comes to you, or to that person that is reporting an issue.

Your (MY) Christianity requires that you treat people with honor, integrity, and respect. ALLLLLL of these verses tell us how to treat people. NONE of these verses tell us to shame someone or to throw a blanket over bad things and act like they didn’t happen.

Above all, your (MY) Christianity tells us that our Father is close to the brokenhearted…that He is a strong tower, that He is a refuge, and that HE LOVES US.

For me, Bible college should have been a place of spiritual growth and encouragement. Instead, it became a place of private shame and hopelessness, and to be honest, I do not look back on a most of those years with fondness (although I’m grateful for the relationships with friends that I still maintain). Bible college was where I learned how to pretend that everything was fine, even as it was falling apart. It was where I learned to speak fluent “Christianese,” and where I learned that Jesus was not big enough to love me through my darkest days.

In the years that followed, I went through an intensive breaking process of learning to be very, very real in my relationship with God . It’s an ongoing process, and one I think I’ll always work on. I also went through a healing process that involved counseling (the first of several encounters with counseling that I’ve been through) with a pastor who was AMAZING. He restored my faith in church leadership and in the compassion of Jesus, and I’ll never forget him. I was directed to him by a professor at my Bible college, who was overseeing an internship that ended halfway through–it almost cost me my college degree, but that’s another story. Either way, between that professor and that pastor, they saved my life physically and spiritually, and they became the light at the end of the Bible college tunnel. They had the concept RIGHT–Biblical counsel and healing, and GRACE over shame–and they were a blessing. I’m still grateful. They showed me there could be good, kind men in Christian leadership, and I needed that hope restored. T

I know this is a lot; I know I’ve written a lot more than I intended, but the Annual Title IX Training has “bothered” me for the past 7 years that I’ve been required to take it. Where was this training when I was in college? Would it have saved me, or saved the 10 or more other people that I know of? Would it have saved our professor, who gave up his career in order to speak a truth that no one wanted to listen to? Would it have saved the others who never told their stories?

I don’t know.

I’m not upset that I “have” to take this training. I’m not upset that we’re creating a Culture of Compliance over a Climate of Fear or a Climate of Shame or a Culture of Arrogant Ignorance. The more Christians that stop thinking they’re above all of this stuff, and instead choose to engage the fact that we’re all sinners, we all struggle, and we all need grace, the less stories we’ll hear about places like Willow Creek, or the Catholic Church issues (which could be in ANY church), or whatever. The second we think we’re immune is the second we fall…it’s time that we all acknowledge our weaknesses, that we train to be aware of situations, and that we as Christians provide a place of healing and of hope, particularly in our areas of educational institutions for children and adults of all ages.

***Edit: I’ve had a few remarks on my Facebook post on this blog, and I just want to say that college was a long, long, LOOOOOONNNNNNG time ago. What I thought was the hardest time in my life was a cakewalk compared to losing my daughter, so I’m looking back at those experiences through completely different lenses. In fact, the breaking/building process I went through after college laid the grounds for a solid foundation for that very journey. It was an entirely different breaking/building process, but the foundation was tried and true. 🙂 My entire point in bringing up those years is to draw attention to the lack of care and the lack of change that’s been seen in places of so-called Christian education. NOTHING has changed–NOTHING. That’s wrong. Secular universities like the one I am employed by have moved farther and higher than religious institutions, and that boggles my mind. I’m not a broken or hurting college kid, anymore. I’m a grown woman, I know who I am in Christ, and I BELIEVE with all of my heart that the Church is failing in the areas of training their leadership to guard their sheep. I will definitely admit to being angry…Every time another story comes across my Facebook page where another person in ministry has hurt or abused someone, I’m reminded of how far we have to go in the journey to educate Church leadership, to educate those in places of Christian education, and to educate ourselves how to be wise and to be aware…I’m reminded that shame never helped a soul, and that the basis of our very faith is gentleness, respect, and love. We have a long, long way to go…and we are all–not just me, and not just you–responsible to make the necessary changes.