Category: Transformation

OWNING OUR SCARS

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, June 19, 2023

The first scar I remember having on my body is a small and faint line over my lip where my cousin Tricia (pronounced “Treesha”) hit me in the face with a roller skate when we were children. I don’t actually remember the incident, but knowing Tricia now, I have to say it must have been an accident. Although it’s hard to imagine how! The actual event is lost to my mind, but my body still carries the mark of the roller skate.

All of us carry scars of one kind or another. Some are signs of a wondrous event like the caesarean birth of a beloved child, others are evidences of horror, a serious car accident, house fire, a roadside bomb, gun violence. Our bodies keep track and in many manifestations tell the story of our lives.

Today is Juneteenth. As I write about scars I cannot leave out the scarred and abused bodies of generations of black slaves whose wounds tell the story of our human capacity for evil, played out by one race upon another. As a white woman in these United States, I know my soul continues to suffer this shame-filled scar, and it will until reconciliation occurs and reparations are made. The racism that still infects this country is the outward sign of the soul scar we carry that has never been healed.

When I woke up this morning, I thought I might write about the new scar I have running from my mid-chest down between my breasts to my upper belly. Starting with the roller skate scar was easier for me but then looking at the date my pen took a much more serious turn. How do I move on from here? Or better yet, how do we all move on and away from the evil of racism?

Let me get back to my original intention. First, if I am ever going to deal honestly with this gash down my middle, first I have to look at it. This has not been an easy thing to do. Born squeamish, I like things neat. Well, my friends, neither my scar nor racism will ever be neat. But it is important to get to know what is intimately ours, in our souls and on our bodies, to come to terms with it.

Then we have to name it for what it is. Two people have said to me recently that my scar is my “badge of courage.” That’s ludicrous. I did not choose to undergo this operation, it was necessary to keep me going. It is more of a reminder of how I need to change to stay healthy. Less stress. Better diet. More exercise. I cannot change my family history of heart disease, but I can let it guide me.

We cannot change our country’s history of slavery and cruelty. But if we don’t acknowledge the things we need to change now, discomfort with the subject, denial, signs of continuing hatred, our history will have taught us nothing. We will continue on a self-destructive road.

I don’t know what I would have said about my scar if I hadn’t realized that today is Juneteenth. Right now my personal scar marks my body as clearly and painfully as the soul scar of racism marks our country. I do expect, like the one over my lip, my open heart scar will fade with time. But until we actually get to know, to adequately name, and to fully own our country’s soul scar living within us, we will bear and suffer the ugly wounds of racism way into our future.

STARE TRANSFORMED

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, Dwelling in Presence, June 10, 2023

This morning finds me back in stare mode. It took me a good hour and a half to lift up this journal and begin to write as the candle burns down beside me and the coffee has turned cold. There is a thick fog rolling in from the coast, and it seems to have clouded my brain. The birds, however, sing right through – this morning I hear cardinals, the song sparrow, chickadees, the titmouse, gold finches, and catbird. At least, those are all I can distinguish right now.

Joel is up and sits by the open window reading. It is a great sadness for him, therefore for me, that he cannot hear most of the birds. He is deficient in hearing, especially at the higher decibels. But he will spot a bird, a color, a shape, a pattern of flying, long before I do. The highlight of his week is spotting a new bird, then finding it in Sibley’s or one of our Audubon books, and reading up on it. His passion has been passed on to me.

Perhaps this is a way to break through the stare – to keep one’s senses sharp and working. Notice the fog creeping in and its dissipation, distinguish the songs of the birds and the rhythmic tapping of the woodpeckers, go for a second cup of coffee when I can no longer smell its goodness or breathe in its steam, watch the wax dripping down the candle creating pleasing shapes of their own. If I must stare, I could stare with appreciation for the life changing around me. Know that I am part of this ever-changing scene. Even if I feel stagnant, the truth is I am part of this developing tableau.

Last night, I was awakened by the call of the barred owl somewhere near my bedroom window. I awakened Joel who also loves to hear this beloved bird. I then lay there as its haunting call moved further and further away. It dawned on me as I was listening that this was more than staring into the night. The call had awakened my longing to be in relationship, reaching out for this manifestation of creation that I love. Perhaps it was reaching out to me as well and both of us were changed.

The purpose of staring mode (written in a previous post as being “blank”) has changed for me. It seems to invite us to sharpen our senses, note what moves us, calls us, invites us, to a deeper consciousness of life and beauty in order to enter a more profound relationship with them. The birds, the fog, the coffee steam, the candle wax all called to me this morning. I think Martin Buber would say that these initial “I/It” relationships were moving toward “I/Thou.” All of being inhabits a spirit we can relate to. And be changed by.