If You're Nice About It, Call Me Allison

  I wear red on Christmas Eve For you and for me Why is red the big color on Christmas? (I digress)   We go to church And it takes me back to when I was 12.  The sights, the sounds, the smells Even for a trans woman Church feels safe   You’re with me And you’re looking so beautiful I try to outdo you In my red, my cashmere jacket, my boots I fail There is no outdoing you.   I wear red on Christmas Eve In hopes that we will kiss   And we’ll go to a party And they’ll say “Where were you?” “Church” “Church? Two lesbians?” And we’ll just laugh Because we know the joys God brings Are beyond the boundaries set by men   After all, God brought us together Did She not?   We sit by the fire (A fake one, please) And sip something Mulled wine Spiked egg nogg Your choice And we cuddle And we dream Of a better world Of being grateful for a beautiful night in this one I can hear your heart beating And I won’t let myself believe it’s for me No matter how many tim...

  When my grandmother died back in February, my first thought was relief. She had been ill for some time and her mind had started slipping before that. Once a lively, vivacious person, she could barely recognize her great grandchildren and spent most of her days in contented silence. I saw her two weeks before she died to say goodbye; she actually looked really good and I thought that I might see her again. But things turned quickly. Thankfully, I got the chance to tell her I love her on the phone one last time. The next day, she passed. My second thought was an incredible sadness. It has not really dissipated and is felt more acutely this time of year. And really all year as I've stared my existence in the mirror and at last, dared myself to do better for me. I miss her more than I thought I would, my grief for her inseparable with my transition. My grandmother was the person for whom the term “social butterfly” exists. She was a faithful church attendee, though I think that was m...

  It wasn't until I was well in my 30s that I stopped thinking of worship as boring.  That might be a surprising thing to hear from a clergy person but it's true. I love the hymns, I love preaching, I love the sacraments but the confessional bits, creeds, words of institution have always felt rote and boring. I get why kids hate it...I hated it as a kid even if I had to "be a good boy" and suffer through without complaining.  But as you get older, your brain slows down, your life slows down and you appreciate things in a different way. The small things matter. You realize the gift it is to experience life with patience and deliberation. The traditional word for Christian worship is "liturgy." It's often misunderstood and extrapolated from context as something grander than it is. Having roots in Koine Greek, liturgy or "leiturgia," simply means "the work of the people." As is common with Greek, you have to parse the sentence in order t...