I used to be engaged to a minister. We were together for seven years before we Consciously Uncoupled. The words we chose were, “We were no longer called to be together.” In some strange way, it felt like the most fitting way to separate from a minister.
Kayla, my ex, and I moved to Rochester 15 years ago. I can’t believe it’s been that long. Right before our lives completely changed, my dad was actively dying. We went to the Philippines together to see him one last time, but we had to return a week before he passed.
You don’t know how you’re going to feel about something until it happens. My parents were older, and I always knew they would pass away before I was truly ready. But you are never really ready.
A Prayer for Troubled Times
Before we left for the Philippines, before stepping into the unknown, we went to her church—Skyline Community Church in Oakland, CA—where she was a minister-in-training.
That Sunday, they had a Unison Prayer. At the time, the world was in the middle of a recession, and we were both facing uncertainty. Now, looking at the world today, the prayer still feels relevant.
It goes something like this:
“God is our refuge and strength, A loving presence in time of trouble.
Though waters roar and mountains tremble, We need not fear though the earth may change.
Who among you will respond? We are here — I am here — to embody God's love in this world.
O Blessed One, You know all hearts. You are ever with us; may love guide our lives.
In the name of all those who have come before us seeking truth and love, Let us add our names, Amen.”
We are the Light and the Blessing of the world. We are here to do good work—not from a place of fear, but from a place of love.
On Being Friends with an Ex
I think people would be surprised to know that I’m still friends with my minister ex. Classic lesbian cliché, sure—but the truth is, we didn’t speak for nearly 8 years before we reconnected.
Time changes things. And I had done a lot of growing, healing, and introspection. It felt like we could build a different kind of relationship—not the one we had, but a new one.
Not every ex should stay in your life. Some chapters need to close. But every once in a while, you meet someone whose presence feels important. Someone who shaped your journey in a way that shouldn’t be forgotten.
Some relationships are better in a new form. And sometimes, friendship is the greater love story.
Lenten Reflection: Choosing Love Over Fear
1 John 4:18 – “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.”
Lent is a time of letting go of fear and leaning into love. It is easy to make choices based on anxiety, doubt, or self-protection. It is harder to trust in love, in connection, in grace.
🔹 Where am I still holding onto fear?
🔹 Who am I being called to reconnect with?
🔹 How can I embody love in my choices?
I hope you are surrounded by people who love, care, and support you. And if you cannot be with them physically, may you carry them in your heart.
Do not make life decisions from a place of fear. It never turns out well.
Take care of yourselves. And take care of each other.
📖 Read my Lenten Reflections: flanneldiaries.com (link in bio).
“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” – Isaiah 1:17
I've been missing my friend Kimi in California. We usually talk on the phone—she’s one of the few people who refuses to go back and forth on text. We’ve known each other for 25 years. That means she’s seen every version of me, from my mid-20s to now. She knows my flaws, my strengths, my stubbornness, and my growth. And she’s still here. That means something.
We’ve had adventures, laughs, and probably a few moments where we drove each other nuts. She could tell you all the ways I’ve changed since I was 25. But the truth is, having someone in your life for that long is a rare and beautiful thing.
We Can’t Go Back to “Normal”
Yes, we are underreacting to what’s happening politically and socially. Mass layoffs of federal workers. Funding slashed from essential government agencies. Court orders dismissed. Rights dismantled. The very foundation of democracy shaking. We are not going back to “normal.” And we shouldn’t. Because normal is what led us here. Normal was broken. History has taught us that destruction happens in moments, while justice takes generations to build. The only way forward is through. We have to learn. We have to be better. We have to refuse to look away.
There’s a quote often attributed to Martin Niemöller, a Lutheran pastor who once sympathized with Nazi ideology but later became one of its fiercest critics. He spent eight years imprisoned in Nazi concentration camps for speaking out. His most famous words:
“First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist...Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”
The lesson is clear. Why do we wait until they come for us before we care? Why do we stand by while the most marginalized are under attack, comfortably relieved that it isn’t us—yet? That’s what haunts me the most. When I joke, "They’re coming for me," will my friends only start caring then? Will they only realize it was never a joke when it’s too late?
I mask my fear with humor. But the fear is real.
Still, I can’t stop living my life because of fear. I never have, and I never will.
I don’t stand up for marginalized people because I think it will protect me. I do it because it’s the right thing to do. And I won’t wait until they come for me. Because I already know they will.
Winning on Different Terms
For some reason, this made me think about an old Tom Hanks movie, "The Man with One Red Shoe." It’s an 80s comedy built on mistaken identities, deception, and absurdity. A practical joke, a misunderstanding, and suddenly, chaos unfolds. It reminds me of another film I love—Knives Out. In both, those who play by the rules of deception always lose. The only ones who win are the ones who weren’t even playing the game. It makes me wonder: Why are we still playing by the rules of people who keep changing them to maintain their power?
Maybe the only way to win is to stop playing their game altogether. Maybe we don’t win by being better players—we win by being better people.
Because in the end, the only thing that truly matters is how we treat each other.
Lenten Reflection: Choosing Courage Over Comfort
Isaiah 1:17 – “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”
Lent is a time of reflection and reckoning. It asks us not just to look inward, but to look around.
Who is suffering? Who is being ignored? Who is being silenced?
We are called not to comfort, but to courage.
Faith is not passive. Justice is not optional. Love is not silent.
We cannot look away. We cannot wait until it’s our turn to care. We have to care now.
Lent is about preparing our hearts for transformation. What if part of that transformation is a refusal to be silent?
🔹 Where have I been too comfortable in injustice?
🔹 Who am I afraid to stand up for?
🔹 What am I willing to risk to do what is right?
Take care of yourselves. And take care of each other.
Read my Lenten Reflections at: https://www.flanneldiaries.com (link in bio).
Ecclesiastes 3:1 – “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”
During the pandemic, I spent more time alone than I ever had before—and in that solitude, I discovered something unexpected: peace. For most of my life, I had been constantly surrounded by people. Work, social events, relationships—there was always someone in my space. Even when I was technically “alone,” I was never truly alone with myself. But during those long, quiet months, I realized something important: I actually enjoy my own company.
Growing up, my house was always full of people. Noise. Movement. Life. It felt natural to always have someone around. But I’ve also known what it’s like to be in a crowded room and feel more alone than if I were sitting in my own bedroom. I imagine many people feel that way sometimes.
The Joy of Doing Nothing.
One thing I uncovered about myself? If no one reaches out, if there are no plans—I'm perfectly content doing nothing. No pressure. No expectations. Just existing. Of course, after a while, I’d start to feel a little cabin fevered. So, if the weather was nice, I’d go for a walk. Or better yet, I’d head to a golf course—just me, the open sky, and the sound of a ball cutting through the air.
A friend recently reminded me of the nights we used to go dancing at The White Horse—a small, local gay bar in Berkeley, CA. It was everything you’d expect from a neighborhood queer bar in the ‘90s and early 2000s—sticky carpet from decades of spilled cocktails, a tiny but mighty dance floor, and a space that felt like home. We danced, we laughed, we let loose. We made fools of ourselves in the best way possible.
People say, "Youth is wasted on the young."
I don’t know if that’s true. Because when I look back, I don’t feel like I wasted anything. I had an incredible time being young. I was surrounded by beautiful, wild, wonderful human beings who loved me fiercely.
And maybe that’s what makes solitude feel so full rather than empty. Because I carry those moments, those people, and that love with me.
Even when I’m alone—I’m never really alone.
What This Season is Teaching Me
Ecclesiastes 3:11 – “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”
Life keeps moving. The bars change. The dance floors disappear. The crowds come and go. But who we were, what we shared, that never leaves us.
Solitude has a way of revealing what really matters. And sometimes, being alone is exactly what we need to remember how deeply connected we truly are.
Lenten Reflection: The Holiness of Stillness
Lent is a time of quieting the noise, stepping back from distractions, and reconnecting with God. It’s a season that reminds us that sometimes, the holiest moments are not found in the crowds, but in the stillness.
Jesus often withdrew to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16). He knew that in solitude, we don’t lose ourselves—we find ourselves.
Perhaps the lesson in all of this is that solitude is not emptiness—it is preparation. The quiet moments, the walks alone, the times when life slows down, they are all invitations to listen.
🔹 What is solitude teaching you?
🔹 Where do you feel closest to God when the world is silent?
🔹 How can you embrace stillness as part of your spiritual journey?
This Lent, may we not rush to fill the silence, but instead, rest in it. May we trust that even in solitude, we are never truly alone.
Take care of yourselves and take care of each other.
Read my Lenten Reflections at: https://www.flanneldiaries.com link in bio.