by Rev. Dr. Katy E. Valentine
When the World is Burning
Yesterday, something unusual happened. I cried from frustration and helplessness. After an afternoon out, I returned home, sat down on the couch, and just cried. I have nothing against tears, but it’s not my norm. After I cried, there were still some sparkly moments of grace, but it took a minute to find them.
The brutal news—the torture and murder of Sam Nordquist, anti-trans laws, bills penalizing women for miscarriages, and the detainment of Mahmoud Khalil—brought on an overwhelming existential dread. The US is facing a modern Gestapo, masked as ICE, and the president as a bankrupt Morality Policeman.
Yes, I’m spiritual and woo-woo, and usually I can center and ground myself in the middle of the world’s chaos and injustice. My privilege inoculates me to a big degree, and I know it. But yesterday, the weight of these issues made it impossible to simply reframe and move on. And, that’s OK. As my amazing spouse reminded me, these unsettling realities have long been present; now, they’re just more visible.
Terrifyingly, they’re also being codified.
Let me share the full story, and the little sparkles of grace that showed up in the middle of my no-good-first-world-problems day.
My No Good, Bad, First World Problems Day
I spent the early afternoon in downtown Galway, where I live far from my home country, the United States. Yep, the next few paragraphs are filled with first world privilege, and yes, I am aware. But, still, my nervous system was disregulated.
The sun shone brightly as I set out for lunch at a favorite spot next to the nail salon where I had an appointment. Yet, upon arrival, I discovered that the restaurant was closed on Mondays. Really, closed?? Dammit, I felt sucker punched. This is far more dramatic than it should have been, given that there are approximately 100 other places to eat within sight. But literally thinking of any other food than this one place made me feel nauseous.
Also, did I mention I was also on day 1 of a perimenopausal period? And I was awake from 2-6 a.m. the night before? This most decidedly did not help matters.
Typically, I’m upbeat and optimistic. I can usually reframe setbacks and find a silver lining. But not yesterday, especially while I’m recovering from ADHD burnout. I decided on ice cream for lunch, and I continue to support this choice a day later 🙂
At the nail salon, I was the only client for most of my visit. While my nails emerged looking fabulous in green and gold (prepping for St. Patrick’s Day), the experience was “meh” – no chatter, laughter, or spa environment. I practiced box breathing, trying to reassure my nervous system that I was juuuust fine.
I just had never fully relaxed, which was the point of the afternoon outing. This led to sitting on the couch when I got home, and crying, feeling helpless. Yet, it’s in these raw moments that sparkly grace moments can unexpectedly enter…
Sparkly Little Grace Moments
Grace Moment 1
About 11 years ago, I felt a divine call to explore gender identity deeply, especially trans identities and how they intersect with the Bible. Yep, I’m a New Testament scholar, a foolish life choice that comes in handy in times like these. I was flabbergasted. Now, I see how that calling prepared me to be an imperfect ally for exactly times like this. Though I’m not trans, I’m also not-quite-cis. I’ve been working for years on the upcoming volume Trans Biblical (releasing April 7!), and all the delays in writing and editing during the pandemic means the book will do the maximum good right now. This just occurred to me YESTERDAY after the crying bout, so mark that down as grace moment #1.
Grace Moment 2
Just before leaving the house, I grabbed Angela Yarber’s Queering the American Dream. This was unknowingly a divinely inspired thing to do. Soaking my feet for the pedicure, I read an authentic, smart, compelling, and vulnerable tale of Angela’s trek across America with her wife and toddler, amidst traveling in a very hetero, very male-oriented USA.
Yes, I get the irony of reading this during a nail salon appointment while living in another country (white woman privilege). The book describes the co-existence of microagressions, injustice, and heterosexism while being incredibly funny and moving. Tears and deep pain often co-exist with grace and laughter. I actually stayed in the salon until my toes were dried because the book compelled me so much – a rarity for me because I usually get bored and leave, polish be damned. It was probably Angela’s vulnerability in the book that let my own tears flow when I got home later that day.
Grace Moment 3
That evening, I sank into the bathtub, an obvious balm for all of life’s woes. I picked up Queering the American Dream to continue reading. With the pages open, the water caught the light, and my newly painted nails sparkled against the pages of the book and the tiles in the bathroom. It was a simple moment that sparked a bit of joy from me. Shimmery nails plus a compelling book by an awesome person = renewal. Sometimes, you just need a few sparkles, nail polish, and friends in the pages of a book.
Now it’s Your Turn
Of course, you may also want to read Queering the American Dream. This is my Amazon Affiliate link (if you’re not into Amazon right now, I totally get it — but you’re still supporting a queer, feminist, awesome author and publisher with its purchase: https://amzn.to/4bHZDn8
I woke up today with a full night’s sleep. If I’m not quite ready to conquer the world, then at least I’m ready to live in it with some more hope and ready to find the silver living. Plus, there is positive action on the case with Mahmoud Khalil, thank goodness. Just in case you can’t find silver linings today, I’ve got your back. I’m positive someone had my back yesterday, even if I didn’t know it.
And I’ve got some sparkly nail polish color recommendations, too.
Where are you finding sparkly grace moments today? Comment below.
