In The Peace of Wild Things

In The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me, and I wake in the night at the least sound, in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light.

For a time, I rest in the grace of the world and am free.

- from the poet Wendell Berry

"Love After Love"

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit.

Feast on your life.

- Derek Walcott excerpt from 'The Heron Dance Poetry Diary'

"I realized if I had to chose, I would rather have birds than airplanes."

by First Unitarian Member Diane Shelby Churchill

As I began to put this talk together a few weeks ago, I wondered what possessed me to sign up last spring to do a sermon this summer. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and I thought I had some wonderful ideas. But a month or two later, as I began to write, I thought “what in the heck do I have to say that anyone would want to hear,” and I certainly couldn't recall any of those wonderful ideas.

Of course, that was my inner voice … For as long as I can remember I have been listening to a harsh critical voice inside of me, but I had lived with it so long it was only over the last 15 years or so that I realized what an influence it was having on my life. I not only listened, but believed what this harsh judge was saying.

So I jumped in… and found the process of writing this was quite revealing and actually fun. It was almost like a good therapy session. It is said, 'write about what you know.' Well, what I know best is “ME”. You may laugh, but to say I know 'ME' is important. I could not say that 15 years ago.

I discovered and remembered many things about myself as I put this talk together… perhaps I always knew they were there, but didn’t acknowledge them. And as good old Doctor Phil says, “You can’t fix what you don’t acknowledge!”

Of course, all of the things I discovered, I don’t think needs to be fixed. Some of them I found, I really liked. It's as in the first stanza of the poem printed in your order of service:

“Love after Love”

“The time will come

When, with elation

You will greet yourself arriving

At your own door, in your own mirror

And each will smile at the other's welcome.”

As I put this together, I did smile a lot. Painful memories I found have been mostly put aside and forgiven if not quite forgotten.

So I hope you enjoy this little journey with me. I’m not sure what you might learn from this … perhaps you might just get to know me a little better and find, despite any differences, we have much in common … or maybe not!

Here is a short list of some of the things I discovered while contemplating my life's journey:

Number One on the list has to be that I tend to change my hair color a lot! When I looked back at family photos I noticed I have a different hair color in most of the photos! Until very recently that is how I handled stress … if things felt out of control—I’d change my hair color … at least I had control over my looks.

Also, during this process and during this last couple of years, I realized that I have a bad habit of seeing the world in black and white; no greys. I am getting better at catching myself at this. It may seem quite simple to you, but I’m just learning that no one—not even me--or the world--is entirely good or entirely bad.

I think this comes from seeing myself in black and white. Believing that inner judgmental voice that doesn't let me not be perfect. If I couldn’t see my own grays or give myself a break, how could I give someone else that same consideration?

I also realized that when stressed or depressed, besides turning to friends or family for support, I more turn to nature and animals. I surround myself with animals and go out into nature to find peace… the last stanza in the poem by Wendell Berry in your order of service says it so well …

"I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time, I rest in the grace of the world and am free."

And finally, I realized that co-incidences played a HUGE role in where I am today ... that if I didn't follow my gut feeling and take huge risks ... I would have missed a great life. More of that later.

When I was a child... in fact throughout all the years of my childhood ... my maternal grandmother, who we called Babcia (in Polish) had a painting on her living room wall of a barefoot young boy with a straw hat, holding a fishing pole over his shoulder …and he was on a dirt road that curved out of site. There were tree branches hanging over the road creating a tunnel effect. I used to stare and stare at that painting and specifically that road wondering where it went. What was down that road?

As I thought about this I discovered I've always been attracted to dirt roads, back roads and off-the-beaten path roads… all of my life…to this day. And finally, after almost 60 years… spent mostly on the fast lane, in urban or suburban areas, I found ‘MY’ dirt road. Four-1/2 years ago, my husband and I bought a house out in rural Warren County -- on a dirt road. And I’ve never been more content and happier. It took so long to get here. And I know I am exactly where I belong … in Iowa … with David Churchill and his two children: Cory and Alissa and so many companion animals we’ve lost count.

As I thought about my childhood, I remembered what a Tom-Boy I was. Always dirty. Always bruised from falling off a fence or even a roof. The nuns at school would always look at me with a scowl. My mom would clean me up, dress me up and hope for the best… But within minutes I would be stained, dirty. I envied the girly girls ... but just couldn't pull it off ... besides I was a tom boy and could play baseball and climb trees better than any of them.

You know that kid in Peanuts called ‘Pigpen?’ He had a little cloud of dust around him … that was me. To this day I am still that way. My husband laughs at me because I can step out of the shower and within a half hour my fingernails are dirty and I have a spot or two on my clothing. Not to say I’m a klutz … well, yes, I guess I still am.

But I am getting ahead of myself. I was raised in Detroit, by a mother and father who were very strict. We were brought up Catholic in a mostly Catholic Polish neighborhood. With this strong Catholic background, I swear I was brought up to be guilty. Not sure what I was guilty of … but that feeling was pounded into me by the nuns who schooled me, by my Babcia and my parents.

Even though, intellectually, I know I have nothing to feel guilty about … at times, the feeling still pops up to this day. The nuns and my parents did a great job of convince me I was just generally guilty! Now don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and, compared to a lot of people, I actually had quite a good childhood.

But my parents came from a very different time. Especially my mother. She was obsessed with ‘appearances’ … the way we looked, acted and the things we owned. She was always worried, it seemed, about what the neighbors and her acquaintances would think about pretty much anything my brother, my sister, and I did! They instilled that ‘what will everyone think’ attitude that is very hard to shake.

Since the nuns had me for grades one through four, they had a great influence about how I felt about religion and about myself in general. They made me feel that I was just 'all wrong.' For example: I am very left handed. When I would pick up a pencil to write, the nun would smack it hard with a ruler then give me failing grade because my handwriting was so bad.

You didn’t write with your left hand in the early 50s, especially in Catholic School, because the devil sat on the left hand side of god … to this day my handwriting is terrible!

But life in Detroit in the 50s wasn’t all bad. Detroit now may have the reputation of dangerous and gritty. It can be that. But it is still a wonderful place. And in the 50s and early 60s, my Detroit neighborhood was more like 'Leave it to Beaver’s' than urban grit. During this time and all through my life I had a great love of the outdoors and of animals … any kind of animal. I was always bringing stray kittens home, hiding them in the garage …also hid them in my closet where they used my sister's shoes as a little box... boy did I get in trouble. I rescued mice from the alley, followed bugs and butterflies around.

Every year from when I was about 11 to 17 my parent would rent a cabin on Lake Mitchell … about five hours north of Detroit. My husband, David’s, family owned a cottage near where we would rent. We went to different High Schools, so we dated in the summers and in the school year the relationship would fall apart. He was my first serious love. First serious kiss.

After High School I thought of him once in a while. Actually I thought about him every once in awhile all through out my life. After high school David eventually went on to Viet Nam and we lost touch of each other. Throughout my life David would pop up in my mind; but I couldn’t find his phone number listed any where... and tucked him away in my memory.

I was married from 1979 to 1984. I married a nice, steady, conservative guy who had his feet solidly on the ground. My mother and others in my family suggested I needed to stop hanging out with writers, artists and musicians -- to grow up. They suggested I find someone more stable ...as my life was full of drama and in general, pretty flaky. I generally felt like the outsider ... different from my family. And I wanted to fit in and married Tom.

Tom was definitely stable. But I married for the wrong reason: to please my parents …and to try and find stability; not realizing that I could give it to myself. I was 32 years old.

During my late teen years and after my marriage, I tried many philosophies and religions on for size. I was searching. All I really knew was the life that seemed to work for my parents or my sister and brother was not the life for me. I forsake the suburbs and all the ‘things’ that they enjoyed for a more urban area -- even though my heart cried out for a more rural setting; but I didn’t think I could make a living in the country and it was too much of a gamble I thought.

I Ieft Catholicism and Christianity and checked out Hinduism (more specifically Krishna), then I tried and enjoyed Taoism, also explored wiccan, Jaenism, various Native American rituals, anything that addressed reincarnation and re-birth, and finally Buddhism.

Today, as I look back, my current philosophy, and ‘religion’ for lack of a better word for it, has taken the best of most of these. I consider myself a humanist, Buddhist, Unitarian. I don’t believe in a “God” … And I am grateful to this church that I can say that out loud. I don’t think there is any grand plan but do believe in some kind of Karma … some kind of energy that creates a chain reaction by our thoughts and deeds. I believe we are all connected: human beings, other animals, plants … this earth, perhaps the cosmos … that we have that connection and, therefore, an obligation to treasure this earth and all its inhabitants.

The basis of all that I believe is to live without purposely harming or killing any sentient being …that is at my core. It took me most of my life to feel comfortable with this philosophy. And I never said out lot that I was an atheist until I joined this church.

Backtracking a bit ... I traveled to Kenya in 1994. Traveling to third world countries: of-the-beaten path, hard-to-get to places where there were not only dirt roads, but sometimes no roads at all, was a hobby of mine. While out in the bush, I became very ill…some kind of intestinal bacterial thing. But we were a 100 miles or so from Nairobi and doctors. I couldn’t travel and was becoming dehydrated.

So I was taken to a clinic way out in the middle of nowhere and received some antibiotic shot and intravenous fluids. It helped, and I was ready to travel within 24 hours … a little worse for wear, but I could make the hard journey to Nairobi and then eventually home. I forgot all about this incident.

Eventually, I landed my dream job at BBDO International in 1995. BBDO is one of the largest ad agencies in the world. Our Michigan office did all of the advertising for Chrysler, JEEP, and Dodge Brands. I managed the art department. It was a prestigious job and most in the graphic art community of Detroit wanted that job to my delight. It also made my my mom happy ... still trying to please her I guess.

I began to live a jet-set kind of life, traveling a lot for work and for my pleasure. I loved BBDO for the first year while reorganizing my department. It was exciting. But slowly I discovered what a cut-throat place it was. I was still an idealist and trusted everyone. Ethics, in big business, seemed to be lacking on most levels. I became disillusioned.

Also, creating advertising for automobiles was against my growing interest in the ecology … against my developing philosophy, and I feared I was becoming a hypocrite. By then I had changed a lot. I wanted to get back to my roots of the 60s and wanted to live a simpler, less complicated life.

I was still looking for something … I didn’t know it was rural and on a dirt road in Iowa.

During the year 2000, while I was still working for BBDO, I had my September physical, as I usually did. It occurred to me I hadn’t had an HIV blood test since about 1994 and told the doctor as long as he was drawing blood, to test mine for HIV. I wasn’t worried, I just thought I should do it. I knew I wasn’t in a high risk category. I dated, but I had fairly long term relationships that usually lasted a year or two. I didn’t do intravenous drugs. So I was confident that the HIV test would be negative.

To my surprise it was a positive test. I was in shock. Actually I was probably in shock for a couple of years or so. I didn’t know where I could have contracted this disease. Eventually, I had to go through the embarrassing process of contacting men I dated since 1994. I also had to tell the person I was currently dating. Surprisingly, not one man I dated turned up positive. At the time, I questioned their honestly … I had to have caught this disease from some one didn’t I?

HIV and Aids had a huge stigma then and it still does today. Before this diagnosis, I thought I was fairly open minded and didn’t believe that any one deserved this disease because of their lifestyle. I felt I was a compassionate person.

But now it was ME.

I couldn’t give myself that same compassion. All those old Catholic guilty feelings came back. My inner voice was telling me that somehow I may have deserved this … some weird karma or something. Intellectually I knew the stigma was all wrong. But emotionally I started to believe it about myself.

I didn’t tell many people about my HIV diagnosis: I only told the men I had to contact in my past … and the man I was dating. I told my best friend Kim who was moving to Colorado within a week of the diagnosis (there went my support system I thought), and also my brother, his wife and my sister who were very understanding and compassionate.

It took me several years to tell my mom and other friends and family … but it was a long journey to be able to tell them and say it out loud.

I HAVE HIV.

I don’t know if it was because of my vegetarian lifestyle of many years—but I was very healthy. I had no symptoms and the blood tests that measured how far the disease had advanced were normal; well, except for that nasty virus running around my blood. And I didn’t have to go on HIV medications at that time.

Despite all that… I believed my days were numbered.

I kept HIV a secret until about 2-1/2 years ago. And I think this church was instrumental in helping me accept this disease and to find my confidence again. I’ve come a long way.

As a side note: Eventually, with the help of my doctors, we determined I did, in fact, contract the disease in Kenya at the little clinic in the middle of nowhere.

I was very lonely from the time of my diagnosis that fall of 2000. Welcome to the new millennium I thought. At the time of diagnosis I was dating a fellow who I thought I was very much in love. He loved me he said and would stick by me. This was at the beginning of October, and he was gone by New Year’s Eve. In fact, he stood me up for the new year. He wouldn’t answer his phone or his door. I never heard from him again. He never gave me a reason, but I know he was terrified of this disease.

That’s what this disease can do to people: it can isolate them, break up families and friends … all when you need them most. All I did was go to work and come home, afraid someone would find out … waiting to die … thinking I would never have a close relationship again. Who would want me? Who would take the chance my harsh inner judge would ask?

Almost a year later, early in December 2001, my sister Barbara received an email from Classmates.com. It was from Kathy, one of my best friends in high school who looking for me. Barb was registered with classmates; I was not.

I wrote to Kathy and I also went to check out classmates.com. Kathy’s letter made me curious. The first name I looked for was David Churchill. I still wondered what happened to that boy I met on vacation so long ago. Several years previously, when I was in Washington D.C. on a trip, I visited the Viet Nam War Memorial to see if David’s name was on it. Thank goodness it wasn’t.

David’s name, however, was listed at Classmates.com. I don’t know what possessed me, but I sent him an email that said, “I don’t know if you remember me… we dated for a while in High School and we met up north on vacation. I figured he was probably married (which was a good thing. I didn't want to tell him about the HIV). I thought we would play ‘catch up and our friendship eventually would reduce to sending Christmas cards every year.

The next morning an email was waiting for me at work and the first line read: “I’ve been looking for you all my life.” I didn’t know at the time but David was living in Johnston Iowa, working as an architect. And he had full custody of his two children (ages 9 and 11 at the time).

Here’s the thing: His mother had died that summer of 2001 and David had returned to Michigan to put most of her stuff in storage. But he brought back to Iowa a large old trunk filled with stuff his mother had saved from his childhood and teen years. In that trunk was a very large photo of me. He said he put it up on his wall and thought “where are you?” He went to classmates.com to try and look me up but he couldn’t remember my high school. So he said he went through every high school in Detroit but couldn’t find me. He said it took him hours. Of course, I wasn’t listed any way.

So in September, 2001 David listed his name at classmates.com for me to find …and I did a few months later in early December. What is even more amazing is that my friend Kathy died later that winter. She fell down the stairs. I am so grateful she and I were able to find each other. And I am grateful to Kathy that her email inspired me to check out classmates.com.

And it changed my life forever. Now, I don’t believe in any prearranged plans of the universe getting David and I together. But you must admit the string of events of David’s mother dieing in the summer of 2001; David picking THAT particular trunk to bring home amongst many; his finding my photo and putting it up on the wall and registering with Classmates. And then, three months later, Kathy writing to my sister, which made me curious to check out Classmates.com ...

... and the rest is history.

As it turns out David was single and very interested in re-meeting me. Remember, it had been about 36 years since we actually saw each other. We emailed for couple of days and it was apparent David wanted to come and visit. I was terrified to tell him about my HIV status. So I took the easy way out and used email to him telling him the whole story, and expected a short email saying 'NO THANK YOU.'

His words back to me were: “You are Not Your Disease” ….

The sweetest words I ever heard. We phoned back and forth…my first phone bill was about $300 and his was about the same … and we wrote to each other … a lot. The day after Christmas he found someone to watch his children and he drove to Michigan planning to spend a day … he stayed four. We have been together ever since. We dated for awhile long distance, which was very difficult. He was willing to look for a job in Michigan and was doing so.

But then in February 2002, I was downsized. Because of Chrysler cutbacks, BBDO had been downsizing for a few years and, up until then, I was untouched…absorbing other’s jobs as they left. But ‘they’ finally got to middle management and I was without a job but a nice severance pay and health insurance for a year.

I thought this was a ‘sign’ from 'who knows what' that I was meant to be with David. You see would never quit a job for a man I thought … also it was a sign to get out of the rat race, the fast lane, and told David I would sell my house in Royal Oak, Michigan and move to Iowa on two conditions:

1) that we lived in the country (on a dirt road) on as much acreage as we could afford; and 2) that we lived in a cruelty-free zone … meaning no animal products like meat/chicken fish etc. in the house. Alissa, his daughter wanted to become a vegetarian anyway and David was willing to try. Cory wasn’t so sure but said he would try.

So after over 17 years of being divorced...mostly living alone ...I never had children.. and was very set in my ways ...very independent … I closed on my house on Oct. 31 2002 and moved to Iowa. Talk about a leap of faith! In all honesty I think I ran away from Michigan: from the lies and stress of keeping HIV a secret. I thought I could have a fresh start.

David and I married on February 6, 2003 in a small ceremony at a chapel in Dallas Center. It was just David, me and his two children. It was difficult for me to learn to share a house … especially with soon-to-be teenagers and a very disorganized man. But through every crisis—and there were many—through financial difficulties, as living with HIV can be very expensive, even with insurance, we’ve made it through.

Living with others has shown me how to forgive and let things go … I never realized how much I held a grudge or wanted to manage others around! I am learning to let go of the black and white judgments I tend to make and see my family in grays … and in fact, all the colors they have to offer. This year has been the best since we’ve become a family… I believe we are truly a family after 4+ years of marriage.

Earlier on I said I know this is the perfect place for me at this time. I know this because since I’ve been in Iowa and since I’ve joined First Unitarian, I’ve learned to accept and live with my HIV. And talk about the coincidence of David and I finding each other on the internet. Listen to this:

About 2 years ago or so I decided we needed to find some kind of church to go to. Since we lived in a rural area it was hard for me to meet people … people who were open-minded and liberal, who didn’t care if I had HIV or didn’t believe in God. Was there such a place…especially in Iowa?

Well I found this church online and couldn’t believe what I read. To top it off, one of the quotes on the web site was Buddhist, from Quan Yin, who is the symbol of compassion for all living things. She cries for all the suffering in the world. I was hooked. David and I decided we would go to three services and then try the Unity Church for three services. At the second service here David whispered in my ear “do we have to go to that other church? I like it here. And we have been here ever since.

This is where more coincidences come in:

The first time talking to Lori Emison Clair, our membership co-ordinator, she mentioned that she used be a Social Worker working with people with HIV/Aids and, her husband Scott, worked at Iowa State doing research with men who had HIV/AIDS. What a co-incidence. I immediately felt comfortable telling her I had HIV. She was the first person to tell in Iowa besides my doctors. David’s kids, my mom, friends and other relatives still didn’t know. She and Scott hooked me up with the Aids Project of Central Iowa where I now sit on the Board of Directors.

But wait! The co-incidences get better. I met Xenda Lindel at the Aids Project, as she was working there at that time and she also is very active at this church. At the first Annual Board of Directors Xenda and I started talking and getting to know each other. She mentioned that she lived in Cheyenne Wyoming for a time. Well to back track a little, when I first was diagnosed with HIV I got on line and started to correspond with other people who had HIV. I met a man named Jeff Palmer who lived in Cheyenne and he founded an organization that helped people with HIV. He gave me so much support online and on the phone. He was a remarkable man.

He started with nothing and his grass roots organizing reached not only through out Wyoming but to Africa as well. He and his volunteers sent donated HIV drugs to small villages; they also set up a web site selling crafts made by the African Villagers to help raise money for food, shelter and their health care.

Jeff was remarkable for another reason: You see, for all the good works he was doing, for how selflessly he contributed to his community and to the world, he was also an X-drug addict, an X-bank robber, an X-con ... who was from NYC and, who was relocated to Wyoming by the Federal Protection program and, given a new name. How HIV changed his life … it helped open and soften his heart.

Before I had HIV, I would not have talked to him because of his background … my black and white perspective would have stopped me from meeting one of the most important men in my life. He is a hero of mine.

Getting back to Xenda and co-incidences. When she mentioned Cheyenne Wyoming, I mentioned I knew one person who lived in Cheyenne and told her the story of Jeff Palmer. Do you believe, Xenda not only knew Jeff but she dated him and loved him a few years back. She was with him when he was diagnosed with HIV; which he determined he had for many years, most likely since his NYC drug days. She never knew what happened to him so I filled her in. She was so proud of him and what he did with his life. Unfortunately, within six months of Xenda and I discovering each other, Jeff died of throat and brain cancer. She and I mourned him together.

You see, HIV and Aids make us more susceptible to cancers and other diseases. It seems to speed up the progress of any genetic predispositions in our bodies.

The coincidences get better!

About a year ago I became a volunteer for the Red Cross working with Bryce Sutter who coordinates the HIV/STD programs. He and I go to schools and educate the kids about STDs; primarily HIV. After Bryce heard my story about Kenya and the little clinic where I became infected; Bryce told me that he was in the Peace Corps a few years ago and he actually spent many months at that same clinic in the middle of nowhere. He was helping to educate the workers at the clinic about sterilizing their equipment so they would not spread disease.

What a small world! With all the ‘signs’ piling up … I think the universe is telling me that Iowa is the place for me. Iowa is home.

Back to the animals … it’s always back to the animals for me!

I believe the animals have taught me much. Taking care of numerous animals on our property has really opened my heart and taught me unconditional love. We have about 50 chickens (some of you enjoy their eggs) and roosters, numerous ducks, geese, guinnes and 6 goats, 4 sheep, a raccoon … the list goes on. Most of them were saved from a short cruel life. Most of my animals were saved from going to slaughter. But THEY don’t know that. They go about their life we’ve given them of relative freedom without a thought of it. They don’t know that they have the unusual chance to live in the sun, wander, eat bugs and grass … create their communities … live as they should. I’m just there to feed them. They don’t know I saved them. They are not grateful, they show no gratitude.

And somehow I feel privileged to give them this opportunity to even ‘have a life. But the main things about animals is that they live in the moment. They don’t stress about that past or look too far in the future. They don’t hold grudges.

They aren’t neurotic … well unless we make them neurotic. I’ve known many neurotic dogs. HIV taught me that too (not about neurotic dogs … but living in the moment.)

Living with a chronic, potentially fatal disease, has taught me that each moment is important. It’s sad that a fatal disease is the teacher … we should know this any way. But it is so easy to get caught up in day to day life, like I did with my career. It’s easy to get caught up with grudges and pains of the past. It's easy to keep blaming our parents for our most recent neurosis.

And we sometimes forget what we really believe in, what is really important. As Buddha said, “Take care of each moment, and you will take care of all time.”

Now my life is so fulfilling. Yes, sometimes I miss that jet set life. I miss the hustle and bustle of the ad agency. And I discovered my identity was so tied up with that. When people asked about myself, I said I was a 'Graphic Designer' or an 'Art Department Manager.' Even after I left BBDO … as if my career was all there was to me.

But now I am 'Diane Shelby Churchill. Yes I have HIV. Perhaps my fingernails are a little dirty too. But I am also learning to be a mom. And I’m an Aids activist, an animal rights activist, a justice worker, a hobby farmer, gardener, Buddhist, and now, a Unitarian. I am many things and still growing and learning. My heart gets deeper and wider every day.

I do miss the travel … miss the long vacations to weird and out-of-the way places and maybe some day I can take a BIG trip like that. But Instead of jet planes, I enjoy the flight of birds. I have the joy of watching my flowers and vegetables come up every year. I’ve learned to love the prairie and hear the coyotes. I experience joy in my favorite chicken Zookie when she jumps in my lap for a quick scratch of her head. I feel the joy and excitement of watching the animals run out the coop and barn each morning when I open the door.

I have a husband who is my rock. I have two beautiful children to watch begin their life adventure ... to find their dirt road of life.

Yes, I have learned so much: I’m learning to still that judgmental voice in my head and... forgive teenagers in general, forgive my parents. I've learned to forgive that man who stood me up New Years Eve because he couldn’t face me and HIV … and, yes, even those nuns… and especially myself.

And I’ve learned to accept what life throws at me: the good things and the challenges. I know I am a survivor. Perhaps getting HIV wasn’t so bad. It has taught me so much …I could have given up and waited to die or learn to live.

I chose life … and what a life it is.

Oh yes. And I don't feel the need to color my hair any more!

One of my favorite images is described in the book “Every Day Scared” by Sue Bender. It is that of a bowl … a begging bowl: She says, “Each day a monk goes out with is empty bowl in his hands. Whatever is placed in the bowl will be his nourishment for the day. My life … each morning … is like that bowl. Whatever is placed in that bowl is “enough” Like the month going out with the empty bowl, I set out to see what each day offers. Being empty is the beginning.

When I started to write this sermon I was hoping for BIG revelations … BIG stories and lessons to tell you…the BIG miracles of my life. What I found instead is the extreme importance of small things: how small things... can make every day sacred. Small miracles are all around us. We can find them everywhere—in our homes, in our daily activities, and hardest to see – in ourselves.

Most of us are like old begging bowl—uneven, cracked, imperfect. And our harsh judge keeps wishing we were perfect.

Our imperfections are a gift, the very qualities that make us unique. If we make the shift to see them that way – we can value ourselves, as the monks value their bowls – just as we are, which opens our hearts to value others with all their imperfections … to see their gray … their rainbows…

May you too find the small miracles of your life.