Sometimes, Quiet is Violent

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“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Sometimes, quiet is violent.” – twenty one pilots

So, here’s the thing: A few weeks ago, a Black friend of mine called me an ally. I’ve come to understand that’s an earned title, and I intend to keep it—which means I need to say some things. As shaky as my hands are… as nervous as my belly is… as swirly as my head is… I need to say some things. 

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Things I Thought I Might’ve Done By Now

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As many of you are (painfully) aware, I’ve recently become an Empty Nester. Along with the expected emotional upheaval (I miss my kids a whole, whole lot), I’m working through some other garbage. Namely, I’ve reached the rather painful conclusion that my life is half over, and (aside from rearing two dynamite young people) I haven’t done a damn thing with it.

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I Need to Talk to You About My Car

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All right, here’s the deal: I drive an Audi TT convertible.

Given that I’m sort of a loudmouth about poverty and privilege and materialism and minimalism, that may seem a little hypocritical. So before you go all TMZ on me and hire someone with a drone to scope out my (non-existent) multi-million-dollar ranch, I want you to know something about my mid-life-crisis-mobile: Jack talked me into it.

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Turn, Turn, Turn

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It’s August 1, 2016. Otherwise known as the first day of the month in which I become an Empty Nester.

A couple of weeks ago, an older couple came into the shop where I volunteer. (They were actually about my age, but whatever, okay? Just whatever.) As I was ringing up their cranberry orange cinnamon rolls, we began small-talking about kids, and when I mentioned that my youngest is heading off to college in the fall, they were all, “You’re going to be an empty nester! You’re going to looooooooove it.”

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Area of Refuge

Area of Refuge

Hi. It’s Kelley. It’s been more than two months since my last confession post.

The last few weeks, I’ve been wholly self-absorbed. My youngest squirrel graduated from high school. We sold one house and bought another (much smaller) one. We discovered none of our furniture would fit in the new place, so we spent hours shopping for a bunch of new stuff (which is not nearly as fun as it sounds) (first-world problems).

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Queer

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estimated read time: 3 minutes

I brag about my kids on Facebook.

Over the past several weeks, I’ve posted many, many times about my high school senior, Bekah. Yesterday, in my ongoing attempt to dispel my kids’ assertion that I have a favorite child, I posted about my college sophomore, Emily. I mentioned how smart she is. I mentioned how much she’s learning and, consequently, teaching me. I mentioned that she’s a queer woman.

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