I guess you’ve noticed a change, huh? So have I. A bunch of changes. To the point that the archives of this blog feel like history rather than recent past.

I believe in the value of history, so what I won’t do is delete this blog or its contents and start over. But I’m no longer the Cass who started it or the Woderose who jumped in there. When both your mundane and SCAdian names have changed, maybe you have to look at yourself differently.

don’t know why
i held onto something
that’s been broken for so long

There’s a disconnect in my head about who this blog is really about. Is it about the person I’m healing into? What parts of it are relevant? What do I want you to see? What do I want to look back on, when I reread it? Would I blog more often if I weren’t laden with so much past? What about that past bears exploring?

There’s also a disconnect between what I want to read and what’s being written. Maybe I’m a terrible Googler, but I can’t find very many everyday-life blogs by liberal Christians. There’s lots of “This is the issue today and we must dissect it” out there! And I’m sure that has its place! But where are the women who don’t write sermons? Where are the women who just want to talk about how we navigate the boring bits? Or the broken bits? Where are the women who don’t have book deals?

(I mean, I could probably make something coherent out of the last nine years of writing, but the memoir market’s a little flooded and anyway my first love is fiction.)

I don’t want my personal blogosphere to be an onslaught of Very Special Episodes. That’s what Twitter is for. So I guess if I want to read it, I have to write it. Yes, a VSE now and then, but more than that. A reminder that a candle is lit, not only to show God I’m here but to show you that you are not alone in your daily everything. Coming soon to a platform near you.

Until then, maybe time to contemplate this space and what it was for me. What it became. What it is now and what I will take with me. And to draw a line here, underneath who I was before this year of renewal. Selah. “Pause, and think of that.”

try to fit in where I don’t belong

This morning I am… angry? Because of a silly dream.

In the dream I stayed much closer, throughout my adolescence and adulthood, to a woman who in reality was fond of me in a way I never understood. Tough love? Suburban values love? She didn’t understand me either, so fair was fair, but somehow in this dream we were perfectly suited. She would, in other words, have been the ideal mother-in-law. And that’s what my dream self wanted her to be. My mother-in-law. Continue reading

the old main drag

When I was fifteen I complained that I’d missed the revolution, never once dreaming that God was saving me for something bigger than just George W. Bush. Never knowing that there could be bigger in this country to fight.

A lifetime later, on election night in 2016, we children who grew up in the shadow of 9/11 saw what we had to face. Our work.

But when you grow up, the way you go about your work changes. The fire of idealism is tempered by the realities you face. My classmates are now in the married-with-children demographic; I am something of an exception, and even I intend to apply to foster children when the time is right. Do you know how this will be my work? I will take the ones who have the problems I wished I could solve when I was a girl. The ones who find themselves unexpectedly pregnant and need someone who will support all the choices. The ones who are LGBTQ+. Tweens and up, the hard placements.

In order to get there, I have to keep my nose clean and become employable.

Continue reading