INFINITE SPACE | FLOWERS ARE BLOOMING IN ANTARCTICA
Infinite Space
E d i t o r ’ s N o t e
B y : K a m r y a n C o l l i s
The theme for the publication is “Flowers are Blooming in Antarctica,” while reviewing these pieces I have seen how each of our contributors used the theme to let the audience in on a different aspect of their life.
Though the theme was open to interpretation, when I first heard the idea, my brain immediately conjured up the idea literally. How strange would it be to see a flower blooming beautifully in Antarctica.
It reminds me of life in many ways. We as people and as believers we face challenges that seem insurmountable. However, we often surprise ourselves with how delightful life can be in all the places we thought we couldn’t take root. If that is what it means to bloom, then I’m sure you have seen it many times over. If you haven’t, may this issue enrich you in so many ways.
Through their vulnerability, the contributors exemplify what it means to bloom in every aspect of the word.
As you enjoy this year’s publication, I hope that you can learn more; not only about the contributors but more about how you bloom every day.
The Witness
As this volume of Infinite Space goes to print, I’ll be finishing up my eleventh year as Minister to High Point University. Where did those years go? Where did these wrinkles come from? Where is the wisdom that was supposed to come with it all?
When I started in higher education chaplaincy, leaving the local church, I met with a seasoned chaplain at another United Methodist school. I asked him, “If you could define your ministry in a word what would it be?” He paused just long enough to give his response emphasis. “A ministry of presence,” he said with great care. He said it as if offering me precious seeds to one living in a desert land. This advice, he seemed to be saying, is worth more than gold.
I, however, was dubious at what I understood as an over-simplified way of appreciating the importance of ministry. Presence? My mind ran wild all the things I needed TO DO: preaching, prayer, sacraments, interfaith dialogue and service, administration, coaching, the list of actions chaplains lead for institutions could go on and on. Where he saw gold, I saw dross.
I couldn’t fully appreciate what he was saying then. He and I were on opposite sides of the mountain. He was coming down one side, and I was coming up. I was seeing what it would take to get to the top. He was seeing what made the pilgrimage of life on that mountain sweet: hiking shoulder to shoulder with others.
Now, more than a decade later, I more deeply appreciate what he meant. If you are not present, none of the other initiatives matter. They will be the elusive labor of a dog chasing its tail. Lots of movement, elevated heart rate, maybe even fun for a moment, but fruitless in the end. Try preaching to people if your presence has not gained their trust? You get stares back. “Why should I trust you?” their eyes ask. We must learn to be with people, delight in people, see God’s spirit in them, if we want to witness God aid them to become who they are called to be. This is not dross. It is not even gold. It’s platinum. It’s the gift of seeing, really seeing another person.
This is the greatest gift of any chaplain, educator, and staff member on a college campus. It is not filling minds as if they were empty cups awaiting our wisdom. No. It is being a witness to their lives and the God of mercy who comes disguised as their lives. All of us get to accompany these students on this pilgrimage of education and maturation.
I see this eighth volume of Infinite Space as a rest-stop on that pilgrimage. A moment where these students, and this community, let us in on the pilgrimage of their lives. Their rising up. Their falling down. Their appreciation for the grace, the mercy, the steadfastness which goes before and beyond their effort. They witness God moving them. I get to –– you get to –– witness them witnessing God breaking into their lives in surprising ways.
They wrestle with God, too. In the Book of Genesis, Jacob wrestles with someone, something. Is it another person, God, an angel? The narrative is ambiguous as if saying, whatever it is, whoever it is, this is a holy moment, holy wrestling, in fact.
God, as day begins to break, says to Jacob, “Let me go.” Jacob replies, “Not until you bless me.” God does so, but not without two life altering changes. Jacob’s hip is pulled out of joint and God changes Jacob’s name. Jacob gets a blessing, a new name, and an injury all at once. Jacob receives a new identity, a more hopeful future, but not without being wounded.
These are the characteristics of holy moments in our lives: wounding and transformation pushed together in time. We are weathered by these lives we live. We walk along, we wrestle with God, and we are sure to receive wounds along the way.
A ministry of presence is to bear witness to the wounds, the weathering, and the new identities students receive along the way. I get to, along with my colleagues, witness students go from being Jacob to becoming Israel – one who wrestles with God and prevails.
And many times, I get to walk with them and say, “Look, here is God at work: in the wresting, in the weathering, in the wounding, in the wonder of it all, too. Do you see?”
You’ll see that, I pray, in this eighth volume of Infinite Space. Stories, poetry, essays, profiles, and photography that witness to God breaking into places where God has no business being. Circumstances that feel like a beast (i.e. Lillian Ellmore’s poem). Places that feel like barren land, frozen over (i.e. Kamryan Collis’s essay). And yet, God finds a way to breakthrough like flowers in Antartica (i.e. Finn Mulder’s poem). God breaks, not just into those places and circumstances, but into our very lives.
I pray you experience, even in part, the gift of being a witness to these precious lives that are becoming more what God calls them into.
Rev. Dr. Preston Davis
Vice President and Minister to the University
Hayworth
Chapel and Religious Life Office
April 2024
Weekly Blessings
by Preston Davis
Unexplainable Beauty
By: Cailee Fender
Even while covered in a pocket of rain
This place holds a beauty I cannot explain
The rain falls with a chill on my smiling face
But I still feel warm in this beautiful place.
When all I see are clouds in the sky
I know for a fact that I can get by
Because even in rain, I am still seen my Him
And I know my beauty comes from within.
“Dante” By Yue Cao
Interpretation of Dante’s divine Comedy depicting Dante guided by Virgil to the gates of Hell.
"Through me is the way into the woeful city ; through me is the way into eternal woe ; through me is the way among the lost people . Justice moved my lofty maker : the divine Power , the supreme Wisdom and the primal Love made me . Before me were no things created , unless eternal , and I eternal last. Leave every hope , ye who enter !”
-Dante Alighieri
Workman School of Dental Medicine
Ground Breaking Blessing
Proverbs 31:25: Wisdom [She] is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.
Another translation: She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she smiles on the future.
Today we smile on the future at this groundbreaking.
Gracious God, You are outpouring generosity, itself.
You are the one who delights in us, who smiles on us.
We follow suit today.
We give thanks for this day. And we give thanks for this very moment: Where we recognize the generosity of those who make today possible,
Who help us look on the future without fear.
Who help us look on the future… with a smile.
We give thanks for the Workman family who, like you, pour out generosity.
Pour out generosity:
Into the life of this University, Into the life of this school, Most importantly, into the lives of all the students who will pass through this place.
Those students, who in turn, will be equipped to give the gifts of strength and dignity… that is in a smile.
The strength of a smile to give confidence to the one who wears it,
The power of a smile to disarm conflict,
It’s the dignity of a smile that says, “you are welcome here.”
That is our desire for this day and for this school:
To extend your welcome, your hospitality, O God.
To extend your generosity into your world.
That those who come into this school… that they know they are welcome,
And that they will serve lives here and lives far from here.
That others might look on the future without fear.
That others might look on the future with a smile.
It’s in your holy name we pray. Amen.
Rev. Dr. Preston Davis Vice President and Minister to the University
There Is Hope
By: Benita VanWinkle
Kenneth F. Kahn School of Law Ground Breaking Blessing
Psalm 106:3: Blessed are they who observe justice, who do righteousness at all times!
Everlasting God, exalted yet near, It’s your spirit that moved across the waters and brought forth life. Your spirit that churned up the earth and brought forth creatures fragile but longing to make this world more like you meant it. We give thanks for that longing. Even more, we give thanks for your spirit. And we give thanks for this very moment:
Where we recognize the generosity of those who serve
High Point University with heart and hands. Where we recognize the Kahn family who mirror your generosity to pour into lives that pour into other lives. And where we can remember your calling on us. It is that calling, which is not so much to help students become smart, But to ennoble lives that they may be become wise.
That is our desire for this ground before us.
As you have done with earth so many times before. Make new creations here.
Let learning be cherished here. Let wisdom be rooted in lives here.
Let those who walk this ground hear the call of those who have come before us.
The call to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly.
So Gracious God, Bless the outpouring of dedication and generosity for this place. Bless this ground where those who learn the law use it toward noble ends. Bless the lives that will grow and serve here.
It’s in your holy name we pray. Amen.
Rev. Dr. Preston Davis Vice President and Minister to the University
“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
Hebrews 11:1
‘It
All Goes Back to God’
By Jeri Rowe
There are times in our lives when we just know. We feel it. We can’t explain it. But we feel it. We know what just happened to us was not some mere coincidence, some stroke of luck. We feel someone or some thing or some place was purposedly placed in our path for a reason we have yet to find out.
That’s happened to me. Maybe, to you as well. In our era of distraction, though, we’re often too busy to notice. We’re glued to our phones or distracted by the firehose of information that can drown us if we let it.
But if we’re mindful, remain aware of what’s around us and truly listen, we’ll discover moments that can strengthen our faith, anchor us in times of uncertainty, and give us a reason to believe in what is so unseen –– yet so there.
Yes, those moments do matter. Here are three.
**
Tamia Cofield called him Papa, and he was her everything.
He made sure the family’s to-do list and their fix-it list around their home was done. He worked for decades at Goodyear, and he cared about everyone before himself. He definitely cared about his granddaughter. They ended every conversation the saw one another the same way.
“I love you. I love you”
“I love you. I love you.”
When Tamia was 16, he had a stroke, and his life changed. So did her family. As her grandfather began his recovery, he had a message for his sharp granddaughter, then a junior at Penn-Griffin School of the Arts in High Point, North Carolina.
“The only doctors that were nice to me and cared about my progress were the physical therapists, and that’s where you need to be,” he told her, “That’s the spirit you have.”
Tamia took her grandfather’s advice. During her senior year at North Carolina A&T University, where she was pursuing in a degree in sports medicine and fitness management with a concentration in pre-physical therapy, she applied to seven PT programs.
She heard nothing except rejections and ‘You’re on our wait list.”
Soon, Tamia wondered if her grandfather was right.
She also always lived by the nine-word verse from Luke 12:48: “To whom much is given, much is required.” She has “Luke 12:48” tattooed on her upper right arm. But after what happened with her applications, she wondered if she was meant to do something else.
“What am I going to do after undergrad?” she began asking herself.
Then, on a Monday in March 2021, she was driving home from A&T, she got the call from HPU’s Department of Physical Therapy. She got in.
Right then, Tamia stopped the car at a mall beside a busy interstate near her home in Jamestown, North Carolina. She wanted to compose herself before telling her family. She also wanted to pray.
“I know I questioned You,” Tamia said, “but I thank You for requiring me to be patient.”
At that moment, she knew. PT school was supposed to happen. Just like Papa said.
Ahmaad Bastien couldn’t shake it when he walked in.
One of his mentors, a physical therapist in his hometown of Baltimore, told him he’d be a great fit for this opening as a rehabilitation technician at an in-patient neurology rehabilitation hospital. So, Ahmaad applied. As soon as he walked in, he felt it.
The walls.
The hallways.
The rooms.
He had been there before. But when?
In his mind, he time-traveled back to when he was 13 standing beside his maternal grandmother. She was the empathetic backbone, the matriarch of his family. She had immigrated from J amaica with her family in 1977 to Baltimore, and she brought with her three children to join her husband, Ahmaad’s grandfather. Ahmaad’s mom was 7.
Ahmaad knew her as Grandmother Carol. She lived with Ahmaad and his mom when he was growing up. Ahmaad’s grandfather was there, too. Grandmother Carol cooked and cleaned and just did everything around the house.
In 2011, she suffered a stroke. That summer, she saw her share of physical therapists. Ahmaad went to one of her appointments. Just one.
That one appointment inspired him to think about becoming a physical therapist.
During our time of uncertainty caused by COVID, Ahmaad remembered that feeling when he applied for a job at the University of Maryland Rehabilitation and Orthopedic Institute.
That was the very place he went with his grandmother when he was 13. Nearly a decade later, he returned there for an interview. He got the job.
Coincidence?
“Oh, this is God,” Ahmaad told himself then.
In 2019, Ahmaad graduated from Morgan State University with a degree in physical education. Today, Ahmaad is a graduate student at HPU, pursuing his doctorate in physical therapy. He expects to graduate next spring.
He ended up at HPU and received his white coat. It happened last year during a ceremony inside HPU’s Callicutt Auditorium. The ceremony symbolized the end of Ahmaad’s first year and the beginning of his professional career treating patients just like his grandmother.
During the ceremony, in front of professors he calls his mentors, Ahmaad slipped on his white coat with the help of his mom, Janice Stoddart. It was a big moment spawned from that other big moment in his life -standing beside his grandmother, at age 13, watching PTs work.
Ahmaad’s life had now come full circle. His epiphany during the pandemic, Ahmaad says, wasn’t by accident.
“That’s God,” he says today. “It all goes back to God. He has a purpose for me that’s bigger than me. I may not have all the answers now. But I will eventually.” **
In 2017, four days after graduating from Denison University with a degree in biology, Alexandria Nickles came east to a brand-new program with a talented faculty, a big vision, and no proven track record of graduate success.
“You are taking a chance on us, and we are taking a chance on you,” Dr. Eric Hegedus, the founding chair of HPU’s Department of Physical Therapy, told her during her interview. “And if we select you, we believe you can push us forward and make us better.”
Alexandria always wanted to be part of something bigger than herself that would define her purpose in life. She felt that energy inside HPU’s newest school. What solidified it for her was when she met Dr. Renee Hamel, an assistant professor of physical therapy.
Hamel talked about the neuro rehabilitation courses involving adults and children she teaches, and Alexandria felt this immediate bond. She couldn’t explain it. She just felt it. And right then, she knew.
“You are who I want to become,” Alexandria told Hamel.
Months later, though, Alexandria wrestled with what Hamel calls “life boot camp. ” It’s the academic crunch of PT school, an around-the-clock regimen full of long nights, lost days, many study sessions, and constant questions like, “Can I really do this?”
Alexandria asked that question to herself, and she wondered if she should stay or go. So, like she did often, she talked to Hamel about her concern.
“You belong here,” Hamel told her. “You have to keep going.”
Hamel reminded Alexandria of all the reasons she wants to become a physical therapist. That, she reminded Alexandria, had not disappeared.
“Just remember, anything is possible,” Hamel told her. “It just might look different than you want it to.”
Alexandria trusted Hamel. She was her academic advisor. Alexandria also trusted herself. That feeling she couldn’t explain when she first came to HPU hadn’t gone away.
So, she stayed. And look what happened.
Alexandria found her best friend, and she found her purpose. All thanks to Hamel.
Hamel introduced Alexandria to Kiersten Davis, a DPT student from Houston. At first, Alexandria thought they could never be friends. Davis was the silent student; Alexandria was the inquisitive student, constantly raising her hand and asking why.
Yet, at HPU, they became inseparable. They studied for every test, every assessment together, and helped each other pass their PT board exams to become a certified physical therapist who could practice anywhere in the United States.
Today, they talk once a month. But they both know they are only a call away and their bond, as Alexandria says, “continues to be stronger than the distance.”
“She is my person I know that whatever I need,” Alexandria says, “she will be there.”
As for purpose, Alexandria found it in and around a house made of cinder blocks more than 1,200 miles from campus.
Hamel encouraged Alexandria to apply for an outreach trip to the southwest corner of Jamaica. Alexandria did, and she and four other DPT students spent a week treating stroke victims and people with brain and spinal cord injuries.
That’s where Alexandria met a man in his 50s named Nordy.
He had suffered three strokes and lived in a cinder-block house with no windows, a tin roof, and a single light. Alexandria helped put in windows in Nordy’s house, with a circular saw in her hand. She also helped Nordy feel independent again.
Alexandria taught Nordy hand gestures to communicate, and gradually, he came out of his shell. He began participating and interacting instead of watching everything around him as a bystander.
By the end of the week, Alexandria had him dancing – with her. When they did, he gave her the biggest smile. He was moving. Alexandria was moving, too. In all the right ways.
Alexandria had learned how to navigate the academic rigors of PT school and handle the maelstrom of emotions that cropped up in the very last semester of her three years at HPU –– her father’s throat cancer diagnosis, her decision to return her engagement ring to her former fiancé and a global pandemic that eliminated her graduation and shut down the world.
She remained resilient through all of that with the help of Hamel.
“I had lost faith in what I was doing, and Renee brought me back, ” Alexandria says today, her voice shaking with emotion. “And being truthful, she did it by being herself and being willing to be vulnerable to her students with her own life experiences. She simply builds people up. She was one of those people who said, ‘My door is always open for you.’”
Tamia became Dr. Tamia Cofield when she graduated in April. Her dream: Specialize in pelvic health and run her own non-profit clinic for women and zero in on the need for a holistic approach to health.
Her grandfather, Jimmie Pickard, her Papa, was right there.
In January, Tamia will begin her residency at Atrium Health in Charlotte doing what she dreams of doing –– pelvic health.
Ahmaad will become Dr. Ahmaad Bastien when he graduates next spring. His dream: Inspire other young Black men to become a doctor and raise the national statistics that show less than 5 percent of all Black men and wear a white coat.
And Alexandria is now Dr. Alexandria Nickles.
She graduated in April 2020, part of DPT’s first cohort. S he was first a physical therapist in Minnesota at the Mayo Clinic, one of the nation’s top hospitals, and she treated patients with a high complexity of neurological conditions.
She’s now doing the same thing as a physical therapist in Los Angeles at the California Rehabilitation Institute, one of the nation’s top neurological recovery programs.
Ask Alexandria how it all happened, and she has an answer.
“I know I wouldn’t have made it without Renee, and I firmly believe God put her and all these other people in my path for a reason,” she says.
“I’m still trying to figure out what that reason is, but it’s funny what God places in your path.”
Alexandria calls them “sweet moments.” And they can change your life.
Think about all that for a second.
What if Tamia dismissed her grandfather’s advice?
Or what if Ahmaad didn’t accompany his grandmother to that one appointment?
Or what if Alexandria failed to follow Dr. Hamel’s charge: “You have to keep going.”
But that didn’t happen. And that made all the difference.
The evidence of things not seen. Sweet, indeed.
Ahmaad
Ahmaad with his Grandmother
Ahmaad with his Mom
Fighting the beast
By Lillian Ellmore
Living with a disability can give you some amazing opportunities but it also
Leaves you with things you'd rather forget and scars that are hard to cover up.
Pain doesn't discriminate It’s a beast without borders
Its breath fogs up your brain and its teeth rip your soul to shreds Leaving nothing but a skeleton.
Pain takes joy in your suffering
It comes and it makes your best times your worst times Drinking the tears that run down your face.
Pain takes joy in your suffering
Your screams and cries are music to its ears.
Watery eyes up to the sky “God are you there?” “Is anyone here?”
I know that people care but In the end only I feel this pain And only I fight the beast.
I know, no I hope
There is a light at the end of the tunnel
A place where I can be myself again.
The world keeps on turning and I keep on fighting
Until suddenly it's clawing at my conscience
Trying to scrape my soul with its claws
Not to kill my body but to kill what is left of my will
The beast rears back and for a moment I think I won.
My world stops and for a minute I'm allowed to just breathe. I can feel my heartbeat
Bum-bum-bum-bum
Everything goes silent
Until a claw tears at the final scraps of who I am He stalks away
Eventually someone comes along bandages me up and stops the bleeding
But my eyes, the windows into my soul Will show you what the beast left behind.
Pain doesn't discriminate
It’s a beast without borders
It's almost killed me multiple times but No matter how many times its breath and teeth enter my consciousness
No matter how many scars it gives me No matter how many times I have to fight it It will never win.
Lillian Ellmore is a junior from Lexington, Massachusetts, majoring in strategic communication with a minor in legal studies. Lillian, who has cerebral palsy, is a member of Hillel, and she’s also the vice president and co-education chair of the Advocacy for Disability and Accessibility Club, better known as the ADA Club on campus.
Revelations in the Parking Lot and on the Sidewalk
By: Benita VanWinkle
I find myself in parking lots or walking on sidewalks several times a day. With the seemingly endless stretch of grey ground covering, you might think there is not much to see. Same old parking lot, same path, same story. Or is it? It might depend on your perspective.
In the past few months, I have decided to focus on what I find in the parking lot or on the sidewalk to visually meditate on. As in, intentionally looking down or looking up as I walk, paying attention to the leaves, discarded materials, shapes, textures, and discarded or broken personal belongings I am stepping over or walking under.
These are the minor details of life left behind: a postcard, a ribbon, a child’s broken toy, a box of Q-tips, a sweep of flower pedals in a corner, a methodically formed hornet’s nest, a woven bird’s nest. Sometimes it is overwhelming to me what I find.
When I stop to look, and then of course, take a photo of whatever has caught my attention, other people look too. Curiosity gets the best of us, and how could it not?
A smattering of blue paint, button accidentally left behind, the light reflected in a puddle, a forum of birds in the trees. Then the conversation begins.
“I would have never seen that. Wow – that is beautiful! Did you just take that photo?” I love it when something ordinary is revealed to have significance, because it just seems that sometimes we just have to be reminded that there is beauty in everything, if we are willing to look.
Flowers are Blooming
By. Nido Qubein
Life is what you make it.
I believe in the art of the possible.
Looking for opportunities that may not be all that evident.
I believe that there re no such things as unrealistic dreams. There are only unrealistic timelines.
I treasure the discovery of serendipities. Wherever they may lie.
Flowers are always blooming, somewhere. We must search and seek and trust.
My life is a treasure of roads well-lit and friends I admire And I’m sure the best is yet to be
The past is a wonderful place to visit But it’s a lousy place to live
So onwards with faithful courage, Come all the good that may.
The Lotus-Born
By: Darius Cummings
It's clear to me how much of an oddity I am this semester every time I call home from the other side of the world. Yet, this experience has empowered me to grow stronger and become a more compassionate person in the process.
See, I feel I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to study abroad in Nepal for the spring semester of my junior year. The Buddhists of Nepal highly respect the motif of the lotus - a gorgeous flower which grows from an element associated with filth. Akin to flowers that grow in the inhospitable cold, the cultures of the icy Himalayas endow this flower with spiritual significance for growing in mud, even in harsh climates.
Traveling to Nepal is my first international experience. For a while, I felt as though I was sinking into a pit of mud from which I could not escape. The foods, infrastructure, local culture, and everything I had been accustomed to was tossed aside for something utterly unrecognizable.
In the streets, I attracted stares and snickers from locals. Even though I was the visitor, I felt like the tourist attraction As time moved on, I too moved on, away from wanting to dissolve this dichotomy
The commentary and questions on the streets now bring me joy. I love to share my uniqueness with others, just as I have learned to love the unique qualities of Nepal. The differences that once terrified me now feel energizing. In just two months, I can recognize growth within myself that I never knew to be possible. What once held weight over me has shed, and there is nothing obstructing my capacity to bloom
I have been reborn as the lotus, blooming in the gorgeous Himalayan springtime.
Darius Cummings is a Presidential Scholar from Hamden, Connecticut, majoring in sociology, anthropology, and philosophy
Beyond the Beauty Violet
Tetel
“Be a wildflower. Grow in all the places people never thought you could.” This year has been a year worth waiting for. I believe in waiting for what is right for you. Good things come to those who wait. I wanted to run away from my problems last year, but that was not an option. So, I waited for some time to pass for it to be the right time for me to escape. I was so ready for adventure, exploration, and growth to come into my life. After seeing how much my younger brother grew during his experience in Europe, I wanted that to happen to me. It was time for adjustment to happen and to make that revolution. Change brings growth, and growth brings change. I have seen the difference and growth bring happiness. Being a wildflower makes so much sense for me right now. Out of my friend group at college, I think I am one of the only students who decided to do something totally different for their Spring semester of their junior year. I wanted more of my friends to join me or at least be interested in traveling. But I was the trend setter, so hopefully there will be more fascinated attitudes. But I am glad to be the special one that ventures out of her comfort zone. I have always wanted to study abroad and see the world from another perspective.
I believe I have grown in ways that people thought I could not. There was doubt in my ability to learn a language with my learning disability and my pace in studying something new. Although growth takes time, I have seen such a difference in just seven weeks living and studying abroad. Growth is like metamorphosis, you start as a shy little caterpillar, then you transition into a brave and beautiful butterfly.
I am blossoming into the flowers that are blooming in Antarctica. Since the buds were not supposed to grow in such a temperate place, I was worried I was not able to grow in this new environment I am in. But I have surprised my surroundings and my peers. The students in my program and my closest friends have noticed the smallest of differences. I FaceTimed my friend from the Dominican Republic that I have kept in touch with consistently. He noticed that my Spanish speaking skills have improved tremendously. The first time I spoke to him, I would ask him to repeat what he said a couple of times. But now, I understand the content and subject he is talking about. I have gotten to know myself even deeper. I know more of my interests and my boundaries or limits. I benefit from having another person with me while traveling and on this journey with me. I have someone to relate to and reminisce with when I return to school. But I have also learned that I truly value my alone time. During that alone time, I would be able to process my adventures, thoughts, and emotions properly. I have found and fallen in love with a city that I knew nothing about before coming here. During my exploration of the city, I have discovered many new sites, towns, and restaurants to uncover.
Something I have noticed about myself while being many miles away from home is that I have been very much open to trying new foods, meeting new and diGerent people, and accepting customs or routines that are not like mine. I used to be a rigid, stubborn, and close-minded person with some people, but now I see certain situations from a new perspective. I have learned my lessons a different and more sensible way. I now appreciate what I must work on and all the change that will need to happen for a new lifestyle. To stay positive, you need to bloom, just like flowers do.
Life Lessons From Lillian
By: Jeri Rowe
I don’t see her at first. I just hear her.
“Whoo-ooo! Hey! Whooo-oo!”
I look up from my notepad and there she is –– sitting in her motorized wheelchair at the walkway railing, a step or two from the stairs inside Callicutt Auditorium at Condgon Hall of Health Sciences. Her service dog, a black Labrador, lays beside her. I watch. Almost every time a student walks onstage, she yells. She shoots her arms straight up and jiggles them back and forth and every which way like a tree branch in a strong breeze.
“Whoo-ooo! Hey! Whoo-ooo!”
Who is that? I’ll soon find out.
**
It’s a Friday afternoon in March, and Callicutt is packed with family, friends, and well-wishers of the 65 first-year doctoral students in HPU’s Department of Physical Therapy. It’s a big deal. Students choose someone special to help them slip into their white coat. It takes 10 seconds – if that. But students freeze forever that one moment in their minds because it symbolizes the beginning of their career.
It’s the DPT’s annual celebration where the word “coat’” becomes a verb and shows every first-year student that they made it through, and they couldn’t do it without a lot of help.
So, they ask their mother or father, sister or brother to coat them during a moment that culminates the end of a tough semester full of long nights, the lost days, the many study sessions, and the constant questions like, “Can I really do this?”
After the White Coat Ceremony, students can now answer, “Yes, I can.”
I come to grab details for a project I’m working on. I write and watch, write and watch. Yet, of anything I see during the ceremony, the image of the young woman cheering loud and proud from her a wheelchair sticks with me.
Afterward, I spot Dr. Kevin Ford, the dean of the Congdon School of Health Sciences. We talk, and I ask him about the exuberant young woman near the railing.
“Do you not know Lillian?” he asks. “You want to meet her?”
Immediately, Ford and I shoot toward the lobby, and we see Lillian sitting near the lobby’s DNA helix. She’s smiling big, so big laugh lines crease her cheeks and her eyes nearly wrinkle shut. She talks to everyone who stops by. That includes me.
Ford introduces us, and I take a knee beside the wheel of Lillian’s chair. My questions come.
I find out her service dog is named Fenway, and yes, Lillian tells me, she’s a longtime Red Sox fan.
She lives outside Boston, she’s a junior, majoring in strategic communication with a minor in legal studies. She wants to become a lawyer so she can advocate for people with disabilities on Capitol Hill.
People just like her.
A few days later, I find Lillian at a table inside the Starbucks at Cottrell Hall, and I ask her about the White Coat Ceremony. She comes every spring, and she never misses it.
“They care so much for me that I want to show the same care back,” Lillian tells me. “So, if I have to go to the White Coat and scream at the top of my diddly dang lungs, I’m going to do that.”
Diddly dang. I never heard those words before.
I laugh. Lillian, too. Her laugh is infectious, joyous. It rises from her diaphragm and shows off her top row of teeth and releases the wide smile I first saw inside the lobby of Congdon Hall.
Lillian fills me in on her busy life on campus –– member of Hillel, member of Sigma Sigma Sigma sorority, and a University Ambassador who gives walking tours to families of prospective students with disabilities.
She’s also the vice president and co-education chair of HPU’s Advocacy for Disability and Accessibility Club, known as the ADA Club, and she advocates for bigger bathrooms, bigger doorways, and better accessibility on campus.
The more she breaks down what she does on campus, the more I realize the life Lillian wants to live. She’s determined to be independent, to be on her own nearly 800 miles from her home. She simply wanted to go to college where it’s warm and away from the snow drifts of Massachusetts. So, she visited HPU. She knew right away it was the place for her.
“This is where I want to go!” she says to her mom, Kathleen. “I’m ED’ing here!”
Lillian and I trade stories about how much we both hate snow. Then, I circle back to the PT students, and her exuberance at the White Coat Ceremony.
“They’re my everything to me,” Lillian tells me. “I don’t think I tell them that enough.”
I ask about that and listen. Lillian, I realize, can teach us much.
**
Lillian lives with sharp pain coursing through her body at all hours of the day because of her cerebral palsy. She can’t walk. She can’t write all that well. It comes out looking like, as she says, “ancient Sanskrit.” She can only type. Meanwhile, she’s tired all the time because any activity takes her way longer to do and saps her energy.
She used to feel sorry for herself. She doesn’t anymore. She had what she calls her “Holy Schnitzel Moment” in middle school when she met a 9-year-old girl named Norah on the playground in their hometown of Lexington, Massachusetts.
Norah, who was battling a brain tumor, needed a service dog; Norah feared dogs; Lillian had an idea.
“We got a service dog,” Lillian told her mom. “We can help. I want to do this.”
Lillian brought in her own service dog, a blonde Labrador named Frontier. Lillian worked with Norah for weeks. Seven weeks in, Norah was holding the leash and telling Lillian, “I want to show my dad I can walk this dog.”
Lillian saw the impact in empowering others ––and empowering herself.
She threw out the first pitch at a Red Sox game at Fenway Park after team officials chose her to be the spokesperson to commemorate the centennial celebration of Fenway Park and the Girl Scouts.
Her selection earned her portrait on a billboard along the busy Massachusetts Turnpike in Boston.
In 2019, she won the national title of Miss Teen Amazing, a pageant that builds confidence and self-esteem for girls and women with disabilities. For her talent, she sang “Born This Way” by Lady Gaga. That’s her favorite song.
She’s spoken nationwide advocating for people with disabilities and for a nonprofit organization that provides service animals for those who need them.
She also paints. She writes, too. She creates what she calls “dark emo poetry.” Take her poem, “Fighting The Beast.” The beast is her cerebral palsy. She wrote it when she was 16. You’ll find it on page XXX. The last seven lines say everything about Lillian.
Pain doesn't discriminate
It’s a beast without borders
It's almost killed me multiple times but
No matter how many many times it's breath and teeth enter my consciousness
No matter how many scars it gives me
No matter how many times I have to fight it
It will never win
“I have seen what pain can do to people,” Lillian tells me. “It destroys people, and I refuse to be that person. There is so much I want to do and become the person I want to be, and I can’t take that pain away from me.
“But I wouldn’t be where I am in my life is it wasn’t for my disability, so I deal with the pain, take the lumps as they come and be positive. You can always find something positive. You just have to know where to look.”
Lillian exudes that attitude at HPU. And at the DPT’s White Coat Ceremony.
Lillian knows almost every doctoral student through their classes. She’s talked to them about what it’s like to have cerebral palsy so they can better understand how to help someone with a disability. She also knows them because at least 10 of them are her caregivers.
Lillian is their boss. She hires them, her parents pay them, and together, they become like family. The female DPT students help her with much. That includes managing her constant pain through massage and stretching exercises.
But for Lillian, it’s bigger than that.
“They are not only my arms and legs,” she says.
“They are my heart. They all have helped me come into my own as a person.”
Lillian has helped them, too.
**
Emily Lyman grew up in Brown Deer, Wisconsin, a small village outside Milwaukee. Two years ago, she graduated with a degree in exercise science from the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse and started HPU’s physical therapy program later that summer.
A few months after arriving on campus, one of her classmates told her about Lillian. Emily applied because she wants to become a PT specializing in neurology and helping patients like Lillian.
She met Lillian at her residence hall in her second-floor room with the sign, “Lillian and Fenway. Let’s Be Friends” on her dorm door. Lillian and Emily hit it off. Lillian hired her, and Emily began helping Lillian right before Thanksgiving that year.
“I see her like the little sister I never had,” Emily says today.
“I like to be there for her emotionally. S he has met my family and my sister at the White Coat Ceremony, and she fit in so well with them. She sat with them.”
Did she yell for you, too?
“Oh yeah,” Emily, laughing. “My mom coated me, and when she did, we both heard Lillian go, ‘Whoa! Go, Emily!’’’
And why does Lillian yell for almost every student?
“She wants to be there for everybody,” Emily says.
Karahgan Munday grew up in Granite Falls, North Carolina, a dime-size town in western North Carolina. Like Emily, she started HPU’s physical therapy program two years ago right after graduating from UNC-Wilmington with a degree in public health and a minor in biology.
Karahgan started helping Lillian last January.
A few months later, her grandmother came for the big first-year ceremony. Karahgan calls her grandmother Nana, and she came to help Karahgan into her white coat. When she did, they both heard Lillian, too.
“She has no social anxiety,” Karahgan says. “She wants her presence to be known. She wants to meet all the families. She met my family and Nana, my favorite person in the whole entire world.”
And what did your grandmother think of Lillian?
“She told me, ‘She’s really sweet girl,’” Karahgan responds, repeating what her grandmother said. “‘I’m glad you have this experience in school.’”
Karahgan is, too.
“It’s the level of selflessness she has,” says Karahgan of Lillian. “She’s told me, ‘I’m in pain all the time. So, it’s better for me to focus on the good and sharing in the good.’”
Like Karahgan, Emily sees Lillian’s penchant for goodness all the time, especially when they go to The Café in the Slane Student Center to eat.
“She’ll smile at someone and say, ‘You look really nice today’ or ‘That color looks great on you,’” mily says, “and when I ask her about it, she’ll tell me, ‘That might be the only time they hear something nice today.’”
**
After our hour-long conversation at Starbucks, I walk with Lillian and Fenway back to her residence hall. When I leave her, I can’t shake what she told me about the world we live in and what she wants to do.
“The world is a good place with good people, and I want the world to know that. ’m not sad or angry about my disability, and that’s really hard to get out of people’s heads. They’ll say to me, ‘Oh, your life is hard. You must be sad. I’m sorry.’
“Well, instead of saying, ‘I’m sorry,’ people need to change their perspective. People who suffer have something to give, and for me, it’s joy and laughter and helping others gain a greater understanding of people and the world around me. I have much to be thankful for.”
The other morning, I roll out of a local YMCA after spending almost an hour on a bike. I’m spent, soaked in sweat, when I look left and spot a quote scrawled across the white board near the front door.
“After the rain, the sun will reappear. There is life. After the pain, the joy will still be here.”
That’s from Walt Disney. After spending time with Lillian, I do believe she would say that, too.
Jeri Rowe is the senior writer at High Point University and the staff advisor for Infinite Space.
“SPRING” NOAH FRANKS
Stuck Between A Rock and A Hard Place
By: Carly Zimmermann
Warm beats down on my head
Cold rocks surround my body
Stretching is a struggle no one has felt before.
I cannot grow if the wind does not blow
Every passing minute feels like an eternity
My future is not looking fruitful.
Accompanying Blurb:
Earlier this month, I planned a worship night for a camp I will be a part of this summer. We were given the parable from Luke 8 named The Parable of the Sower and instructed to generate an activity related to this passage. I came up with the idea to scatter seeds in a rocky pile and use a spoon to get them out. The reality is that it would be hard to get the seeds in the cracks, but they will not be able to grow in rocky soil. This poem is from the point of view of one seedling that was left. This is a metaphor for my life reminding me that I cannot grow if I do not allow God to give me the proper soil to nourish that development.
Though I Dream...
by Erin Davenport
She loves to love while her heart is full,
But is discouraged often from fulfillment.
She would love to believe it will happen,
But she loses faith in practice.
She is often discouraged from fulfillment,
By the insecurities that lie within.
She loses her faith in practice,
She is resolved to continue to dream.
Despite her insecurities that lie within
She dreams of the man that will be her partner.
She is resolved to continue to dream
For she is romantic as the day is long.
She dreams of the man that will be her partner,
Patient, strong, masculine, and kind
For she is romantic as the day is long.
God will send him in his time,
Patient, strong, masculine, and kind.
She will feel safe and loved always.
God will send him in his time,
For now, she must work on herself
She will feel safe and loved always,
As they start their life together.
For now, she must work on herself,
So, she may be the best mother and wife.
As they start their life together
God will hold them fast.
So, she may be the best mother and wife,
She must look to Christ
God will hold them fast
She will continue to pray.
She must look to Christ.
For she loves to love while her heart is full.
Oh, But If I Knew You
by Erin Davenport
My Darling, my Sweet. Oh, I miss you so.
I’d wrap you in my embrace, if only you were here.
You would softly sigh and nuzzle my ear.
You would call me Dear; I would call you Beau.
I pray for your entry; I pray for your time.
I pray for you to find me, claim me, love me.
Cherish me, my Love and take me for all and God to see.
Low your rough voice to mix with the soft of mine.
Oh, but if I knew you, if I could be so lucky in love.
Yet you wander unwittingly, missing the rib you must seek.
Come to my arms, lover, mild but not meek.
Find me and fulfill the promise from above.
Realize these adolescent dreams of mine.
Bring me a lover sweet as summer clementines.
Ezekiel 36:26 Heart Of Stone
By: Erin Davenport
And clean, pristine-white.
The kernel of light he had Left for me, overtakes
My stony heart, And made me new.
I’m pulled to the surface
And the veil falls from o’er
My unseeing eyes
To a vision of loveliness and life.
Darkness parts to unveil a hand. This hand stretches to my obsidian heart, And reaches into my chest With great impetus. Sparks jump from His fingers, As magma begins to Pour fast and molten
From my ashy heart. Cracks leak lava
From the blackened rock
That encased the once living, And prospering muscle. From the fire and rock, comes Lilies and grasses. Soft, billowing green
My chest is home to a new ecosystem
Of fluttering birds, zipping bees and lazy flowers.
This new zest for life overwhelms and drives
Those dark chains from my person. He has always been here.
He has not let go.
He holds me with gentle hands.
He breathes new life to dead flesh.
The Blessing Of The Desert
Dedication for Roger Clodfelter Family at Caine Conservatory
The desert, in its barreness, is a banquet of spiritual riches. It’s in the desert that distractions decrease that silence may increase. Voices inside shrink, and to your delight, silence grows louder. It’s in the desert, with its outer simplicity, that we find inner freedom. Perhaps for these reasons, It’s in the desert jesus defeats the temptations of the evil one. It’s in the seeming nothingness of the desert that grace begins to flow within us once again and we mysteriously move from saying “God is nowhere” to saying “God is now here.” It’s in the solitude of the desert that we move from brokenness to being solid once more through Christ’s love. Perhaps most importantly, it’s in the desert that we find communion with God is not the end of the desert’s riches.
Yes, it is in dying to ourselves in the desert that we find the path to becoming solid, becoming whole with our maker and redeemer. But only so that we again learn to love our neighbor as Christ loves us. The sacred mystery of the desert tradition is, in retreating for a moment, we are turned back toward the great commandment: love of God and love of neighbor. It is in the solitude of the desert that we are given new eyes to be in solidarity with one another.
Roger, for the gifts you have given to High Point University, with heart and hands, with inspiration and perspiration, we give thanks for you and your family. And I pray that others come to love this sliver of desert, right here on our campus, baring your family’s name, that the peace of God that passes understanding may be visited upon them. And in walking in here, however briefly, they may walk back out into campus, classrooms, laboratories, conferences rooms, and locker rooms in a more whole and holy way. Grace and peace to you.
2024 ABC Christmas Eve Pastoral Prayer
Rev. Dr. Preston Davis, Vice President & Minister to the University
Gracious God, You are the Alpha and Omega, The Beginning and the End You are the God of all Creation. And yet, at Christmas,
The one who breathed into the dust and brought forth life, Now takes his first breaths.
The one who birthed the world is Now birthed into it.
The one who carries us eternally Comes close enough to be carried. Oh my God, at Christmas, You are not far off.
You are not aloof.
You are not philosophical to suffering in this world. No.
The God of creation comes close-close enough to be held, close enough to be a healer, and even cose enough, to be hurt by us.
The God of the heavens becomes human, and in so doing... shows us how to be human again. You are the God who is for us peculiar people People who are so insecure and commonly cruel. People who thought the only way to safety and security was by distance or dominance, People who desire to be free from dependency on anyone... lest we be called weak.
Yet, Here we are,
Face to face with a child who depends on a mother’s love...
This is the same child who knows of a deeper freedom. Same child who is Free to forgive.
Free to love us even when we are unlovable.
Free to love us peculiar people who know not what they do.
Oh God, you do not just astound us. You save us. You save us from ourselves. And So, on this Christmas Eve, Let heaven and nature sing of a new world breaking into this one. Let every person prpare him room in the inn of their hearts.
Let us, all of us, hold our candles high in the darkness of night, That they will illuminate what we need to see, What we need to remember: The same God who comes close to us is the same God who is with us And the Same God who is for us.
Oh God, you do not just astound us. You save us. You save us from ourselves.
And So, on this Christmas Eve, Let heaven and nature sing of a new world breaking into this one. Let every person prepare him room in the inn of their hearts.
Let us, all of us, hold our candles high in the darkness of night, That they will illuminate what we need to see, What we need to remember: The same God who comes close to us is the same God who is with us And is the Same God who is for us.
In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.
Isaiah’s Prophecy
By: Erin Davenport
You held me with your steady hand; I denied you for so long.
You filled me with light beyond compare; I denied you for so long.
You sat with me through many storms; I come to you after so long. Your voice tells me to follow, I come to you after so long.
You pulled me back from the precipice, I hold onto you after so long.
You silence the whirring in my brain, I hold onto you after so long.
You made the clouds and the cliffs, I glorify you forever more.
You bless my mother and my father, I glorify you forever more.
The Journey Through
By: Kamryan Collis
Sitting in Room 122 of Hayworth Chapel with eight other people, I was about to embark on a pilgrimage. This was no vacation. Instead, it was a trip where we would see the world through a purposeful and religious lens.
We went around the room introducing ourselves, each of us in search of something different.
Rev. Dr. Preston Davis suddenly chimed in.
“Have you all ever heard of the word coddiwomple?”
No one answered. He finished his thought.
“It means to travel with a purposeful manner to an unknown destination.”
Immediately, I recognized that this was what I had been doing for the past two months.
***
For Fall Break, advisers Davis and Rev. Dr. Christopher Franks led 12 High Point University students on an annual pilgrimage to Asheville, North Carolina.
The pilgrimage's purpose was to take a look at the world through a religious lens while also taking some time to give back to others.
It’s certainly a different way to spend a Fall Break, and it isn’t for the faint of heart.
The last time I had been to these mountains was New Year’s Eve earlier this year with my mom.
We both loved the crisp mountain air and the endless sea of hills and trees that made you feel like you’d made it home.
It was the kind of place that always made you consider, even if just for a second, the possibility of relocation.
Now nine months later, I now stood forever changed as I braved a new world without her.
She died on August 21 after a three-month struggle with Stage 4 kidney cancer. Looking out at the same sea of mountains and hills now with just a little less color, I was here to reclaim a memory and hopefully make some new ones.
***
On the second day of our trip, we ventured to downtown Asheville.
It was there found quaint cafes and local shops that have everything from healing crystals to handmade pottery. The rich historical city has cobblestone-lined sidewalks and streets filled with tourists and locals alike.
Though just beyond the city square, you can find a population that the city, at times, tries to ignore. The homeless population in Asheville is not something that can go unnoticed. On many corners, you can see a person sleeping on the ground, turning the city streets into their home. Local churches advertise the hours of operation for their soup kitchens, so people know where to find a free hot meal throughout the day. Many shelters and resource offices have lines outside their doors with some people waiting to get in and others just hanging around with nowhere else to go. This is the main reason we were in Asheville on our Fall Break; we came to see this side of life. While we got to wake up every morning to our picturesque views of hills and watch the sun rise and set Every day, homeless people a few miles away from us had to think about which area of the city they would rest their head. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I too felt displaced with nowhere to go. Just two weeks before, I had to pack up my own home with all of my memories and beautiful moments I had with my mom. All of it reduced to a few boxes and a ton of trash bags. Though I couldn’t fully relate to what it must be like living on the street, I certainly knew what it felt like to not know where your next step would take you.
***
On our third day in town, we served at Haywood Street Congregation. It’s more than a shelter and more than a soup kitchen. Here their mantra, according to their website, is “Holy Chaos. Abundant Grace. Welcome Table.”
They serve people restaurant-style with menus listing the different options they can select.
At Haywood Street, the guests are never told, “No.” They receive as much food as they wish. The volunteers are called companions, and they serve the guests to give them back a sense of normalcy. Take Mrs. Mary.
That’s how she introduced herself to me.
She’s one of the companions, and helped her with the flower arrangements that would adorn the center of every table.
Back and forth, we hauled the dozen or so boxes from the parking lot into the second dining room. The sea foam green walls seamlessly matched the flowers in the room.
Mrs. Mary explained how every week they get donations of flowers from Trader Joe’s.
“Sometimes we get just enough to cover the two dining rooms,” said Mrs. Mary of the flowers they receive.
“And other times we have more than we know what to do with.”
Standing over the sink with pink carnations in one hand and a pair of gardening shears in the other, I made flower arrangements for each table. It’s simple in practice, but that small act added just a little more color to their day. I was happy to be a part of that.
The rest of my day was spent floating around the space in solemn silence, sweeping the hallways and wiping down tables.
All in preparation for the following day where we would serve what felt like never-ending plates of food to anyone from anywhere who needed a hot meal.
***
As we left for the day, we prepared ourselves mentally for our ‘walk of awareness.’
We would be led on a different kind of tour of downtown Asheville. A tour through the eyes of a homeless person in the area. Our tour guide Laura, who works with Carolina Cross Connection and providesresources to homeless people in the area, showed us the reality for homeless people in Asheville.
As the two-hour walking tour came to an end, a man approached the group.
Looking disheveled with tears in his eyes, it was evident that he was right then at a low point.
He told us how he didn’t have anywhere to stay for the next three months and how he didn’t want to sleep outside in the cold.
Begging for help, his story brought tears to the eyes of many students in the group.
But there was nothing we could do for him.
The bus ride back to our rental house was a quiet one as we all processed everything, we saw that day. That night, sitting in a circle by the fire, watching it crackle and feeling its warmth, we debriefed over the day.
The story from the man at the end of our tour hung heavy on our hearts, because what he told us its mark on every one of us.
The conversation was thick as we spoke about changes we wanted to make and the feelings we had about the day. No one really knew what to do, but all of us knew something needed to be done.
***
The next day would be our last day at Haywood Street.
Getting there around mid-morning, we were all immediately put to work. I took a job waiting tables. I was given an apron, a pen and a notepad to put in orders.
The buzz in the air unsettled me at first as I introduced myself to my tables and began taking orders. However, as I got settled into the groove, I was zipping around tables just like everyone else.
My favorite table by far was this quiet table I had in the back, where I met an older man named John. He wore worn jeans and a power blue button-up shirt, and he reviewed the menu as he leaned back against his chair. At first, he didn’t acknowledge me when I greeted him and only looked up to hand me back the menu. “I’ll have a main plate,” said John. Moments later, I returned with his food, and he looked up and smiled. “Thank you,” he said.
Throughout the course of the day, John continued to call me over and order more and more food. He would take a bite of things here and there and then ask for something else.
When I went back and checked on him again to see if he wanted anything else, he looked up at me and smiled sweetly. “Bless you,” he said.
John thanked me for being patient with him all day and asked that me and a classmate of mine pray for him.
Both of us placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. The prayer brought John to tears. This was abundant grace.
***
After lunch, everyone gathered in Haywood Street’s chapel, in the building, the room was filled with dark- stained wooden pews.
Nearly every seat was full as we all faced the mural that resided at the head of the room. Merged high on the sanctuary wall, the mural who have passed though those doors.
Each face painted on the wall depicted a real person with a real story.
The service was as unconventional as every person in that room.
We sat as the floor was opened for anyone to come up and share a talent or message, they had. One man came up and recited a speech he wrote about his faith.
Moments later, a woman went up and performed a cappella “Take Me To The King” by Tamala Mann.
I was sitting in a room full of pews praying in a place full of people who could still smile and experience joy in their lives despite their circumstances. That put my life into perspective for me. I went on this trip expecting to help others.
But I never would have imagined that they would help heal something in me.
Haywood Street is special because it’s a place to go where people will meet you where you are. They will never turn you away, only offer you a seat at their open table.
It was there that I learned that just because you feel lost doesn’t mean you won’t end up where you’re supposed to be.
Tiger Lillies in Hell
By: Finn Mulder
Once I was born, God began to die Ripped away from the vortex of time Bit by Bit. I think they hate me for that Well That’s not true Cause God loves e v e r y o n e
So, God lovehates me
Because They’re dying
And it’s a l l MY FAULT.
(Oops)
Well, It’s not all MY FAULT. It’s really All genderqueer people’s fault Cause God just can’t exist in a dimension without a gender binary. Soyup.
My existence
Is an attack on religion.
Oh joy.
but-
If my existence is an attack on religion
Why doesn’t God smite me where I stand?
Why don’t They hurl lightning strikes down at me or crush me under an avalanche or give me cancer or do something, anything. or maybe They’re biding their time to make me
HELL.
Do you think hell has refreshments?
I’m just very bad at staying hydrated
And do you think I would be able to properly witness my torture if I’m hallucinating from lack of water?
But-
y’know…
If God does love e v e r y o n e
…would there really be torture in the pits of hell?
I don’t know….
I don’t know…..
You don’t know.
Me don’t know, he don’t know, they don’t know she don’t know, we don’t know.
I wish we knew.
Butwe don’t.
Do you think God loves me?
I mean,
Do you think God actually loves me?
Not that
“Jesus loves me, yes I know for the Bible tells me so” crap
Like, do you think They like,
Sometimes, sometimes,
I think They do.
The other day-
It was not the other day- it was several months ago-
I got stopped on the highway.
We were on a pilgrimage
And we got stopped on the three hour ride to Asheville, making it a six hour ride
And where we got stopped, on the side of the road was tiger lilies.
Tiger lilies
are my favorite flower
They are pretty rare
Since a lot of people have a personal vendetta against the color orange. But there they were, a whole grove of them.
I don’t know- I might just be silly but- I thought of them as a
