Bonniebax Creates

[from September 2021] I have re-written this post a few times, and I still hesitate a bit. I am a lot more talk than I am action on this topic, and I'm uncomfortable with my current balance in that. However, I come here with the following questions.  What does it look like to show compassion to people in the margins?  Does everyone deserve compassion, even if they made choices that help lead them to their misfortune? Do I personally need to help people I don't agree with? Or who I don't even know? Or who I believe are threatening my freedom or my country? Is compassion wasted if they never come to my church?  Have you ever felt on the border in this society we live in? Have you felt like you didn't really belong with the others around you in the mainstream?  Or maybe even more extreme, like you were barely hanging on and were desperate for someone to help you? Or maybe you face daily the preconceived notions people have about you based on your race, your gender, your...

A love letter to my Aunt. I usually talk about the people around you - the ways I learned from their creative compassion, persevering endurance and stubborn self-sacrifice.  But I sometimes forget to mention how much I’ve learned from you! The loneliest ones found a home in your arms, on your lap, in your smiling eyes and gentle touch. The foster girls, the ones that felt different than others, the sad ones. You were a safe and faithful friend. Busy hands can help keep a person’s spirits up - peeling potatoes, snapping beans, knitting, writing, puzzles, and the list goes on.  You gave so many people the gift of belonging, by remembering people with a smile of recognition, as well as often knowing their birthdate and their name. You built connections from the least to the greatest.  You belong too. Everywhere. You belong at church. You belong at picnics. You belong on trips. You belong in the family pictures. You belong in the joke. You belong in the conversation. Even whe...

The most hurt I've seen on my child's face happened up on stage at a church program, where he had memorized one less Bible verse than was needed for the prize that all the other kids received. He had worked so hard and attended each week with joy and dedication, trusting the Christian leaders to guide him. And as his shoulders sagged and his eyes filled with tears at his sense of failure, my heart sank. Because I knew he didn't just miss out on the prize and the recognition, he also realized that he wasn't as valuable to God as the other kids. And my heart shouted a big NO. Of course we have had nothing to do with that program since. It was a turning point for me. I was a smart kid growing up, not always smart socially, but smart in school. In some ways it was good for my confidence, but in other ways, it built a false confidence in me. Striving for perfection became a fun challenge and without even realizing it, I began to frame many things in my life in terms of perfe...

I remember the first time I heard the Patriarchy mentioned in a derogatory way, and it wasn't long ago. Some of the writers in this arena have been talking about this for years, but it wasn't the right timing for me I guess. I did a Bible study many years ago about the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac and Jacob), and that's about all I knew about the patriarchy.  When I was growing up, my dad and his three brothers with their families all lived for a while in the same vicinity as our grandparents. We all went to church together - and church for us was a full day event. The moms brought potluck and we played baseball or red rover in the field next door before coming in to afternoon church and then heading home for supper. My dad and my uncles all preached, as well as any other man in the church, whether they had any gifts of speaking or reading the Bible or not. The pre-teen and teen boys could pass the collection or offering plate and could also 'lead singing' by standing...