Sorry To Rainbow On Your Parade (A Pastor Sets The Record “Straight” On The Gay Agenda)

Susan Koefod:

Oh no! They want to shop and eat and have families. My gosh, what next?

Originally posted on john pavlovitz:

Brace yourselves and gird your loins, true believers; I have some earth-shattering news.

I’ve long heard rumors of the homosexual community’s insidious master plan to contaminate and corrupt our sweet straight setup here, and one way or another, I decided I’d get to the bottom of it, once and for all.

As you may or may not know, I’ve been a pastor in the local church for the past 18 years; listening, counseling, observing. I’ve served at house churches and mega churches; at ones with pipe organs and ones with Marshall stacks; ones with wooden pews and ones with free WiFi. This vast and lengthy resume has given me unprecedented behind-the-scenes access to the hidden lives of tens of thousands of unsuspecting families. During that time, I’ve done some covert reconnaissance on our behalf, and the raw, naked truth I’ve uncovered? Well, it’s a game-changer, to say the least.

My friends, sadly I’m afraid that the horror…

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Gardens Under Glass


43971923_fabe4c4ee5_zThe photo was taken almost ten years ago when my oldest son was first in Helsinki, and I thought of it this morning as I practiced meditative breathing exercises.

The beautiful flower bloomed inside the Helsinki Winter Garden, which is a place much like Saint Paul’s Como Park Conservatory: both transparent glass skins held together by metal bones, both housing carefully gardened ecosystems of  tropical plants and koi ponds.

There is nothing more restorative than a visit to one in winter.

You step inside such a place and, if you wear glasses, they are immediately fogged up, you become overheated but don’t really care, and the vibrant perfume of growing things saturates you in a healing way.

So it was the perfect day to visit the St. Paul Conservatory–especially now that we are in the thick of winter, experiencing one of the coldest days of the year. I needed the restoration it offered. I could imagine that many similar visits are being made these winter days in Helsinki – which can be even colder, and even darker than winter is in St. Paul

The Conservatory was the perfect place to practice my breathing exercises, by which I mean meditation –

Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in,

Breathing out, I know I am breathing out.

Nowhere are you more aware of the breath than when you are in such a place, so damp with the thick, wet breath of green things exhaling and inhaling.

As I walked through, occasionally pausing to sit and breathe–I thought how conservatories are much like our own bodies–fragile and resilient–in need of care in order to be remain balanced and vibrant. Beautiful.

I glimpsed a half-dozen gardeners working behind the scenes in staff-only greenhouses. Others stood watchfully in the bonsai room and elsewhere, making sure visitors kept a safe distance from the rarest plants.


Now I am thinking of myself as both a winter garden and its gardener: I inhale and exhale calmly, protecting and maintaining the beauty within my fragile crystal skin and strong metal bones.

Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in,

Breathing out, I know I am breathing out.

Goodbye Facebook

Botón_Me_gusta.svgThe causalities are piling up: Facebook exits by several friends, some just as the New Year began (resolutions?), others over the past several months.

One was driven away on his significant other’s insistence, another out of some unexplained need to take a break for the year. Yet another left, claiming she was being stalked and her departure was at the insistence of legal authorities for her own protection.

Another friend comes and goes all the time, claiming the need to purge from the negativity showing up in her stream.

I joined Facebook as a writing career move, prodded by an agent to establish my social platform. Naturally, many of my online friends are other writers, doing the same. Now I’m having doubts too, and I know that others have long had the same. What I have to say here is nothing new, but I’ll say it anyway.

I do what all my writer friends are doing – posting links to my blog, reading updates, publishing updates, – you know – marketing myself. This is the dark side of being creative. The very antithesis of it. But part of being artist is performing your work (i.e., getting published, presenting readings), and marketing yourself is an entree to both of those ends.

Yet the creative urge is fed by lots of time alone with the work. And not all the time you spend talking about your work.

The flipside is that I am on the receiving end of all of my writer friends’ marketing efforts, and along with my happiness for them when they succeed there always comes a stab in my belly that I’m not keeping up, that I should be doing more, that I’m not getting published enough, that I’m not winning enough awards, getting the important reviews, etc, etc, etc.

And that’s just the thing.

Affirmation (in the form of a Facebook like or number of views) creates the need for more – it’s a vicious cycle –there is not enough affirmation (Facebook liking) in the world, for anyone to ever feel validated. Loved.

You can’t get true affirmation from an impersonal system masquerading as a community that is really trying to pitch ads at you and make money for a Faceless corporation.

I wish I could be one of those people who just posts and moves on, invested with a power ego that doesn’t care if people like or hate what they say. To be honest, that was my goal when I naively joined up. That I could be the real person that I am, express my real opinions, and be better for it.

But I’m neither being real, honest, or feeling better for it.

Writer Sherry Turkle says, Facebook is the place “where you show your best self. It’s a place for good news, not the place where you talk about your most vulnerable self.”

And it’s true: Susan – the public persona as seen on Facebook is nowhere close to the real person that I am. The Facebook Susan is a curated façade, intended to help market me as a writer and, I admit, to share my other personal successes for your stamp of approval.


Again, this is not a new thought, just a realization of how artificial this community can be.


As much as I love to see my friends and family’s adorable baby and pet photos, as much as I do cherish new friends I’ve made only because of striking up a Facebook friendship, as much as I love to keep in touch with friends, old and new, I’m finding it harder and harder to give a thumbs up to the Facebook experience these days.

And I know I’m not alone. So there’s community in that, right?

Hello 2015

You lie asleep,

deep in dreams,

deaf to all our

whispered wishes that

somehow you –

the fresh babe of the New Year —

will deliver all we have been denied,

resolve all our sorrows

in the coming tomorrows.


We’ve tasked you with

rectifying bad habits,

sad outlooks,

bettering our butts,

improving our paychecks,

forgetting lifetimes of regret—

in short: affirmation, dammit

that we all deserve, right?


It’s a lot to ask

of a one-day old,

slumbering peacefully

in the dark.


We all kiss you at


drunk in

your new baby smell

shouting you be

Happy New Year,

by which we mean that

you will do everything,

little one,

to make us happy,

finally happy.


Kneaded at Solstice, More Bread, More Poetry


It’s solstice day once again, but with two twists, as it were. Twist #1: the personal challenges are up this year, and several traditions, among them baking bread, may be off the plate. I don’t know yet. However, on schedule for this afternoon is another “kneaded” activity — a massage. I’m thinking this will help slow things down for today, enough for me to consider kneading it forward with a fresh batch of cardamom bread, and therefore I will legitimize this annual post.

Twist #2: I learned, through DNA testing, that I have Finnish genes, further legitimizing my annual activity. Doubly necessary to get it done. Here’s the post:

Time to post my winter solstice poem about my annual solstice day activity: baking Finnish pulla (cardamom) bread. In year’s past, I’d been troubled my a non-working recipe and I thought long and hard about giving her a go this year. I was saved by last year’s post on this topic, which reminded me I’d found a working recipe! So – I will do it and update last year’s photo (at right) if everything works out.* Still – there’s always the poetry, right? Here it is:


I reach for the spice jar
and pour out a dozen cardamom pods to grind
down to a scented jumble.

I fold in the flour, then knead, raise and braid my bread, 
sprinkling an ornament of sugar and almonds on the twisted loaves. 
The musky ginger lingers on my warm hands; 
sweet yeasty secrets are released by the heat of my stove.

Outside, everything lies encased in frozen pods, in ice, 
waiting quietly for the other solstice to crack open 
the living powder the world is made of:
my own powder — could I as easily know? I 
put away my mortar and pestle. 

The long night arrives at the season’s juncture 
and the full spectrum shines elsewhere, 
I turn away and snap off the yard light, 
leaving buried, dark and cold,
the wind-junked souvenirs of December. 

*Correct chemistry & recipe – sorry this isn’t much of a baking blog, but I thought I’d post this anyway.

1.5 c milk
.5 c sugar
.5 c butter
1t salt
2pkgs yeast
.5 c warm water
6-7 c all purpose flour
1t cardamom
1 large egg

for glazing – additional egg, 1T water, and slivered almonds – .5 c

heat milk, sugar, butter and salt in med sauce pan – butter doesn’t have to melt. cool to 115 degrees and pour in mixer bowl. sprinkle yeast over warm water in small bowl and let stand for 5 mins or until yeast dissolved. Add yeast to milk mixture and add 3 c flour and cardamom. beat med speed for 3 mins. beat in egg. By hand, stir in 3 to 4 c flour or enough to make soft dough. Kneed by hand 8 to 10 mins. Note: I’ve used the mixer for this in the past but mixer tends to over mix.

Let rise in greased bowl, covered loosely, for an hour until doubled. Punch down and place on floured surface. Cut in half and divide each half into thirds. Stretch each third into 15inch ropes and braid three together for each of the two loaves. Loaves should be approx 10 inches. Let rise for another 30 mins.

Brush with a mixture of beaten egg and 1 T water. Sprinkle w/sugar and sliced almonds. Bake at 375 for 35 to 45 mins – internal temp to read 185 degrees or higher. Cool 30 mins then enjoy!

*The 2013 batch turned out fine, but we were eating it before I had a chance to take a photo!