Sarahbeth Caplin's Blog, page 49

Weekly #BeWow challenge: my best writing friends live in my laptop

Next for #BeWow Wednesday, a weekly blogshare of positive posts, I’m thinking about my best accomplishments since my first book was published. I’d love to say I’ve been on a best-seller’s list since the first edition in 2012, but reality demands I set my sights on smaller goals.

Really, though, I always tell people what a mistake it is to write solely for money. If that’s what you’re after, I’d suggest ghost-writing for a celebrity (as long as you’re okay with not getting any credit). When it comes down to it, what I’m most grateful for in my publishing journey are the relationships I’ve made along the way. If money was my only goal, I’d be sorely disappointed.

Through writing (and Twitter, blogging, Google-plusing) I’ve made friends here in Colorado and as far away as the UK and Australia. I don’t know if I’m ever going to meet half of these people in real life, but I did meet one Colorado writing friend after emailing and texting for several months. It was at a Halloween party, of all things, for which my husband and I were dressed as Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. He kept asking me during the three-hour drive, “So you mean you’ve never met this person before? Are you sure she’s not a serial killer?”

Needless to say, she was not a serial killer, and we hit it off at the party like we’d been friends for years, which was so incredible (disclaimer: I wouldn’t advise meeting online friends for the first time in their homes – I only did so that time because we happened to have a mutual friend. I typically meet online friends for the first time in public places, like coffee shops, and I never get into strangers’ cars – just throwing that out there. The friend who officiated at my wedding is someone I met through blogging, so the internet really is a valuable source for meaningful relationships!).

Many newbie writers think the best way to sell books is to keep slamming people with buy links on every social media platform in existence, and I used to be one of those people. I only stopped when I realized how damn annoying it was when other writers did it to me. You get a direct message from somebody on Twitter and think, “Oooh! A message just for me!” only to find it’s a canned, generic “Thanks for following! Check out this link to all my books!” It’s impersonal, and makes me think of preachers going door-to-door with tracts, acting like they want to be your friend, but if you neglect to show an interest in their church, they don’t want anything to do with you.

It sounds like a Catch-22: relationships are the key to selling books, but you never want to form relationships just to sell more books. There is a Golden Rule of Networking that we’ve all heard before: give to others, and they will give back to you. Writers, I’ve found, are a genuinely caring group of people who want to see each other succeed. Thankfully, publishing is an industry in which many people can thrive at the top, so we’re not competing against each other; there’s no reason to. I still get those auto-DMs on Twitter, but annoying as they are, the senders will figure out eventually that that’s not the way to go. Numbers and sales figures aren’t everything, but they do talk. And mine are telling me that I owe the success I’ve achieved to my growing online community.

So that’s what I’m thankful for this week. And since this is a touchy-feely-warm-and-fuzzy post, here’s a picture of a sleeping kitten:

Filed under: Writing & Publishing Tagged: #BeWow, Author Sarahbeth Caplin, cats, Indie Author Life, self-publishing, Writing

Ugly actions, ugly selves?

Most of the time, one incident does not define a person’s entire character. And then there are times when an incident can say a lot about a person’s character.

I’ve been thinking about this dichotomy ever since the above video started trending on social media, where sports reporter Britt McHenry berates an employee as she pays for her impounded vehicle. The insults are horrifyingly racist, classist, and degrading.

Bad moment, or example of true character? It’s one thing to be annoyed by the inconvenience of having your car towed. But for those kinds of insults to come out so easily…maybe that does indicate a superiority complex.

And then there are times when one bad day can bring out the worst in us, and no one wants to be remembered for that.

I remember sweeping the floor at Panera while a co-worker helped a customer who ordered a dozen bagels. She wanted each one sliced, but complained that they weren’t sliced right. So we sliced her some new bagels, which still weren’t good enough. The old ones would be wasted, which pissed me off too.

That lady was one of those customers where nothing we did was good enough – the kind that makes me want to never work any kind of customer service job ever again. But after paying, she sighed and said, “Look, I know I was rude. I shouldn’t have acted like that. But my husband just died, I have a house full of relatives, and I need to bring them breakfast before the calling hours.” And then she started to cry.

And in less than five seconds I went from wanting to punch her in the face to wanting to reach across the counter to hug her. If it were up to me, I would have given her the bagels for free. It takes humility to own up to bad behavior, and I respected her for that.

And then there are my own less-than-courteous moments, like that one time I intimidated another couple at a piano bar. Or at the doctor’s office eight months ago, when Dad was weeks away from death, and I knew that was the time to get back on anxiety pills. One of the techs was someone I went to high school with, and when she asked about the purpose of my visit, I panicked and snapped, “I want to talk to someone else.” But in a small town like mine, when I’d been going to the same doctor since I was eight and my dad was on a first-name basis with the entire staff, I guess my behavior was understood. But I couldn’t let myself go home without finding that woman to apologize for being an ass.

Maybe that’s the ultimate distinction between a bad moment and a sign of a major character flaw: the willingness to own up to it and choke down humble pie. Maybe, in the wake of the social media shit-storm, Britt McHenry will issue an apology. But there will be some who will see it as a PR stunt to save face, and in the end, no amount of kinder words will be enough to make up for it. I understand the temptation to sweep a stupid episode under a rug and pretend it never happened, because it’s easier. And we’ve all done it at some point.

The pressure only increases when you claim to be a Christian (or any religion that espouses compassion, which I suppose is all of them). It’s one reason why I’ll never have one of those fish decals on my car – not that I don’t try to be a courteous driver, but for the times I’m not, I don’t want any charges of hypocrisy thrown at me.

Filed under: Other stuff Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, customer service, depression, grief

The things that terrify me

I’ve had a phobia of trains since I was little. I grew up in a house near train tracks, and when the horn went off late at night, it scared me enough to wet the bed. But subways are worse – they’re underground (so no easy escape), there are no bathrooms, they can be filled with creepy people (I watch a lot of Law and Order), they make me claustrophobic.

Which brings me, naturally, to claustrophobia: I hate elevators, airplanes (actually, claustrophobia is the least of my issues with airplanes), being sandwiched in large crowds, being hugged tightly by strangers. Not having enough personal space reminds me of being trapped under the weight of a person who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

Which brings me to yet another fear: people who make sexist, racist, and other discriminatory jokes and comments, and don’t understand why they are hurtful. I fear the casualties of willful ignorance.

But the kinds of people who terrify me most are extremists of any kind: liberal, conservative, religious fundamentalist, anti-theist, whatever. In a way, I envy the certainty they have; their confidence that the world functions exactly the way they think it does, and anyone who doesn’t see it that way is stupid.

Granted, I can be that way too: I think it’s painfully obvious that women can be gifted with leadership and might just be better at it than some men. I think it’s painfully apparent that no one “asks” to get raped; that legalizing gay marriage is not the gateway to legalizing relationships with children, cats, or anyone/anything incapable of consenting. Among many other things.

Experiences have the power to shape us more than anything else – I firmly believe this. Some experiences can’t help but influence you: ask any solider, teacher, medical professional, or crime victim. And no amount of research and head knowledge can make you understand if you haven’t experienced it yourself – whatever “it” may be.

I know, because I used to judge women who stayed in abusive relationships until I became one of those women.

I know, because I thought all Christians had bigoted agendas until I became one.

I am terrified of people who are completely closed off to learning anything new; who are afraid of being challenged, and will never admit that it’s because their beliefs are too shallow to handle the slightest amount of dissention. So they lobby to pass laws that could force everyone to act their way – it’s easier than trying to understand the unfamiliar. I find it inconceivable that someone who thinks for themselves can be so intimidating to some people.

I am terrified of those whose certainty closes their minds so tightly that no amount of compassion or empathy can slip through.

I fear that once you lose that, you lose everything.

Filed under: Feminism, Other stuff, Rape Culture, Religion Tagged: censorship, Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, Feminism

I judge people by their books

Most people, if they’re honest, will admit they judge others for something, even if they aren’t “supposed” to. Whether it’s a particular kind of haircut, poor grammar, or collection of bumper stickers, we all have something that fills our heads with potentially false, though not necessarily baseless assumptions.

I judge people by their books – especially if they don’t have them. I’m that person you’ll find at house parties squatting by the living room bookshelf (because introducing myself and making small talk are not my spiritual gifts), looking for titles I’m familiar with, or titles that say something about the owner’s view of the world and personal identity.

Not too long ago I made a post on my Facebook page asking people to share a handful of titles that say something about their personalities. These were mine:

You may notice that most homes have a Bible, whether they are religious or not. I wonder if this is to say something about the cultural importance of faith: it’s one thing to not believe in it, but it’s essential to make people think that you do. Or maybe some families have heirloom Bibles. I’ve seen shelves containing heirloom classics and first editions, but in most cases, they are intended for display, not to actually be read.

Of course, I’m well aware that people will judge me for my books, too. I wholeheartedly welcome this; I have read every single book I own, and am prepared to justify owning a few that serve no purpose except to mindlessly entertain (we all have those – it’s okay). I won’t judge people for owning the entire Twilight series, but if those are the only books they own…well, then maybe a little.

I’m aware that some titles in my shelves seem a little contradictory. What assumptions can you make about a person who owns two books about women’s reproductive rights that completely oppose each other?

 

Truthfully, I enjoyed reading both kinds of books. I have agreements and disagreements with both, but I am a firm believer in being educated about both sides of an issue. Both books were helpful in eliminating ignorance about the values of each side. But I’m still somewhere in between.

And then there’s my collection of Jewish and Christian books, with shelves right on top of each other. I guess it’s safe to assume I’m just really into religion, or have a spiritual identity crisis (and both would be correct).

Then there are shelves of YA and Adult fiction titles, which could indicate I’m still an awkward teenage girl trapped in an adult’s body (that still looks like it belongs to a teenage girl). Or maybe it is evident that I write this genre, since there’s another shelf of books about writing both kinds of fiction.

Whatever assumptions people might make, it’s always good fodder for conversation.

But I must confess…when I see shelves filled with blockbuster “It Book” titles – think Gossip Girl, Divergent, or basically any book that is made into a TV show or movie – I get the impression that the owner isn’t really a devout reader, but likes to stay on top of what’s current. Which isn’t bad, but it doesn’t tell me this person loves reading for reading’s sake.

If a shelf has blockbuster titles with a smattering of classics like Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, or Great Gatsby, I wonder if this person wants to be seen as fun and intellectual, but those classic titles don’t fool me. We all read those in high school, otherwise they likely never would have been bought. And if the person’s name is scrawled on the inside, that’s a dead giveaway.

So I know I can’t be the only one who does this. What assumptions do YOU make about people based on their books (or other things)?

Filed under: Feminism, Other stuff, Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, banned books, Facebook, Feminism, Writing

Moving memoirs and renewing my love of YA

To celebrate the completion of editing my first book for Booktrope, I treated myself to an afternoon of reading. Actually, since it was Easter, I pretty much read the entire weekend. And it was glorious.

Plenty of people buy books out of boredom, as a way to pass the time – particularly while meandering through airports. I tend to only purchase books I plan on reading over and over again; the kind that tell me different things each time. Ever read a book like that?

One of those books for me is Girl at the End of the World by Elizabeth Esther. One reason I find this book so compelling is because our upbringings could not be any more opposite: to be raised in a cult by parents who were utterly obsessed with preparing for the End Times is so unfathomable to me, having been raised by liberal Jewish parents who considered rooting against the New York Yankees to be the only unforgivable sin.

I love this book because it’s relevant for anyone with degrees of “Spiritual PTSD.” For me, it conjured up memories of the bible study girls in college who told me that my parents’ souls were my responsibility: God put them in my life so I could share the gospel with them. If I failed, it would be my burden to answer for on Judgment Day. To this day, when I hear similar teachings on this uncomfortable subject, I get queasy. I wouldn’t say I was ever brainwashed in the cult-like way that Esther was, but I was definitely peer-pressured, and more emphasis was put on evangelism than personal growth in my early days as a Christian. Esther’s book is a reminder that healing and healthy spirituality is possible, even if it takes work.

Attachments by Rainbow Rowell: Every now and then I take breaks from YA fiction in exchange for Adult Fiction – the kind of books I feel I should be reading, for some odd reason. But it takes a book like this to remind myself of why I prefer YA, and probably always will: it’s just so fun. I loved the quirkiness of all the characters in this book, and the twist of telling a “chick lit” story from a male perspective. It was well done, though I had my doubts after Eleanor and Park, which I liked, but didn’t love. Also, one main character’s name is Beth. She has some stalkerish tendencies that made me think, That is not okay, but overall I liked her.

Wearing God by Lauren Winner: I’m only halfway through with this one, and I’m already thinking of rating it three stars. I hate to give anything less than four stars to a Lauren Winner book, because I love her writing, her insights, and her unabashed book nerdiness. I reread Girl Meets God every year because we have almost the same ‘testimony,’ and I can easily imagine us bonding over coffee at an indie coffee shop.

But sadly, this book is just not doing anything for me. There are occasional insights that make me think – there can’t not be, because it’s Lauren Winner after all – but this is just, for lack of a better word, a very odd book. Of all the topics she could write about, I’m not sure why she chose relating to God over smell and taste, with pages and pages devoted to the history of bread-making and different kinds of wine used for communion. It’s an interesting approach to spirituality, but if anyone other than Winner wrote this, I never would have purchased it.

Up next: How to Save a Life by Sara Zarr

Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist

To re-read: The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

What books are speaking to you lately? What books do you like to read over and over again? And do you have needy pets who complain you read too much? If a fuzzy critter wanders into my library, she will get read to. I think this is Zoey’s way of telling me she’s had enough.

Filed under: Other stuff, Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: cats, Christian culture, Christianity

A redemption story just in time for Easter weekend

A funny thing happened last night. When I finally got home after sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for two hours, I found a letter on the kitchen table announcing that I got into grad school.

It’s not the first time I’ve received a letter like this, but I quit after a year once I realized both the school and the concentration I picked were not for me. $30,000 flushed down the drain. I not only felt like a failure, I also had no idea what I was going to do with my life if I was no longer earning a counseling degree.

It was Dad’s idea to give grad school another chance, this time with a concentration I know I’m passionate about – and reasonably good at. Though let’s face it, a self-employed writer doesn’t really need a master’s degree. It’s a worthwhile endeavor to me because it will help me become a better writer. And better writers tend to sell more books, which is never a bad thing.

But with a debt $30,000 deep, there was no way I could afford to even dream about it. It’s only because Dad requested to help me pay that loan with his life insurance money that I was able to give grad school another chance.

He believed in me, that crazy man.

So coincidentally (or not?), I found out about my acceptance on Maundy Thursday, and today – Good Friday – is a day when everything seemed hopeless, and the suffering too deep to comprehend. The weekend will end with Easter, a day for contemplating the beautiful things that can come out of deep suffering. That seems to be a recurring theme in my life, and as I continue grappling with the pieces of my broken faith and try to seek answers, things like this keep happening. And not just to me.

Because of the complications with cancer, Dad retired much earlier than planned, which opened the opportunity to coach high school track on a volunteer basis: his real dream job.

Only because of my brief but painful time spent at a school that challenged me in all the wrong ways did I meet the woman who is one of my closest friends in Colorado.

Similarly, during my time spent in a ministry that I learned too late was not an ideal place for “baby believers” like myself, I met the man who is now my husband.

I have plenty more examples, but you get the point.

I go back and forth about whether there’s such a thing as a coincidence, and if prayers can be answered in tangible ways. But in the midst of events like these, I’m convinced a little more that redemption is a real and powerful thing.

Filed under: Other stuff, Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, cancer, Christian culture, Christianity, grief, Writing

Being grateful for closed doors

There were several events that stole much of my attention last year. Suffice it to say, it was not a year of growth for me. In fact, it felt like the opposite – the overwhelming and conflicting feelings of joy from getting engaged, despair from losing a parent, mounting excitement for the wedding, having my cat die unexpectedly, and crippling anxiety were all a bit much to take in in such a short period of time.

I got one thing I wanted – a husband – but lost many other things.

And then, curious of where I was emotionally and what I felt on this day one year ago, I opened my journal and found this:

I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before – that doors I pounded on relentlessly remained locked to me because maybe I wasn’t meant to have what was on the other side. But I threw my whole weight against those doors anyway, for years, until my sides ached. And walking now with this pathetic limp, I can’t help but wonder, what if they did open? What are the repercussions of getting something I want so badly, for reasons I can only hope are the right ones?

I never thought one day I’d struggle to be grateful for closed doors.

While I’m certainly not thankful that my father never got to walk me down the aisle, that Tommy had liver failure the vet diagnosed too late, and that depression and anxiety have threatened to suck all that remains of my sanity, this passage is definitely something to think about.

What “closed doors” are you grateful for?

Filed under: Other stuff, Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, cancer, cats, Christianity, depression, grief, Writing

Unworthy, not worthless

If you couldn’t tell from previous posts, I’m in the grueling process of rethinking my theology. I’ve learned that there are some life events that are meant to shape your faith, and others that reshape it. This is one of those reshaping times. If the average person lives roughly 70 or 80 years, I suspect this sort of thing is expected to happen several times.

I remember listening to a sermon in college that compared our worth to used tampons. But it was the imagery in that statement that disturbed me, not the implications behind it. For people who grow up Christian, maybe the idea of being unworthy of God’s love is accepted without much difficulty. I think the only reason I accepted that theology so readily was because my own sense of self-worth was practically non-existent: being in an abusive relationship for five years taught me worthlessness. I was forced to walk several steps behind him in public so people wouldn’t suspect we were together. You can imagine what that did to my self-esteem.

Even today, I’m amazed sometimes that I got married at all. I remember how much it blew my mind that my now-husband was so eager to hold my hand in public. I had never experienced that before. The idea of someone wanting to be with me, and even flaunting it, was baffling (but in a good way).

It’s no surprise, then, that I viewed God as viewing me with nothing but contempt and disapproval. If I screwed up somehow, I told myself I didn’t deserve good things to happen to me. After all, tampons that have been used no longer have value, and just get tossed in the trash.

Since this week is Holy Week, I’m rereading one of my favorite Easter devotionals – it’s the kind that tells me different things each time I read it, and Dale Fincher’s passage on unworthiness versus worthlessness is particularly relevant:

“’Unworthy’” is failing to live up to requirements. If you cheat your employer, you do not deserve a raise. If you don’t study for a test, you don’t deserve a good grade. If you come in last in the Boston Marathon, you do not deserve to win. But worth is about our value. Your merits can fall short, but you can still have value.”

I needed that reminder this week. For all my current doubts about what really happens when we die, what prayer is really for, and whether the Bible is truly inerrant, I needed to be reminded that Jesus was an underdog who came for the underdogs.

I’ll be honest – there are some things about Christianity that I never thought twice about before, which I now find contemptible. I struggle to reconcile those unsavory things with the goodness of the Jesus I have come to know. I want to understand, rather than discard the pieces of my faith that don’t make sense to me. I suspect this is something I will spend the rest of my life trying to figure out. But I don’t need to have everything figured out today. For now, I am going to contemplate what it means to have inherent worth and value not for what I do, but for who I was made to be.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, depression, evangelicals, grief, hell

Deja vu is real and ugly

People often ask me how Judaism continues to impact my Christianity. There are many answers, but one of them is starkly relevant today: Judaism has given me a strong sense of empathy, because I am still too keenly aware of the frustration of growing up a minority in America.

Before I started straightening my hair and waxing my eyebrows, my stereotypical outward Jewish-ness wasn’t difficult to spot. I was told I “looked Jewish” all through elementary school (thankfully, no one ever made fun of the size of my nose). Even giving my last name invoked questions about my perceived ethnicity. It took years for me to take such comments in stride and turn them around into strong symbols of identity, because all you’re concerned about when you’re young is fitting in. And fitting in was just not something God intended for me to be good at, then and now.

I remember arguing with Christian friends who felt the need to point out to me that my relationship with God wasn’t real because Jesus wasn’t a part of it. I remember having to explain that it’s more than okay – really! – to use the C-word (Christmas) in front of me. I remember explaining to my art teacher why I wasn’t making an ornament because I had no tree to hang it on, and she ignorantly suggested I make one anyway to hang on my menorah.

Those incidents aren’t persecution, of course, but they sure were frustrating. I felt like my identity was constantly being misconstrued for something it wasn’t; therefore, I had to constantly defend it. There were plenty of times when I mistakenly perceived intolerance from people, but who could blame me? When the cars in your synagogue’s parking lot are the routine targets of evangelical pamphlets, paranoia becomes a knee-jerk reaction.

I have no concept of what it’s like to be gay in America, but I can imagine the frustration of having to explain that homosexuality doesn’t equate with sexual attraction to every person who shares your gender, and the only legitimate ‘gay agenda’ is a desire for the same rights and privileges that straight people have. I imagine that not only gets old fast, but also chips away at one’s sense of identity and maybe even safety.

So it’s with great disgust that I read about the proposed bill in Indiana that will make it legal for businesses to openly discriminate against homosexuals. People have argued that this is about protecting the rights of businesses, but refusing to serve a gay person is different than refusing a patron without a shirt or shoes. The right to discriminate based on religious beliefs is a slippery slope, explained well by this blog post from Patheos:

Theoretically, the law would allow restaurants to refuse to serve gay or interracial couples, hotels could refuse to provide lodging for Jews, landlords could refuse to rent to African Americans, pharmacies could refuse to dispense birth control to women, and employers could fire anyone, so long as such behavior was justified by “sincerely held religious belief.”

I am not only reminded of Jim Crow laws that allowed businesses to discriminate against black people. My Jewish upbringing forces me to hearken back to the period of European history when it was my own people who were denied service. I suspect a great number of white evangelicals can’t fathom a country where their own rights and privileges are rarely threatened; when the assumptions made about them – Christian, middle to upper class, heterosexual – are correct more times than not. I don’t understand how proponents of this bill are completely unaware, or otherwise choosing to ignore that this law reeks of déjà vu.

I’ve seen enough vitriol on Facebook and Twitter to almost reconsider wearing my Star of David again, just so I’m not lumped with “those people” who support intolerance. I fear for the future of Christianity in America when negative assumptions could be made about me simply for admitting that this is my chosen faith.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, customer service, evangelicals, Facebook

How we live matters more than how we die

I remember the date because it was the fourth of July weekend, 2014: the day that Dad called me to let me know that he was dying. I immediately booked a flight back to Ohio, and stayed there for the rest of the summer and into the first weeks of fall: a period of time that forever transformed my life. Those painful months solidified the reality that loss of any kind of transformative. One cannot witness the profound suffering of another, especially someone they love, and walk away unchanged.

So it’s with some frustration and morbid curiosity that I’m sitting at my computer at almost midnight, drinking tea and reading the first dozen articles that pop up on Google about Christian author and blogger Kara Tippetts, who died yesterday of breast cancer. I own Tippetts’ book, The Hardest Peace, about finding grace from God in the midst of suffering. It’s a powerful book, but I never would have heard of it if Tippetts didn’t write a blog post that went viral, urging right-to-die advocate Brittany Maynard not to end her life by euthanasia after having been diagnosed with terminal brain cancer.

I’m frustrated because the phrase “death with dignity” gets tossed about so casually in debates about the ethics of choosing to die, completely disregarding the reality that suffering, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. I share Kara’s belief that suffering does not have to be a wasted experience, but a redemptive one: it can not only point to what matters most in life, but often leaves the afflicted with conviction and a calling. I know a few people who found their life’s calling after suffering unspeakable tragedies. They are people who choose to travel to other countries to help provide medical care that is otherwise inaccessible; they are people who entered the mental health profession and are counseling teens who suffer from depression. They are transforming lives around them because of what they suffered, and there is much that is beautiful about that.

Some people would say that a disease that can cause a complete lack of control of one’s body and indescribable agony is not a ‘dignified’ way to keep living. But as human beings, we are already dignified: I believe we are born with dignity, and therefore we die with it as well. So underneath the heated debates, the religious and political agendas, the manipulation of people like Maynard as a means of promoting Obamacare, we are missing a valid point: how a person lives matters more than how they die.

The real legacy of people like Kara Tippetts, Brittany Maynard, and my father David Caplin is not in how they died, but how they lived before that. So please, let’s stop the pitting of one woman against the other, praising one as “brave” and the vilifying the other as “selfish” or “cowardly.” I’m staying out of the heated discussion of whether people I’ll never meet should be allowed to make their own educated decisions about life and death. But I do firmly believe that to live in a world full of uncertainty and any kind of suffering at all is brave. Place your focus where it counts most: on life as we know it, right now.

See also: What does it mean to die with dignity?

Filed under: Other stuff, Religion Tagged: Brittany Maynard, cancer, Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, depression, grief