Things that Unravel

Coming Out and Back Together

If you’re following 10 Camels on social media, I’ve been posting a list of 10 Things that Unravel. The things already on the list are

1.     A Spool of Thread
2.     A Ball of Yarn
3.     A Knotted Shoelace
4.     A Story
5.     A Dream
6.     A Connection
7.     A System
8.     A Shame
9.     A Calling
10.  ?

Today, as promised, I will share the 10^th thing and I will reveal the title of my upcoming book of poetry. But first…

Growing up I loved being covered by blankets. I called all blankets “afghans.” With a grandmother who knitted and crocheted there was never a shortage of these handmade coverings. They were also fragile and often had loose edges, that for a curious child—like myself—were calling out to be pulled. I was told on multiple occasions, don’t pull those or the whole thing will come undone. That stern warning stuck with me.

I purchased my first and only clergy robe at a Catholic book store on a clearance rack. It was simple and that’s what excited me most. Not a lot of decoration or embellishments. No zipper or lace. Just a few buttons. And a few loose strings hanging from the bottom hem. I left them there for fear that one pull and it would all unravel.

As I think back to those afghans, a source of warmth and a protective way to stay hidden in a cold and frightening house, I’m also thinking about dates. About how my mind and body remember them without effort. It was a running joke in my family that I knew all the dates; birth dates, death dates, traumatic dates, happy dates, and dates of other significant moments in the lives of people and community. I internalized this remembering as a “bad” thing. Something to avoid, like frayed edges of an afghan or a clergy robe.

Today marks a significant moment in my life. And this is why I choose to share the title of my upcoming book of poetry with you now.

Seven years ago, on February 21, 2017, I surrendered my provisional clergy credentials back to the United Methodist Church. It was a dreary day. The sky and my heart covered in clouds and preparing for a storm. I look back and wonder how I might have done it all differently. And then like a lightning bolt, it strikes me that I did the best I could.

I wasn’t given many options. Initially, it was suggested I leave my credentials along with the keys to the office on a desk at the end my last work day. And exit quietly under cover of night. That didn’t fit.

I wasn’t looking for a spot light or a large demonstration. I simply wanted space to name the pain and the hope that led me to this decision. I wanted to share even a small thread of the story that brought me to this moment of unraveling. The secrecy, the silence and the silencing added to the shame, and ultimately gave me the courage to piece together what I needed that day. I received my credentials in a sanctuary filled to capacity in a high church service with all the liturgical bells and whistles. To surrender them without witness and void of voice—while at the time tempting to avoid more humiliation—was not what God was calling me to do.

I invited a small group of family, friends, colleagues, and supporters. Along with a bishop and some members of the cabinet, we gathered in a circle for a short service of song, prayer, reflection, and surrender. There is much about that brief and simultaneously unending moment in time that still easily fills me with sorrow, grief, and anger when I let myself linger in the emotions and memories of it. There is much about that day that affirms the decisions I made and the way I went about them. The whole of that experience brings me to a transformational lesson.

Unraveling isn’t bad or to be avoided at all costs. Sometimes things have to come undone so that new things, better things, more beautiful, amazing, and authentic things can come together.

With great excitement, I proudly share with you the title of my book, Unraveling: Coming Out and Back Together, which tells my story of coming out and leaving ministry in the United Methodist Church. These 21 pieces, mostly poems, told through the frame of liturgical seasons, capture a journey of unraveling, the way things came undone and the ways they come back together.

The book will be published by Tehom Center Publishing on April 23rd, the start of the 2024 General Conference of the United Methodist Church in Charlotte, North Carolina. This publishing date is intentional. During the 2019 UMC General Conference in St. Louis, Missouri, as voting results on the Traditional Plan were projected on the screen my heart broke, much like it did two years earlier. Only this time, my brokenness was captured by a camera and the photo rights sold for all to share. That photo captured my grief, but it did not tell my story. These poems are my story. In my own unique voice and style, I tell the story of a life and a calling that come together when long held shame and the weight of a clergy robe begin to unravel.

My calling is real and active. Not dependent on ordination or vestments. Free from the pressure and restraint of a robe that really never fit, I am living and loving, and turning words into water with an authenticity that was buried while serving in an institution covered in its own sack cloths of death and division.

There is much uncertainty about what will happen at the upcoming General Conference. My prayer is that the collective connectional heart of United Methodism will be open to unraveling. That there will be a willingness to come undone, in the realization that this is the first step to coming back together.

The final thing on the list?

10.  A Clergy Robe that never fit.

Everything did unravel. Only then could it come together.

If you want to know more about how my clergy robe literally unraveled, you’ll have to buy the book.

Water-fully Yours,
Rebecca & 10 Camels

We will be sharing updates on the book, details on when & where to purchase your copy, events, and other exciting opportunities here and on social media. Make sure you are subscribed so you don’t miss a thing.