this just in...

Justice has been delivered for Shelby. I have just learned that her husband has been found guilty of first degree murder, and has been sentenced to a mandatory life sentence, with no parole. Amen, and amen.

for Shelby

Within reach of where I sit at my desk is a candle. I keep it nearby for those occasions when I want to keep a prayer concern going for longer than I can remain focused on it consciously, and where the flame (and sometimes the fragrance) will catch my attention over the course of its lighting to bring me back to the reason I lit it in the first place. It's my version of Paul's admonishment to pray without ceasing. Well, it's one version. 

This morning I lit the candle for Shelby Wilkie, the niece of a friend and colleague. Shelby was killed by her husband two years ago, and this week he goes on trial for her murder. She was in the process of leaving him as his physical abuse toward her not only jeopardized her life, but that of their infant daughter.

It has been agonizing to witness the impact of this tragedy from afar (my friend lives in Michigan, her niece was in in North Carolina), but distance does not lessen the importance of being present to and for my friend in whatever way I can, nor does it prevent me from adding my voice to those who seek a world where anger doesn't translate as violence, and every human being is empowered to feel significant and worthy.

As the court seeks justice for Shelby, I invite each of us to do at least one thing today to affirm a person whose confidence may be low, to extend a hand to someone who is isolated, to embrace someone who has withdrawn, to speak for someone who can't find his or her voice, and to love, by whatever means available, those we hold dear, and those we keep at a distance. 

Connect, smile, hug, reach. For the Shelbys of this world, and for us all.

let us pray

This morning my heart is in California, where a friend is at the bedside of her dying mother. Mere days ago, Glenda Crosley was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. The latest facebook update informs those of us who are praying from afar that Glenda has been removed from life support. According to that same update, all three daughters are present, one of whom had not seen her mother in 12 years. With that sliver of information it makes sense that the update also informs us that they are all sharing laughter, tears, and shouting. 

This scene probably doesn't differ much from other families when estrangement is part of the story. But what is different is that this particular bedside is in a prison hospital, where Glenda is serving 15 to life for killing her abusive husband. She passed the 25-year mark last year. In January she was denied parole, again, because the parole board didn't seem to think that Glenda had come to understand that she could have "just left" her husband at the time she killed him (referred to as "lack of insight"), acting out of fear that he was about to kill her.

Before I left MTSU last summer, Glenda's daughter and I were busy planning a domestic violence awareness event for campus in the fall that we hoped would herald Glenda's release. The passage of two bills in the California legislature, known as the Sin by Silence bills,offered significant hope for this possibility, but such was not to be. The kind of release Glenda will soon experience is not at all what we had in mind.

My heart is heavy on behalf of Glenda's family, now robbed by cancer and the justice system of the possibility to mend some of the holes torn into their lives by domestic violence. I am angered by what I believe is an injustice not just to Glenda, but to women (and men) everywhere who suffer abuse at the hand of people they love. 

Assuming that in due time Glenda would have been released, her plan had been to move to Tennessee to be near Stacy, who is a fierce and constant advocate for victims of abuse. Glenda would have spoken to groups of men and women about her experience, about what she had learned, about the insight gained not only about the dynamics of abuse, but about the battle to find courage and confidence within. I can't help but shake my head about the waste of Glenda's extended incarceration. Although a documentary film chronicles her story, from prison the impact she is able to have is limited. Her release would have allowed her to spend what she could of her remaining days making a difference on this side of prison walls. Now that will never be.

Today I invite your prayers for Glenda, that her remaining hours will be filled with grace and peace; for her family, that the balm of God's love will minimize the effect of this gash in their lives as they seek reconciliation and bear the mantle of grief; for victims of abuse everywhere that they may find strength and courage for a life of hope, and justice to redress wrongs; for members of the justice system who bear the responsibility of making decisions that can diminish or empower the lives they touch; for all of us, that we may act in ways that celebrate and encourage love and compassion, and do our part in whatever way we are able to advocate for peace and justice in this world. And finally, for perpetrators of abuse, that whatever fuels the anger that results in violence may be diffused and redirected, that injury may be avoided and healing may ensue.

Go peacefully, Glenda.