Three is a Magic Number

I used to get eggs from a friend who had free range chickens in her yard.  The chickens wandered around everyday eating ticks and whatever else they found.  These chickens' eggs were so good—hard shells, dark yoke, and yummy.  I’ve never tasted a store-bought egg, even those marked “free range,” like the eggs from these truly free chickens. The United Methodist Church is a mess.  I don’t need to go into the details.  Most of you know what’s happened.  And if you don’t, a quick google search will fill you in quick.  Like most United Methodists in the US, I’m sad, especially for the pastors who identify as LGBTQI+ and pastors who are leading divided congregations.  Grief.  Frustration. Vulnerability.  It's all part of this.  I must be honest with myself too.  I’m in a safe church, which is mostly of one mind.  As a cis-gender, heterosexual woman I have a ton of privilege in how I frame the debacle of the last few weeks.  As I speak, I want to acknowledge I speak from that