b.read.crumbs: Rejoicing

Or, the month of Adar 5786

Some months simply do not fit the way we feel. This month is one of them, Adar, or late February, early March, is a time when the Earth begins to wake from winter’s slumber. All those seeds are busily sending out nascent root and shoots, and we humans stretch our wings, getting out of doors a bit as the weather warms.

Why then do I still feel frozen?

Well, there is the obvious. The world is not a kind place right now. My three phone calls a day are not making a measurable difference. The poster board signs are stacking up, and no one in power appears to be able to read. The world is turning colder by the day with each new restriction rolls over us.

On top of that, on February 8th, Deb Adams passed on to whatever is next. To me, right now, as devastating as the world is, Deb’s loss, right now, feels even larger than life itself.

I don’t know how to categorize Deb in my life. Friend? Certainly. Writing partner? Absolutely. Editor? Yup. Conference roommate? Check. Instigator of Cracking the World Open With Our Words? You betcha. She is not the only person in my own life in any one of those categories, but she rolled all of those into one petite package of strong-willed, no-nonsense, strive-for-the-best woman I am so very proud to have known. She did all the things, and pushed those of lucky enough to know her to do them do. I am a better friend, writer, and human because of Deb.

The dissonance between how I feel and the month of Adar is striking. I am sad. Adar is joyful. I am late on this entry because I have struggled to find a way to thread them together.

I don’t know if I even can, but let me try. This is the month when Jews celebrate the holiday of Purim. This is another holiday that can briefly be categorized as: They came. They tried to kill us. We won. Let’s eat. Hamentashen (named for the bad guy of this particular attempt to kill all the Jews) are cookie/pastries, shaped like Hamen’s tri-corner hat. (And if you think we’re a little paranoid about all those folks trying to kills us, review history, please.)

It’s true. We turn all that adversity into lovely, tasty holiday treats. In the Purim story, the Jewish community was on the brink of destruction — but at the last moment, thanks to the bravery of Queen Esther (a secret Jew), the story “transformed from one of grief and mourning to one of festive joy” (Esther 9:22).

The Megillah, the Purim story, is read at the Purim service each year. Interestingly enough, it is the one Jewish holiday story that does not mention G-d. I don’t know why, but perhaps we needed a reminder that who we are and how we support one another, is wider even than The Word. Secular Jews are targeted right along with the religious ones.

This verse was applicable in Purim times and now.

"You shall not oppress a sojourner. You know the heart of a sojourner, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt. Leviticus 24:22

Then it was: Bad Times. An evil person rises to power. Find someone to blame. Persecute them as far as the population allows. Lose the battle. Times slowly get better, very probably because folks began to work together rather than playing the blame game. Sound familiar? (Mexicans => Haitians => Ethiopians =>Very Possibly You.

Deb knew the heart of a sojourner. She traveled very little, but she sought understanding of that which was far from her experience in her small town in middle Tennessee. She was a seeker of knowledge.

Her life was not always filled with joy. Her first marriage was to an abusive man. We talked a bit about how hard it is to break that cycle. (Not a lot, frankly. Deb was a very private person.) It is very, very hard to leave a relationship like that. Sometimes there is a fantasy that you can fix that person, provide the love and care that will heal them of this inclination to violence. And then there is the very real danger of trying to escape. (Check out the Domestic Violence Hotline statistics on the percentage of life-threatening violence after the partner leaves.)

Most folk never successfully leave their violent partners. During my time as a volunteer hospital advocate for the Spouse Abuse Center in Louisville, each and every one of the people I saw went home with their abuser. This makes Deb all the more remarkable. She left, took her child with her, and went on to form a lasting relationship with a man (not the same one!) who was kind, supportive, funny, and loved Deb in a healthy way.

To break a cycle of violence is rare.

Deb was rare.

She not only got herself free of that cycle, Deb worked for years at Women are Safe, a small town non-profit that supports folks experiencing domestic violence. Her mystery, ALL THE HUNGRY MOTHERS, touched on that topic in a heart-filled way. It was the first book of hers I had read, hand-sold to me by Dean James the manager of Murder by the Book in Houston. This was a woman I wanted to know.

I first met her in the bar at Malice Domestic, a Washington DC mystery conference devoted to the cozy mystery. Domestic abuse is anything but cozy, but that is what Deb’s work was categorized as. I told the story of how Deb challenged star-struck me to move forward in my own work. Without her, I’d still be spinning my wheels in Chapter One of a book that did not deserve as much time as I spent on it.

Adar, joyous Adar, is about moving into a new season. It will happen, even if it seems unlikely right now. Not to say that I’m ignoring all the joys in my life, just overall feels muted under the burden of loss. All of us who knew Deb are experiencing that surreal sense of how-could-she-be-gone now. I will have to figure out my own motivation to write because she is no longer here (dammit) to threaten me if I don’t follow through. Her children will slip into Deb’s caretaking roll for the family members who need that care. Friends will write the letters to voters urging them to go to the polls in her place. (She sent HUNDREDS of those last election cycle.) More folks will send WOMEN ARE SAFE donations in Deb’s honor, commemorating her strength and generosity. And while right now I feel frozen, I know that new growth will come and lead me out of this time. Meanwhile I get to keep my relationship with Deb, through this blog and through my many memories of her.

What a woman she was. What a friend she will always be.

One Good Thing

I have a really terrific writer, new to me, to recommend: Nnedi Okorafor’s DEATH OF THE AUTHOR is a book I wanted to immediately dive back into. So good, with a twist that made me so, so satisfied.

Now, go out and do brave and wondrous things.