Holey, Wholly, Holy

“Why do I have to wear so many things on my head?” – Amy Grant, “Hats”

Many years ago, singer/songwriter Amy Grant had a song called “Hats”. The song is about how we are different things to different people – parent, child, coworker, friend, etc., depending on where we are.

In the Bible from the Book of Acts there’s a story about a husband and wife, Aquila and Prisca. These two were tentmakers and traveled from town to town selling and repairing tents. While wearing this “hat” they also had the opportunity to talk to many people. Sometimes their spirituality would come up in these conversations. One “hat” led to another as they shared life with the people of each town.

As I’ve gotten older and worn WAY more hats, I’m beginning to understand the gift that wearing all those hats provides. It opens space to connect to more people, just like Prisca and Aquila.

I am always wearing some sign of Pride. It could be a headband, earrings, a T-shirt, my shoelaces, or even my watchband. I love the conversation that comes from those signals, no matter where I am or what “hat” I’m wearing.

At Office Depot I was wearing my “Read Banned Books” shirt when the cashier commented on their joy of reading and then lamented looking for a book club focused on banned books. I’m in three banned book clubs and invited her to join one of those groups. One day at lunch a server commented on my watchband as they visibly relaxed while serving us our meal. And I always get looks in the grocery store when I’m wearing my clergy collar and Pride hat – my standard Sunday dress for farmer’s market days. This outfit has led to prayers on the street, conversations about churches, or a thank you for showing that all people are of sacred worth.

Each hat I wear is an opportunity to connect with people. Each connection point is a moment to share our humanity, talk about what unites us, enter a space with another human being. Like Prisca and Aquila I hope I provide a safe space for people so we can truly be community with one another – and especially those who have been wounded for being their authentic selves.

How are you holding space for others so you may connect, no matter what “hat” you are wearing?