'Twas the Night Before My Final Day of Classes in Seminary...

and I cannot believe I made it this far...

and I know that I've only come this far by faith...

and I am basking in the wonderfulness that is my life...

and I am grateful to God for all of this wonderfulness...

and I have three assignments between me and graduation...

and I must stop blogging so I can go finish one of the three (final sermon due tomorrow)...

but I must first say that I know that I know that I know that I am a preacher...

and I also know that I am not yet the preaching woman that I will become...

but I am grateful for the preaching woman that I have blossomed into...

and I've cried more tears in the last few days than I did in my first semester at Drew...

and these are tears of joy and hope rather than tears of frustration, despair, and loneliness...

because I know that I haven't walked this journey alone...

Because I haven't walked this journey alone, I must give God thanks for the cloud of witnesses that have been by my side—whether present or in spirit—as I have walked this walk. I don't want to name any for fear of forgetting just one. I am grateful for those who have sustained me, prayed with me, studied with me, hugged me, cried with me, listened to me, taught me, mentored me, challenged me, shared meals with me, walked with me, talked with me, sat with me, shopped with me, and preached with me. I am grateful for those who have conspired with me, aspired with me, and inspired me. I am grateful for those women and men who have paved the way for me. I am grateful even for those who will come after me.

'Twas the night before my final day of classes in Seminary and I am grateful!

Today I...

...woke up at 7:00am,

...didn't feel like getting out of the bed.

...got up anyway,

...contemplated not going to work.

...went anyway,

...but not before I went to Whole Foods, two times, for fruit and lamb and barley and eggs.

...went to work.

...went for a walk.

...heard a sermon in my head as I walked,

...then wrote the sermon when I got home.

...cooked.

...cooked some more (mushroom barley soup, lamb chops, and broccoli).

...did some homework.

...wrote this blog and thought about how much more the day would hold.

I Ain't Neva Scared...

ok, maybe sometimes...maybe a little bit, but nevertheless, this morning I had an encounter that proved to me that I have increased in courage and fearlessness over the last two years.

It was the deer again.

At 7:15am I set out for my daily walk/run. I am grateful that the sun is rising earlier these days so I can get out early. As I made my way up Green Village road, towards Woodland, right at the edge of the Drew Forest, I saw several thin twig like things--aka deer legs--moving around. I had not heard them because I was listening to Erykah Badu (btw, Danger is a great album, in general, and a great album for me to run to, specifically). But they had clearly heard me. While I had not heard them, I saw them—and in a moment—I had a decision to make. Would I punk out and cross the street? Would I put on my big girl panties and walk past them? Would I let fear rule me and turn around only 5 minutes into my walk? Or would I walk in the confidence that they are more scared of me than I am of them?

And so it goes, I kept on going. I didn't cross the street. I didn't take an alternate route. I didn't run. I walked past them and continued my walk. And I was proud of myself. I don't know why I kept going. Perhaps it was because I was still filled up from reading Psalm 27 this morning, "The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall fear? The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?" Perhaps it was because I was tired of feeling silly everytime I told someone about my fear of the deer. Or perhaps, I'm not afraid anymore. Only time, spring leaves, and walks through the path will tell. That said, I thought I'd end this post by bringing it back to the beginning. Below is the first (of many) blogs about my encounter with the deer in the Drew forest. This entry was entitled, "How I made it Over" and was written on Wednesday, September 19, 2007. Laugh, it's OK. I promise!

“Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.’”

The above verse of Scripture is from Genesis 1:26. I placed special emphasis on “let them rule” for a reason. I have a really hard time with this directive from God. I’m a city girl, born and raised in an area where squirrels and pigeons rule the universe, with an occasional raccoon or skunk making an appearance. In all honesty, I’m scared of most animals including cats. In recent months I’ve moved from dog-liker to dog-lover (thanks to Snowy, Harley, and Widget) but that is as far as I go. I’ve had to navigate my way around squirrels all of my life, so they don’t scare me as much as they annoy me. That was until Hudson Park....

On a beautiful Wednesday in August, my best friend and I went to Hudson Park in New Rochelle to sit by the water and calm our weary souls before heading to Bible study. We were relaxing until a kamikaze squirrel had the audacity to roll up on us as we laid out in the grass. I won’t type the whole story, but after two run-ins with this squirrel, we gracefully (really, it was clumsily) grabbed our blanket, got in the car, and left before the squirrel inflicted any harm on us. I know, you think I’m crazy, but the squirrel got within 3 feet of us on our blanket, chased around, didn’t run when we threw full Poland Springs bottles at him (why couldn’t it be a she?), and went into a Jackie Chan type position as if he had a debt to settle. I haven’t looked at squirrels the same since.

This blog isn’t about squirrels. I refused to let one squirrel change the way I interact with the rest of his species. However, on Monday I encountered an animal that really made me call into question the whole dominion thing. To get to class (or anywhere on campus), I can either drive, or I can walk through a path in the forest behind my building. I usually walk....only driving when I know I’m going to be on campus after dark. The forest is full of critters (squirrels [that run from me], chipmunks, and rabbits), as it should be.

Back to Monday. I worked on campus, went to the gym, and was heading back home to do homework. As I walked through the forest, minding my own business, I saw a deer. It was big. Not sure if it was bigger or smaller than most, but I knew that it was certainly bigger than me. I stopped. He stopped. We stared at each other and I turned back toward campus. I proceeded to call my mother who didn’t know anything about deer (as if I assumed that even though we lived around the corner from one another that her block had deer and mine didn’t). I then called one of my cohorts from RCDS who I know has deer in her backyard, but she wasn’t available. When I couldn’t get her, I called another RCDS friend. She comforted me, encouraged me to walk through the forest, laughed at me, and talked to me as I made my way home. When I walked through the forest again, the deer was still there but it had crossed the path and was on the other side. It stopped, stared at me and let me walk. I was grateful to have made it over.

It sounds silly, but I haven’t walked through the forest since. I miss my daily exercise, but I’d hate to have a not so pleasant run-in with a deer. If a squirrel in New Rochelle had the cojones to approach me being 1/64th of my size, what could a deer that is bigger and probably do? What happens if a whole deer family comes out and perceives me as a threat? Does the deer know the Scripture? If I was sure that they knew about the whole dominion thing, I’d probably walk without fear, but since I’ve never seen the New Deer Translation of the Bible, I’ll pass...rather, I’ll drive.

So God, if we are truly given dominion, please give me the courage to walk through the forest to get to campus. Until I hear from You, I’m gonna drive....

image taken from http://mahschocolate.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/bambi.jpg

Perfectly Coifed Hair? Healthy Body?

...how about both? For years I put my hair above my health...trying to adapt my workout schedule around hairdos. Well, no more! Some might think this a frivolous post, but truth is there are lots of things that perfectly coifed hair hinders Black women from doing--working out, swimming, and sometimes (so I've heard) having sex. Black women are also disproportionately suffering from disease—hypertension, heart disease, high cholesterol, breast cancer, stress, depression, etc., etc.—most of which could be abated with regular exercise. So, hair I go...

Thanks and praise be to God, I found a way to work out my body (hard) and have not-so-perfectly coifed hair (that still looks great). The secret is a good cut. Many people associate long hair with beauty. Thankfully, I have never been that woman. I associate healthy hair with beauty. So, whether it is long or short, relaxed or natural, etc., etc., as long as it is healthy and it makes you look and feel good, then I think it is beautiful!

Admittedly, the most hair ease I felt when working out was when my hair was locked and when I used to wear it short and natural. I would be in the gym and on the track getting it in. When I relaxed my hair, my gym routine suffered. For a while, when I started running three years ago, I became the ponytail woman. For one, ponytails, especially when working out, put unnecessary tension on the hair. Secondly, and more important to me, ponytails—daily ponytails—are boooooring. And, well, I am far from boring (especially as it concerns my appearance).

When I entered Seminary I felt the pounds packing on, so I braided it up and hit the gym. Well, the reality of homework set in and my routine got jacked up. Fast forward 2 years and 40 pounds later... I made a commitment to my health, whether my hair liked it or not (btw, I'm 20 pounds lighter than I was in September). I also wanted to maintain my relaxed style, not because I have a hang-up about straight hair and beauty, but because right now I'm feeling it. In early October I went to a new stylist on a friends recommendation. This stylist is known for her wisdom, her insistence on healthy hair, and her skills with a pair of scissors. I told her I wanted my hair to be able to work while I work out. Away she went. What emerged was a cut that looks good when I do nothing to it, looks better when I do something to it, and still manages to look great when I work out.

When my workout consisted of walking only, I would wrap my hair at night, comb it down in the morning, pop on a headband, and hit the pavement. When I returned home I would let it air dry as I got ready for the day and roll out. These days, I've taken to pin curling it. Talk about a gift from God; Five days and three intense workouts after getting my hair done I have yet to use a curling iron or any other "tool of destruction" (a term my friend Shanee Yvette coined).

Here are some pics...before (aka when the hair was perfect), pin curled (my style of choice during a run), and after (letting the pin curl loose):

(Before before...aka after leaving the salon...Tuesday)

(Before...pin curled and ready to hit the pavement...Saturday)

(After...Post working out, air drying, and taking the curls out...Saturday, again)

(After after...wrapped overnight, ready to go to praise God...Sunday)

Sunset Walks...

Today I was running around preparing for Paradise (more to come after the class ends) and by the time I was ready to go to the track for my walk/run it was too late. The Drew Athletic Center hosts some track competition for high school students in January and by the time I was ready to walk they had taken over the parking lots and the building. So, I layered up and made my way outside. I'm glad I went out. I'm used to walking at the crack of dawn or midday. Dusk was different.

Sunset walks produce new sights and new smells. I kind of like it. For example, instead of fresh cut grass, I was met with the smells of logs burning in the fireplace and fresh baked cookies. These smells warmed my soul in the midst of the cold, cold evening air. The sky was the most amazing shade of blue for the majority of my walk--some mixture of cobalt and navy that only God could achieve. There were fewer people out and about--a couple of folks walking dogs. It was just me and God, or at least that's what it felt like. In a weird way, it felt like the world had stopped so I could do my thing. Yeah, I definitely like evening walks...

Victory! Victory! Victory!

I had two, no three, revelations while I was out for my walk/run today. It is amazing what you hear when you take the headphones off and listen to your own breath, your feet hitting the pavement, the whir and sometimes roar of cars passing by, and the squawking encouragment from birds along the way. In the midst of those sounds and other really random thoughts, here are the thoughts that penetrated my soul:

1)I am VICTORIOUS in Christ! I had a moment when I was stuck jogging in place at a traffic light. I looked at my hands and noticed the Nike gloves. I looked at my feet and noticed the Nike sneakers. I quickly glanced at myself up and down: Nike watch, Nike jacket, Nike cell phone arm pouch, Nike water bottle. At first I chalked it up to being a label whore. But then I realized it was bigger than that. Nike is one of the Greek words for victory, conquest, triumph. (Somebody shout glory!!!) In that moment I realized that more than the gear that I was donned in, I was clothed in victory that come from being a child of God! I, like Paul, am ready to declare, "But thanks be to God, which giveth us the VICTORY through our Lord Jesus Christ" (1 Co 15:57).

2)Along the lines of giving thanks, it was revealed to me that to truly "thank God for the movement and activity of my limbs" (classic African-American testimony and prayer language) that I should actually move my limbs and be active. It is not enough to say "Thank-You," but we as believers should live our thank you! I'm not saying everybody needs to be out running, but everybody who has the movement of their body should be moving it to God's glory! It is not enough to be spiritual folk and intellectual folk, but we must recognize and give God glory because we are embodied spirits and embodied minds. To ignore and to mistreat our bodies is the same as dishonoring God.

3)Lastly, as I walked and ran in the 35 degree weather, I realized that it is not the cold of winter that makes me "blue" but rather the dark of winter. To rid myself of the winter blues all I need to do is take full advantage of the sunlight. As long as I have time in the sun, I'm good. Not profound, but a truth that makes me know that maybe Chicago is a place that I could settle for a while.

If I had known then what I know now, I would have...

Today, as I lapped around the walking track built above the gym in the YMCA in Mount Vernon, I listened to and watched a group of boisterous (some might say wild) chocolate children having relay races. I watched them with awe, amazed by their energy. I watched them with envy, wishing I could sprint and laugh and leap the way that they did. I watched them with a sense of regret, mourning the loss of such moments in my own childhood where I was either too scared or lazy or insecure to do such things. Truth be told, I didn't learn to hula-hoop until I was 33 and I still cannot do a cartwheel. Anyway, as I walked and ran and looked at the children playing I found myself filling in the blank of this statement: If I had known then what I know now, I would have...

I don't condone or suggest living a life of regret. I am who I am. I did what I did. I did not do some things, and frankly I cannot change that. Perhaps, even, it wasn't for me to do. I mean, would I be the scholar (adult word for nerd) that I am had I been interested more in athletics than books? I don't know. But yet this statement still lingers, begging to be answered. Here are some of the things I would have done differently if I had the wisdom I have now. So, if I knew then what I know now, I would have...

Really committed my life to Christ the first time around.
Taken naps in kindergarten.
Given my all in gym class.
Saved my MJ pleather pocketbook from 2nd grade.

Taken notes everytime my grandfather spoke.

Told my truth a lot sooner than I did.

Done cartwheels without fear.

There is probably more. Even still, I know that every experience--every high place and every low place--has shaped me into the woman I am today. I am also grateful that I serve a God of second and third and fourth chances. In fact, although I'm not making resolutions (it is more like purposing to live life on purpose with purpose) I will do a cartwheel before 2010 comes to a close! Happy New Year!

image taken from http://www.urbanspirit.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/cartwheel.jpg

Baby it's Cold Outside...

It is 29º and I am about to go walking. Why, you ask? (amid thoughts of "girl, are you crazy, it's below freezing" and "you must smoke that good CRACK.") Well, because among other things, I committed this year to taking care of myself in the midst of book reading, thought thinking, and paper writing. So far, so good. I hit a couple of bumps in the road when big papers were due, but for the most part I've kept my workout schedule even when I traveled to South Carolina, Texas, and Tennessee. I've lost 15lbs since September and I'm halfway to getting my body to feel and look like it did when I attended my orientation at Drew 2.5 years ago. I'm doing it slowly and surely. I am cooking more, and eating less (using a salad plate for dinner)but I haven't gone to any crazy extremes. I tried, but I love food—rich food—too much! (In fact, I'm still eating my Atlanta Bread Company chcolate chip cookies because I loooove them so much!)

Oh, I almost forgot...Back to being outdoors in the freezing cold. I could go to the gym. We even have an indoor track on campus. But the gym bores me. Plus I could be in the gym for 6.5 minutes and feel like I've been there forever. For me, there is something about being outside—beholding the beauty of God's creation, breathing fresh (albeit cold) air, seeing people, scouting out deer (and being afraid when I see them), and the change of scenery (even when you walk down the same block two days in a row). So, I will head outside. Perhaps the wind died down some from yesterday. That is my prayer. Also, as much as the gym bores me—it is my safe haven when it is raining and/or snowing. It will be the place to be when the winter really sets in. Plus, there are squash courts at the gym. Squash makes me happy (even though I look crazy playing and I play by my own rules).

And I'm into alternative exercise these days. I'm not talking pole dancing classes (which are all the rage, but the womanist and Jesus in me won't let me do it). I've taken to hula-hooping lately. I'm not talking about hula-hooping like we used to do it on the playground back in the day. (OK, maybe I was one of those Black girls who couldn't hula-hoop back in the day, but watch me now!) The motion is the same, but I dare some third-grade sassy girl with asymmetrical afro puffs to try to work with the hoop I have. For one, its giant. (But hey, I'm a big girl now. Plus experts say adults should use bugger hoops than kids.) Secondly, it is weighted and has these massaging/digestion aiding thingies (several advanced degrees later I still use the word) on the inside of the hoop (see image above). I hula-hoop while listening to my Rock Steady Radio station on Pandora. I hula-hoop while watching Law & Order reruns. I hula-hoop while visioning my future. I hula-hoop. In 2010—watch out world—thanks to a generous Christmas present from my momma (why my mom cannot keep secrets about gifts is yet another blog) I will be Wii and Wii Fitting it to good health.

But until then, I'm heading out to walk and breath. But first, let me put on my thermal underwear and headphone earmuffs. Baby, it's cold outside!

Breathe. Stretch. Shake. Let it Go...

If you know me well, you know that I quote Biggie, Kane, Salt-n-Pepa, and KRS-One as much as I quote Jesus, Paul, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Obadiah. Hip-Hop Culture has been as much a part of my foundation as an minister/artist/scholar as Church Culture. I open with this truth because someone may be turned off by my title. If it helps, Mace was/is both rapper and preacher...

On to my post. In the midst of finally getting my breakthrough on the homework front (I've been struggling to find/buy/lease/borrow/steal motivation lately), I had to take a break. My Pastoral Care and Counseling CLass is all about trauma and resiliency in children and adolescents. Needless to say, the reading can be a little heavy. OK, quite heavy. Like tears welling up and without your permission and streaming down your face before you can stop them—heavy. Like memories from five, ten, fifteen, even twenty years ago flooding to your minds eye—heavy. Like each page require more and more of you and with each page you feel like you have less and less to give—heavy. Today, as I dove into my homework, I found myself emotionally taken. Instead of plowing through, as I would normally do, I stopped to eat dinner I had prepared a few hours earlier (BBQ chicken, broccoli, cauliflower, and brown rice). After dinner, I read a few more pages. Then I stopped to watch a few minutes of NCIS. Then I read a few more pages. Sensing a pattern here?

So, I stopped again, but this time I did what I knew was going to work. I grabbed my house keys and my iPod, pushed play on my "Worship Walk" playlist, and went out to pray in the fresh air. I had to, in the words of Puff Daddy protégé and preacher Mase, "breath, stretch, shake, and let it go." But more than that, I had to give it to Jesus. As I walked, I was reminded of Jesus' invitation to "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." I had been laboring, over a textbook about talking with children about death. But my labor wasn't a recent development. I had been laboring for a few weeks. Laboring to pay bills, laboring to find the strength to read, laboring to write, laboring even to pray sometimes. I was heavy laden with memories of DJ and Grandma and George and Neville—family and friends who had passed away all before I turned 14. I was heavy laden with the anxiety that comes with not knowing your next steps. Heavy laden with GRE Exam and Doctoral Program Stuff. Heavy laden with feelings of inadequacy, indecision, and isolation.

So, I walked and I talked with Jesus and somewhere between Vinton and King and Green Village Road I rested. I rested in the care of my Savior, who indeed cares for me. I rested, knowing that as I gave Jesus my hurt and grief and frustration and anger, that He exchanged each one for His love, healing, support, and joy. I rested knowing that even though I don't know what is next, God has a plan and a purpose for my life. I rested, knowing that God's grace will carry me (and equip me) anywhere God's will take me. I rested knowing that with Jesus, I am and never will be alone. I rested, and then I came back home and finished my reading.