Checking In...

I don't have much time to write, but I just wanted to stop by and check in. This has been a wonder-filled, event-filled week.

The week started with an awesome worship experience at the Union Baptist Church in Morristown. Even before the welcome to visitors I had been bathed in the presence of the Holy Spirit who was obviously uninterested in the fact that I had on very black mascara.

On Tuesday I started classes and I'm pretty darned excited about the semester.I have some heavy hitting professors: Morris Davis for Church History 2 (who's got intellectual swag like none other), Traci West (ethicist par excellence), Althea Spencer Miller (ill Bible scholar with a West Indian flair), Gary Simpson (preacher's preacher), and Maxine Beach (the dopest Dean I've ever had).

I've run five (yes, one, two, three, four, five) times in between classes and work. I've made pro status in Wii bowling. And, since the scales don't lie, I've lost five (yes, one, two, three, four, five) pounds since the beginning of the year.

I've also chatted with friends, cooked and eaten foods made with the freshest of ingredients, slept, fought off a cold, and watched a few episodes of Law and Order SVU. In many ways, I feel like I'm living the balance I talked about at the beginning of the summer. It feels good. And when I look in the mirror I see my glow. It's coming from the inside. I don't know about you, but for me, when I take care of myself, my whole self, I tend to glow. In all honesty, I had lost it. Thanks be to God I'm getting it back, more resplendent than ever, as I wrap things up at Drew.

Well, that's all for now. I've got to go stir my homemade chicken and shells soup before getting into my homework for the week. Until next time, be well!

Winter Time

(I'm writing this blog when I should be working on my 20 page Christology paper that is due tomorrow of which I have zero, yes I said zero, pages written)

Winter is here. It is official. And I hate it. With a passion. I know there is a reason and purpose for every season under heaven, but I have a hard time wrapping my brain around the bitter cold and bareness of winter. It reminds me of death. I fancy myself more of a life girl.

I went to DMV this morning. I put two hours on the meter because, well, I went to DMV this morning. To my surprise I spent all of 3.5 minutes in the DMV office. Not only was my visit short, but the clerk who waited on me was pleasant. For a moment I had to look around and make sure I was really at the DMV and not in a parallel universe.

I spent some good time with my mom this weekend. When I was growing up she never let me sleep-in or nap. In fact, she'd wake me up for phone calls. (Even calls from Courtney to talk about the same boy we'd talked about an hour before and were guaranteed to talk about an hour after.) But this weekend she cooked some good food (okay, great food), we watched movies, and she even let me sleep when out of nowhere my eyes could no longer stay open.

While talking about movies...we watched The Proposal. Another romantic comedy. I have a problem. I'm supposed to be laying off the the genre altogether, but I'm having a hard time getting clean. The sad thing is, I sometimes expect life to end like my favorite romantic comedy. I am usually (ok, always) sorely disappointed when that doesn't happen.

That brings me to where I started. The truth is I'm having a hard time writing this paper because I'm tired and disappointed and hating winter and feeling stuck. I know I won't stay here, but until I get up and out, if you know the words (and the worth) of prayer, I ask that you have a little talk with Jesus on my behalf.

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.