So...

After reading my blog post, "Musings on Romans 8:28 and Ironing Shirts," my mother called me and suggested that I take the post down. She was nervous about my father reading it. (My parents are my "amen corner" and faithful readers of my blog.) I assured her that I did not purposely burn his shirts. It was in my carelessness I burned the shits. Thinking back, there were a host of things destroyed at 111 North 3rd as a result of my carelessness. Lord, have mercy.

Anyway, a day after my conversation with mom, my father asked me the question, "Is there a statute of limitations on burnt shirts?" He said it with such seriousness. But then a wide smile graced his face followed by a hearty laugh...Is that funny, or what?

Untitled (inspired by the Mister Softee Truck)

So, today I feel incredibly blessed to be who I am, where I am, when I am...

I spent the morning preparing study materials for my ordination exam. I recorded myself reading the materials I need to memorize, put it on my iPod, and now have study aids for my on and a half hour commute through Dirty (really, Stinky) Jersey. Bless God for technology...

I spent the afternoon taking care of business with the hubby—name changes and such. It is official...I am a Mrs.! (I think it is fun when random people at the DMV congratulate you and give words of blessing and encouragement!)

I spent the early part of the evening at the pool—we have a pool in our complex! I took in some necessary sun, and when the heat was too much, I splashed around (and swam a few laps) in the pool. I felt like I was somewhere else (as in not New Jersey). I was so relaxed that the ideas for my next sermon were speaking to me; I honored them by writing them down.

Around 6:15, when the Marco Polo game was overbearing, I packed up my things and headed home. As I walked through our complex, I heard a familiar song. My heart began to dance in my chest. There is something about the Mister Softee song that gets me every time. I must have been smiling—the biggest, widest smile ever—because the driver of the truck waved at me when he drove past me.

In a moment, I was whisked back to my days as a child at the Lincoln Elementary School in Mount Vernon, New York. I could feel the anticipation that rushed over me at 3:05 as we—my classmates and I—waited to be dismissed from school. I could feel my legs ready to take off towards the door, through the playground, straight to the truck. I could see Tahiyah and Neville and David and Ingrid standing at the truck waving dollars, clamoring to be next in line. I could taste the vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles and I could see a pinkish bluish liquid dripping down my arm when I couldn't eat the ice-cream as fast as it was melting. And I didn't have to imagine it, I heard the sound...

In a moment, I was also reminded of our last Spencer Family Reunion in 2007. It was the day when the Mister Softee Truck stopped by our family reunion and we feasted on ice-cream. It was the day when my Uncle Freddie—the other Mister Softee—had a moment of nostalgia and joy that resulted in the "ugly cry" that my mother's side of the family is known for. It was also our last family gathering where everyone was together—including Aunt Joan.

Tomorrow we will celebrate Aunt Joan's Homegoing. She has been the matriarch of our family since my grandmother passed in 1987. She was also a fighter. Whereas pancreatic cancer takes many people down in a matter of months, she survived for years without ever taking radiation or chemo. While I wouldn't advise that route for others, she certainly did it her way. Truth be told, she did it her way until the end. In mid-June she checked herself into hospice care. She had made peace with her Savior, peace with her life, and peace with her death.

So, here is to beautiful endings and new beginnings...

Think on These Things...

'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!

Reminiscing...

It is 7:55 on Thursday evening. When I noticed the time, something strange kindled within me. I thought about the joy and laughter and closeness that Thursdays meant for my family. We would order Chinese Food from Friendship (or Hing Fat) and watch the Cosby Show. Here I sit, in 2010, missing those Thursday nights, but ever grateful for the way they shaped me. It is my hope that when I have children, that TV will have returned to some measure of wholesome/ethical/responsible/funny programming and that we can enjoy takeout—one a week—while we watch and discuss.

images taken from: http://shanghaiist.com/attachments/shang_erichu/chinese_takeout.jpg and http://americanthings.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/cosby-show-by-ginavivinetto-files-wordpressdotcom.jpg

Hulkamania Workout Christmas Remix

Allow me to set the scene. It was Christmas morning of 1984....

Under the elaborately decorated tree I found a Get in Shape Girl Fitness Set (see below). I was so excited! I wish I could find the picture, but trust me when I say that I didn't waste any time putting it to use. I quickly changed into my workout clothes. (In the picture it looked like a leotard, but really it was my white undershirt, white panties, and one of my sister's net shirts over the top.) I opened the kit and placed the pretty pink and purple headband on my head followed by the weight bands around my ankles and wrists. I then proceeded to jump rope. I was in Heaven and, at the same time, I provided much fodder for my sister and her friends to laugh--guffaw is really the right word. (They still laugh at me to this day about it.) That get up became known as my Hulkamania Workout Suit.

Fast Forward 25 years...

This time I knew what was under the tree, but nonetheless, as I opened the gifts--Wii fit Plus, Nike+ Sportsband, and some funky fresh Air Pegasus (compatible with Nike+), I couldn't help but see that little (ok, chunky) girl in her Hulkamania Workout Suit in my mind. I laughed and thought to myself, "This is the REMIX!"

To add to the humor, after plugging in the Wii, I went in my room and put on green headband, green sports bra and my blue/green pajama pants ready to box and play tennis. The guffaw from 25 years past resurfaced, but this time it intensified by the minute. My mother, sister, and niece (who wasn't born at the time of the original Hulkamania incident) fell out and screamed and then laughed until tears rolled and no sound came out. But friends, I'll be the one laughing (and smiling and beaming and leaping) when I reach my fitness goals!