Trash Talkin' Reminds me of J-Dog.

Let me tell you about James. Let me start by saying I don’t know a whole lot about James.  I know that James is from South Philly originally. He lived in south philly when living in south Philly was closer to a death sentence for a young black man than it was a neighborhood. But that is where James grew up, in South Philly.  I know that James is a Muslim and currently works at a Christian seminary in the refectory (otherwise know as the dining hall) in Decatur, GA.  I know that James is hilarious and talks more trash than any other man I know. I know James is very good at loving people and doesn’t want people to know how good he is at doing it.

James doesn’t really do anything politically correct. He says words that many might find offensive, he calls out the black vs white culture on campus and makes fun of the students who can read big texts books but would rather die than wash the dishes.  He’s also the campus mascot for many of the student’s children who absolutely love him.  They always want to see James, probably because he bribes their love with slices of cheese and cookies but also with gentle hugs and lets them help with adult jobs like cleaning up and doing those dishes a few of the seminarians think they’re too good to do. 

And the trash he talks… oh the trash! From Phillies/Braves talks to our following the dress code in the kitchen to how we should be working harder, he is endless in his trash talking. He calls me “sorry” because I apologize all the time and makes fun of the girls who are too politically correct for him. James is consistent in his trash talking. James is also just consistent in general. He has worked at Columbia for over a decade. He has watched classes of seminarians come and go and he’s seen professors retire (some willingly and some in shame) and knows the secrets of the walls that he walks into every weekday.

His consistency isn’t the only thing that makes James so endearing. It’s also how he shows care for those that are assigned the refectory for our work-study.  James knows which students are gluten free or vegetarian and set out certain foods for them and he lets me know what processed foods have soy in them. When I got into a theological debate with a peer and I upset him, James took his side but then told privately later that I’d “totally won” that conversation.  You see, James has a way of caring while making it look like he doesn’t care that is absolutely astounding. He doesn’t bring attention to it and probably doesn’t want the attention either. 

Funny how the Muslim black guy serving the (largely) white Christian crowd often is the most Jesus-like. James serves the children and makes them feel special, he doesn’t take shit from us students but he also makes sure we always have what we need. He has a servant heart but he certainly doesn’t mind speaking his mind or cracking jokes or having a foul mouth once in a while.

I focus on James but he’s not the only one. The entire refectory staff is effing amazing. Will, the manager, works his ass off while making sure all our hours are logged… especially for students like me who ALWAYS forget to log hours. There’s also Darlene, the morning cook who dances to music on the top 40 from the moment she gets there to the minute she leaves. She is joyful (no other word for it really) and lovely. She is kind and wonderful and sensitive. If you happen to go through the line and don’t say hello to her you libel to hurt her feelings. 

Our staff in the refectory probably goes unnoticed by the vast majority of students who don’t work there or don’t eat there. I’m not sure if the professors and administration have ever had the pleasure of sitting down and talking to James or Darlene or Will. Maybe they have, regardless these people have made me feel a part of this community as much as any other student or professor. They have taught me SO much about the campus and the students and how to serve.

I want to care for people like James does. I want to care for them without bringing attention to the fact that I care for them. I want to love them without making it obvious or pointing out my love. I want to talk shit while comforting a fellow student and letting the other know they did a good job. I want to call out my peers for not following the rules but still allowing them the pleasure of knowing I have their back. I want to serve with contentment and consistency and I want do it well.

James saves some of the best food for the end of the year so that the students aren’t left with bad tastes in their mouth when summer comes around. I know that James wants them to remember the refectory as the place where tummies are fed and happy memories of community are created. He’d never say it. Maybe he’ll read this and think that I’ve just read WAY to much into his actions and he’ll be embarrassed and talk all kinds of shit about it and tell me I’m just some sappy white girl who thinks she’s from Philly that spends way too much money on tattoos and an education that won’t get me anywhere. 

That’s just his way though. Everyone who knows James knows how much he loves us. From making sure we have food to eat to taking sides and letting us know he has our back James is the most Christ-like man I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in a very long time. I’m grateful that I had the pleasure of meeting him and I’m really grateful I’ll be working with him again come fall semester.

Why I'm Against The Death Penalty

My brother was murdered.  Many people know this. Many don’t.  Just over a decade ago my brother and one of his closest friends were brutally murdered. It was not quick. It was horrible and gruesome and disgusting.  The case was strait up out of CSI or Law & Order or something.  I need to make this clear. It was planned, pre-meditated and carried out from beginning to end with all the precision they could muster.

I am thankful every day that the amount of precision they could muster was very little. Authorities caught them relatively quickly and all but one took a plea deal that allowed them to be eligible for parole in 50 years or so. The other, the ringleader, went to trial and went to prison for life.  The jury convicted in less than 30 minutes. It was a horrible time in my life. I wished they’d all die. I hated them; I wanted them to suffer. I was pissed that the state didn’t go after the death penalty but I took solace in the fact that prisoners in Texas die faster in the general population than they do on death row. In that, I found great comfort.

It has taken over a decade (and a lot of therapy) to get to the point of relinquishing my hate.  It has taken me this amount of time to realize their value as humans on this planet and the realization that they are human and have feelings and emotions and are worthy of God’s love.  Now, don’t get it twisted, I don’t want them out of prison. I suppose in many ways I haven’t even forgiven them and don’t particularly feel inclined too. Yet, given the option, I would not put them to death. Not now, not ever. 

You see, death is such a permanent thing. We are such impermanent beings. And in that way, making permanent decisions doesn’t sit well with me. Despite my feelings when I was younger, I realize now that I believe the death penalty to be inhumane. Beyond that, I believe that if I choose retribution over justice or revenge over acceptance then I have lost my way as a Christian.  If I choose an eye for an eye instead of turning the other cheek than I have allowed myself to be ruled by an old law that is absent of love instead of remaining present in Jesus’ assurance. 

The majority of those that read this will know John 3:16 but it is John 3:17 that rings true for me.  It states, “For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world but to save it.” If I am to be a follower of Christ’s teachings then I cannot, in good conscience, condemn these men to death. So I accept that they suck. I applaud my justice system. I encourage those around me to step away from words like “he deserves to suffer” and “well that’s karma for you asshole” because that man who was put to death may have been awful, but he was human. Since he was human he was worthy of God’s love and because he was worthy of that love he is worthy of acceptance and justice.

Now I know what you’re thinking, “but this IS justice.” I disagree.  Justice is a human ideal with human application.  When we choose to make permanent decisions on impermanent beings we have stepped out justice and into the shoes of God.

There’s all that and then there’s the realization if Jesus was alive today I don’t think He’d like it either.

Captain America... A Review (with no spoilers)

Captain America was effing good. For many reasons. First, it had no qualms with the realization that it was a character based action movie. Yet, despite a rather short and flat plot line it did an amazing job of giving depth to the Black Widow and making Captain America seem more human. This, all while giving an intensity to evil that even the comics struggled with.

I liked that there was a strong female presence. Annoyed that Cap had to save her ass a few times and even more excited that the movie wasn’t completely white washed. There were two, count ‘em, TWO black guys that were kick ass, strong characters of moral fiber. I didn’t realize Hollywood was capable but I’m really glad they proved me wrong. Gone was the token black character and ushered in was leadership and excellence from two wonderful black actors.

Fury’s role was great but Falcon’s (Sam Wilson) was even better. The movie did a great job of introducing him into the Marvel landscape and did a good job of communicating the type of relationship him and the Cap had. He did a fantastic job, made the part look easy and was fantastic.

It was one of the best movies I have seen in a while. It did a good job of demonstrating patriotism without it looking cult-like. Had enough humor to offset the violence and made me want to be a part of the team.  If you’re wondering if you should see it. You should.

Also, there are TWO clips at the end. Stay for both.

Walking in the Darkness

The darkness descends now and again for a host of reason. This darkness isn’t just an absence of light though. It is sticky and clings to me and wraps me up in its suffocating warmth.  It is a familiar place that is awful and comfortable and can sing me into devastation like the sirens in Homer’s Iliad.  The darkness is not a joke, it is not to played with nor is it to be underestimated.  It can swallow the bravest of hearts whole.  It has swallowed me whole in the past.

Loads of therapy has taught me a few things about my darkness (because everyone’s darkness is specialized and seems to change over time). First, my darkness is not always a choice. Secondly, there are things that I can do to shorten the darkness or at least make it not as dark for as long as it lingers. Lastly, my darkness always passes… eventually.  Because of these facts there are things I do when I feel it begin to descend- that I MUST do if I don’t want to sink into it.  I know that, in the beginning, it is a wonderful thing to sink into the maddening darkness.  I have to resist that wonderful feeling or I am fucked.

When the darkness begins I must do what I call “rally the wagons”.  This means any person, thing or task that depletes me of emotional energy is cut off. Some of my relationships must suffer in order for the relationship with myself to stay in tact.  This can be painful for my friends or acquaintances but for me it is absolutely necessary.  I keep the friends who fill me up spiritually, I keep the relationship that allow me to be myself and not have to give of myself and I ignore the relationships that don’t. Some people in my life shift in and out of these rolls. Some stay in them. I am not always aware of how or when this action takes place. It is a survival skill and it happens swiftly and quickly.

When the darkness has completely set in I begin to light my “candles”.  Candles are anything that create light in the darkness and make me get out of bed.  This can include therapy, exercise, recovery and work.  Therapy is a MUST. Exercise is a must and usually has to include some kind of monthly contract at a gym or I don’t go. Recovery means at least 3 meetings a week and if it is dark enough then I hit one just about every day. I must make myself go to work every day, be on time and take shower to do so. When I do all these things I have a chance of not succumbing to the darkness. 

These candles don’t mean that the depression isn’t there. They simply mean that it’s not as bad as could be.  It means that I’m still functioning, not using and maybe I’m even giving back to my community to do it.  Telling people that I’m depressed, communicating my feelings and allowing myself to feel those feelings is like lighting a campfire.  It not only provides light it provides a real sense of warmth and community. It means that I no longer feel a lone, that others are invited to partake in the conversation. Lighting a campfire is scary because it can mean rejection in the midst of my vulnerability. Usually, I find it a necessary part of my process. 

In spite of candles and campfires I usually find that the sticky darkness can linger.  It is annoying and frustrating and it usually represented by a consistent sadness. It means that every time I get out of bed there is a bit of a struggle and that every time my yoga instructor tells me to breathe the response in my head is “Why don’t you go breathe you asshole?!” and it means I cry for no reason and sometimes cry for a reason and sometimes I just cry. It means that I am resistant and even panic when someone needs me in any emotional way. It means that I just will be in the darkness for a bit longer than I’d like. But I remember, all my darknesses up to this point have passed.

In the mean time, I light a few more candles, begin the campfire and allow myself to love me. Eventually the sun will rise and I’ll feel better and I know that candles and campfire will have helped in the process.

What It's Like to Lose

I wrote this well over a week ago now. I couldn't post it then- I suppose it was still too much and I've thought about not posting it now for a host of reasons. But I think it's important for people to know because a lot of people didn't and it's important to share because a lot of people never do. So there it is. I'll post another update in the next few days- where I was last week is not where I am right now.
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I have struggled with writing this. Getting my emotions down has never been a struggle for me, but this time around I’ve had a hard time grasping what it is that I feel.  My heart is numb and my mind seems to fold in on itself. Isolating myself from the world is such an easy way to escape from being honest. As if I’m floating in space and it absorbs my gravity and doesn’t allow my scream to be heard.

In the midst of my second miscarriage I realize now how many other women I know that have suffered through the loss in silence.  Many have never spoken of the loss to their partners let alone put it out in the universe for the world to contemplate.  But here I am with the weight of it and I’ve no idea how else to process it except to do so with the world at large. I can’t be the only one who feels this way and I certainly can’t be the only one who’s able to share it.

I am on my couch snuggling with my dog Todd- who for over a week now will not leave my side when I am home. He is aware of my emotional state more than most of the humans and I am grateful for his consistent warm presence. But while his warmth eases the pain in my heart the pain in my womb remains palpable. The bulk of the contractions and bleeding has eased but my body and mind remain resistant to the idea of trying again- or at least, trying again any time soon. While, what I want more than anything is my own child, the idea of creating another only to lose it breaks my spirit.

While all this has gone on one of my closest friends has given birth, another is five months pregnant and my news feed seems to constantly be filled with other newborn babes. Someone makes a comment about how I should have children and another person unknowingly talks about how great a mom I would be. These are positive things that bring my heart joy and yet I hate them all. They make me angry and it is unfair. I want to be happy for everyone but I fold into self-pity instead, I withdraw and ignore the world and hope they still love me when I come out of my shell. But I swear, if another person tells me “it will happen when it’s meant to” then I will probably kick them in the face.

It is not as though my body has some understanding of cosmic positioning of baby karma and therefore aborts a fetus because it’s not “meant to happen” right now. And if God as you understand him has some hand in the miscarriage of my child while bringing a crack baby into the world at the same time then I’d like to have none of it. No, for me, “meant to” and “god’s plan” just don’t fit into the achingly painful loss of my womb.

So I have no god to blame and the universe isn’t against me and I am left undone. There is no explanation or understanding of it so I am left with the “what ifs” of the future. What if, after this second one I will go through a third? What if my heart can’t take it again? What damage will another do to my relationship with my husband? What if, after months of healing I don’t want to try again because honestly it has crossed my mind? What if... what if he can’t stomach adoption and I can’t stomach the procedures? The fears of uncertainty are overwhelming.

So I take a breath and move forward. I feel the pain and have moments of sobbing and hold onto my husband while trying to let him go so he can breathe for himself. I try to grasp on to what is real, and true and good and lovely.  He is lovely to me. Those who knew of my pregnancy and loss have mostly been lovely. My dog is lovely and my belief that the pain always passes is a relief. It will pass and it will get different. This truth remains blatantly present on the surface of all my emotions- it will change. Nothing remains the same except for that which does. For the moment, my heart aches and so with it I eat cake and tea and wait for it all to pass.

Pardon me While I state my Goals for Rebelling against Theological School Norms....

We're told from the moment we walk into orientation to learn self-care and take care of ourselves. We're told that seminary is going to be hard and difficult and take lots of time. We're told it will be a spiritually life-changing event.  What I have found in my 6 weeks of theological school is that taking care of myself means sacrificing time with school work which means lower grades. That seminary "being hard" means they're making tests super hard in some misguided attempt to make me try harder. And spiritually life changing really translates into spiritually deadening.  The mixed messages and expectations are a joke. I wouldn't call it spiritual formation as much as spiritual destruction mixed in with a healthy dose of emotional disparity with a weekly option for communion.

My senior year in my undergraduate career I did a research paper and project about creating emotional safety within the collegiate sphere.  Thus far, I've found that my school doesn't do a single thing that the research specifies as emotionally satiating. Perhaps there is a person here or there that gives it a go or tries to provide a safe space... but it's a rarity. I find this problematic. I'm going to school not only to learn the facts and theological implications of faith but also to understand how to build people up, create an enviroment of safty and be present for people in my life.  Thus far, school is teaching me how to have an incredibly hectic life, take tests well and build resentments toward "the establishment". 

Let's be honest. I don't do authority well. Never have. And I'm feeling a rush of rebellion coming on. I have two appointments with two professors next week and I fully plan on letting them know that I'm disappointed with them for falling in line with some University model that creates snobby academics instead of conscientious students. In the end, I don't particularly care if my professors like me... I'd much rather they respect me.

I'm sure some of my fellow students will read this and think I've taken things a little to far. That's ok for you to think that. I've come to these decisions, not solely based in opinion, but in research. So I feel ok about it. To be certain, some of my disappointment comes from the HUGE amount of effort it took for me to get back into school and the realization that it is nothing like I hoped. I hoped that school would be challenging, that it would take effort and that it would be hard. I hoped that it would allow me to grow in a myriad of ways.  I guess, in some respects, it IS those things- but the way in which it has presented itself comes off as gross and icky. 

I want to be challenged not disheartened. I want it to take effort not make me a work-aholic with no time for spiritual development. I want it to be hard- not impossible. The ways in which it is teaching me to grow is also much different than expected. So my growth goals for this week:  to speak my truth in a way that my research suggests builds emotional safety-- even if it's uncomfortable for those around me or the people in authority over me. My goal is to have the self-confidence to stay in my truth with or without the support of my peers and my goal is to remember that I have come to Emory with a purpose and goal. That I was called, that I did answer and that I am here. I will not fade into the background of a system that I do not believe is working; instead I will challenge the system to grow and change to the needs of its students. Even if that student is only me.

Last week we had "Reformation Day" on campus because of this dude named Martin Luther. If that guy had the balls to say what he believed based on his research then I guess I can grow a pair and do something about it too. I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself now and make dinner.

Social Justice vs. Evangelism

So I'm a liberal. If you hadn't figured that out about me already then now you do. I am liberal both socially and theologically and it plays a role in how I serve my neighbor, my friends and my recovery community. So anyway, it came up in class earlier this week that perhaps evangelism and social justice were one in the same (or in the least, COULD be one and the same). I like to think that one cannot exist without the other but this standpoint has a lot to do with how you perceive evangelism.

As opposed to many other christians I don't see evangelism as my main purpose or goal. Nor do I want it to be my focus or my goal- at least, in the typical sense.  See, I'm a believer that attraction rather than promotion is a good thing. I want to act in such a way that you are attracted to what I have so that sharing what I have is easy.. the foundation is already set. But if you don't know me, don't know what I have to offer or aren't aware of what I'm about then telling you all my beliefs or understandings doesn't go anywhere.. at least most of the time.  Attraction rather than promotion is basic sales technique- it is why it's easier to sell a house to someone who is referred to me than someone who just shows up at the Keller Williams office.

So what does that mean? First off, it means I don't go around telling people what I think is right or wrong about faith or God. If you want to pray 20 times a day and your God is a doorknob and it works for you and brings peace in your life.. well then... pray to some DoorKnob! Social issues are off limits too (well, most of the time)... wanna have 8 husbands? GO for it. Instead, I take the "Great Commission" and "Loving the Neighbor" and "Attraction rather than Promotion" as a greater philosophy as a whole instead of commandments or ideals to be addressed separately.

On a deeper level, Social Justice and Evangelism end up being one in the same for me.  I cannot evangelize or spread the word of my belief system if I am not acting in that belief system.  If I am not supporting equality, equal marriage, feeding the hungry or clothing the poor or protecting a woman's right to choose then I am not able to spread the word of God. I believe this because I understand social justice to be an active and consistent way to love my neighbor. I can evangelize all day but if I'm not loving my neighbor and if what I or believe doesn't attract my neighbor then the evangelizing is worth nothing.

There are a lot of people who will disagree with me. That's okay! Disagree! I am not asking you to believe the way I do. Nor do I invite you to try and change my mind. I love my perspective. I love knowing that when I hang out with homeless guys or support gay rights then I am participating in some of the most important commands in all known history without making people cringe with sappy modern day christian rhetoric that I find judgy and unloving and hurtful.  It means that my evangelism relies on my actions and not my words. It means that my faith is only as good as my commitment to the commandments.