Idle and Blessed

The house was an endless maze I was a rat in its cage Wandering, racing, searching  Not the exit, the exit was clear What I needed was a mirror Who, what, where am I You were there, you all Were there before nightfall Leaves on the trees turned to fire Don't worry, you said to me This is the right way to be You're the star of this show Looking for his mystery face I ran, that rat in its race Looking to know what destiny means One, jet out the back door Two, nod my head and ignore The way my heart pounds through my fingernails Or three, really, convince you you're wrong I know I don't belong Autonomy's the only thing I've got left I've got one leg on land, one in water Almost, not quite, kinda my father's daughter I can be a queen of everything You were all there, though And I love you all, though I don't think you understand my trajectory I'm an ocean, a glacier, a rock unde...

My half marathon is in six days. This may come as a surprise, but I am 110% excited for it. Although I've always been athletic, I've never trained this consistently for anything in my life. When I say consistently, I mean running has been about 1/3 of my life the past three months, the other 2/3 being school and eating. Seriously, though, running is a part of me. I'm not the fastest, and I can't go the farthest, but I get into a rhythm and it's my way of coping with life. My inner dialogue is quieted. My raging mind is stilled. I dig deep down and find my heartbeat again. It was there all along, of course, but in the second mile it makes its presence known. When I can start hearing it in my ears, other sounds are less important. For an hour or two, it's just my heart, my lungs, and the ground. I read somewhere the average person will applaud your running accomplishments up to around four miles. If you run farther than that, you get "the stare." ...

Confession: I like fast cars. Loud motorcycles, adrenaline rushes, shooting guns. Going over speedbumps too fast. Water skiing and landing jumps on dirtbikes. Confession: I play music really loud when I drive alone. I like to scream/sing and not be able to hear myself. Driving with my knee so I can put my hands out the window. Power ballads are the best for this. Confession: I have an angry streak. A bold streak. I like confrontation. (But only if I really trust you.) Confession: I like to be alone. I've come to terms with it. When the only conversation is the one inside my head. Selfish, probably. Confession: I love running more than I love breathing. Actually, they are kinda the same thing. Go together well. Life explodes into glory around mile 7. Confession: I don't take criticism well. It gets locked inside my eardrums for weeks.  Can't shake it loose, Can't hear around it. Confession: I am an optimist. Perhaps that's conceited to ...

I believe love is stronger than hate. I believe music can heal. I believe Scripture is poetry and law and story and truth...beauty. I believe in blessings undeserved. I believe in the restoration of sinners. I believe in the full inclusion of humanity in God's redemptive story. I believe smiles are as contagious as yawns. I believe the soul and the body are at least halfway connected. And both will be resurrected. I believe in protecting our vulnerable and honoring our elderly. I believe the fact that we have not arrived yet is grace. I believe there is potential and raw mercy in the tragic, desperate. I believe the imprisoned, accused, forgotten, and hated are my brothers and sisters. I believe all trials will end, and they don't compare to glory. I believe sweetness is found in melancholy. I believe God meets us in the sweeping-of-the-floors ordinariness of our days. I believe in the Church. I believe in books, in words o...

Why must everything be due on the same week at the end of the semester? What kind of person decided that was ok? Do I have a stamp on my forehead saying, "Professors, kill me please?" When it rains it pours. Please, oh please may my brain stay in one piece long enough to complete this school year!

Easter is my favorite holiday. If you know me, you know I have a lot of "favorite" things that don't always stay my favorites. Last week I think I listed my top three favorite things as yoga pants, flowers, and some guy I had just met. Granted, it was getting late and I was loopy from too much Hebrew studying, but my point is that I am a little fickle and indecisive about favorites. Ok, that's not true. The problem is I'm afraid of commitment. But I'm serious about Easter. I have committed. It's my favorite. And it's because I love the depth of contrast in the story. Good Friday is one of those days where most people feel obligated to be sad, or go to church, or pray, or whatever they do when something terrible has happened. For me, Good Friday is permission to feel despair. Despair about the calamity we find ourselves in. Despair that like those first Century Jews who crucified the Messiah, we so often repay Jesus' love with rejection. Despair tha...

Most of you are probably tired of hearing me talk about studying religion. I know, I blog about it a lot. And no, Belmont's School of Religion does not sponsor me for it, although that would be nice...but this post is only slightly related to being a religion major, so hang in there. I used to think liberation/feminist theology was a little useless in my world. (Bad, I know. Sorry, SOR professors.) Not that it isn't good to talk about injustices and inequalities in society, but I just don't see them as severe in my culture. I generally don't feel looked down upon for being female, and I'm not an ethnic minority. I am not excluded from conversations in the academic world, or refused any education or job I want. As far as school goes, I don't feel like my experiences or ideas of God are excluded or anything. But I've recently revisited feminist theology for a couple reasons. One, I've realized that the business world is still surprisingly misogynistic in s...