capacity

capacity

sometimes, you can't know the capacity of something
until it's just about to burst
the trouble is
calibrating the vessel to figure out
where that point is
and then, there's the mess that results
when the vessel breaks
and the stuff spills
all over the place

sometimes, you can't know the capacity of a woman
until she's about to burst
the trouble is
there is no calibrating a woman
to figure out
where that point is
and then, there's the mess that results
when she finally breaks
and people look down at her
in her broken state
emotions, hurts, secrets
spilled
all over the place

sometimes, you can't know the capacity
of a woman
unless you try to see
where the calibration marks are
because they're there
if you observe
carefully
and the point is
there won't be a mess
because there won't be a break
because he saw the marks
(they're called scars)
and opened himself up
to make room for the stuff
that now, won't spill
all over the place
because two became one

and capacity increased
exponentially

For the 14 year old poet

To the 14 year old 'Maya' who performed at the coffeehouse on Friday night

If I thought I could not fail?
What would I do?

First of all, how is this question even in your repertoire? I'm impressed. You, my dear, will go far in life if you keep asking those kinds of questions.

Now, for my answers:
1- I would take the rest of the dance lessons that my mother chided me for taking when I was 25. And after the ballet series was finished, I would take ballroom, african, hip-hop and jazz classes, and whatever other classes they offered until I was ready for competition...and then, because I could not fail (and would not care about winning per se) I would compete and dance with complete abandon! (This is me letting go my pew, but you have to read my previous blog entry for that to make sense.)
2- I would throw my bikini, two tee shirts and two pairs of shorts (and a few other items...like a toothbrush!) in a bag and spend another week in Arizona. But this time, I would rent the pink jeep and drive through the Grand Canyon and I would sing at that karaoke bar in that beautiful steak house where I had one of the best meals of my entire stay in Scottsdale.
3- I would write several best sellers. Not necessarily the "great American novel" but definitely something that captures the hilariousness that is my parents and this life that I have been given.
4- I would retake Kiswahili at Rutgers and become fluent in it. Then, I would do the same with French, Spanish and Greek and Hebrew. That way, I could not only use them in everyday life, but also for the exams to get into graduate school to pursue that PhD in a subject yet to be determined.
5- I would take cooking classes and do extra homework and eat the mistakes and maybe even finish writing my business plan for the personal chef business that grew out of a simple request.
6- I would take my daughter out of school for a year and take her on an educational trip around the world, but it would have to begin in Africa...you understand why, don't you? Yes, of course you do.
7- You might think this one is odd, but I would go shopping. I hate shopping because nothing ever fits and if it does, it's not appropriate or it's just downright ugly. If I could not fail, I would go shopping and have a personal shopper and tailor on hand to help me find that which emphasize my assets. (That wasn't a weak attempt at some not-so-clever wordplay. I haven't been able to emphasize my assets in years because nothing fits but I do have really nice legs to be so short and I have a waistline, so all of these clothes that hang on the hips just don't do me any justice. You're young and perfect, so you have no idea what I am referring to! (smile)) Oh, and there would be shoes! Perfect shoes! Not excessive numbers of shoes, just perfect shoes for the journey.
8- You can't repeat this one to anyone but I might see if God wants me to pastor. What the heck? I can't fail, right? So...(*hand hovers over delete button*)
9- *whispering* I might even get married again...but that would mean dating so, let's start small, and just get the wardrobe and assets in place...refer back to #7, okay?
10- Baby, I would live my life in such a way that you would be proud to know me! I would journal my thoughts and my adventures so that you would smile at my joys, laugh at my jokes, and learn from my mistakes!

That's just for starters! Thanks for asking!

If I let go this pew

In a moment of comical self-reflection one Sunday, I noticed that I don't like to sit on the front pew in our sanctuary because I like having something to lean on or hold onto. I am not sure when that habit began but I do consider myself to be a bit of a pew-gripper. Now, as someone who suffers from random dizzy spells, this is not a bad idea but I began thinking about it one Sunday when the worship leader asked us to raise our hands and I realized that I was practically white-knuckled in my grip on the pew in front of me. With a sly smile, I let go of the pew and raised my hands but when it was time to lower our arms again, there I was, resting on that pew again. What is the security in holding on to that smooth piece of wood? I am still not sure but I do know that I feel oddly anchored when that pew is in front of me. I am not exactly the most kinesthetic worshipper in the crowd, but lately, I find myself asking myself "so, what happens if you let go of this pew?" (Or the more accurate and countrified version of the question..."what happens if I let go this pew?")

It's not like I'm going to fly away or something crazy like that. It's not like some wind is going to blow through the sanctuary and carry me up and out. It's not like I'll lose my natural balance...and if so, I can always sit down! Honestly, I do have this thought that if I let go that pew, something is going to happen to me but I am not sure what.

I seriously believe that though it is chuckleworthy, it speaks to something much deeper. I've been told that I hold back when I am preaching sometimes and I just need to let go. Someone who heard me preach for the first time said, "So, you're not as quiet as we thought" and I thought that was odd, but then I realized that she stands right in front of me when she is singing and she sees what I look like when I am in worship...so she knows what she's talking about! (But how on earth do I fix it? And do I really need to? (and did I just start two sentences with conjunctions?...I digress.)) I already know that in other areas of life, I tend to become way too big if I "let go" and so I rein it in so that others are not displaced by my volume (as in decibels and size). Turning 40 was a bit of a license to let go and exercise the freedom that comes with..."Honey, I'm 40. I don't have to care what you think!" However, with that freedom comes the responsibility to use it wisely. As I move into the world of spoken word performances, I feel the freedom growing. I know that I am learning to let go and just enjoy the ride. Maybe I'll try it on Sunday...and see exactly what might happen if I let go that pew! If you see me on Sunday and I have on ankle weights, you'll know why!

Some thoughts on preaching

The following is just my own musings about preaching...these are my own opinions and not necessarily the opinions of any other preachers on the planet...you'll have to ask them yourself!

A few notes on preaching:

Yes, we get nervous. It shows up differently in different people. I am usually grateful for a stationary microphone and a solid pulpit so that the congregants don't see my weight shifting from foot to foot as I attempt to keep my knees from knocking. I play with the papers (or lately, the iPad) in front of me and try to have opening remarks that don't sound like incessant stuttering but usually, as soon as I remember to smile, pray, and just read the scripture, it's all good.

Sermons do not fall from heaven onto the lips of the preacher. We read, we study the text, we pray, we read magazines and news articles. We are called to say a word but to also make it relevant. We have to know what is happening in the world in order to help God's people live in it. Sometimes, we will revisit or recycle a sermon but trust and believe that God will sweep the cobwebs away from outdated examples if the teaching is sound.

There is a part that must be given over to the Holy Spirit. After reading, consulting commentaries, doing word studies and searching for sermon illustrations, you have to let it breathe like a fine wine. There is someplace in which you feel a shift and then you might be saying the words on the page, but for me, the breath comes from a deeper place. I'm told that I have a 'game face' when I preach. That cracks me up but I know what people mean because there's always this moment when the congregation gets blurry and I can barely see my manuscript but the words keep coming anyway. If you know about the concept of "Flow" then you'll understand exactly what I mean. It becomes an out of body experience and I need to see the video or hear the recording to really grasp what everyone else saw in that moment. (But what a feeling! Whoooooo!) You may have heard a preacher say that it can't be preached until it preaches to the preacher. I agree. If that thing doesn't somehow bless me, then how can I hope for it to bless anyone else? And that usually happens somewhere around the practice run when my notes are done and "I try it on" to check my timing...and cry through the whole thing. Like the pop-up timer on a Perdue oven stuffer roaster, that's my clue that it's as done as I can make it!

Regarding sermon preparation, I often envy people who have the luxury to be alone with their thoughts and who can really carve out the time and space to really hear from God before, during and after. People who have not preached would have no way to know this, but for some preachers, those 20 minutes are the most exhausting in the week. I know you just want to shake my hand but I just want to sit down and sleep for a minute. Okay, so it may not be quite that dramatic, but preachers often depend on family and friends to assist with small things (like driving me to the church because I am so focused on saying what God has given me...or in my case because I can't get my car started! ha!). Everyone has their rituals and needs but an after church nap seems like the universal preacher treat! Today, I am returning to my 'day job' and I am not at 100% because I have not fully recovered from yesterday. I didn't preach a revival or run around the church but I did attempt to loosen my grip on the pew (tomorrow's blog topic) and just give what I was given to share with my church family...and I'm a tad worn out. (Thus, the pastor's day off is usually Monday.)

So, those are my notes for today. November is almost over and I'm just glad to have had this many days worth of things to write about! Tune in tomorrow for a little something I'm calling "If I let go this pew..."

Have a great day!
Shalom!

There is a word from The Lord

Today, I will preach. Today, at the 11:00 service, I will stand up with knees knocking and feet freezing and I will preach. I have done this before, but every time that I preach, something happens to me. When I write my sermon, there is a process that kicks in. I write, laugh, sing and weep. I sometimes cry so hard that I have to move away from the computer so that I don't short it out. Last night, I wrote, I read, I laughed and I saved the document one last time and then I went to bed. And I wept. I mean, scare the neighbors weeping. I was alone with the sermon on love. I was alone in my bed with my cold toes and heavy heart. I wept, sobbed, whimpered and tried to lift my head off of that pillow but was left to literally wallow in my tears. Today, those tears will preach. Today, the word of Love will come through and come forth. Today, I will joke about football but I will preach about love. The love that attends when you are crying alone in bed at night. The love that hides a multitude of sins. The love that pulls you upright when you have been bowed over for 18 years. The love that raises the roof and lowers you into a healing place. The love that offers not silver or gold, but healing. The love that pulses through a heart from the first beat to the last. The love that needs nothing but an invitation and an exhortation. The love that refills when we feel empty...like I did last night....all alone...with my cold toes and heavy heart. Today, I will preach. I will preach in, on, and through the invisible yet invincible LOVE that, as my friend Valerie says, attends me.

I Corinthians 13
13 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. 2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned,[a] but have not love, it profits me nothing. 4 Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; 5 does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; 6 does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; 7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8 Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part. 10 But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. 12 For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

13 And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

I am loved and therefore, I love.
Shalom

prayer 112412

Dear God,

Thank you for loving me and knowing me and allowing me to just be here. Today, although there are pressing matters around the globe that require, if not demand, your attention, I'd just like to hang out with you for a while. I'm sitting in this wonderfully comfortable chair that was practically given to me and I realize that You have put some very generous people in my path and I am grateful for each of them. Some, I didn't even recognize in the moment but as I reflect on my life, I see them now. I thank you for wonderfully funny parents who are marvelously extraordinary in their everyday humility. You could have stopped right there and left me in the small circle of my nuclear family but you have allowed me to travel and move and meet and greet an international grouping of people I now call friends. My garden of friends and acquaintances is beautiful in its diversity and I pray that I would be a flower and not a weed in the lives of people I have met. You have allowed me to love and be loved. I have survived heartbreak and bad dates but I have also known a love that endures. Thank you. I don't know what the future holds, but the present is pretty good! Thank you for the new community of artists that you have allowed me to find. My life has a richness that cannot be measured in carats or gold bars. There is something sacred about those spaces and I always find you when I am in them. Thank you for those who use their gift...to your glory. We're all in the process of birthing something. You have allowed me to give birth to a beautiful girl...her life is a testimony to you. I've always known that she is just on loan to me for safe-keeping. The way that you trust me is incredible. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of the lives of students across these 20 years. I also thank you for the tragedies and wounds that make life full and real. You have taught me compassion and patience and love in the midst of loss. You have also taught me where my idols are in the midst of my grief...thank you for allowing me to live long enough to learn from that. In everything today, I just want to hang out with you. I don't want to long for anything today. I just want to be content and complete with you. And so, I shall. Thank you...I'm listening, leaning, present, and here...

I knew it was love

I knew it was love

He said, "It ain't easy being away from home on the holidays because it's just not the same and you can't complain about a free meal. However, I just wish that I could get a proper holiday meal."

I listened.

He said, "I mean, who I gotta know to get some chittlins that are cleaned properly? Is it that hard? Aren't there any cooking classes being offered in grandmothers' kitchens anymore?"

I listened.

He said, "Is there no honor among African Americans anymore? It's a holiday!! Why are we eating the same stuff we ate after the church picnic in July? This just doesn't make sense!"

I listened.

He said, "All a displaced black man wanted was sweet potatoes, greens, dressing, giblet gravy, turkey and cranberry sauce...oh, and cornbread. Is that so much to ask for on Thanksgiving?"

I listened.

Then, I knew it was love...when I began preheating the oven, greasing the skillet, looking for that box of Bell's turkey seasoning and making a shopping list and channeling the spirit of every cooking ancestor in my lineage...so that he would know that there is honor among African Americans on holidays.

I knew it was love...because I considered cleaning chitterlings...

I listened.