such strange things [over at Deeper Church].

Today at A Deeper Church, I’m doing something I haven’t done much of on the internet, not even around these parts, though I admit to doing it obliquely.

I’m talking about speaking in tongues and the like, about my past that others call pentecostal though that’s a name I learned much later–we only ever said charismatic, or Spirit-filled.

I’m only giving a snippet of story about something that is far more complicated than I could do in a much longer post, or even a series of them–so I’ll admit to you I’m nervous about it all.

I’m learning that there is still much of this to sort through.

Will you join me at A Deeper Church, with my fragmented tale?

Today, though, it’s the Holy Spirit who comes with fire, who descends like the wind of creation. Today, we plan to read the Gospel simultaneously aloud, in different languages, though no tongues dance above our heads.

It’s lovely and odd when the time comes, with a handful of myriad tongues loose with scripture, disparate paces making swells and lulls with an underlying hum, just like the cicadas that will take this place by force in the heat of the coming months.

When the last language stops speaking and we’ve bookended our reading with the bolded proclamation, Praise to you, Lord Christ, I look down to realize that I’ve been clenching the edge of the picnic table the entire time, the grooves leaving marks of anxiety in my fingers.

I’d love to talk through some of this with you.

hope springs purple.

The sun streaks long and lean over the back lot where I take the dog for a small run before returning him to the apartment probably too small for him.

I press in to the solar flare, to the wind that comes to bless us in the spring before it flies elsewhere and leaves us with the stagnancy of summer. [Texas summer, a season all its own.] This kind of thing has me thinking about the Ascension.

Why do you stand there looking to the sky?

I want to scream at that line I find so beautiful sometimes, like a child,

BECAUSE HE…HE SAID HE WOULD ALWAYS BE HERE. or. or maybe I dreamed that part. did he say that? where? where is He?

[by the way, I think I agree with my priest when he said that we live in the days between the Ascension and the Day of Pentecost, though I tend to say that about every church season.]

I’m sorry, I was pressing into the sun, the wind a moment ago. Let’s go back to that. [Thought if you ask me to tell you exactly what that image, means, I'll just give you a look. I don't believe you don't understand, even though sometimes I just say things.]

I press into them because I’m trying to press out of my anxiety, trying to lift myself into the sky where I first learned how to pray. Maybe it’ll take me back.

I’m also trying not to think too hard about the way I casually wrote the word anxiety a moment ago, or how I might be using it to cover other words like depression and acedia, or how I can’t bring myself to finish Kathleen’s book on both of those words.

But also, I’m taking it all in deeply and slowly because I’m thinking about those things precisely, because sometimes they are healed bit by simple bit.

Though three hundred things have changed and blossomed since then, I feel like I am wearing a giraffe bathing suit in my kitchen and crying into my cupcake all over again.

It feels like a thousand things, all of them having to do with the simple act of living and changing, are out to get me, and even as I say that I realize I sound like a character on Girls I would normally yell at, but the truth is that it seems like walking through a cloud. It’s Eastertide, and has been, but I keep smelling smoke in my clothes.

I yell for the dog and he races ahead of me, eyes wild and tongue flapping, to the house. I laugh and follow, glad he’ll be my roommate for the summer, the fleeting months that mean something completely different now that I’m not an undergrad student anymore. It’s still a space between, but more of the same. In this between, I want to abide in Love and Grace and Peace. I want to read Flannery O’Connor’s anthology of letters, but mostly I want to not be afraid of reading Scripture anymore. Or, at least, to only be afraid in the ways you’re supposed to be. I want to sit at the foot of the tower of stones I once stood on firmly, study them, see if they tell me something new.

I want to pray all of these wants, but I might have forgotten how.

Inside, I spot my name on the most loving list of prayer requests. I am undone without really knowing why.

I collapse on the couch and the damn dog wants to play and I want to scream at him but then I am arrested by a swatch of medium lilac acrylic in a painting by a friend I have seen a thousand times and suddenly the cry is a healing one.

I meditate on the purple. Somewhere in the transport, I know, shakily, there is Enough.

detail of “Four Songs for Scripture” by Preston Yancey.

nothing hurt that couldn’t heal [over at Alise...Write!]

Today, I’m thrilled to be sharing a piece of story about Alia and me at Alise’s space today. I have long loved Alise’s blog, and the way she writes about friendship is healing and inspiring. (you can check out some of my favorite posts on this here and here.)

So, I’m quite honored to be talking about friendship over there today, as it relates to differing kinds of faith within relationship (though Catholics and Episcopalians are probably more like oranges and tangerines than apples and oranges. Or apples and Grapples? …anyways.)

Some parts were hard and humbling to write, like this piece of old belief:

You see, Catholics, had faith—maybe–but faith misplaced. They were, well, theatrical at best, conjurers at worst, which was most of the time.

but at most points I just found myself shaking my head in gratitude for what a wonderful friend I have.

[She had told me once, patiently, that there was a distinction between doing something for someone and because of someone, but it wasn’t until I saw my own life that I understood.]

Click here to read the rest.

but as an oh-so-special bonus, over here I’ll share some then and now pictures. You’re welcome.

2003. braces and crazy hair.

High school graduation. Don’t you think for a second I’m the weird one. //photo by Taylor Blackall

treehugging in Santa Fe. yup. smize? // summer 2009

we’re a *little* more adult now? // March 2013

Here’s to the first ten and at least ten more, Alia. Times ten. I adore you, joon.

Cheers!

what i’m into, April.

Linking up again with Leigh Kramer to share the stuff I’ve been listening to/reading/wearing/doing/all that jazz in the month of April. I love these fun posts, and I hope you do, too. Enjoy!

music:

This month’s music goes to the hipster live shows I was able to attend during April. Somehow, Waco manages to bring in a bunch of great music on a pretty regular basis. Surprising, I know. (mostly it’s because we’re smack dab between Austin and Dallas, but.)

• David Ramirez. If you’ve been paying attention to these posts, you know I love this guy. I’m so excited his new EP comes out next week, and I have loved listening to singles as he releases them on youtube. One of the new ones is The Forgiven, which is worth a listen if you’re inclined to think about singing redemption songs, so to speak. Friends and Family gets me thinking of the messiness of Church, and the people closest to us. Findthe Light is the blessing I desperately want to sing over everyone I love.
  

  Lomelda. // Waco Life.

• Lomelda. Again, you should know by now I love these insanely talented peeps. They sing a lot of dying songs, but there’s an underlying hope in Resurrection threaded in, if you pay attention. I prayed a lot with the song “Darkness” on this album in the fall, and think it should be part of the Kathleen Norris-Aquinas bundle I hand to people when I want to talk about acedia.

• Marmalakes. These guys arebased out of Austin, and are a trip to watch perform. Their recorded stuff is pretty rad, too. Folksy-pop fun.

• Ancient Cat Society. I’ve been a fan of Haley Barnes’s voice for a long time now, and really like of this funny-named music project she’s a part of. Here’s a fun song from them:

offline reads

• Heavenly Participation: the Weaving of a Sacramental Tapestry, by Hans Boersma. I am about halfway done with this one, and I’ve been wrestling with it a bit. At first there was some all caps marginalia happening all over the place, but it’s growing on me. Like, a lot.

• Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: (A Mostly True Memoir), by Jenny Lawson. This won my crowdsource question on what to download as plane reading and OH MY GOSH I’m obsessed. I ACTUALLY laugh out loud and call people up to read them parts of this book. For real. 

• More Aquinas. Duh. This week is the end of that class, and I am SO sad about it. It has been crazy how well the topics in class (schism, unity, and scandal) have coincided with much of the things happening on the interwebs lately. Thomas would have shut a bunch of this mess down, yo.

blogposts:

• ok, these two aren’t blogposts, but must-listens. I’ve shared homilies from St. Paul’s before, but these you absolutely must listen to (they’re short, because Episcopal, haha.): this first one is from Fr. Chuck, the Sunday after the week everything seemed to fall apart. As Chuck points out, the lectionary readings were mysteriously just right for such a week, and he beautifully and graciously ties the loose ends together.  This second one was from Amma Erin Jean, on college Sunday. With humor and love, she speaks peace and hope for those in transition. I’ll be holding on to both of these.

• The Lie of the Model Woman, by Christina Gibson, if the Proverbs 31 woman seems cray to you.

• The Case for Not Marrying Young, by Leigh Kramer, if you are tired of that pressure.

• My C-Word: An Introduction, by Tina Francis if you carry baggage with the word “Christian” (yeah, spoiler). Particularly if you find yourself between traditions.

• Ten Things I’ve Noticed About Blogging (for the Creative Soul), by Esther Emery, if you’re new to the game or well-seasoned.

• Why Dove’s “Real Beauty Sketches” Video Makes Me Uncomfortable, by Jazz, if you’ve ever watched a Dove commercial. like, yeah.

• Jesus, This Week, by the Onion (lots of swears warning), if you needed a cry-laugh over that Terrible Week.

• Smokin’ Hot Wives & Water to the Soul, by Zach Hoang, if you always shudder when pastors call their wives “foxy,” etc., especially from the pulpit.

• Why We Can’t Escape the Noise, by Shawn Smucker, if you want to search for peace by way of silence.

• Waging Peace: Conflict, Christian Unity, & Power, by Suzannah Paul, if you’ve ever thought that disagreements are fundamentally at odds with unity.

• Three great posts on friendship I think should all be read in tandem: Sarah Bessey writes about circles of friendship while Alise Wright talks about “best friends,” and then again about the concept of seeking “diverse friendships”…or not.

• I’m Single, But I’m Still a Whole Person, by Emily Maynard, if you have ever felt like you’re not complete without an “other half.”

• Life before Adulthood, to remember or to forget, by Margaret Felice, if you or someone you know faces chronic illness, or if you just want to open your heart to such struggles even a little.

• Christians and Humor: Thoughts on Making it Work, by Rachel Held Evans, if you need a little training on irony and satire. FOR REAL, WORLD.

• Militant Humility, by Zack Hunt, for some counter-cultural thoughts.

• Christian Concert – The Christ Tomlin Edition, by Addie Zierman, if you carry around old Christian concert scars [like I certainly do].

• The Place that Shapes Me, by Sarah Bessey, if you feel called to stay put [or even if you don't. just read this now please.]

I count all of the above proof that the internet is still a good place to be. and this is the edited version, ya’ll.

just-good:

• I love Aparment Therapy, and I love flower bouquets. So, I loved this article about how to make cut flowers last longer.

• Joy the Baker’s popcorn chocolate-chip cookies. Made two batches this month, ate almost all of them. Addictive. (and I used microwave popcorn, for the record. perfection.)

• As part of my love of The Mindy Project and since this perfectly describes my life (also I really like that best friends are like cake):

• The wonderful Esther Emery left this beautiful comment around these parts, and this image has been my background ever since. (and yes I realize the image is of the sun but-that-is-what-I-had-to-work-with-at-the-time so you can just deal):

TV:

• The Mindy Project‘s “my cool Christian boyfriend” episode. THE BEST. Maybe I should be offended, but I don’t even care.

• I realized that I was behind on Happy Endings which is a TRAVESTY. Still working on catching up. I do NOT understand why Fox won’t let us watch it on the iPad, because that is the whole problem.

• I finally finished ALL of Frasier–it’s taken about a year. (If Will & Grace or M*A*S*H ever come to Netflix, I’m doomed.) So, naturally, I’m going backwards into Cheers.

to wear:

• Kerfuffle nail polish by Butter. This stuff is….OK. I know people who swear by Butter polish, but while I LOVED the pinky-coral color, I had a hard time not streaking it. Somehow, I got best results using a matte topcoat. I also realized I’m not much into pastels, though I secretly wish I was. All in all, not worth the price.

• Tart Deco nail polish by Essie. A little orange-er coral, which is fun.

• HEB’s nail polish brand, Orchid. I’m so upset I’m just now discovering this in my last months in Texas.

• Revlon’s matte topcoat polish (drugstore). In LOVE. Lasts longer, doesn’t crackle. Depends on what shade you use it with, ’cause it can look chalky, but I put it on top of a bright red and it looked great.

• Revlon’s Ultimate Suede lipstick, in Finale. Listen. It’s drugstore-cheap, but Revlon does lipstick right. Great pigment, low maintenance. I’m a fan of this red that’ll take me into summer (it’s also what I’m wearing in my blog pic! check it.)

• Somehow I became the person who has all gold accessories. We’ll see how long this lasts.

• I found this great cardigan that I cannot find a picture of in bright chartreuse, and I’ve been wearing it nonstop (good thing I got it out of my system because temperature’s rising, ya’ll.) Here’s a pretty close color match:

moments:

• before the week from hell began, Alia and I made a beautiful brunch for her family. Brunch always wins, ya’ll.
  

  Keeping up with the Tavakolians.

• Caroline came to Waco, and wrapped things in inappropriate venues:
  

  #gtxladygrads

   

• I visited Duke Div for admitted students day! [after Shaney OHSO generously took me to the airport before God was awake. I mean. WHOA.] It was definitely reassuring to hear about the program again, and to meet some of my fellow incoming first-year classmates. It’s crazy how I feel like the program has become an even better fit since I visited in the Fall. I’m all kinds of nervousexcited to see where things go in the years to come.
  

  Duke Chapel, right next to the Div school. That thing is TALL.

• On that trip, I was able to meet up with some of you lovely internet folk IRL, including the crazytalented Kiefer and the thoughtful, gracious Anna. The funny and humbling thing about real-life meetings is the clumsiness that entails. Between confused meetup times and drinks accidentally paid for, it all got really real, real fast. But putting faces and hugs to @twitterhandles is one of my favorite things, and makes all of this cray worthwhile. [[and I am SO MAD we did not get instagram evidence, guys. ugh.]]
• UM HELLO, my friends Dianna and Preston ARE WRITING BOOKS AND THEN THEY WILL BE PUBLISHED AND THEN EVERYONE WILL READ THEM AND THEY ARE GETTING PAID TO DO THAT. ok, basically that is my crazy-excited way of freaking out about their wonderful news. Put both of them on your reading list, folks. CHANGING THE WORLD.

• AND WHILE I AM YELLING ONE OF MY BESTIES GOT ENGAGED! Cannot even deal. I am SO thrilled for Jerry and Elliott (you can call her Ellzbellz, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in favor of that.) I could just explode with all the squeals I have about it, but I’ll let you WOW over this picture instead:
  
  

  I mean. I have attractive friends, guys. Good thing they are both top-notch humans as well. // photo totally stolen from Jerry’s fb.

 

• Lots of love for my church, St. Paul’s, this month. This week was a series of send-offs and blessings for those of us in the college-ish ministry graduating and/or leaving Waco. I have been so blessed by the community at St. Paul’s and by the open arms of the student center this year. Sunday was a kind of last-hurrah, while the Tuesday night Eucharist service included a closer time of prayer and commissioning. It has all truly been a wonderful gift.
  

  the ‘leaving’ group. // stolen from @reverinjean’s instagram feed.

• This was also the month that I made a decision that was in a lot of ways a long time coming, but transpired very quickly: I’m to be confirmed in the Episcopal Church, as part of the worldwide Anglican communion on Cinco de Mayo! #awesomelyappropriate. I’m glad to be able to reaffirm my faith with my friends around me, and to acknowledge the growth I have gone through in the past few years, as well as the community in which I was able to do so. Cheers! 

what I wish I was into:

• GETTING MY LIFE TOGETHER.
• being on time. anywhere.
• taking the plunge and chopping off all my hair. yeeeeep.

——–

Your turn! What are you reading/wearing/doing/loving?

not just bread, not just wine [over at Deeper Church].

creative commons.

I’m so thrilled to be sharing my first post over at A Deeper Church today!

It’s a story of Sacraments and sacramentals, and through the sacred and mundane moments, I’m wondering how we piece it all together–

It was a few years ago now that we three were gathered with red wine bought in a hurry and cheap water crackers to carry snooty cheese. Back then, the guys brought the stories and I simply gathered them into myself, knit line by line into something I could wrap myself in for a long time to come. We were in somewhat disparate spiritual spaces then, but located here each week by a fire, by wine, by strands of Gospel-truth nonetheless stringing us together. We spun sacrament and wondered at holy judgment and marveled at the created order telling the same Story over and over again. This night as we talked, I reached over the cheese and absentmindedly broke a cracker in two.

Suddenly before me, it was as the Host, held high above the altar, split down the middle, Body broken for me and for many, wine and Blood to follow.

Will you join over at A Deeper Church, and enter into the mosaic of faith stories? Click here.

Bread & Wine, Kolaches & West.

There is wine here to revive you,

there is bread to make you strong.

–the merciful priest, in Les Miserables the musical

———————————————————–

I’m a little late to be writing this post that I’ve been wanting to share for months now, since I first received Shauna Niequist’s Bread & Wine into my hot little hands. The tagline for the book is “a love letter to life around the table with recipes.” It is a book nearly in its own genre–part memoir, part sermon, part cookbook, part pulling up a chair. But before I get to this beautiful book, I have to share three reasons why this post has been delayed, because they are nevertheless tied up with the reasons you should put this book on your to-read list right away:

1.  I DEVOURED (no pun intended) the first half of the book in the first two days it was in my possession–but then it moved into the I-don’t-want-to-finish-it-because-I-never-want-to-be-done-with-this-amazing-book territory. So I didn’t open it for a while, though I continued to carry it everywhere. (Does anyone else do this with books? Am I the only weird one?)

2.  Then, two days before I was supposed to write about it in these here parts, I found myself in a metal-crunching, air-bag-deploying car accident in the middle of the interstate with one of my best friends. (Everyone is OK, thanks for asking. Our cars are a bit of another story.) The stress and the shock took over our bodies and minds, and I walked away from the computer for a few days.

3. THEN, Monday morning I woke up to two black eyes (see part of #2′s healing process) and a world in fear: the start of a terrible week, including the explosion in West, TX, less than 20 miles away from me. I was heartsick and glued to various screens, ravenous for any information about dear ones in the Midwest and Boston, but I’ll admit, more immediately for my neighbors in a town so close to any Baylor student’s heart.

These latter two points have produced a week of pacing, praying, crying, and calling, and I’m just now starting to deal.

So in light of all this as well as the less dramatic waves in the tide, let me tell you that Shauna speaks my language when it comes to grief and hope and healing: food. She reminds us that meals have the power to both bring us down to earth as well as raise us up to walk again. She reminds us that our hunger forces us to slow down, and feeding is one of the easiest and nearest ways to show love.

These were the truths I kept thinking of last week–when Alia and I finally made our way home after two hours with twisted metal on the highway, we forced ourselves to take a minute and eat. In hot curry and slippery noodles, we found a bit of healing. (We ended up doing a lot of eating that day. It’s how both of us deal.)

Photo by andybartee on Instagram.

And it’s West’s Czech Stop kolaches that make it so near and dear to road trippers and Baylor students–any one of us can tell you one or twenty stories of late-night runs to West when we should have been doing something else. It’s a rite of passage and a “last” you try to to sneak in before graduation. So maybe it’s no surprise that it’s this story about the bakery feeding victims and first responders for free through the night of the explosion, and Connor’s post about prayer by way of kolaches that brought me the quickest to tears after a night of feeling so helpless, though so nearby. It’s true–food addresses something most human and most sacred at the same time.

I saved the end of the book for the Sunday after everything, the day I knew I would write this post. However, I didn’t know how apt the timing was until I found myself crying through it, sitting in a coffeeshop 17 miles away from headline news, heart raw from such a week:

There will be a day when it all falls apart.

There are things I can’t change. Not one of them. Can’t fix, can’t heal, can’t put the broken pieces back together. But what I can do is offer myself, wholehearted and present, to walk with the people I love through the fear and the mess. That’s all any of us can do. That’s what we’re here for [...], the presence, the listening, the praying with and for on the days when it all falls apart, when life shatters in your hands.

So I’m grateful for food present in the midst of grief, for stories like the bakery’s, for the overwhelming amount of physical goods donated to the West relief. Every morsel serves as light in the darkness, it’s God made known in the taking, breaking, and sharing of bread. It is in community and Communion, in the Eucharist and eucharists, that we find hope and healing, but also the Presence of Christ who mourns with us.

——————————-

I promise I didn’t give away the ending for you. I could have written so much more–a whole memoir-response–about this book. I could tell you about how this book made me create space at my table for those I love, how in a lot of ways, it teaches me to grow up. I’ve told a lot of people that the book itself, Shauna’s writing, is comfort food. Buy it. Read it. Love it. Give it. 

The other plug I’ll make is by borrowing Shauna’s words: “It’s so easy to think that because you can’t dod something extraordinary, you can’t do anything at all.”  This week carried a lot of grief for a lot of people, but I at least know there are ways to make a big difference in the town of West, TX. 

If you’re far away, consider giving monetarily towards any of the following relief funds: West’s local bank fund, the Baylor West Relief Fund,  the Salvation Army’s West Relief Fund, the American Red Cross’s Heart of Texas chapter, or #SongsforWest (a really awesome project, check it.) Even a little helps.

If you’re near West, visit this page or this page to get updates on volunteer opportunities. Also, give blood.

you could at least be polite about it [or, 10 reasons we're all surprised I'm getting my master's in Divinity*].

number one.

Because I’m often caught talking about these things over a melting gin & tonic that I have ordered very specifically, maybe even on a smoky patio.

number two.

Because unless you’re a grandma or a six-year-old, chances are, my speech might be a little more colorful than you might expect from someone getting ready to study The Lord for the next three years. Lots of neon yellow, with the more than occasional streak of electric purples.

 number three.

Because I have lady parts.

number four.

Because if you’ve ever watched me try to cook bacon for the first time or to use a bottle opener or file my taxes or look for one of the six pairs of shoes split between my beside and my car, you might seriously question my Bachelor’s degree. Also, I use words like “totes” and “presh” on a semi-regular basis, even though I majored in books. I try not to hate myself for it. [I will however, tackle you to the ground and beat you with an Elements of Style. Don't %*@# with that Oxford Comma. Or "less" and "fewer."]

 number five.

Because as a kid I spent a lot more time waiting on God to give us an audible message because a pigeon/dove flew into our classroom window rather than doing Sword Drills. If you told me Hezekiah 3:17 was your memory verse for the week, I would spend a good bit of time blushing my way through the latter bit of the Old Testament that still baffles me.

number six.

Because I put aside my CCM ages ago, though there are still traces on my computer. ["CCM," stands for Contemporary Christian Music, you heathen.] Instead, insert a bunch of bands too obscure to name whose lyrics communicate doubt, fear, anger, but also beauty. Plus Kanye and Childish Gambino. [It gets worse--I have no astute theological argument for why I keep those two around. They are just freaking talented. I know, I know, my inner feminist {mostly} hates it, too.]

 number seven.

Because I’m pretty into bright red lipstick. And that gets pretty distracting when you are preaching the Word of the Lord. Especially because there’s a good chance that lipstick is on my teeth. [Also, my favorite eyeshadow of all time is named "Jezebel." But I may or may not still feel guilty about that.]

 number eight.

Because if you ask me about ‘my denomination,’ you will get a lot of stammering that includes words like “tambourine,” “Buddhist,” “prophecy,” “hipster,” “rote,” “sacramentality,” and “Baptism(s)” in positive, negative, and conflating ways–instead of a real answer.

 number nine.

Because I haven’t heard of most living theologians. Or really, any from the past several centuries. [I'm mostly into the really really dead ones.]

number ten.

Because I sleep through/forget as many “quiet times” as I don’t. Also, I refuse to call it “quiet time,” because that sounds like I’ve been sent to the corner with Jesus.

*bonus*

Because if you ask me why I am going to Divinity School, you will get another long, slightly confused, and rambling answer (see #8). But I will say something to you about a love for the Creator, a curiosity about the Son, and a prompting of the Holy Spirit, plus a love for the Church, even when I don’t feel any of these things. Plus you’ll hear some other stuff about justice, sacramentality [again, I know, I'm sorry], and stories of Redemption. And stuff I don’t even know about yet.

Maybe if you stick around, you’ll be less surprised.

*or “Divinity School/Seminary/studying theology,” depending on my phrasing of the day.