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Showing posts from 2018


God of ages past
Of the robust present
And of unknown and uncertain futuresWe come before you with gratitude
For getting us through the week,
And providing opportunity for
The experience of joy.I know I should be dead in my grave--
Or cutting my wrists--
Or planning my departure from this world--
But I'm still here,
In the land of the living,
Sipping bourbon and giving thanks.Life throws us unexpected curve balls sometimes,
But we are still here to tell the story.
We are still here to let somebody know that
though weeping may endure for a night--
And it will endure--
Joy comes.She comes, riding in on a great black horse.
Joy--Sable is what I call her--
Sable comes riding in and
We are reminded that there is so much more to life than our weeping.
There is so much more to life than our depression.
There is so much more to life than our despair.Sable.
Sable comes.
Joy comes.
And she rides into our lives with gusto.I'm grateful for her.
May she carry me through this uncer…


I wish more people could admit publicly that they are lonely. Today, I'm talking about loneliness, imperfection, and vulnerability on the vLog. Tune in!

A Weary Black Woman/Could the Black Man Be Sane?

I'm sitting across from a black woman on the train who looks tired. She is tired. She has fallen asleep with many bags in her hand. A bag lady. Beside her are two you gentlemen who could be her sons--one 4, maybe, and one teenaged. They seem carefree. Joyful. Perhaps, a little tired but awake enough to smack each other around, playfully, as they make the trek from Brooklyn to Manhattan. I can't imagine that the woman is over 35, but she looks tired and weariness has aged her.As I watched her, I reflected on my own weariness--how it's aged me. I wonder if it shows on my face--if it showed on my face...if people saw that I was weary while my ex-partner, my brothers, my male cousins played around as the wrinkles grew into my otherwise plump and creamy skin. I wondered if my father was ever as weary as my mother. I wondered if my grandfather helped my grandmother carry the bags that weighed her down and wore her out.A black man walks into the subway car, entering from another …

A Broken Heart Still Beats

No matter what you're going through,
you ought to thank God that blood stills flows through your arteries, no matter how clogged they are.
A Broken Heart Still Beats, and though you may be bruised,  wounded, scarred, scabbed, bloody, the fact that the blood is still dripping, messing up your clothing, staining your carpet, soiling your sheets, is a sign that you are still alive!
Somebody ought to be grateful that your last drop of blood wasn't your last drop of blood. You are still alive.
I know you feel lonely. I know you feel abandoned. I know you feel betrayed. I know you feel angry. I know you feel sad. I know you feel... but you feel. You feel...and Your feeling is a sign that you are still alive!
A Broken Heart Still Beats.
I'm grateful for the blood pumping through my veins. It lets me know that there's work to do. It lets me know that the Universe needs me-- that I'm not done-- that it is not finished-- that the cross is not the end of my story.
Your Sunday …

Speaking Joy

I'm speaking joy into the atmosphere from now on--That's not to say
That the tears don't come,
That the grief doesn't rear its head,
That I don't miss elements of my past,But I'm speaking joy--
And life
And wealth
And love
And passion
And peace
And hope
Into my life, into your life, into the universe,
Nonetheless.Songs have been dropping into my spirit lately--songs of encouragement and of optimism. I thank the ancestors. I know that I am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, and that the prayers of the righteous on earth availeth much. I'm heading to the studio in a few weeks but I'm playing around with a little diddy that speaks life into the lifeless, hope into the hopeless:Your breaks and your bruises
Are not the end of your story.
Not the end of your story.Your cross and your crisis
Are not the end of your story
Not the end of your storyI'm claiming victoryI don't know how the lyrics will end up working their way around a melody this so…

Evolving Ecosystems: When the Foundation Cracks

What happens when your ecosystem--your foundation/your support system--changes unexpectedly?

When Praises Go Up: Worshipping Through A Storm

You ain't led worship or preached until you had to do so in a storm, OKAY?!

I've been in a storm since December 31st, but the eye of the hurricane just came over me this week. When I tell you that people will kick you when you're down, believe me! Even the people you love--who you loved...who you thought loved you--will sucker punch you when your nose is already bloody and your eyes are already black.
Moments before I was to introduce the Reverend Dr. Renita Weems at the opening event of a women of color in ministry conference, I get a text from someone that said "Get the F*** out [of their life]." It was violently uncalled for. I'm strong but I'm sensitive. I'm an empath and although it wasn't a literal punch in the chest, it felt like someone had just knocked the last breath out of me. I'm not a violent person. I've never been violent. I don't like confrontation. I don't argue much with friends or partners. I have a low threshol…

The Prayers of the Righteous

Yesterday, I cracked.The coffee mug that is my soul chipped.
The foundation that I thought was cement
Became quicksand
As I hung on to my sanity by a thread.Yesterday, I asked for help.
I reached out to my sister in ministry,
To my therapist,
To one of my best friends--
To help guide me through this storm.
I've been steering this boat and I felt that
I was getting weak,
I asked for help.It was strangely fulfilling.
I'm exhausted right now,
And soon, I'll write more,
But the prayers of the righteous availeth much.I feel your prayers.
Thank you for all who have stood with me,
Are standing with me,
And will continue to comfort and pray with me.

Prayers for the People (And Ourselves)

1.  Today, I pray for patience, God- Patience with my trust in you  and in myself- A deeper trust that has no timeline or expiration date- A trust that represents the efficacy of my prayer and my praise- A trust that gives peace.
2. Today, I pray for perseverance- For strength in the midst of the struggle- For consistency whilst making important life improvements- For endurance and good will during the process- For the rendering of renewal.
3. Today, I pray for perseverance- For strength in the midst of the struggle- For consistency whilst making important life improvements- For endurance and good will during the process- For the rendering of renewal.
4. Today I pray for stamina and strength    as I run towards my fears.
5. I pray for self-control as I embark on this journey of refinement-- Refining my body, my dreams, my goals, and my relationships. I pray that I clear up space in my channels so that I can communicate with you better-- So that I can communion with myself and pour po…

Midnight Blue

To: The Love of My Life
You give me midnight blue 
I wish that I was next to you

The flicker of your lashes

On my skin makes me anew

And I dissolve into the almond

Shape of eyes that pierce my soul

And I feel whole

A way I've never felt before

You open doors

And maybe that's what eyes are for...


I cried in the library
Everytime I think I'm okay
Someone says something
That triggers this
Emotional volcano
Waiting to explode inside of meI'm grateful for the refuge
For the hideaway
For the moment of rest
For the minutes I was able to
Collect myself
And wipe my tears
Without anyone knowing

Depression is Exhausting

Y'all.The wrestling is exhausting.Pretending that you're okay when, in fact, everything around you is crumbling is exhausting.Painting a smile on top of the pain is exhausting.Losing sleep over things you can't do anything about is exhausting.Depression is exhausting.I often get to the 18th hour of the day and I feel so tired. I silently interrogate my wearyness:  "What have I even done today to make me so tired?" I often feel as if my exhaustion is unwarranted--as if I don't deserve to claim such an adjective. I beat myself up over it--surely there is somebody out there who has earned this descriptor more than I have.This wilderness that I'm struggling in is exhausting. Today's therapy session was exhausting. Healing is hard work. Being honest with yourself is hard work. My brain hurts, my heart aches, my hips sting with pain. It's like a cancer moving through my body. The laughing hurts as much as the crying. The light behind my eyes is being po…

Hell Hole

I am overwhelmed by life in New York City.I had a feeling I'd get here some day--disgruntled and disenchanted. Every little thing urks me.I came home and my toilet isn't working. Can't get my building's plumber to come until Monday. In another city, I would be living in a house with more than one bathroom, so that when one toilet is stopped up, I'd have another toilet to use. Its the little things that make a a home with more than one bathroom so I won't have to relieve myself in a toilet that won't flush or stay with a friend until it's fixed.Then, I've been having issues with mail delivery--and because I live in a building with no doorman, occasionally, my packages go missing. I'm in a bitter fight with USPS and the company that mailed some clothes I purchased because neither one of them wants to take responsibility for this missing package. Furthermore, the mail person has been leaving my packages with random people in the b…

Shattered glass

Have you ever broken a glass? A glass plate or perhaps a wine glass?
And did it shatter into a million pieces all over the kitchen floor?
Yea--lately, my life has been feeling like that often--like my heart has shattered into a million tiny pieces. Or that something in my life, rather, has shattered into a billion pieces. 
The thing about broken glass, though, is that you rarely find all the pieces. Like, you don't even know there are more pieces until one day, you step on something that was already shattered and it cracks some more, and you're like, "damn! I must've missed that piece in the cleanup process." Or maybe, you didn't clean up very well to begin with.
I feel that way about certain things in my life--i didn't clean up properly, and now I'm stepping on fragments of glass, re-inflicting pain...not healing.
There are fragments cutting up all parts of my feet up, slicing through hardened, thick skin that's needs to be be c…

I Don't Know

I'm in a season of my life where I don't know what's happening. More importantly, however, I'm in a season where I'm okay with admitting that I don't know. I simply don't know all the ins and outs of what's going on in my life. I don't know the outcomes. I don't know if there will be a pot of gold and a rainbow. I don't know if I'll ever be content with where I am. I don't know if I'll stay in NYC. I don't know if he loves me. I don't know if she is really in my corner or not. I don't know if my body will be able to produce children. I don't know if my body will even let me live another year. I don't know if I said the wrong thing to them. I don't know if I offended her. I don't know if I'm making the right decisions regarding my career.The one thing I do know is that I don't know. And that's enough for me right now. I don't know and I'm moving forward anyway. Maybe that's the v…

Real Friends

I don't know how anyone gets through life without friends. I've known Brandon for almost 13 years!!!!!!! I can't even imagine living life in NYC without him. Well, today is his birthday--his 29th--and I am celebrating with him because he deserves it!
When the lame man was struggling in Luke 5:18, he is carried to Jesus by his friends. His friends see his need and bring him to Jesus for healing. I'm so grateful for people like Brandon in my life, who carry me to Jesus--when I'm weary, when I'm broken, when I'm down on my knees, sinking to rise no more--they carry me to deliverance. Happy bday Bran! You're a hero! I pray many blessings on your life in this new year!!!


It creeps in like a sneaky cat
And crawls up your bones
Overwhelming every inch
Of your being Fatigue is a strange thing. I often feel as if I don't deserve to be tired--as if I haven't worked hard enough to warrant such exhaustion. Even when I get 8 hours of sleep, my mind is fatigued, my heart is fatigued, and my soul?--My soul is dragging along most days, like a reluctant dog who fears bath time.I feel the exhaustion in the deepest crevices of my soul, and I'm trying to learn how to rest. I'm trying to figure out how to hold myself accountable for resting. And what is rest? What does it taste like? What texture of rest do I need in order to rid myself of this fatigue? I digress...not because I'm out words, but because I'm out of energy.

Standing Firm On Your Desires: On Career and Parenting

I am black.
I am woman.
And I am standing firm on my desires.

Today's vLog details my desires for motherhood and stability amidst my burgeoning ministerial career. Enjoy!

Tired As Hell

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
I'm tired as hell.
How bout you?

Listen, Monday's are hard. I feel like I need the entire day to recover from church; and while the large chunk of the early morning and afternoon is open for me to sleep in a bit and catch up on school work, I never feel rested enough to make it through the day without complaining about fatigue. I really am weary, perhaps, not tired. I constantly feel as if New York City has taken it's toll on me--like I'd be fine if I could just escape to an Island for a week. I'll take Miami...I ain't bougie. I'm also wondering if something is coming to knock me even further into the hole I've been trying to dig myself out of. Something in my spirit says, "Beware." I feel as if the joy I seek might be thwarted by something unforeseen, so I'm staying vigilant. I'm weary because even in the midnight hour, I'm vigilant. Even as I sleep, I'm alert. It's like I'm sleeping bu…

The Stories that We Weave

I'm exhausted. There will be a much longer post about my 10+ year love affair with the beloved show, Once On This IslandBut I just wanna comment briefly on the power of theatre. It is the through-line of my life. It is my constant. Going back to school for my divinity degree has been SO difficult, particularly because I've had to momentarily lay aside a part of myself to do this new thing God is requiring of me in this season of my life. While the theatrical through-line hasn't disappeared--it is still so useful in my preaching and pastoral ministry--I miss performing. I miss doing shows. I miss being able to afford to see shows on Broadway. For Valentine's Day, my mother bought me tickets to see Once On This Island. Tonight was the night. It was fantastically awe-inspiring and a reminder to never stop dreaming. While my story might be a little complicated right now, I have the power to weave my various stories together to make "some kind of life." One day…

Having a Baby, Pt. 2

I've talked previously about Having a Baby on here--
Not just having a baby but not feeling like I need a man to do it. It was a revolutionary act of self-love to declare, this past January, that I wasn't waiting on the perfect partner, the right time, or the best financial situation to have a baby. Black women, in particular, have it hard out here. For those of us who didn't accidentally get pregnant at 17, we have been told by many to wait--to wait until we get settled into our careers, to wait until we make partner and then wait 3 years after that so that we can keep wait until we make tenure at whatever wait and wait and wait....until our eggs disappear or we can no longer carry a child to term because we've reached advanced maternal age. I've heard the stories--both dictated to me in private or publicly shared in books or interviews [Read Gabrielle Union's We're Going to Need More Wine]

I'm about to be 29 and #iWaited.…

Something Beautiful

Yesterday, my anxiety got the best of me.
I missed an event that I had talked myself into looking forward to because I merely didn't want to put up with all of the people. Instead, I ate a late lunch, fixed a cocktail or two, watched a documentary on the Black Panther Party, began reading Huey Newton's Revolutionary Suicide, and went to bed around 7pm. I missed posting and the event.I don't feel bad about the event. I mostly feel defeated by anxiety. I feel defeated by New York City. I feel defeated by this acute loneliness that comes with this calling on my life. I've come to the conclusion that I'd much rather be alone in my home than to be lonely amongst a crowd of people--to be sheltered and away from than to be bombarded by stimuli.On days like yesterday, I often wonder about who I am becoming...about who this woman is who has caved in on herself. And I'm not sure I dislike her. She's quiet. She keeps to herself. She minds her business. She has less dr…

Almost Forgot To Post

😯😯😯😯😯😯Blogging everyday can be hard.
But it has been so rewarding.I'm currently up listening to a podcast and eating a 2nd dinner. I almost forgot to post but something clicked in me that just didn't feel right.Today has been good--filled with anxieties and joys. I'm grateful for God's hand in and on my life. It was God who made sure I posted tonight, just to say "Thank You," publicly, for keeping me during this very uncertain season.Every day on here is another chance for me to make something beautiful in this world--to tell the truth, to write in power, to express my deepest thoughts in a way that can heal others.I almost forgot to post but I'm so glad I did.

Uncle Butter

Today was Uncle Butter's funeral.He was a kind man.
Giving, Caring, Gentle, Determined.
Those were just a few of the
many superlatives used to describe him.I saw him last in his home on December 18th.
We talked and laughed.
He told me about his life's journey.
He reminded me that he was
keeping up with me on Facebook.
And of course,
before I left,
he made me take a picture by his
tiny Christmas tree.Butter had a passion for photography!
I have so many photos of my
most intimate worship moments.
I have so many photos of me laughing
and smiling.
Butter's joy and enthusiasm for life
kept so many of us sain
when we couldn't see through the
depressive commotion of the hail and the fog.He will be missed,
but I'm so grateful we crossed paths--
that I was blessed with his unfading smile,
his humor, his wit, his righteousness.Well done, Butter.
Well done.

"You Have Such A Gift."

i hear words that pierce me.
staring at the lips of the person
who utters them
whilst trying to make sense
of such a profoundly overwhelming statement.

how shall i respond to such praise?
what words could i bother to muster up?
what fake expression of gratitude
could i attempt to
plaster on my face?

"you have such a gift," they say.

i struggle to make sense of such a...
if only they knew
this gift was a burden.

i like to believe that i'm learning to
smile and say
"thank you."

there are moments when i'm successful;
but mostly, i shrug my shoulders
in a way i've perfected.
i tilt my weary-full head to the side,
as to suggest deep gratitude for
the acknowledgement--
for the affirmation--
for the chance to share these coveted gifts
that are burdens.

i often try my best to
escape the room post service--
to hastily leave my gifts at
the altar...
or the pulpit.

oh, how i wish to
disappear into thin air after saying,
how i wish to…

Fresh Wind

I'm currently up doing homework that I've procrastinated on all week...month, actually. I had a rough start to the the year...and now I'm paying for it this week as I make up all the work I put off. I'm grateful to God for a fresh wind of energy as midnight approaches. I should be tired, broken, busted, and disgusted; and while I'm still many of those things, I am, yet, able and available to do the work.

Thank you, God.
In every season,
You are STILL who You are.


God is STILL God!

Today was a good day. I took another step towards my journey into ordained ministry, both church services were great, I checked off everything on my homework to-do list ON TIME (the first time since the semester started), I made a cocktail for myself and cooked some bomb a$$ shrimp and grits! 
I have to say that through all of my trials and tribulations--and there have been MANY in 2018, alone--God is STILL God! πŸ™ŒπŸΎ God is STILL in the healing business, okay! Somebody shake your neighbors hand and say "STILL GOD!" πŸƒπŸΎ‍♀️πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ’¨πŸ€ΈπŸΎ‍♀️ Desert Song by Hillsong is one of my favorites!  The bridge says:  All of my life In every season  You are still God And I have a reason TO SING! I have a reason TO WORSHIP!
Listen, whatever you're going through--whatever season you're in--if the field is barren or the harvest is plentiful, You still have a reason to sing! God is still God. You still have a reason and a responsibility to worship! Get on with it, my friends.

Late Bloomer: A Memo On Love

I've always been a late bloomer when it comes to love. I didn't date much in high school. I didn't go to prom. I didn't date in college because "they" told me to stay focused on my studies and to "leave the boys alone." I moved to NYC in 2011 and tried my hand at it--I didn't even know what to expect. I didn't introduce a guy to my parents until I was 27. The introduction was risky (for me) and scary and exciting all in one.
Today, my tulips bloomed--the ones my father sent me for Valentine's day. They bloomed right before my eyes. I'm committed to keeping them alive for as long as I can (I'm usually pretty horrible at keeping plants alive but this is a new season). They bloomed and I thought about how I finally bloomed at age 27. I finally got to a place in my life where I was no longer hiding my love life from the world--I was no longer sneaking around with people who didn't serve me. I was finally allowing myself to love

Reverend Bartender

I learned a lot about ministry while I was bartending. People have NEEDS, okay! Ha!

They NEED their cheeseburger medium-rare with no cheese, side Bleu cheese crumbles, no sauces, side mayo, extra pickles, okay! They NEED their martini filthy dirty, with extra olives on the side. Just drink the olive juice out the carton, why don't you?!
They NEED their fries extra crispy or their salad finely chopped or their world will come tumbling down, shattering into a million pieces.
Oh yes! I learned a lot about ministry while bartending. I learned how to plaster a smile on my weary face so that I'd get a good tip from Rick Ross (he left me $100 one time). I learned how to put up with vindictive managers who hated their jobs and, thus, took it out on us. I learned how to eat one meal a day in between a 14 hour shift. I learned how to carry 3 hot plates with 16oz bone-in prime ribs on them without dropping them, AND to dodge rowdy, undisciplined kids who were sprinting around the restau…

Future Too Far Away

I cried the tears I didn't cry yesterday.
Bottled up, they came forth,
Bursting through like a
Runner crossing the finish line.What is this reoccurring nightmare
That keeps creeping into my daydreams?It's like I can't stop emptying.
I can't stop releasing.
I can't stop feeling
Anything but despair.I hope for better tomorrow's
But I desire better yesterday's.
The present is too uncertain.
The past betrayed me.
The future is...
Always too far away.

Tulips, Strawberries, and Free Indian Food

I waltz into the office doors at the church. My boss, the associate pastor, takes me to the temp at the front desk. The temp says, "You're Mia?" I nod affirmatively. "Your dad called earlier. There are packages for you." I look down at the table and see two large boxes. One is obviously a flower box. The other most certainly has perishables in it.

I gather the deliveries and head to the worship arts room/my make-shift office. My boss is snickering whilst making sly comments about how loved I am because of these offerings. I open the flower box and embrace pink, red, and white tulips, accompanied by a beautiful glass vase. I open the box beside it which is filled with chocolate and white chocolate covered strawberries.
I search for a note, knowing deep down who the admirer is:

"My gorgeous baby girl, Happy Valentine's Day." Signed, "Daddy."

I struggle to fight back tears, so overcome by this gesture, though not surprised. My father has…


On days like today, I'm weary--

weary because I haven't been sleeping well and the exhaustion is catching up with me--

weary because Tuesdays are my LONG days [I'm in class from 9am-9pm...yes, I'm in class now πŸ˜“]--

weary because melancholia takes its toll on you.

However, in addition to being weary,
I'm forcing myself to be thankful--
to make space in my days for gratitude.
It's amazing how much 30-45 seconds of sharing gratitude with the Divine can help refresh your day. I actually prayed before my meal, yesterday, and those 30 seconds of solitude--30 seconds of space to say "thank you, God" ...for this food and for my mom and for my dad and for this person and that person--provided the wind that carried me through my three-hour class. I just felt...better. I definitely need to engage in this more often--to not wait until bedtime or when I wake up in the morning, but to engage with the Divine in what feels like random moments throughout the day.


My Purpose Statement

I went to a goal-building/vision-detailing seminar a few weeks ago and the facilitator asked us to write our personal purpose statements. Mine is ever-evolving, obviously, but here's my second draft.I am a multi-dimensional black woman, artist, scholar, preacher, and educator who has been called by God to heal through musical expression and the prophetic spoken word, to give my life to serving others, and to dream without ceasing.To heal
To serve
To dreamNot bad ey? I'll continue to work on this and flesh it out. It's important to be able to speak and write these words into the atmosphere, specifically my calling to heal through music and speaking. I have to remind myself, often, that my voice has power--that I have the agency and authority to affect change with this magnificent instrument made up of cords, lips, & teeth, powered by the breath of my lungs and stabilized by the rhythm of this beating heart. Be well, folks.

Ezra, Pt. 2

Today, there was a baptism at church.
An infant named Frederick.
His parents were decked out--
in their finest garb.

I looked on this moment with amazement--
Filled with the joy that
I imagine the parents were experiencing.
As the Reverend walked the baby down the aisle,
to celebrate his welcome into the
Church of Christ,
I teared up.
I so desperately desire that moment--
the moment when Ezra...or Eden/Moriah... are
paraded down the center aisle of the Church,
celebrating their welcome into a community of Believers.

I got sentimental. Is it because I'm almost 30?
Is it because I let go of loves of my life?
Is it because my ovaries are ready--along with my spirit--
to create something new in this universe?

I cry myself to sleep, often,
mourning the loss of possibilities that
seem dead
I cry because, although I know that God would never
leave me or forsake me,
I can't even muster up the energy
to imagine better--
What does that even look like?
I thought I had it!

I linger for a…


I spent much of the day crying-- tossing around a once empty bed
that I now share with my laptop,
tablet, phone, and tomorrow's sermon--
looking for jobs--
planning post-seminary life--
trying to decide where I'll relocate to in 2019--
And daydreaming about Ezra.
my son.
My future. I daydream about Ezra often, these days.
No, I'm not pregnant.
I want to be someday.
I want so badly to experience motherhood--
to watch my kid play in the backyard--
to treat the wounds he'll garner
on the multi-colored battlefield of
jungle gyms and sandboxes
with peroxide. I daydream about Ezra--
going on mother-son dinner dates--
teaching him how to eat sushi--
how to order mommy's favorite glass of wine.
I have visions of carrying him on my chest
while teaching midweek Bible study.
I imagine looking out from the pulpit,
Sunday mornings, seeing him--
and all my children--
staring back at me in awe...
or misbehaving in the back pews
(which is the likelier scenario). I see Ez…

"You Don't Like To Lose." Pt. 2

Eyes glazed over with tears that want to fall,
I gaze into a distance far beyond.
An undiagnosed crack in the heart
Pushes air out from a diaphragm
That squeezes to keep just one breath alive,
For that might be all I have left
To hang onto a life I don't want.I sniff what wants to drip from my nose--
Swiftly silencing the wails that are
waiting to break free."How much longer til this damn bus arrives?"
I ask myself, over and over again--
silently--hoping my frigid pacing would
quicken the time."Is this what losing feels like?"
I whine internally.
"It's better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all,"
they said.
But these aches in my neck
from a long day's journey disagree.
If I had never loved,
I'd have never lost."You don't like to lose,"
my therapist remarked.
Crudely, she'd told me about myself
some weeks ago as I soaked her couch
with my tears.
And now, I reflect on the risks I took--
Just to say,…

Taking Risks

So much of life is about taking risks.
Sometimes, risks lead you to dreams and destinations you never knew existed. Other times, risks lead to tears--to failure--to heartache and physical trauma. Sometimes, risks lead you to death. The hard part about taking risks is trying to limit the regrets.
I took a HUGE risk this week. I'm shaking inside just thinking about it. I'm uncertain and fearful of the outcome, and yet, I pressed forward with the decision. The last few years have consisted of me taking risk after risk, hoping for the best and praying for comfort through the turmoil of uncertainty. The years have consisted of me pressing forward, despite my fears of failure. Some of the pressing led to beautiful moments, life-changing relationships, and wild career turns. 
Right now, however, I need comfort. The uncertainty is much too much and I, often, get so close to throwing in the towel. Yet, I'm addicted to never giving up on the possibility of a possibility--on the ri…


I went to bed fighting last night...
Or shall I say, this morning.  Fighting for sleep--for rest--for peace of mind.
I'm exhausted--physically, mentally, and emotionally--but I press on. We all have to. I'm picking myself by the boot straps and everyday, I'm making the choice to get out of bed, brush my teeth, shower, get clothed, and put my hand on the door knob--go to work or school, come home and reflect, and do it all over again. I sometimes find a way to eat at least one proper meal a day.
I'm amazed at how much a seemingly mindless or rudimentary routine can serve one in times of deep grief and stress. It's like, my body knows what needs to be done for me. My body is my saving grace.
I have to remind myself of that, often...remind myself to be nicer to her--my body. I have remind myself to listen to her (mostly)--to really hear and interpret what she's trying to say to me. For example, I practice a vegan diet about 4 days of the week; BUT, if my body want…

Anxious Reminders

I am in the middle of an anxiety attack caused by reasons I can't fully disclose.
I'll just say that when I speak of the harmful and violent rhetoric that is spoken from the pulpit, my body has a visceral reaction. It's like a heart-racing, panic-inducing moment that both angers and devastates me. I was reliving the moment I decided to leave a church years ago behind the problematic theology that was/is being taught there, and the anxiety that has crept in has been almost debilitating.

Reliving that trauma is heartbreaking and not having the space to cope and recover (because I have class until 9 pm) has been tough. Separating from friends and tasks that I loved was like the worst kind of break up. There are still remnants of the tears I didn't cry back then wallowed up inside of me, itching to break free. And so, my heart beaks--not just for myself but for all who have sat in violent spaces where their identities have been castrated...where their very humanity has bee…

When Tears Freeze

I wanted to cry so badly today. It started around 5 pm as I made my way from the A train at 125th street to the supermarket near school to pick up a refreshment for my intern-small group. I started reflecting on my life, especially the past 4 years--the ups and downs...the tears and the triumphs. I do this often, after I hit a milestone or during the weeks leading up to my birthday. The 4-year anniversary of a devastatingly life-changing event just passed and I thought about where I was 4 years ago, comparing that to where I am now. So much has changed, and yet, some things have come back into sameness. I was in my 2nd and final semester of grad school at NYU (full-time status), depressed and hurting, yet pushing my way through the pain while working a full-time job. I remember waking up everyday after very little sleep, showering, and filling myself with just enough energy to put my hand on the door knob, turn it, and exit my apartment. I always had just enough energy to make it to a…

If The Shoe Fits: The Ethics of Blogging

It recently occurred to me--better yet I've always sort of known this--that people think that all of my writing is about me. They think that all of my writing is about some ex that I'm angry at or some friend that I fell out with. But I'm a pastor at my core. I hear stories from other people--in conjunction with my own stories, many of which have happened throughout my lifetime--and I put all of that together when I am thinking about what I'm going to write about for the day. A lot of what I write is stuff that I've already processed. For example, when I talk about relationships, many times I'm talking about that ex-boyfriend from 2014 who was a serial cheater or that ex-whatever from 2012-2015 who wasn't putting in the work to show up for himself or for me. I'm not necessarily talking about anything that I'm currently going through. But, on occasion I'm weaving those past stories in with present experiences. And so it's important to know t…

i ain't nobody but a dreamer

I ain't nobody but a dreamer
Thoughts lost in bent melodies Feelings wrapped in warted haikus 
I ain't nobody but a dreamer
with seeds sown in potted soil
Waiting to be watered...
Wanting to bloom
ain't nobody but a dreamer
who's working
and waiting
working and waiting
praying and progressing
sowing and stepping
listening and learning
loving and leaving things behind so that I can dream more.
I ain't nobody but a dreamer
Hoping and hurting
from dreams that turned into
And with all the tears--
with all the scabs and wounds
and sores and cancers--
I dream...still
I dream...still I wake to dream I fight to stay alive
to dream I write to dream
For dreaming is salvation-- My one-way ticket to heaven-- the only everlasting arm.
I ain't nobody but a dreamer.

For Colored Girls Who Are Tired Of Mothering Men

Warning: This post might piss you off--
especially if you are uhh...
a certain type of man.
Ok. Get out of your feelings. #NotALLMen -- say that to yourself, over and over again as you read this post. K. Thanks.
I am a strong black woman.
And I have a therapist.
(We've been through this, but see Therapy Blog)
And I have a circle of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances who encourage me, hold me accountable, pray with me, laugh with me, play tick-tack-toe with me, slap me up side the head, etc. And I call on the ancestors often--my cloud of witnesses--Wilhelmenia & Myrtle & Prathia & Lorraine & Claudette & Ora Lee...the list goes on.
I have dealt with many men in my lifetime--mostly black men. I've sometimes dealt with them in romantic relationships. I've often dealt with them in professional partnerships or collegiate relationships. Overall, what I've noticed is that many hetero-cisgender men I've dealt with don't have many friends. 😲 Or any

You Chose Me?

I spent some much needed quality time with myself this week. In that time, I embraced silence. I've never been one for a noisy home. I am so busy in so many other areas of my house, when I get home, I desire the serenity of my little Oasis in the middle of this concrete jungle. No TV blaring, no music blasting--just peace. Now that is not to say that I don't listen to music at all or ever catch up on my shows on Hulu. Matter of fact, I worship daily, listening to music via wireless headphones--communing with God in the sanctuary of my living room. But those are intentional sounds that disrupt silence. Those are the disruptions that I choose.

Today, I allowed the silence to give way to worship. I sat at my keyboard and just let the Spirit move my hands and mouth voice through the silence. Most days, I don't sit down at the piano with an agenda. I sit down with optimism and curiosity--What will God and the ancestors awaken in me today? Sometimes it's a completely new s…

Goodbye January!

This has been THE LONGEST JANUARY EVER! πŸ€―πŸ˜«πŸ™„πŸ˜°πŸ€¬πŸ€•I've blogged every day since January 8th. I'm proud of myself for sticking it out even on the days when I was so emotionally weary or physically frustrated. There's something cathartic about release through public writing.Today, I don't have anything profound to convey. I'm merely grateful that I made it to the end of the month alive and (somewhat) well. My health is still a struggle. The ulcers in my stomach acted A FOOL this month, keeping me bedridden on many days.But, I'm still here! πŸ™ŒπŸΎI'm ready for what February has to offer and grateful that I'm not ending the month the way I started it!Be encouraged, folks.
We're gonna make it. πŸ’œ

Thank You, O Chicken Wing Creator!

I'd like to give a tithe and an offering to whoever created chicken wings!
Like, not the chicken wing, itself, ...'cause we'd be thanking God! (Thank you, Almighty)
But, the concept of fried/baked chicken wings, either plain or tossed in sauce!
Just miraculous! Marvelous! A gift, like manna from heaven!

Just think about all the flavors: Lemon Pepper, Cajun, BBQ, Sesame, Thai, Honey Garlic, Teriyaki, Mango Habanero, Jerk, Buffalo, Blazin' Buffalo, Flaming Buffalo, Meet-Me-At-My-Grave Buffalo! Just look at all of God's children walking hand in hand!πŸ‘

I thought about chicken wings often today. They are my happy place. I was vegan for a while (on and off) but there's something about chicken wings that brings my soul to life.

I want to come alive, these days. I'm doing some serious work on myself and I don't have time to die. I don't have time to die. I don't have time to be depressed because I can't eat the bbq wings I'm sniffin' at the …