Skip to main content

Pile Up Your Affirmations

I haven't blogged in a while. I suppose it's due to many reasons. First, many of you know that I relocated to Charlotte, North Carolina at the beginning of April. I got the offer of a lifetime to come down here and do full-time ministry, focusing on the fields of spiritual formation and community outreach--which are two of my favorite things in ministry. I left New York after 8 LONG years of hustling and self-discovery, saying "yes" to God and the unknown yet again. For my final sermon in New York, I preached about God's command to varying groups of people in the book of Genesis to "fill the earth" (Gen 1:28, Gen 9:1, Gen 9:7). I  knocked down the Towers of Babel that I'd built over the years and I ventured forth into the mystery. 

This journey has been a tumultuous one. It has been one of many ups and downs over the past 18 months. For the most part, I am grateful--grateful for the opportunities that have come my way--for the accolades, for the awards, for the affirmations; and yet, I hold that gratitude alongside many lamentations. I lament the loss of relationships, negotiate fractured friendships, and grieve the divorces that I've had to endure over and over again as I repeatedly, albeit hesatantly, said "yes" to God. There are days when I still don't know if I'm being baptized or if I'm drowning--if the feeling of barely keeping my head above water is due to being "born again" or a sign that I'm in way over my head. 

The grief is real. It is a constant journey partner. Every time I think about what I love about ministry, I think about what I've lost because of it. I think about the life partner that walked out on the relationship, the performance career that I chose to step away from, and the holidays that I will continually miss spending with family because somebody gotta minister to the people when Jesus rises from the dead every year. This Damascus road is bumpy. The grief clings to the fabric of your aortic muscles like stubborn pieces of lint on a dark sweater. And yet, many of us who call ourselves "ministers" push through because the "yes" is a seed for things we cannot see--and we trust that the seed will bear fruit that will make God's creation come alive in new ways.

In these moments of lamentation and grief, I like to go to my jar of affirmations. Everybody who engages in a gratitude or affirmation practice does so differently. I like to call my practice "Piling Up"--a stockpiling of all the wonderful things others have said about me over the years, especially related to my ministry. Recently, I received the Karen Ziegler Feminist Preaching Award at my seminary's commencement exercise. 

Late in the midnight hours, I've been going to the video and listening to the 15 second clip of the announcer listing off my accomplishments as she prepared to present this award to me. Other times, I dig into my music catalogue and listen to songs I've written and produced, and I reflect on all the wonderful experiences this gift of songwriting has allowed for me. More recently, I've started  keeping a folder in my work email of all of the kind words congregants at my new church have written to me since my arrival--

Affirmations about that time I sang at the funeral of an 11-year old girl during my 2nd week on the job

Affirmations about how wonderful my speaking voice is (I get that a lot...I guess all those years of speech coaching for acting and voice lessons paid off)

Affirmations about how my first sermon made someone want to care more about the earth

I pile these up, not to get full of myself or overload my ego, but as a refill of positivity when grief illogically and unexpectedly drains me of all confidence and self-compassion. When I go to my "Pile," I'm reminded that grief does not have the final say over my life. I'm reminded that, as the complexities of life would have it, I can bear both grief and gratitude--love and loss--simultaneously and still have room for hope. 

Hope. 

Hope is God's grace in the world. 
When we pile up our affirmations, we allow ourselves to have hope.

Will you hope with me?


Comments

  1. Anita BlanchardJune 11, 2019 at 7:09 AM

    We are so glad your journey has brought you here. Change is hard, ongoing, and perpetually cloudy. Until it isn't. That may take a while.

    Also, I left NYC 25 years ago, and only in the last year have I stopped having dreams about moving back. That city but deep roots in our souls.

    Hugs!!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Where Do You See Yourself in 5 Years?"

Today (December 1st, 2020), Facebook reminded me that 5 years ago, I wrapped up a 5-week run of Ain't Misbehavin' at Portland Center Stage in Oregon, and flew back to New York City to re-enter my life there. I had just applied to seminary a few days before Thanksgiving and was excited about the possibility of leaning into this strong calling I felt to deepen my theological knowledge. I was still under the illusion that I'd be able to maintain some sort of performance career, so I kept my manager, Greg, and he'd continue sending me out on auditions. I was becoming very picky about what I'd say "yes" to-- Would I go on that national tour of Hamilton that he wanted to send me on or would I go to seminary? Would I leave to do a 9-month stint in After Midnight on an international cruise ship or would I go to seminary?  That was the question over and over again. I decided that I'd still do local stuff in NYC or short stints in other cities. Even as I ente...
Post a Comment
Read more

Why I Quit Church...

On Sunday I quit church... for the day, at least. It was the most beautiful and painfully passionate act of self-care I've ever done.   Hi. My name is Mia, and I live with an anxiety disorder.  It's 4:30 on Sunday morning. My first alarm intrudes on the three hours of sleep I've managed to acquire. I begrudgingly assess the state of my vocal cords and decide whether or not they are well enough for me to sleep another thirty minutes. I hit snooze. Minutes later, my second alarm assaults my rem cycle. I pimp-slap my iPhone and decide whether or not I'm going to steam (a process in which I stand over a pot of boiling water for fifteen minutes to lubricate my cords). I, instead, opt for the less time consuming process of making tea, buying me an extra fifteen minutes of sleep. at 5:15, my third and final alarm goes off. I roll out of bed and into the shower. As I lather, I do minor vocal warm-ups and meditate. It's 6:05. I'm clothed, tea is made, hair is done,...
7 comments
Read more

A Call to Slowdown

On March 30, 2017, I wrote a caption under a picture I posted of me preaching my very first public sermon in James Chapel at Union Theological Seminary in the City of New York. The sermon was entitled, “I Have an Issue of Blood.” To my surprise, at the end of my moment of sermonic exploration – what was originally supposed to be a spoken word piece but quickly grew into something beyond my wildest imagination – I got a standing ovation. It was… odd . I thought to myself, “Why are these people standing and clapping for me? I’m not a preacher.” Folks came up to me after to convey their appreciation for the message. Someone in the congregation shared a picture they took of me. I posted it on Instagram and Facebook the next day with the caption: “I sometimes feel like there's a person running ahead of me—the person that God is calling me to be—and I'm running behind her trying to catch up as she runs faster and faster. And I don't know where's she's going but I know i...
1 comment
Read more