Monday, August 19, 2013

Transitioning again...again

I'm all moved into my apartment! That makes FIVE, count 'em, FIVE moves in the last year. A more adventurous person might say that with pride, but I confess my statement is birthed out of exasperation for the upheaval and relief that I won't have to move again until May.

The room looks fabulous, all thanks to the wonderful Hannah Kate. Here's how the room revamp turned out (she painted the wall art and hung the decorations):







The paper is not done, and in a meeting with my adviser today, I was reminded that this wasn't one of those "finish and move on" projects. It's more of a "forever and always" kind of deal. Still, the first draft is slowly wrapping up, and I am pleased with where it started, went, and landed.

The fridge is full of groceries. I battled a mango this afternoon for smoothies this week. All four of us are moved in and slowly settling into our spaces. Friends whom I haven't seen since December are all coming back to town. Classes start on Wednesday, so we're all the kind of busy that isn't actually busy - it's just frantic anticipation of actual busyness. 


It's been a wild year. I've lived in two countries. I wrote the longest paper I have written so far in my academic career. I decided to start teaching again.

And it's going to be another wild one. So for now, I'm enjoying these couple of slow days, the prospect of a three class semester, and an evening of kitchen organizing and red lentil cooking adventures.

Friday, June 21, 2013

First Kroger Adventure

Yesterday, I went to the grocery store to purchase lentils. I was eventually successful, though it involved dragging JP all through the new Kroger on a legume search, and a permanent ban of discussion of human anatomy in grocery stores.

I was spoiled last term by a tiny, local, organic health food store in town. The store was small, and felt a little bit like walking into the store shed of an extreme couponer who shopped exclusively at Whole Foods. The owner was spectacular, friendly, and as far as I could tell, didn't dislike Americans. He packaged the grains and legumes he sold, and sold them all for wonderfully low, reasonable prices. In fact, it was all so reasonable and easily navigated that I grabbed a package of chocolate covered mango slices (right underneath the grains) because I was in such a good mood.

The new Kroger, though it's well-stocked and clean, was another chapter in my rapidly expanding tales of "awkward reentry to America."

In the South, grocery shopping is an opportunity for social interaction. When you inevitably run into someone you know, you are obligated, by some ridiculous unspoken rule, to have a conversation. Strangers are also fair game. I'd forgotten that rule until people started jumping into conversations JP and I were having about Lucky Charms and his remarks on the sensual nature of hotdogs. The hotdog comment resulted in the permanent ban on any observation involving human anatomy in food-related venues.

After the stranger interruptions and well-deserved judgmental glances, I started to book it through my shopping list. It took me five minutes to find lentils, and ten minutes to get them from the "dry goods self-service" apparatus. As I was putting the bag of red lentils into my basket, JP grabbed it, and broke the human anatomy rule: "It looks like a butt. No seriously, Kenna. Look. It's a butt."

It took two cashiers to ring up my groceries. I smiled pleasantly at them both as I explained what lentils were and where they might be found on the price checker. I held it together for the ten minutes it took them to find it, ring it up, and give me a total. It was all weirdly stressful, but mostly comical.

I posted less than a month ago about my excitement for returning to the states because of bigger emotions and people who are more forward about...everything. The generally more reserved nature of the UK rubbed off on me a little more than I thought.

On the upside from yesterday's awkward outing, I keep catching JP with a grin on his face - he is still very pleased with his bag of lentils/butt joke.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Milkshake Menus and Sass

In my head, it's been much longer than two weeks since I wrote here last. But in the last two weeks, I've been to Edinburgh and back, through the Highlands, in Aberdeen to say goodbyes, to London, Phoenix for a few days, Tucson for a visit, and finally to Memphis (of course, with a stop in Atlanta).

That's 4 time zones, and 6 different cities/towns (8 if you count the crazy layovers)! It was 54 degrees when I left Aberdeen, and 108 when I landed in Phoenix that evening. Yikes.

But I made it home! The weather in Memphis has been, thankfully, wonderful. We've had good summer rain, the screened porch at my aunt and uncle's has been cool, and even in the warmest hours, I'm just glad to not be cold anymore.

I went back to church on Sunday, have seen friends all over town, met people for coffee, and did a load of laundry. Laundry and grocery shopping are my two "officially settled" activities, so this time tomorrow, I will hopefully be settled (and eating lentils).

In the chaos of packing, unpacking, repacking, and unpacking again, I admit that I'm missing the simplicity of my routine in Scotland. I only needed to know two bus routes, shopped on one street, ate at one cafe, and had tea at another. The river was a two minute walk from my front door, I usually sat on the same bench until sunset, and could walk ten minutes up the hill to sit in the botanic gardens. People were quieter. Even their dogs were more reserved. My phone never, ever rang. Emails could wait until tomorrow, or next week, or for never. Usually the latter.

I drove into Sonic last week with Steph. The milkshake menu must have had at least 30 choices. Just the milkshakes - which are somehow different from the cream drinks and the regular drink menu, and included a bacon and peanut butter shake. I will say, even though this semester had some rough moments, coming back to so much noise and 200 cereal options and 12 different kinds of Oreos has been a good reminder of why I went somewhere else to unwind and rest.

So tomorrow, after a week of craziness and settling, of overwhelming cookie purchasing adventures, and summer clothes ironing, I'm ready to get back to lentils, river walking, and quiet. It'll just be the Memphis edition - in the words of JP, "More Memphis, like more ghetto. More sass." Lentils are the least sassy things I can think of, but if there were ever a city to draw sass out of nowhere, it's this one.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Countdown to Hometurf: Balancing Acts

Sometime in the middle of the university exam period, as I settled into my study nest (complete with chocolate and hot tea), and had this wonderful realization: I am happiest when I'm at my desk, reading, learning and writing. Every once in a while I would get up from my desk and walk through Seaton Park. I took a break to put a pot of quinoa on the stove, take out the trash, vacuum, or change over a load of laundry.

With each break and study page, I had this growing feeling of rest, and a deepening sense that I was slipping into a healthy, sweet rhythm of working and breathing.

The messy balancing act of work and rest has been one of my greatest personal struggles. Honestly, I came to Scotland to figure it out. Why I thought changing countries would help me figure out how to manage stress and balance rest with work is still a mystery to me, but at the end of this 5+ month process, I can finally say that I've found some sort of balance.

The secret? I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it out. But it certainly helps that I love the "work" part as much as I love the resting.

I confess that though I'm entering this summer with a great deal of excitement, I'm also walking in with a lot of uneasiness and a little bit of fear. I'm new to this research game, and I haven't exactly chosen to start small. Throughout this term I've flirted with it, shuffling through old notes, jotting down new ones, and reading in short spurts. Last week after exams, and this week in Edinburgh, I sat down to seriously look at what I have so far, and as I separated the pieces into sections, I began to feel genuine excitement for this project.

But I'm just as excited for my Memphis summer balancing act "resting" pieces: yoga, coffee dates, walks by the River, Shelby Farms, and Overton Park, cooking nights with friends, farmers market wandering, and feeding this growing love affair with blues music.

See you in a week, Memphis.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Claiming a Vacation

I came to Aberdeen with some goals. I won't bore you with the list, but I do want to mention one of the important ones before this term comes to a close.

Resting is something I have been historically really terrible at doing. Last year, I finally began to seek out space to rest. That process (and it was a process) to seeking restful space unearthed a new problem: once I was in that space, I didn't know how to engage with it.

I've done a lot of thinking and writing around how I occupy the different spaces in my life, how I live and move and am in church or coffee shops, in monasteries, at conferences, in the classroom, in Scottsdale, and walking through the inner-city. I've started paying more attention to liminal space - those in between places - and how much that I not only need to be more present in them, but how I need them in order to be present in other spaces.

With all of those different spaces filling up my life, I wonder even more how to rest in them. Especially in ministry contexts, resting seems to be something we talk about constantly, something worth investing in, worth working at, and seeking out. And yet, I found last year that I don't know how to rest. Not really. It turns out resting is more active than I'd been lead to believe, and it's not just about sitting still - though I admit that I can't even do that well.

Looking ahead to this summer, next fall, and beyond, I realized that the time between Friday (tomorrow) and the Friday a week later (the day before I leave for PHX) is the most substantial amount of time I have carved out with nothing planned for a while.

I have claimed it as vacation time, resting time. Time for not answering emails or making phone calls. Time for jumping on a train through the Highlands because I can and because it's beautiful. Time for myself alone, and for myself with a good friend. Time for thinking and breathing, for hiking and sleeping, for eating good food. For actively seeking out things that bring me joy and renewal. For resting.

Check back for pictures next week, and I'll see many of you on the other side of this week!

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Countdown to Hometurf: EMOTIONS

There are three glaring exceptions to what I'm about to claim about the general population of Scotland: angry, male bus drivers in Aberdeen, inebriated bachelorette parties confined to trains, and soccer fans during, and directly after a match.

Other than that, most of the people here are extremely emotionally reserved. I'm becoming more and more convinced that liberation theology hasn't made it to Aberdeen because it involves too many feelings for life here.

This afternoon as I was stepping out onto High Street, I nearly ran into one of the university chaplains. "McKenna! You look really bright, and happy, especially for a student in the middle of exams." If I'd been in America, I would have said something like, "Thank you! It's because you're looking at a final exams champion...I totally killed my doctrine final. It was AWESOME. How are you doing?"

But I'm here, so I said, "Oh thank you. I've enjoyed my last couple exams. You look very well too." I also recently accidentally frightened a Scottish friend with my excitement about eating Mexican food in a couple weeks. She told me to calm down. Since then, I've been trying really hard to be exceptionally low-key and boring. As a result, emotions have been exploding out of me - I laughed so hard I almost cried during a meeting, and I'm completely anticipating tears the first time I eat Mexican food back in the states.

In light of all that, I want to introduce you to Jake the Dog:


Jumping against the back door of my aunt and uncle's house is usually where you'll find him, as excitement over a squirrel sighting overwhelms his tiny body. Don't let his size fool you. He is not a lap dog, and is the opposite of mellow. The only time he's allowed me to hold him was in the vet's office, and I suspect that it was because he thought being in my arms would protect him from shots and ear drops. He is an avid squirrel and bird chaser, and would never abandon a chase - not even for a cheerio. He's tiny, but everything he does is big - his barking, chasing, and his impressive ability to occupy half of a couch when lounging. 

Several times this semester, I've wanted to stand up and yell, "CARE. SHOW EMOTION" in the middle of a debate or discussion, or on the hundredth day of misting rain - because the rain here is as timid and reserved as the people. The South is king of passive-aggression, but debate can still get heated,  people get angry, cry, and exhibit real joy when they feel it. 

Jake the Dog is just one of many non-mellow things I'm looking forward to with excitement (though not too much excitement - I don't want to scare anyone here again).

Two weeks until Memphis!

Thursday, May 23, 2013

Cathedrals and Walking Trails

It's been a busy week! I took my first exam this morning in a hall with 300 other students. It was a strange experience - one I'll have three more times next week, but hopefully never again after that.

I took a break from studying on Monday to take the train to Elgin with a friend. It's a small town about an hour and half north of Aberdeen and home to the ruins of what used to be the second largest cathedral in Scotland. This building was just not meant to stand. There was a fire, then a crazy prince (whose nickname involves "Wolf" and lives on in stories about his legendary chess game with Satan...nice guy, right?) demolished it, and then the Reformation dealt the last blow.

I guess after three major architecture catastrophes, the diocese forfeited. And by the time it was wrecked the last time, Reformed theology had seeped into Scotland, so there wasn't much use for it ruined or not. 










And here are a couple pictures I took while walking the trails around my apartment. Spring came just in time for June! That being said, I had to break out my winter jacket today...



Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Countdown to Hometurf: Rivers and Rain

When I left Scottsdale for Memphis almost three years ago, one of my favorite things about my new home was all of the water - the thunderstorms and rain, the river, even the tap water is sweeter in Memphis. I decided some time after I moved that I wanted to settle in cities near rivers. There is something lovely about rivers; standing near them is less overwhelming than the feeling of being swallowed up at the edge of an ocean.

In this new country, I've been able to seek out daily time and space near water. It has offered an invitation to rest and renewal, a reminder of new life and of beauty.

I've stopped by Oceans...

North Beach, Isle of Iona
Martyr's Bay, Isle of Iona
and Rivers...
River Thames, London
River Don, Aberdeen
 (more) River Don
by Seas...
North Sea, Aberdeen
North Sea, Dundee
...and Sounds...
Sound of Iona (looking on Mull)
(more) Sound of Iona
...even some tide pools.
North Beach, Isle of Iona
Last week, I spent some time on a park bench watching the sunset by the River Don. I was joined briefly by one of the university chaplains and a very enthusiastic, very large golden retriever. As we shared details of what the following week and month would hold for both of us, I found myself glad to have a moment of peace and stillness by the water - the water had no interest in our words about stress, international plane travel, conferences, holding friends and students in the middle of illness and the messiness of life. It just continued to be a river, flowing, going, always to the North Sea, occasionally welcoming a swan or mallard.

All of the rain aside, I will actually really miss the all of the water here, running along the River Don, and soaking up the view of the East coast on the train from Aberdeen to Edinburgh. The beaches and water in the sound at Iona are some of the most breathtakingly beautiful things I have ever seen, and I love that I can step out of my apartment and be at the water's edge two minutes.

Even though I'll miss all of that, I am eager to see the Mighty Mississippi again, to fall asleep to rain pounding on the window panes, and to be thoroughly soaked after running through a Southern summer thunderstorm.

I also think it might be wise to leave before I see a whale and the beauty of the water here is ruined by my inexplicable fear of aquatic mammals.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Countdown to Hometurf: Because I'm Hungry

As I'm writing this week's "Countdown to Hometurf," I'm hungry (as per usual).

Last weekend in Edinburgh, I ran across these multiple times:


I checked with Scottish friends - 'haggis crisps' are not a joke. People eat them.

After that conversation, I decided this week had to be about delicious Memphis food. Obviously this list is not exhaustive, but these are the things I've missed the most right!

1. Chicken tacos from El Porton. If I've spoken with you at all this semester, I've mentioned Mexican food, and thanks to one of other people staying at the Abbey during Holy Week, all I've been thinking about for the last month is eating tacos. Not even good tacos. Totally mediocre tacos from a chain restaurant in Memphis, a city with (let's be real), not-as-awesome-as-Phoenix Mexican food.

But on Thursday, June 13th, I will drive to Highland and Poplar for the lunch special: three chicken tacos, served only with marinated shredded chicken, lettuce, and cheese, and bagged up in a tin with salsa and a huge thing of tortilla chips. It's costs about $5, and was between the office in Binghampton and JP's school. On days I didn't have time to go back to campus for lunch, I ate delicious tacos on the way to the carpool pickup lane, and busted out some queso and the chips for JP's snack when we got home.

2. Veggie burger and potato salad from Trolley Stop Market. The veggie burgers are out of this world and made with whatever fresh vegetables came in and were left over. I haven't had a bad one yet, but the best one was an entirely green burger (the kale and spinach in it made the burger bright green). Organic. Local. Colorful. Delicious. I'm really not sure what more you could ask for when eating a patty of vegetables. 

On a related note, I've been eating mostly vegetarian here, and tried to look for veggie burgers at the grocery store. They didn't have any, but they did have "winter vegetable loaf" and "squash and nut patties." I was feeling adventurous and bought one of each. 

3. Turkey West Coast from Hueys (obviously with sweet tea). Turkey burger, guacamole, tomato, red onion. I've tried to recreate it, and nothing has come quite close to the real deal at Hueys. There's also the added bonus of shooting a toothpick out of a plastic straw until it sticks in the ceiling (if you're a pro), or in someone else's dinner across the room (if you're like my friends when we go).

4. Fresh hummus and pita from Jerusalem Market. Many thanks to my Uncle for finding this grocery store/restaurant combo down on Summer Avenue. They make pita fresh every day to be sold in the grocery store, and will serve up a huge container of hummus next door. You can also pick up a couple pieces of pretty awesome baklava. Is it a five-star restaurant? No. Does it feel like you're grocery shopping on Summer Avenue? Absolutely. You should go there right now. 

5. Citrus Spice tea from Cafe Eclectic. Since last September-ish when I started getting to know people at St. John's UMC, I don't think I've been to Eclectic without seeing a familiar face. While I've never eaten anything bad, or even mediocre there, there is nothing better than a cup of tea a breakfast with some of those lovely ladies.

If you're looking for me this summer, I'll probably be there drinking delicious decaf herbal tea.

5 weeks to Memphis!


Oh! Almost forgot Edinburgh pictures...











Saturday, May 4, 2013

Haircuts and Paella

I'm in Edinburgh for the weekend. I love visiting this city. It's like the smaller, Scottish version of London.

We woke up to sunshine and warm(ish) weather, so I spent the majority of the day walking around Princes Street, sitting in gardens looking at all of the blooming tulips, listening to someone play the bagpipes, and wandering through an outdoor food market I accidentally bumped into.

I met a friend I met at Iona and her son for lunch. I discovered that I love Sicilian rice balls (they had goat cheese and leeks in them...there was just no way those were going to be bad). And after we said our goodbyes, I decided that I really, really needed a haircut. This morning, I twisted my bangs and pinned them back for the millionth time this semester. I don't know if it's because it was really awful today in particular, or if being out of Aberdeen (where 90% of women either don't have hair or just go 'wild child' never get it styled) made me realize how awful it's been for  three months, but after passing two salons, I walked into one and got it all chopped off again.

The woman cutting my hot mess hair asked me how short I wanted it, and when the last time I had it cut was. Pixie. December. It took a while to cut it, so we chatted. But in moments that required more attention, she mumbled a little - "You have so much hair. So much...December? So fast...so much hair." 

I have less hair now, which made both of us much happier.

Afterward, I wandered back to the market, and bought some dinner for on the way home. It's moments like that - when I'm holding a tin full of a heaping portion of spiced chicken paella or a crepe overflowing with fruit and custard, meandering down a cobblestone street, with nothing in the world to get done - that I'm glad I took this semester "off" or at least away from Rhodes. I think in a couple months, when I look back, those moments will make trucking through all of those horrible theology lectures and grey days worthwhile.

I head back to Aberdeen tomorrow, but for now, my stomach is full of paella and blueberries, and I have a good book to read. I'll post some pictures when I get back!

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Countdown to Hometurf: The Attic

Six more weeks of Scotland - of exams, of rain and sleet, and crazy lecturers.

And then, on June 12th, I'll land in Memphis.

Praise Jesus. No more people offering me haggis.

Each Wednesday for the next six weeks, I'll be blogging about something I'm looking forward to getting back to in Memphis.

This week? The Attic and Cousin-JP. (Included in this are my wonderful Aunt and Uncle who agreed to let me live with them for another summer, and the family dog, who actually likes me.)

It should perhaps first be stated that I've been living in a flat with five other women this semester. It's the equivalent of Rhodes' Gassel Castle. While they are lovely ladies, it regularly smells like someone (or multiple someones) is making a questionable decision.

(Pot. It smells like pot.)

Three summers ago, after high school graduation, I went to Open Rhodes, and then moved into the attic space in my Aunt and Uncle's home until classes started in August. The attic in the blue-gray Midtown bungalow is my favorite place I've lived in the last few years. Aside from trading in the pungent smell of freshman year life choices for the smell of good food and clean laundry, there are 20 million other reasons I love it.

It breathes stability, and as a 21-year-old undergraduate looking forward to seven-ish more years of school, of apartments, moving, and new cities, it is so sweet having a place to go in Memphis, where there are grownups with perspective who will still listen to my nonsense rambling about classes and meetings. It's also where I can chill with Cousin-JP and eat a bowl of queso, and where most of the adventure sagas that start with "So I was hanging out with JP the other day..." begin. And for those who you who have heard those stories, you know they are always excellent and hilarious.

With all of the craziness of summer research, and as I'll have to start thinking about grad school applications (read: moving to a new city, again), I love, love, love that I get to stay in The Attic with these wonderful people. Cousin-JP and I already have a working list of things to do this summer. Obviously, Mexican food and a How I Met Your Mother marathon are among the highlights.

On a Scotland-related note, here are some pictures from my Sunday afternoon walk through the Botanic Gardens. Things are really starting to bloom, though I waited too long to photograph the crocuses in the labyrinth...they didn't survive the sleet and wind last week. Still - a planted flower labyrinth is way cool.







Saturday, April 27, 2013

Making banana "pancakes"

Sorry. It's another food post...

Just kidding. I'm not sorry.

Yesterday, in a very successful attempt to procrastinate, I did my grocery shopping. It was another weird week - not a bad one, just a weird one - and with the exception of once a month outdoor market, the grocery store is my favorite wandering/decompressing space. Some people like clothes shopping. I like food shopping. 

It was perfect: crazy cheap red lentils, spinach and tomatoes on sale, and a package of 6 pitas for 22 pence (about 35 cents). I also bought bananas, which is something I haven't done since mid-February. Because they serve as the base of almost every vegan milkshake, smoothie, and frozen dessert, and because they're delicious, bananas were a staple in my diet last year. Here though, I had a weird reaction to raw grocery store bananas. I don't have a blender here, so I just stopped buying them. 

Until I found a sugar and grain-free pancake recipe. 

Yep. You read that correctly. Here's the recipe:

1 banana 
1 egg

Mash them together. Cook like a regular pancake.

The end. 

Do those even qualify as pancakes? I don't know. But calling it a 'sugar and grain-free pancake' sounds way tastier than 'banana/egg patty.' Are they as good as regular pancakes? Ehh. Probably not. But I filled mine with Nutella (happy Saturday to me!), and that makes almost anything taste good. 

Nothing else to report here from the "sunniest city in Scotland" except that it hailed, rained, and sleeted yesterday. If it's sunny tomorrow, I'll take some pictures of the botanical garden's flower labyrinth that's sprouted in the last few weeks!

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

On Dresses and Dancing

At the St. John's UMW retreat last fall, we were asked to reflect on a time we experienced "a new normal" in our lives. "New normals" tend to sneak up on me, and even with lots of time for reflection this semester, there were a few that have slipped in almost unnoticed. 

I’ve had a lot of I don’t ______’s.

I don’t dance.
I don’t twirl.
I don’t giggle.
I don’t wear dresses.
I don’t play games.

You get the idea. Living with abandon is not something I do well, or, if I’m being honest, at all. I am typically extremely calculated. I even try to calculate my moments of abandon…see my former post on control (that paper turned out well – I worried about it without reason, as usual).

Dresses are my new normal. After two months of walking everywhere, eating well, and not being obscenely stressed, none of the pants I brought with me fit. Because the weather has been nice (comparatively), and because pants sizing is confusing here, I've been wearing dresses and cardigans every day to class. I've suddenly become fashionable. Or something closer to fashionable than I have been in years past.

Taking a day off each week to do anything - from nothing at all, to wandering around Aberdeen, to (like today) reading up on research sources - is another new normal. Not eating meat is another. I think I just stopped buying it and didn't notice.

The strangest one yet though, came today. Today is Wednesday, which means that I have no class. It's a weird scheduling thing here - class on Wednesday mornings is rare, and class on Wednesday afternoon does not exist on the timetables. Having made it through the chaos of last week, trudging through a truly awful tutorial last night, and celebrating it with a new friend and ice cream, I was in a particularly good mood today. I spent the day organizing research files, reading through a couple articles on theodicy and trauma, and then eventually, got hungry. I went to the kitchen, turned on some music, and started hacking a sweet potato into cubes.

On my day off, with Macklemore blasting in the kitchen, sweet potatoes cooking in a bath of thai curry paste and coconut milk, and naan warming in the oven, I started to dance. Not a lot. Just a little. Just enough. I danced, and it took me until I was folding spinach into the curry to notice. 

Whoa. When did I start doing that? The question was certainly aimed at the present dancing, but I was also searching my recent memory for when dancing in my kitchen (or at all) had become part of my life.

Cooking Indian food on a tiny stove while dancing to hip-hop/rap, is not my norm, but even as I'm surprised at myself, I am secretly loving this new kitchen dancing reality. 

The curry, by the way, was delicious. 

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Under a Chicken's Wing

I'm in the midst of trying to articulate my Christology.

It is, without a doubt, one of my least favorite questions. I always feel ill-equipped to answer and afraid that I am transgressing some boundary of orthodoxy.

Unfortunately, Christology is a pretty foundational issue in conversations around ministry. When we're talking about working in churches, belief about the person of Jesus is, to understate it, important.

And so when the email came through this past week to please articulate my Christology, the memory of my former failed attempts to answer actually caused me to groan out loud. I've been asked the question three other times, each during significant periods of spiritual growth in my life, and, though I couldn't see my face, every single time, I felt it flash a "deer in the headlights" expression. The first two times I was asked, I made something up or recited part of a creed. The third time, I actually just admitted that I had no idea. I was sitting in a room full of wonderful people, one of whom knows me better than almost anyone in the world. And yet, having just finally started to creep out of my feminist shell in the three months before, I wasn't ready to articulate what I was thinking to the room.

This time around, I can't say, "I don't know." But this time around, I've had a year of reading, writing, teaching and processing to move into my new theological home.

In the midst of the mess and tragedy that was this past week, in light of my year of learning to stand more firmly in chaotic theology, and because I finally, finally, have something that resembles an answer, here is where my Christology sits for now. (For those of you who think it's incomplete, I know. This is just a piece.)

I affirm that Jesus is fully human and fully divine, that his finite body held the infinitude of God. I also affirm that Christ is one of three equal persons of the Trinity, and that, in the form of Sophia/Word, Christ was present in the Trinity at creation and is still present now.

More than orthodox affirmations of creed though, I think story and imagery may better communicate “Who is Jesus” for me. One of my favorite images of who Christ was and is can be found in Matthew 23:37-39 and Luke 13:34-35. I love it because typically, should we call on imagery of birds or wings in reference to God, we go very quickly to “wings like eagles.” We gravitate toward pictures of power, of agility, victory, and force. We want God to be our triumphant protector, an impenetrable wall, a fourth quarter hero.

We may call out to God our Impenetrable Wall, but Christ names himself as something different. I love the image of Christ as a hen gathering her chicks for many reasons, the foremost being its ability to disrupt the desire to build a Christology that makes Jesus seem to be made of steel, impassable, and transcendent to the point of being distant. Hens are hardly eagles, but I do think it reveals a subtlety of who Jesus knew himself to be. He was not distant, but close enough to swoop those he loved under his wing. Just his physical presence was renewing and redemptive. He was a fierce protector, but not an impenetrable one. He was fierce in his love for his children, not in battle. He was Sophia, the Divine Word incarnate, but he was also human, and therefore, vulnerable.

I often hear people remembering “The Lord is my Shepherd.” In the same way, I love to name that “The Lord is my Chicken.” While it certainly doesn’t have the same poetic beauty as Adonai Roi (Hebrew for "the Lord is my Shepherd), it does challenge me and ask me to remember who Christ saw himself to be – a mother, protector, shield and lover.

And so, in light of the tragedy of this past week in Boston, in light of the stories of the countless women who have inspired me to research the intersection of theology and trauma, my answer to the question, "Where does your Christology sit?"is

Under a Chicken's wing.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

On Control

I have a problem with control.

I'm aware of it, and sometimes I attempt to intentionally move into discomfort...i.e., moving to a different country for 6 months.

Most of the time though, I don't. When I started cooking more, I was initially proud of myself for experimenting with new recipes and foods. Then I realized that even the cooking was an attempt to further control what went into my body.

Other shining examples: I bought a bus pass today, purely because being in control of when I can leave my apartment makes me feel better, somehow, less trapped in my room. I hate, hate, hate taking medicine for anything because it acts in my body in ways I can't control. It took me a month to travel anywhere outside of Aberdeen because I didn't know how to navigate the rail system here - the newness put me out of a position of control.

And right now, I am having a serious control problem with a paper that's due tomorrow. I'm supposed to turn in a 2500 word paper on a prompt that's...well, it's not making me want to get a graduate degree in biblical studies. It's outlined, all of the quotes I need are organized into sections, the headings and bibliography are done, and I even have little sections of it written. But every time I sit down to write a big chunk of it, I freeze.

At Rhodes, I know exactly what I need to do to get a good grade on a paper, and with multiple paper opportunities for each class, I can turn out a rockstar final essay by the end of the semester. Here, there is one paper for the whole semester. One. You get one shot, and then you take an exam - an exam that isn't even graded by your faculty member.

The grading scale is 1-20, split into six sections. The percentages don't help to translate - no joke, a 47% is considered a pass here.

So I'm writing blind here, with no clue what it takes to write for an upper-level seminar class at this school, trying, so far abysmally, to let go of control.

Monday, April 8, 2013

London: Face-sized Meringues and Huge Clocks

Here are some pictures from the London trip (there are more on Facebook)!

Big Ben - seriously, it's huge
From the London Eye
Her Majesty's Theatre for Phantom of the Opera
St. Paul's Cathedral
Golden St. Paul on a pole
Borough Market
Between St. Paul's and the Tate Modern 
King's Cross Station
It was a wonderful and very full trip - Westminster, St. Paul's, Tate Modern, National Gallery, the Theatre, a trip to Harrods, an afternoon shopping on Oxford Street...

The highlight of the trip was Borough Market - it was so wonderful on Wednesday that we went back on Friday for the full market. After choosing between flavorless Scottish food or curries for two and a half months, a whole market dedicated to organic, fresh food was incredible.

On Friday, I had a sandwich on fresh ciabatta bread, made with sliced tomatoes, greens and goat cheese. Earlier in the week, we'd bought empanadas straight out of the oven from an Argentinian food cart, ate fruit and pomegranate juice from other stands, and found a baker who was making meringues as big as your face with leftover brownie or cookie crumbs sprinkled on the top.

And, having established some trust with the food vendors in the city, I ate my first British fish and chips!

London, well done. You could make food that's just "okay," and still have better food than the rest of the UK. But you make food that puts everyone else to shame. I am seriously considering going back just to go to Borough Market again.

I'm back in Aberdeen, writing papers, doing laundry, making curry (I'm getting better!), and looking at ticket prices for short trips to...somewhere it's not snowing. Because, no joke, it's still snowing here.