I know, it's a bathroom picture and it's taken on my phone which makes it even worse, but I love this shirt.  Every time I wear it, Cake runs through my head.

Adjectives on the typewriter, she moves her words like a prizefighter

Today I am heading to Texas, armed with my new computer (I'm not excited about it, it's really too bad I can't write my thesis in pencil) and large, boring textbooks.  However, I am determined to have a good time.  Even if that means waking up early to knock school out of the way so I can play.

I had a bad moment Thursday night.  My classes sometimes feel like religion classes and my professors sometimes spend more time joking about what I love than teaching.  And on Thursday, it all finally got to me.  I was sitting there, listening to a brilliant man make light of something dear to me, listening to my classmates laugh, and he caught my eye.  I did my best to stare him down.

But as I was driving home, for the first time, I had a fleeting thought. I didn't even mean to think it, it just passed through.  Maybe they're right.  Maybe it is silly to believe.

I almost drove off the road.  I did start tearing.  And that's when I understood how serious everything is.  How serious it is to take care of my soul.  And I also understood this: that nothing is worth losing faith.  I told myself there, on the side of the road, "Self, you've either got to talk to them about this or you're done.  You can not just listen any longer.  It isn't safe."

I am on Spring Break right now.  I have one professor left to meet with.  At first I was scared that I would sound silly or offend them and then I realized the great cost of being afraid.  The great cost of sitting there, listening as my God is turned into a joke.  As His holy, divine words are torn apart. 

So I quietly explained myself and as I did, my heart ached.  It is okay for them to ridicule me.  They can say anything, it is all okay.  But it is not okay in my soul when He is laughed about.  It is not okay at all.  I told them, I have already studied under great teachers of The Scripture, I am here to learn about research, linguistics, pedagogy and theory.  Please teach me about them.  I am confused about why He is talked about.  This school seems very religious to me, and it is sneaky.  It creeps in and steals the breath from my soul.  And it is not okay.

I think they understood.  Or they began to.  I am not sure they knew what to do with me, but I smiled and tried my best.  It is like speaking a different language sometimes, it is that hard to explain myself.

I sat in church on Sunday and it felt like relief when my soul moved.  It had been still for so long, quiet and cold.  Sometimes, I forget to fight for it.  But sitting there, while voices sang to my God, my soul's prayers grew and grew. 

Boom, baby.  His grace is always, always enough.