Think the thoughts, feel the feels...write it down

Can I just express to you how excited I am about what happens in about a month?!?  I move into this amazing house with these even more amazing women!  I literally think about it multiple times a day.  I wake up and think "soon I'll be waking up in a different (better) bed in a different house!"  I eat and think "soon I'll be sharing a table with women I love soooooo much!"  I use the bathroom and think "soon I'll only be sharing a bathroom with one other woman instead of 4 children and the bathroom with be clean ALL the time!"  Ah!!!  I'm so excited I could explode. Now all I need is a job, I've applied to SEVERAL schools and am waiting to hear back from them, as well as having applied to random other places: gym, coffee shops, etc.  Living in this house is just what I need and something I never knew I wanted.  The women in the house are people from my church and college and young adult group.  They're my peeps.  Right now, we'

Last night, I finally watched the movie Precious , directed by Lee Daniels, based off the novel Push by Sapphire.  I knew the basic plot:  Precious, 16, is abused (verbally, emotionally, physically, and sexually) by her father and mother and has some teachers and other people that help her survive and rise above.  I was pretty prepared to cry throughout the movie, and I did.  How could you not cry?  What I wasn't prepared for was the film pointing my thoughts toward my students, past and future. I know inevitably that I will teach students who will have parts of Precious' story as theirs.  In fact, I'm certain I already have in my short time as a teacher.  I've had a student whose parents pulled knives on each other in front of 30 people; I've had a student who's dad isn't allowed on campus because he got a DUI on the middle school campus.  Yep, there's more, some less offensive and some more, known and unknown.  That's a scary part about teaching,

In April, I wrote a post about abiding.  In it, I shared what I had been learning about abiding in the Lord and how I wanted to shake things up in my regimented quiet time.  Well, I think a follow up post is loooong overdue.  I've been sucking at it. Today I read a friends blog post where she said she's living paycheck to paycheck, it helped me realize that's what I'm doing in my spiritual life.  I'm just barely squeaking by, just barely being sustained, not really feeling secure. I had stopped my quiet time routine to experience God in a bigger way, to get more of Him; but what has happened instead is I'm floundering.  I'm like a fish who's trying to learn to live without water, I'm dying.  I help with the kids church and yesterday we taught the lesson about how Jesus is the Vine and we are the branches; how we are to stay connected to Jesus so that we can bare fruit for His Kingdom.  I just now got that that lesson is about me!  Perfect. I ne

Have you ever thought back to a specific time/situation or (ahem) a blog post, and thought " I am such a terrible person"?  Yea, me neither...just kidding.  Sometimes I can be so mean over the dumbest things.  But the good news is there's grace, mercy, and seemingly infinite chances.  God is so good and am so not.

Have you ever known someone that you consider to be a friend, maybe not a close one, and just wondered why you even bother being in a relationship with them?  I don't think like that often, but a few days ago that thought came to mind and I've been entertaining it since then. Now, I'll admit that my emotions were out of whack that day, so I took everything personally, but still, that person is a jerk.  They were having a self-inflicted crisis and I was trying to help and they said stuff like 'I'm surrounded by people I like, well except you Coléa'.  Excuse my language, but what the hell you ass?!  While people were literally trying to avoid you, I was trying to understand your dumb crisis and be a good friend, and you make a remark like that?  Unacceptable.  Maybe, that was them taking a stab at humor, but I don't appreciate it. I think I have mentioned before that I hate passive aggressiveness, but I think I'm gonna go for it in this situation.  It

So, I have become a crier.  I think God is doing this, or it could just be something else.  I'll be watching a movie and there'll be a tender moment and my eyes will water heavily.  I used to only cry, in movies, when a dog died or was mistreated (Airbud: the boy tried to leave the dog on an island with pudding, I cried).  I can see the progression of this crying business, I've just finally admitted it to myself...and to y'all. I'm less than thrilled about this; I mean, now that I'm wearing eye make-up on the regular, it could really mess things up.  I guess the lesson I can learn from this is that many of life's moments deserve that kind of respect.  When someone cries, typically it's a moment or a time that warrants some strong emotion: elation, sorrow, frustration, anger, bliss.  I used to only cry when there was extreme sadness or anger to express, but now I feel like anything goes.  I'm still getting used to this business, and I guess it's

Recently, I've seen commercials and other forms of media talking about how we should stop using the word "retard(ed)".  Now, while I understand the heart behind it, I think that's dumb.  Music is mostly written in Italian, so when there are words above or below the notes, they're typically in Italian.  When a passage needs to slow down, ritardando (rit.) is written under the staff.  We call it a "ritard" (not rEtard).  I have to admit, that when I teach this word to young musicians, they snicker initially, but after I explain that it's a word that musicians use to slow things down, and any improper use is unacceptable things are good and I never have a problem with it again. Here's the thing: some people really are mentally, emotionally, and physically retarded.  This can be due to Down Syndrome, cerebral palsy, any number of behavioral disorders, and an assortment of other things.  I think that by calling it a 'nicer', less politicall

I've pretty much always liked males.  I actually remember the exact day I started liking boys:  my first full day of Kindergarten, I started after-school as well.  A big, cool 1st grader, named Sharie, approached me and pointed to another big, cool 1st grader named Garrett and said "Isn't Garrett cute?!"  From then on, I liked boys.  So when prepubescence descended upon us, I had already 'discovered' that boys were cute and that girls should like them.  That was old news for me. I know some women who like a certain type of man, certain style, certain height, certain race, certain occupation, all that stuff.  I'm not like that at all and never have been.  I've liked every race: black, white, asian, hispanic, native American, you name it.  I've liked many variations of looks: goth, prep, slob, ginger (I only put that here because I know not where else to put it and remember a 'fling' I had with a ginger in 8th grade as well as other ginger

I grew up in a pretty strict home, this included clothes.  Part of the reason was because my Momma grew up in a Holiness (super conservative Christian denomenation) home.  More extreme Holiness churches don't allow women to: wear shorts (even long ones), cut their hair, wear make up, or have a voice in church; my mother didn't go to quite that conservative of a church, but still very legalistic. Growing up, I had to go through hell to get clothes.  There was a whole process of purchasing clothes that included: bending over to see if you could see my 'butt' (it really was just my back, but my mom called it 'butt'), making sure the clothes didn't show my figure, pulling my pants up to my bellybutton (which made me look like a freak because my legs are a majority of my body), not wearing anything that would suggest I was homosexual (whatever that means), not wearing anything that made me look pagan (yea, I'm being serious), not wearing anything that would

I'm not the type of person that really misses people or things or places.  I'll be moving back to Charlotte in a few days and I am more excited than I think I have ever been.  I really love my community there. As everything is wrapping up at work and I'm avoiding packing at home, I'm met with these strange emotions.  I think, because I don't have a job lined up in Chartlotte, I feel like something big is gonna happen when I return to Charlotte.  I'll get a job, I'll have to.  I'll be moving into this amazing house with these phenomenal women (I'm beside myself with excitement for that) and I'll be back at my Charlotte church with my community of friends whom I love so dearly and pretty much wanna spend every waken moment with.  But I have a life here, in Greensboro, as well.  This time when I leave Greensboro, I won't come back for another school year or for another job.  I am for real leaving Gboro! I think I feel the anticipation of my

So today I had a brief impromptu lesson on why I am a Miss and not a Missus, and when it's appropriate to call woman Miss or Missus.  The kids 1)didn't know what to call me (Miss or Missus) and 2)were puzzled as to why I do not have a Mister (they were actually quite concerned).  This reminded me of something that happened Friday; yearbook distribution party was this past Friday and the chorus teacher and I were in charge of the music (of course). So there I was, sitting there being bored and signing the occasional  yearbook when one of my students (6th grade boy) walked up to me and addressed me as Mr . Henderson.  I corrected him and politely explained that I am a woman therefore I am a Miss.  He said 'oh' and finished whatever he was talking about.  He then returned shortly (I couldn't get rid of him) and called me Mr. Henderson again .  I corrected him and repeated myself about why I am a Miss and not a Mister.  I decided to make sure he really got it; I point

Have you ever met one of those vegetarians who are super finicky.  You know the kind who: ask/read what's in everything they eat, won't even use the same sponge or utensils that have made contact with meat, won't let you drink from their cup/straw or put your mouth on their food because they don't want your meaty mouth to touch their stuff, gets queasy when they smell cooking meat or hear of animals being killed, or who have you try their food because they can't remember how meat tastes and they suspect their food to be contaminated with it.  You know who I'm talking about?...If you know me, then you know someone like that. I started my official 'journey to vegetarianism' (sounds super lame) in eighth grade, shortly after I had become a Christian.  Initially, I still ate chicken and fish and would still crave burgers and stuff.  But throughout the years I have become more informed and more committed, and 10 years later, I am a full vegetarian (pescatar

This Sunday, Greensboro church had a guest speaker who spoke from Acts when Paul visited James, made some amends, and made a sacrifice with some Christian Jews.  He told us that a squirrel's heart is the size of a baby's fist and that a big blue whale's heart is the size of a VW Beetle!  He, the speaker, was talking about how Jesus can change the 'size', attitude, and focus of our hearts. A person with a squirrel sized heart isn't happy when others succeed or have good fortune.  But a person with a whale's heart is happy when others are blessed even when they, themselves, are not.  Both James' and Paul's hearts were that of a whale because James didn't get offended when Paul made some corrections and Paul made sacrifices in Jewish tradition when he knew he didn't have to.  They both did this for the sake of the Gospel, for the sake of Love. I have to admit that my heart is feeling a bit squirrelly lately.  I've been feeling sad about