Dear friends,

I’m in a busy season. In just two weeks, I’ll be leaving my corporate communications job after 8.5 years to focus on my studies and ministry full time. I’ll be taking a beat before looking for full time income again in order to complete the full time Clinical Pastoral Education requirement I need for both graduation and ordination — I’ll take that on over the summer.

After that I don’t know what my “job” will be. I’ll be starting a part time parish internship in the fall and will need to find something else to provide my primary income and provide health insurance for my family. All of this is daunting, for sure. It’s taking a huge leap of faith not just from me but also from my partner, who none of this would be possible without. My gratitude is endless.

In spite of all of this, I feel calm. This is all due to the support of my community and the evidence that keeps showing up in my life every day that helps me understand that I’m pointed in the right direction.

In the meantime, between now and the end of the month, I’m in my busiest season at my job and I’m about three weeks into my semester. I have negative amounts of free time before I shift into this new “normal,” and it’s daunting.

I’m also curious if you, like me, are still reveling in the joy of Bad Bunny's Super Bowl performance. I had been looking forward to it for weeks and expected to enjoy every second, but to be honest, I found it transcendent and brilliant in ways I didn’t expect. I’m so thankful that millions of people were able to share in that joy with him — what a gift it was to be reminded of what a love ethic looks like in public and that it can indeed be exercised on a world stage. It felt like hope. I really needed a spark hope, and I know I wasn’t alone.

Sunday morning, I was lucky enough to preach for my friends at the UU Fellowship of Murfreesboro. I talked about Bad Bunny’s imminent performance and how I found it to be an example of the stories we live inside and how they shape our world.

Single stories rarely announce themselves as hostility or fear. More often, they feel like familiarity. Like common sense. Like the background assumptions we do not remember choosing.

Why is why moments like the Super Bowl halftime show can feel so charged… because they reveal the stories already at work inside of us. Stories about who belongs. Stories about what counts as normal. Stories about whose presence is welcome and whose feels unsettling.

You can listen to it here.

I have dreams of writing weekly letters here once February ends. We’ll see how that goes. More than anything, I realize that I am entering a singular moment in my life, and I couldn’t be more thankful to be exactly where I am.

With care,
Rachel