Holy Days

Jesus healing the Blind Man. Chapel in Chipinge, Zimbabwe

I began looking for preschools when Maya was somewhere between 15 and 18 months old. When I started out I wasn’t sure what “method” I was looking for…discovery, Waldorf, Montessori or what. I just knew that I would know it when I saw it. I searched high and low, made appointments, sought recommendations, and perused the ads in the Family Press. It wasn’t long before I was dismayed. Each preschool was more unacceptable and expensive than the last. (At that time the average full time preschool price for a 2 ½ year old was $950 month) Ricardo thought I was crazy. One day, after he listened to my complaints, he laughed and said,” Shawn, calm down. This isn’t Yale you know.” I furrowed my brow, narrowed my eyes…puzzled that such a comment would come from a Harvard man. He's right preschool isn’t Yale…it should be something more progressive like Berkeley or Stanford. Humph!

My mother in-law said that I was “too rigid”. After all, none of her kids were sent to preschool. Uh..well, they didn't even have preschool then. AND wasn't milk delivered to her doorstep? Didn't the family doctor made house calls? We don't even have a family doctor...pediatrician..yes; ob/gyn..yes; primary care physician..yes...but one doctor for all of us...hmm no. I, on the other much younger hand, had a very rich and positive preschool experience in West L.A. of the late 1960s! So I've been sold on the concept from the git go.

I sought affirmation from a dear friend and fellow mother. I told her my saga. She laughed and said, “I know. I know! Why don’t you try our little preschool? It’s a bit far from you. But, I think it would be worth it.” Hesitantly, I asked her about the diversity of the school…. "Irene, I know your Asian/Pacific Islander child and nephew are there, but besides them are there any other children of color?” “Oh Shawn (laughing) we have Hmong children, Mexican children, Ethiopian children, German children, Swedish children, White children…we have all kinds of cultures and religions.” Hmmm really? I called and made an appointment. I liked them right away because of all the preschools I called they were the only ones that asked me to bring my child with me.

So, I sprinkled off my two year old, dressed her up and headed to Emmaus Today Christian Montessori located in the predominantly working class neighborhood of Linda Vista. Maya wowed the directors with her focus, pleasant nature and interest in books. I left that day having given them some of Ricardo’s money to secure her spot for the fall!

Elated. I was absolutely elated! That August, we attended the mandatory parent orientation. The Sisters, as we affectionately came to call them, encouraged us to get to know one another as parents on a common journey. They spoke of the Montessori tenets spending considerable time focusing on the "Specialness of One". They spoke passionately about our Divine responsibility to become a community. What? Really? Ha! Even Ricardo was impressed. My diligence had paid off!

Develop community we did. At that first meeting, Ifa was still brewing in my belly and Xander in Kimberly's. Over the years, we would share labor and delivery stories as well as methods for abating sibling rivalry. When Kathy stood and asked if we could please all agree to contribute only healthy snacks to the snack pool...we did so and shared the load by generating a list of ideas and affordable merchants.

At the Christmas program, our spirits would be collectively riveted when Mr. Jeff sang “O Holy Night”. The program was followed by a sumptupous feast wherein our tummies would have nary a milimeter empty as we stuffed them with the many ethnic treats. Contrastly, our collective spirits would mourn at Aliyah’s mother’s funeral. We'd collect ourselves each year to gather at the bay in the chillly-willy-almost-dark cold for our annual family picnic. Even now, I can't help but laugh when I remember the year that Margot peed in the sand while her brother trotted off into the murky bay water! Ahhhh a good time was had by all…well, maybe not Camille, Margot’s mother, but the rest of us certainly chuckled.

We laughed and ate ourselves silly at birthday parties and just generally had a good time! All was not perfect, of course, but each challenge and disagreement was met with a commitment to resolve the issue equitably. And yes, there were phone calls home. But always, always, these calls started with “Hi Shawn honey….” And included a counseling component from a Divine perspective about how the ego of a child evolves into a self…the Specialness of One.

This was all possible because the Sisters, the teachers and Miss Tammy are all very special people. I remember quite clearly the day I pulled up to the school for pick up and had my consciousness jolted by a huge, and I mean HUGE black banner flying. On the banner was a dove with an olive branch in its mouth “flying” by the words: “For Whom the Bell Tolls…State Sanctioned Murder Diminishes Us All” WHAT??? Well, being spiritual beings committed to the Catholic church and ecumenical teachings, the Sisters flew this banner whenever anyone…including…former gang member Tookie Smith…was due to be executed. WOW!

I think this is what has been most striking about the Sisters. They truly live out their faith, beliefs and precepts. When we left San Diego and hence Emmaus…we all cried! The Sisters took me in their arms with hugs and kisses telling Ricardo and I that we would always be in fellowship. Not “in touch” but in fellowship of the heart, mind and spirit. Yes, Sisters we are and forever will be!

This year, the Sisters sent out the most beautiful Christmas card. The words inside call us to action -- to build community if you will -- by saying:

“When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost, to heal the broken,
To feed the hungry, to release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations, to bring peace to all,
To make music in the heart!”

Yes dear ones, our work is before us! Let us greet this New Year with faith affirmed in fellowship with one another, doing the work of the divine Spirit within and honoring the Specialness of Each One!

Happy New Year!

Local Faire in Flag

Recently, at a birthday party, Ricardo scarfed THREE HAMBURGERS! He couldn’t BELIEVE how good they were. Wanting to spoil neither his fun nor appetite, I hesitated before telling him that they probably weren’t beef or even turkey. Around here you’re more likely to find venison, elk or bison burgers…..fresh, organic, corn fed…hunted from the mountains that surround us. No kidding. Hunting is BIG in Flagstaff. Men and women alike wait with baited breath to see if they will be the lucky Willy Wonka recipients of a hunting tag for the season. Carla, at work, has been waitinfg for two years for her lucky number to pop up. No such fortune for her, only her husband. Who apparently has fell a deer or two this season. (I’m sorry, “fell” really should be used for trees, not animals. I apologize) Anyway, Carla spared no detail in recounting how she and her husband drained a deer on ice for two days before taking it to the processor. She prattled on about how good and flavorful these most recent sausages are saying she would bring me some. “Uh, no thanks!”
Lauralee whose daughter is in the same class as Ifa has traveled many places, speaks several languages and yet just told me that she is moonlighting as a wrapper in a processing plant. Why just last weekend they took in 26 animals! On a good, steady day, they can process and wrap 6 animals: steaks, chops, burgers, sausages….you name it! (The other animals hang in the freezer with their meat aging until it’s their turn to be processed. From what I can gather it is the draining of the blood that determines whether the meat ages versus rotting as it is the case with the sport hunters who don’t take the time to begin the draining process before taking their bounty to the local meat processing plant. WHAT?!!)
While all of these things are a shock to my suburban sensibilities, I really have done my best to take part in the local culture, but the hunting bit is just beyond me. Truthfully, most of the rugged living that goes on here is beyond me! I prefer to live vicariously through those I meet, like my friend Willa.

Willa


I’m not sure when we first met or even we had our first conversation. I just know that Willa has been quite instrumental in acclimating me to life in Flag. Willa has a wonderful sense of humor, a kind heart and a generous spirit. Yet, I didn’t quite know what to make of her in the beginning. First she asked me if I wanted to go ‘shrooming. Next, while we were out walking, she had me sniffing cracks. But, the kicker was finding out that she and her husband have his and her chainsaws. No Joke.

Let me explain…..

‘Shrooming

There were several things I didn’t know about Flagstaff when we first moved here in August. One of which is the fact that Flag has a monsoon season. We moved here right in the middle of it. True to “tropical” weather, we would get daily deluges. (this led to a lot of crockpot meals and homemade bread even though it wasn’t cold!) The monsoon season lasted through the middle of September. I was unhappy and unprepared. As I lamented this to Willa one day she said, “Yeah, but it’s great for ‘shrooming.” “What?!” “’Shrooming” she repeated. I looked behind me to make sure no one was listening, I mean after all, we do work in an educational institution and I was having flashbacks to high school! (a more virtuous friend said…”a flashback to college”) Willa, being a worldly sort of a woman…flashed recognition in her eyes and then proceeded to laugh. “Well, there’s that too,” she said. “But here after it rains the mountains are full of wild mushrooms”

Yeup! People here actually go wild mushroom hunting. They not only gather them, they eat them! Can you say, “roulette”? So, one afternoon I scampered off with Willa way off the beaten path to hunt for lobster mushrooms. We filled two grocery bags. Afterwards, she divvied them up. When she handed me my “take”, I declined saying, “You take them. You clean them, you cook them, you eat them. Then, after a couple of days I see that you are o.k. you bring me the leftovers!”

When I got home, I googled: “Wild Lobster Mushrooms” Darned if it wasn’t legit! Not only that, at that time they were retailing for as much as $25 a pound!!!! I was a believer! We went ‘shrooming one more time during the season. And I finally did take some home. But I still didn’t eat them. I fed them to my husband. J

Sniffing Cracks

As if wild mushroom hunting wasn’t enough exercise, Willa suggested that we start walking around campus. So we did. One overcast day on our loop around campus, we cut through the trees (I want to say forest but the locals would think me a city gal). Willa veered off the path, gripped a tree and stuck her nose into one of the cracks. Kid you not! She lifted her head smiling…”Come on, try it. It smells like vanilla or caramel.” Naturally, I was skeptical, thinking it was joke on the new girl. (I am sure this must be associated with some childhood playground trauma). She persisted. Janet who was also walking with us didn’t say anything. Not knowing what to make of it, but feeling that perhaps I could trust Willa, I gripped the tree and stuck my nose in as she had done. Darned if she wasn’t right AGAIN! The tree smelled like sweet candy of vanilla or butterscotch! Amazing! A few days later, I could be heard telling Ifa while she was playing in the back yard…”Ifa, grip its sides and sniff its crack” I can just imagine what the neighbors thought!

His and Her Chainsaws

I still haven’t worked this one out. I stopped by Willa’s office one day and in the midst of the conversation she broke out with a chainsaw jingle:

You’re in luck when you’ve got a McCulloch Chain saw
You’ve got power by the hour in your hand
With McCulloch you’re the master
‘cause you keep on cutting faster
You’re in luck when you’ve got a McCulloch Chain saw

“Willa, what are you doing?”
“Singing the McCulloch Chain Saw song.” Of course, silly me. It seems that one of Willa’s many talents is chopping wood. She and her husband live on the outskirts of town…I use that term loosely. It’s akin to living on the outskirts of say, El Cajon, Alpine, Yuma…that sort of thing. You get the picture. As part of their dedication to um hard work? No, I’m thinking it’s responsible living both environmentally and financially. You see, their entire house is heated by wood burning stoves. Apparently, wood burning stoves instead of heaters or radiators is not uncommon in this neck of the woods. Anyway, while they were chopping wood, Dwayne noticed that his chainsaw was slipping. Being the gracious soul that she is, Willa offered him hers. The following work day they took Dwayne’s chainsaw to the ummm mechanic? The ”mechanic” broke it to them gently that Dwayne’s chainsaw had seen better days. Time to start thinking about a new one. The day I stopped by was the day that Dwayne was going to pick up his brand spanking new chainsaw. Yipee! To date Willa and Dwayne have enough wood stored up to serve them for this winter and next.
So, all of you Californians who are gearing up for a major catastrophe, if it hits—naturally, I pray it doesn’t—and you can get out, you might want to find your way to Flagstaff. It seems the living is still relatively easy and the hills are alive with plenty!

True Hope, Noble Service

Hi All,

For this BLOG, I have decided to post an edited version of an email that I sent to my dear friend and mentor, Angela Bass.

I hope you are well. I am CERTAIN that you are energized by the outcome of our presidential election! I know my friend Jenn Hoffman is. In fact, she was disgusted with me because she was more excited than I was. She was expecting an Oprah moment from me and at the time I couldn’t give it to her. I’m sorry Jenn.

In the days since the Barack’s victory, I have been thinking over my own reactions. Like most things, my reaction was rooted in my childhood. As I look back on my childhood, perhaps the single most powerful—and empowering thing my parents did was instill in me a sense of worthiness, privilege and wholeness. When Jesse Jackson was shown crying (perhaps because it wasn't him that was elected...ok that's nasty, I take it back) I thought back to when my parents and a core group of their friends hosted a fund raiser in East County for his presidential campaign. When John Lewis spoke about the civil rights era on Oprah, I thought back to when Ralph Abernathy and Ben Hooks came to our house for an NAACP event. Ralph Abernathy held my 8 year old face in his hands and told me I was special and beautiful. What a blessing!...literally! I remember answering the phone when James Baldwin called. I remember my mother's absolute elation at hosting, Kwame Nkrumah, Esther Rolle, Angela Davis and several others at San Diego State. We all, o.k. my mother and I, acted silly when Edwin Hawkins and William Marshall came on separate Sunday afternoon occasions. Most recently, I can recall when I introduced myself to Asa Hilliard and told him that my mother spoke often and fondly of him. When I told him who she was, he hugged me tightly and warmly. His passing actually had a profound impact on the ripples in the pond that circle around in my head as I continue the next phase of my life...my legacy was once said-- in one of the many conversations where my mentor Angela Bass took me to task..urging me to do more.

A similar unction came during Obama’s acceptance speech. Do you know which part of his speech resonated with me the most? His call to service and personal sacrifice. Yeup. My prayer partners know that I have been wrestling with “my calling” and yearn to know where I am called to serve. (Either I am growing up or I am having a mid life crisis!!!) Daily, Ricardo and I brainstorm connections that might lead us to working for Obama. We often joke about there being more like 2 degrees of separation between Black folk instead of the proverbial 6! We KNOW that someone we know can “hook us up”. I actually went on line to the DC public schools website and they actually have literacy professional developers posted! I tell you the current vibe just makes me want to DO MORE!

But you know what? If we never meet him, we are committed to carrying out our common ideals. As Nellie put it, in this election, profound, worthy ideals won out for our good. (paraphrase) So, as I reflect upon Barack’s victory and my own life’s road, I am inspired to do more! How about you? Each of us possesses the gifts to be an inspiration and a help to someone. After all, we can be every bit as inspiring and committed as he is especially if we do, in fact, commit to personal sacrifice and service! As Gandhi would say," You must BE the change you wish to see in the world".

Finally, I know that not all of you reading this BLOG voted for Barack. I pray for the mending of your spirits. To that end I am including here a modern rendition of Psalms 114 and 115 that I recently shared with a long time friend. It captures the essence of his platform and our individual obligations.

And remember if you meet the Obama’s –especially Michelle—before I do PLEASE remember to drop my name. Resume and references furnished in a heart beat!


Peace and Blessings,

Shawn

Psalms 114 and 115 as transliterated by Leslie Brandt

We fear, O God, for our country and the tragic indifference that is demonstrated in respect to You and Your purposes.
We have built great shrines and memorials in Your honor.
We have established innumerable religions that presume to glorify and serve You.
We have respectfully imprinted Your name upon our coins and properly credited You in our founding principles.
Our leaders generally call on You to guide them in the most critical decisions they must make.
A remnant of our populace gathers occasionally to sing Your praises and profess its faith.
There are even special days when we count our blessings and conduct services of thanksgiving.

But the shrines we build to you do not always glorify You.
They often become soundproof fortresses that blot out the sounds of suffering which echo throughout the world about them.
Our numerous religions turn into vain attempts to box You into man-made ideas and concepts of divinity.
The coins which bear Your name are dedicated to the pursuit of our selfish ambitions and the acquisition of material wealth.
Our founding principles are interpreted in ways that benefit the powerful and oppress the weak.
Our laws sometimes contradict and oppose Your law in respect to the consciences and convictions of Your children.
Our leaders call upon You to bless their intentions rather than to reveal to Your plans in the government of men.
And those who do gather to sing Your praises are seldom committed to anyone or anything unless it is comfortable and convenient for their purposes.

And yet, O Lord, we pray that You will not give us up.
We have selfishly clutched at Your great blessings and abused the wealth You have put into our hands.
We have gathered for ourselves while countless millions of this world's creatures have have died with their needs unfulfilled.
We have foolishly ignored You to worship the things that have come from Your hands.
We confess our rebelliousness and selfishness, O Lord, and pray that You will spare us.
Spare us, in order that you might renew us and save us and use us to channel Your blessings to Your children in every land.
You dealt mercifully with Your ungrateful children throughout history.
We pray that You will deal patiently and lovingly with us, that You will transform our words into actions and our shallow platitudes into genuine praises that will glorify and serve You in all the world.

Step by Step

I went to Jaazercise here a couple of times this week. It is not quite like it is at home, but then that maybe too much to hope for. Those of you that know me KNOW that Jazzercise is my gig. I love it. I love it not only for its form of exercise, but because I have had the privilege and blessing to have my life touched by the many wonderful women there. Below is a piece that I wrote in a writer's workshop several years ago. The words still ring true. And, if you are ever in El Cajon, stop by Jazzercise. They are sure to welcome you and make room for you on the floor!

Step by Step....

Who knew? I went because Rosemary, my kinesiologist, said that my adrenals were worn out. Now, I don’t pretend that I “understand” the “science” behind kinesiology I just know that it works. I know that she knows and I believe her. So anyway, she made it clear that sporadic yoga classes weren’t cutting it. I told her that I didn’t just NOT go to yoga classes, I also have a vast exercise video collection to choose from--STEP Reebok, Jane Fonda’s Complete Workout, Jane Fonda’s Lean Routine, Jane Fonda’s Step Aerobics, Jane Fonda’s Workout for Beginners, Jane Fonda’s Upper Body Workout, Jane Fonda’s Lower Body Workout and if I get bored with Jane I also have The Firm volumes I and III, The Firm Parts Tortoise Workout, The Firm Parts Hare Workout. I have Yoga for Beginners, Yoga for Relaxation, Power Yoga, AM Yoga, PM Yoga, Hollywood Yoga and speaking of Hollywood, let us not forget that I have the Ultimate Tae Bo collection.--That I BEGGED Ricardo for because clearly it was THE workout for me.

“O.K. So why aren’t you using them.”

“I do use them, in a pinch.” Then it dawned on me. EVERYTHING felt like a pinch. That was Rosemary’s whole point. Where is the space in my day that I set aside for re-creation? For forgetting the world? hmmm good question. “I’m a teacher. I’m at the heart of the world everyday--how can I ‘forget’ it? And, what do you mean re-create? We create in my classroom everyday. Especially on Fridays when have some moderately elaborate art project.”

“Well, if you keep on at this pace and you won’t have anything to give those kids because you will be drained yourself.”

“So, what should I do?”

“Find a special place for YOU and treasure it.”

Well, around about this time the weekly Pennysaver came. I used think that it only came because the mailman needed some kind of wrapper for the junk mail to slide into. Afterall, does anyone really READ the Pennysaver. O.K. fine. But tell me, it can’t be true that people actually advertise for Nannies in there--how could they?! Anyway, the pizza coupons were oozing from between the pages of the Pennysaver, so I shook them out to order them neatly when an ad caught my eye. JAZZERCISE Dance your way into Fitness! Dance. Hmmm I’ve ALWAYS looovvved to dance. My earliest memories are of me singing, dancing and performing on the fireplace--with much gusto. (By junior high I had perfected my Harry Belafonte Live at Carnegie Hall routine) Now, many of even my closest friends would like to snicker that I don’t have much rhythm. I prefer to think of myself as a freestyle dancer. That’s much nicer that “off-beat”.

I looked the coupon over. At the time Jazzercise was offering an incentive of 6 weeks for the price of 4 for new students. I polished off my pennies and paid my money. I don’t remember much about that first actual class. I do remember that my calves ached for DAYS. So much so that I began to think maybe the stereotype was true--maybe Black people aren’t fashioned properly for ballet. NAW! Couldn’t be, I’d been dancing all my life and besides Jazzercise is so much more than just plain ole pirouettes! Latin, Jazz, Reggae, Blues, Rock, Pop, Funk, Hip-Hop, Country, Oldies, Swing, Kickboxing, Folk. You name and there is surely a Jazzermove to go with it!

While it may have taken some time for my calves to adjust, my soul and my spirit took to it right away thanks to Susan’s inspiration. I am certain that when Susan started out in El Cajon some 20 years ago she had no idea of the impact of her mission. On any given night, she inspires, humors, teaches and teases. A breast cancer survivor, she is keenly aware of the preciousness of every moment in life. This is what she has passed onto us through song, through music, through words, through fellowship. She put it so poignantly herself in her opening remarks on Thanksgiving Day (yes we gather not “even on holidays”, but especially on holidays). Susan began by sharing what she is personally thankful for. We are among her blessings because as she put it, “Yes, we gather in this place, in this room in El Cajon under the guise of exercise. But what we have created in this room transcends that. We have celebrated and survived. We have endured and enjoyed. There have been marriages and divorces; births and deaths; new jobs and same old jobs; grief and laughter; cancer and healing. Healing for whatever ails us in the course of a day, a week, a month or a life. We have banned together. And for one special hour each day we can put all aside and dance. Get lost in the music and glory in the fellowship that we have created in this room.”

She’s right. I recall those words of hers that Thanksgiving Day often. Especially when the day has been trying and traffic so tight that I wonder if I will make it to Jazzercise class on time. And yet, I do. When I get there I feel the buzz in the parking lot. There are many of us who pass each other between classes. Nameless but not unknown. We smile, wave and greet...”Have a GREAT class. Enjoy!” As soon as I cross the threshold, the sweat and excitement equally humidify the air. I eagerly peel off the day and take my place in the chorusline. Arms raised, sweeping in unison. It is a majestic scene. I glance first at my neighbor and dear friend Steph, then around the room. At least 50 women of all walks of life, ethnicity and ages gathered together in a common place because we share a common space. Wives, mothers, sisters, friends....dancers. We are drawn by the inspiration of life. Breathing in balance, breathing out freedom. Letting go of our social scripts, our hurts, our frustrations, our dreams and living in the moment. Knowing what a sublime treasure it is to “forget” in the company of sister spirits. Re-creating who we are note by note, step by step, song by song.

Ode to Tammye Faye

Ode to Tammye Faye

As I was getting ready for work today, Tammy Faye crossed my mind. You see, I just started a new job and wanted a “new look”. I considered the many choices a girl has: Suits? Too stuffy. Pants? Not with these thighs! Dresses? Maybe. AH! Long skirts with fashionable, feminine tops and a blazer when necessary. YES! For instance, in my shopping, I scored a nice, straight, “ethnic” print skirt from Coldwater Creek. Oh how cute with a white tank and black vest or denim jacket! Shoes? Depends on the weather. Could be black strappy medium heal sandals (I’m on my feet a lot). Or, black boots. (It rains a lot here, snows too!) What does this have to do with Tammy Faye?

Well, Romans 1:16 says, “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first and also the Greek.” Likewise, I am not ashamed to say that I came to the Lord through Tammy Faye’s ministry with PTL. Unlikely I know. But it is true. I was in my early 20’s at the time. PTL had great programming geared towards young adults. Tammy’s children would frequent the show as would young celebrities. The show’s dialogue always focused on the struggles that God saw them through, how they remained strong in their faith and the scoffing they endured from others for the cause of Christ. As a young woman, this was revolutionary for me. I loved the halfway point when it was time for a musical selection. I especially enjoyed the days when Tammy herself would sing. (I actually own her Enough is Enough album to this day!) “Well your midnight’s almost over and the sun is gonna shine again. Oh the sun is gonna shine again!” LOVE IT! Inspired and comforted by it! Tammy Faye would end each broadcast or song with, “Remember God loves you and so do I!” There, in my tiny room, through the waves of the 13 inch t.v. screen her words reached me. I prayed the sinner’s prayer, asking Jesus to come into my heart to be the Lord and Savior of my life. I phoned the prayer line from time to time -- mostly for intercessory prayer for my mother who was battling cancer and for others who were suffering. It would be about a year before I found a church home in my local city. Even then, I would still tune in for the programming as often as I could find it!

So that’s the context, what’s the text? Tammy Faye also provided a role model of what a Christian woman could be: fashionable, loving and kind. Again, as a young woman in her 20’s, the fashionable part was important. Tammy was ALWAYS fashionable in her dress and accessories. And, contrary to popular belief she was a bargain shopper for most of her things. As for her hair and make-up, I remind you that this was the 80’s! In context of the times, she was hardly out of place. These were the days of Dynasty, Knott’s Landing and –lest we forget—Dallas! Naturally, many felt that Tammy was over the top—especially for Christian lady. Detractors said that she was mirroring the world with her taste in fashion. I wholeheartedly disagree! Go back and look at the vintage photos and footage, Tammy was always tastefully covered. Her flair for long skirt sets is what led me to them. Being, a former elementary school teacher, I must clarify her that Tammy’s take on long skirt sets were far from what we in the public schools refer to as, “teacher clothes” – you know the ballooning broom skirts, generally patterned after the holiday of the season. No, Tammy’s set had flair and fashion. And were always offset by a nice pair of heels! No old maid trotters for her! Therefore, I have thrown mine out as well!

Yes, as this new school year opens for me, I recommit not only to the fashion sense that Tammy Faye Bakker instilled in me some 20 years ago, but more importantly to the lesson we all can learn from her life and her ministry: never judge a book by its cover. I am not ashamed of her nor the God she led me know and serve. Remember, God loves you and so do I!


Peace and Blessings,

Shawn

Introduction

I am not certain what you will find here. I am only certain that I have to find time, space and place for the words inside me so they don't die. I endeavor to greet each new day eager for insight, wisdom, faith and peace. I don't have a single theme but rather an indicator of where I am - on the mountain. We've have moved here from a valley far away. These are my thoughts. Enjoy them.

Shawn