I have more to say.


I have more to say:
I sit here in our teeny tiny apartment
drinking a Coke-A-Cola.
I am a drinker of Coke.
(regular, not diet. diet is poison but that is a different post)
I like Iced Tea also. but I digress
So yesterday Facebook and Twitter were all a buzz about the death of
Philip Seymour Hoffman and how he died. My last blog post was about the whole thing. check it out:

https://blueberrypancakesfordinner.wordpress.com/2014/02/02/philip-seymour-hoffman-2/

But there was another thing that got the WWW’s panties all in a knot.

Coke-A-Cola made this commercial for the super bowl.
here it is, watch it.
Have a tissue at the ready!

Don’t you think it is just lovely?

Most of the people I know, thought it was a lovely commercial. And they provided
so much support for the the fact that we are a people that is so diverse!
Faith Traditions, Ethically, some families have two daddies! the list go on and on.

What broke my heart about this, was reading a post  from some one I respect and love. who has a sweet,generous and Lovely spirit who loves G*d
I responded to the post. and she took it down. and told me:
“We are a nation of diverse immigrants and I celebrate that.”

But I think G*d wants me to say more, so here it is.

First, I think it very important to remind you all that”America the Beautiful” is an Hymn. composed The lyrics were written by KatherineLee Bates, ( who was thought to be a lesbian, as she lived for 20 some years with Katharine Coman,) and the music was composed by church organist and choirmaster Samuel A. Ward.

Bates originally wrote the words as a poem, Pikes Peak, first published in the Fourth of July edition of the church periodical The Congregationalist in 1895. At that time, the poem was titled America for publication.

The above was total jacked from wikki! love wikki.

So this begs the question:

We are only allowed to sing certain hymns in English because the word American is in it? I read this on facebook;
” It’s other-cultural hatred? ”
“It’s fear and paranoia, if you ask me. They fear their long-held “white superiority” is being taken away”. B. S. Jackson

The Star Spangled Banner however is INDEED the National Anthem
it is a song about WAR. how sweet.

More wikki plagiarism:
“The Star-Spangled Banner” is the national anthem of the United States. The lyrics come from “Defense of Fort M’Henry”,[1] a poem written in 1814 by the 35-year-old lawyer and amateur poet, Francis Scott Key, after witnessing the bombardment of Fort McHenry by the British Royal Navy ships in Chesapeake Bay during the Battle of Fort McHenry in the War of 1812. Key was BTW Pro-Slavery.

A little more:  Key went on to write several more hymn,
He  fought for Slavery and wrote a poem about war making seen like a beautiful sunset.
nice
We are a county of many nations.
More Wikki Plagiarism:
These are approximate, BTW.
Number of languages spoken in the U.S.: 311.
Those languages indigenous to the U.S: 162
Those that are immigrant languages: 149
There are 14 million households in the United States where English is not the primary language.
So why can we NOT have a sung by many languages?
I will answer that.

WE CAN!
It really is okay to sing songs in other language.
Because. we are all human.
That is the bottom line. We should not have to have a commercial to teach us this.

A Prayer:
Oh Lord.
Help us.
Help us be tolerant
Help us with our own
intolerant of intolerance.
Wait, NO, do not help us with our
intolerant of intolerance
Teach us how to deal with

intolerance

Help us teach our children.
Mary Travers once said:
“If you want to teach the world not to hate the different; the other; then you must first start with the children”
Please help us teach our children
to more that just tolerate, but to
AFFERM people who are different
no matter what name they when referring to you, G*d.
Help us to teach that the fact we have over 300 languages spoken here in the US is something to be proud of.

Amen and May it Be SO.

 

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Philip Seymour Hoffman


Philip Seymour Hoffman died today
a drug overdose.
he was 46.
Hoffman is survived by his longtime partner
Mimi O’Donnell and their three young children.
he did not want to leave his children
he did not want to leave his lover
he did not want to die
he hated drugs, like most of us do
he had, in fact, been clean and sober for 23 years and relapsed on prescription drugs, he did go to rehab again, just recently as a matter of fact.

he said he went because he was “terrified”
but he lost the war.

a dear friend said to me today:
“We all have choices and demons. His just won”
trust me. no one WANTS to be addicted to drugs

this woman on facebook said this: “Dumb ass. What is with Hollywood ?? Scares me. My son is there. And pray everyday for him and his friends that they don’t succumb. Ya know. Very sad”

 

i responded:

“he was sick, it is a disease like cancer or diabetes. would you call anyone who died of cancer a dumb ass? and BTW it is not “Hollywood” he lived in NYC and it is everywhere, all over. in Hollywood, in the Midwest, Southwest Northeast, and even places like Florida or Anaheim EVERY WHERE. Addiction does not discriminate, race, social economic, gender, religion, education, or what one does for a living. People who fight it (and he was fighting it. he just lost the fight.) do not want to be addicts. what does not help is the judgement. they need out compassion and our love and our prayers. one more thing, trust me, if you call people who struggle with addiction, and your son is fighting it? he will never come to you for help and he will take it underground. and prayer will be your only hope.”

oh course she responded. no, her kid is NOT doing drugs. bla bla bla and she knows that it is everywhere”. WHAT EVER.

then, i shit you not dear reader, some ass-hole said “that addiction is not a disease” so i stopped reading and i did not go back to the thread.

because. bullshit.

i am bummed that the horrible disease of addiction is still judged as a character flaw. it is time to stop.
it is not a motherfucking character flaw!
what needs to happen is a HARDCORE investment in treatment instead of jail for those
who suffer from addiction.
and LONG HARD TIME. for dealers.
i do not know everything, but i do know this:
when Mr. Hoffman, walked though
the heavenly gates,
and HE DID WALK THOUGH THE HEAVENLY GATES.
he walked into the arms of the Divine
who welcomed him home.
without judgement
without condemnation.
without damnation.
and with LOVE
he was free from his disease.
he was clean.
he was sober
he was healed.

 

a prayer:

 

dear G*d.
we have lost another great soul to addiction.
he was someones lover
he was someones daddy
three someones, BTW
he was someones friend
he was someones brother
he was someones son
he was loved by many people.
he was an amazing talent
with a gentle soul.
the world is losing to many
loved one to drugs.
i know that he is with you now.
please bless his family
bring them peace.
hold them close.
the kind only you can.
please protect them
judgemental ass-holes.
maybe someone
will get help now.

 

ashe’ amen and may it be so.

 

may you rest in peace. Philip Seymour Hoffman

the book story lady.


the cubs and i went to cash and carry to get stuff for my 12 step group.

on the way home, we found this cute little bookstore.

anyway so i am checking out the place.

the girl cub running around…one man cub looking at book the other..not so much

and the book store lady says “your son went out side” i replied that’s OK he is 11.its ya know…COOL

then she says to me..(insert voice of my momster-in-law)”well there are a lot of homeless people in this area”

huh

“we are not scared of homeless people” i told her.

she was silent

then she tells me “oh nether am i..ya know…some of the homeless people are very nice”

one could insert “people of color; the gays; non Christan’s” whatever

i was pissed. but did i say anything?

no

i was a cowered

i should have said something…

something….

i hope that my tone when i said “we are not scared of homeless people” was

strong

and

maybe even made her think about the fact that

homeless people are ya know

PEOPLE

HUMANS

with feelings
and thoughts

and are worth

our time

and

money

and

compassion

and

support

and even

eye contact

bet she does not look them in the eye.

but maybe

maybe today?

she will,

i doubt it.

sad.

a prayer:

dear holy one
spirit of life and love and
all things good

touch that book store lady…
remind her of the teaching of

Jesus

and

Gandhi

and

MLK

that every one is worthy of
and
deserving of
respect
support
food
and
a
safe place to lay their heads at night
no
matter
what they have done
or not
done.

no matter ‘

if they are “sick in the head”

or even

if they

“choose”

to be that way…

show her, remind her

that Jesus was homeless
unemployed

some would say

“NUTS”

i have no more

 

Spring Magic


When we first moved up here from California I was awed by the seasons, they were different then what I have ever experienced . In California we would jokingly call the seasons:

Fire, Rain, Mudslide and Earthquake. HAR!

My first fall here was my first real fall. i even wrote a poem about it: 

It is leafing Mommy! Look! ” She said from the
back seat as we drove down the
road to The Maple Grove
“What?” I asked…
“Look!, it is leafing” She said again.
Ya know what?
It was!
Leaves of Red and Orange
and Purple and Pink
and Blue and Gold.
Floating down upon us
waving back and forth
like the Pendulum on a Grandfather clock.
a Rusty, Orangy, Yellowy Reddish Goldy one
Umber, I think it was.
I have always wanted to know what umber is, now I know.
I think.
It really does not matter.
Because It was LEAFING!
These leaves once
green, wick life
giving shade from the hot sun.
Are now dead, making room for more growth in the spring.
falling on us like the rain.
I love this time of year
more so now that I really have seen the Autumn colours
and felt the cold crisp mornings and warm afternoons
it is nice.
Leafing.

 

Our first winter here, it snowed. I am telling you IT SNOWED. It was also, by the way, my first White Christmas. cool.

The thing about Winter in the PNW is that we get a sneak peak of Spring at the end Januaryish, beginning of Februaryish, first with the Crocus, then the Daffodils, little patches of green pop out of the sometimes near frozen ground, everywhere! At the sides of the freeways, in the parks, and the thing that is most remarkable? sometimes they are wild!

What a miracle!

Usually it comes right around the time the city is about to RIOT for lack of sun, and warmth, although this year has been very mild, almost scary mild. it has been the driest January in years, but the hint that Spring is coming still makes me smile. Spring is coming! During the Spring, the days become magic, the mornings are frosty and cold. The sun warms the earth, and our very souls. then the sun goes down and the cold once again reminds us that it is indeed still Winter.

It will not dry up, as rain in the PNW is like pumpkin pie at thanksgiving. IT. JUST. IS.

But when it rains in the Spring and Summer, the birds keep singing, the children keep playing, and people just keep walking, drinking coffee, or chi tea if you are a hipster.

And no one uses an umbrella.

But the Crocus! the Daffodils! It is a reminder that Divine loves us.

That he/she is the same yesterday, today and forever.

The Spring! It always comes.

May it be so.

a little about me.


<!–
I am thinking
About life, how it can be beautiful and sad at the same times i love how The Divine loves me. because, grace. not because of who i am or who or what i become. or what i do. or whom i love. he(or she) only cares that i love!

I am thankful for….
For all that is my life. truly. i am grateful for the good. so so grateful. and i am even thankful for the bad, because i choose to learn from the hardships. i do not believe that “everything” happens for the good or even for a reason. But i do know, that i can make the choose how to deal with it! can i hear an AMEN?!

From the learning rooms…
The Buddha is working on his 8th grade project. it is preparing for the zombie apocalypse The Rock star is being 12, he says he does not like school. but i call pants on fire. Princess Pantalette is loving kindergarten, she is learning how to be in the world.

From the kitchen….
i have been baking a lot, winter brings that out of me. i put on one of my many aprons, i like the pinafore and make soups and roasts and bake. the winters in OR give me the room to do that here. tonight we are having pesto and bow tie pasts with bread.

I am wearing….
A dress that i got some some Renn Faire somewhere, i do not know if it was north or southern. it is brown with a high waist, it looks pretty with my brown gingham pinafore.

I am creating…
I am embroidering an alter cloth out of a red napkin. And needle felting a nativity scene. it will look really cool and i bet i am done by Thanksgiving! 

I am going….
To woman’s bible study. it is for wives. will it make me a better wife? only G*d knows, but it wont hurt!

I am reading...The Bible, Love and Respect, a book about finances and a bunch of others.

I am hearing…
The calling to serve, always everyday. i hear the calling. so i serve humanity by giving money to the poor. and alway alway looking them in the eye. I tell them “i hope things get better for you” and if they let me, i touch their hand. i remember that they are someones child. and they are worth my time and my money.

One of my favourite things…
Just one? these days it is watching or doing “girl things” with Princess Pantalette, We watch “Say Yes To The Dress” and yesterday we watched “The Secret Garden.” Last week we went to get mani/pedis. fun!

Making me laugh…
My kids, every day. last week we took the Buddha to the Dr. he has depression and anxiety. so now he is on a antidepressant. anyway, we were getting him all checked in by the MA. and when she said “so i guess that you are still a non smoker? and with out missing a beat he said “nope”

the head and i were LOAO’s. the look on the MA was priceless!

A few plans for the rest of the week….
School, i haveta go to traffic court to take care of a ticket that i did not know i had. wait for payday. we have enough $ this week so i will not need to go to the food bank and that is good.

i want to blog everyday. work on my alter cloth, go to a meeting at our children school in hopes that they will accept the Buddha into the high school PLEASEG*d PLEASEG*d PLEASEG*d PLEASEG*d PLEASEG*d PLEASEG*d PLEASEG*d PLEASEG

the road side cross.


I found a photo. The photographer is Parker Stevenson I found his work beautiful and mesmerizing. As I was browsing though the photos, I found one of a cross. it was raining. I could see the church in the far back ground. But in the photograph, It is the cross that stands out. this is a poem that came though to me, and I thank Spirit, for the words and Parker for his work.

I hope you like it, and Thanks to Parker for sharing his work with me. And go look at his work! He is a wonderful photographer. He has a great eye, you can the Divine shining though his work.

A single cross on the side of the road tells me

Some one has died in an accident there

It speaks of sorrow, loss, catastrophe

Flowers, teddy bears, heart balloons flanking

The road side gravestone.

But this cross does not tell me that.

It speaks of hope

Even in the rain.

Even in the cold.

Even in the wind.

Even alone

There is Hope.

http://www.parkerstevensonshadowworks.com/print/979159

DOI, MOMMA!


The Princess: “One of my RE teachers is going to have a baby in her knee”
ME:”Huh?”
The Princess: “one of my RE teachers is going to have a baby in her knee”
ME: “Wha?”
“The Princess: “one of my RE teachers is going to have a baby in her knee”

ME: “Oh! do you mean one of your RE teachers is going to have a baby Niece ?”
The Princess: “YES!! THAT IS WHAT I SAID!”

Stupid end of the year letter.


For the first time in 10 years I did Christmas cards. This is the letter I sent out. Sorta, I jacked it up for the blog.
The mother in law still hated it. WINNING!
Here it is:

I do not like the obligatory end of the year letter, I find them braggy, boring and a bit self involved

I think they are kind of stupid to be honest.

We have loved ones who do not have the right to marry because of the gender of the one they love.

We lost too many loved ones to cancer.

We watched in horror as schools and theatres were shot to hell by untreated mentally ill young men.
People bombed innocent runners in the name of G*d

We mourned Oregon solders and Cops who gave their lives in service to their country and community.

What is there to brag about?

But people do want to know things, like

“How are the children doing Blue Berry?”

They are great!

The Buddha is taller than me now. He will be 15 in Jan. and is looking forward to going to Portland Waldorf High School in the fall.
The Rock-star is 12 and a gamer. He is a fine artist and is excellent at rolling his eyes at his parents.
Princess Pantalette is 6 and in Kindergarten and thriving.

University will have to wait for me, because the boys need braces.

So there is your family update.

My mother would tell her friends that  the Blueberry’s are “private school poor” and she was right, after paying tuition, (even with help that we get from the school) rent, and other bills what we end up having left to live on is, to tell the truth, very little.

Like under the poverty line little.

We have needed to accept monetary help from our religious community to pay rent and to eat.

The first week of December, for the oh, I don’t know, maybe 50th time, I went to the  to the Clackamas County food bank. I took the Princess with me, as I often do.

But this time, for the first time, I went to get food instead of give.

We had none and something like $5 in the bank and 10 days away from payday.

It was so humiliating. and a blessing, the woman there said to me as I wept in the office;

“Hun, it is just your turn”

I had so many feelings,

Shame

Fear

Sadness

And

Gratitude.

Soon I would have a box of food to take home! bread, veggies Even MEAT! and a really yummy pie. From Whole Foods even!

I felt so guilty. What if I was talking a box of food from another family? that needed it more? to be fair, I could feed the kids pasta every night. or rice and beans.

I feel guilty because there is food in that box that I would not feed my children. Some of the food, went right back in a box to be donated to HOPE food pantry.

But I take it home. With gratitude and we eat.

But then something happened that changed my view.

A true story:

On December 2 as I drove to Portland Waldorf School to pick up the children, I pondered what I was going to write in this letter. I thought about how hard we work to keep our children at PWS. and sort of feeling sorry for myself, when I saw a young man at the side of the off ramp.

He was young, maybe 18 at the most. he was holding a sign. I do not know what the sign said. but I saw that he was shivering, it was very cold today, I do not know if it got above 39. He just had a light jacket on, it was a very thin hoodie.

He was so so cold. I pulled over, got out of my car walked over to him and gave him my new to me coat and my hat. At first he would not take it. but I put on my “momma” voice and told him he was taking it and putting it ON! I told him I would not let him “take my blessing away and he would take the coat.” he just kept thanking me. He was, I am sure a drug addict. from the look of his skin, I would guess meth.

But he still deserved a coat to stay warm! No matter what a person has done everyone has right to be warm and to have a safe warm place to lay their heads at night. I did not have cash to give him. I did not even have a granola bar. so I gave him what I could, my coat. and told him with my hand on his shoulder and looking into his eyes. “I hope things get better for you” he replied “G*d bless you”

I got back in my car and burst into tears. that poor boy is someone’s son. my heart broke for his mother, who must stay up at night worried about her boy, more so, he is a child of G*d. I cried for all the young homeless in and around Portland.

My children are safe, they sleep in a safe, warm, home, they have food in their tummies and parents who are clean and sober. They will NOT go hungry and we will stay at PWS.

So yeah, we have struggled this year. a lot. Santa is coming with help from friends. We live in a small 2 bedroom 1 bath apt. We drive shit cars, but they are paid for. We have (finally) good health insurance. We are so so blessed. So blessed. We have a community that is wonderful and supportive and generous so generous both from our faith community and our school community.

G*d is good!

I learned this month that we are okay. We have friends who have so much less. Even people we know and love.

We have no less than 5 friends who are dying of cancer.
I have friends who are in horrible, debilitating pain ever day.

Every day. With no hope in sight.

We are all healthy.

Our children all have friends who have buried a mother or a father.
We have friends whose marriages have broken up.

Our family is intact.


Here is the lesson:

If you drive by someone who is asking for help. And you will, they are everywhere. Toss them a buck. It might just be an angel sent to remind you how very much you have. It might even be G*d himself!

No mater what, that person is someone child. someones sibling. and most important.

That person is a child of the Divine.

Even if they do drugs or alcoholic or mentally ill.
Especially if they are mentally ill!

I’ll jump off my soapbox now, it’s not very Christmassy, is it?. Sorry!

So now I wish you a Blessed Solstice, a Merry Christmas,

And may this New Year bring love and light and joy and

For Fuck sake, health and Peace!

Amen and may it be so.

PS. I got another new to me coat!

My Homily


i am a stay at home parent. my work never stops. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, i am my children mother, even when they are at school or away from me. they are still in my heart. i had not planed on telling a meaningful time in my “work” because, really, how cliche’… talking about motherhood.

I was going to talk about my dad and my grandpa who were union men till their deaths. Grandpa continued to pay his dues for years after he retired. In my house the 11 commandment was “Thou shall not cross picket lines, ever.” If dad had bumper stickers (he did not believe in them, no I have no idea why) next to “If I knew grand kids were this much fun I would have had the first,” would be the sticker Live Better, Work Union. I wish Stay at home parents had a union, can you imagine? It would be the end of days

But something happened last week and this, that was so profound, so scary, and beautiful. and powerful that I must share it with you.

it was on a hot summer afternoon when I was informed that O in the Buddhas class told her daughter, that TB was gay. she says she received an email from me telling her that. she says that their family is very LGBTQ affirming so telling her 12-year-old was no big deal.

i never sent an email stating that TB was gay, nor would i ,ever out any one, especially my own child. and for the record TB is straight, he came out to me as straight a few months ago, so it will be missing i have a gay son badge of honour on my socialist girl scout uniform,..

but we still have a chance for Bi-Racial grand babies

there is so much about this whole thing that is wrong, in every way

what mother does that? not question the email? not call me to ask what the hell are you thinking sending an email out like this? and then without any hesitation, tell her teenage daughter?

the rumour got around fast, kids talk you know, i do not blame TB’s class mate for sharing it. in fact, when her mother said that to her the daughter told her mom that she did not think that was true. but kids talk, hell, everyone talks! even if it is just to process the information. at some point, another child told her mother about the rumour, and that mother called me right away. it took several days to find ground zero. N, ( who TB teacher) and i spent the week looking for clues, asking lots of questions, and trying to keep it from TB. and i spent a great deal of time on my knees begging g*d to take it all way. to be honest i was a real mess. so afraid for my son, that i had looked in to other schools.

something so wonderful happened. without exception TB’s class mates said to their teacher, something to the effect “well we know it’s not true, and even if it was who cares?’

what a remarkable group of youth we have in the class. the idea that they had a classmate was worth talking about, but the IDEA the Truth of it was,
so what? who cares?

N. and i decided to tell TB what was going on,

we wanted him decide what to do about it.

when N, told him. he said. “oh i know that N, told me that A told him” he went on “n” told him to shut the (insert colourful metaphor here) and “that it was not true”

As we sat in his class room we asked TB, are you okay? TB said “well yeah, “eye roll”. it is not true, and so what if it was? who cares?”

We asked him if it would be okay to send out and email telling everyone it is not true, and i told him that i never sent out any email like that. he said yes, and i did send out an email telling the truth later that night, N asked so B, what if someone calls you a fag or something?

TB, said, ” i will tell then to insert “colourful metaphor ” off and say that is not true and even if it were, who the colourful metaphor” cares?”

ah, he is my son after all. he has a mouth like his momma.

N and i held our smiles and she said that’s fine, and if that happens, please go to her and tell her right away.

Later ground zero spoke to TB and he forgave her.

he forgave her.

i have known since the day he was born that he would change the world. and touch the souls of people. this week he touched my soul. he touched ground zeros soul. he touched N’s soul. the meaning full moment in my work life is i made that remarkable kid. with some help of course! this congregation made him. he classmates made him, his 100-year-old soul just protected him, i guess.

that was the most meaningful time in my working life.

i am an mother, i am a good enough mother, who without knowing grew this amazing, remarkable, magnificent, person.

and wow. G*d trusted me to grow this person.

he is strong in his spirit, he knows who he is. knows some secret that i do not know. maybe someday he will tell me.

and that my dear family in faith,

is the most meaningful time in my work.

amen, ashe and blessed be.

An open letter to my high school drama teacher.


Dear Mr. Bowden,
It has taken me over 20 years to write this letter. I was in drama for the 3 years I was high school in the early 80s. I acted very little when it came down to it. I allowed my dyslexia to keep me from many things and having a big part in a play was one of them. I would perform from time to time, but to be honest I did not like acting I was not sure why until just recently, but I will get to that later.
I went on to become am Early Childhood Educator. I would use the skills I learn in 1-3rd year drama to tell stories to play! The child has innate skill to go inside the place that is imagination, that is open fields and flowers or tow trucks or cops and robbers or house or school. Most people lose that when they grow up. but if you were blessed enough to have some drama classes then you might be able to connect with that holy place. As I watched them play. really, really play without any bullshit adult interference. they went to a place that is holy, sacred and real.

I used the skills you taught me to be a parent, sometimes during play, using voices when reading or telling a bedtime story. But mostly I would use it when I was holding tightly on to my very sanity when they were going “2-year-old ape shit” in Kroger. I do two things, I look for the light of G*D that is always close, and then I step into it. I let the light fill me. Then I become the mother that I wish to be. I see that light because you taught me how to look for it i feel the light because you taught me how to find the feeling deep inside.

I could go on, but I wont.

The reason I am writing this letter is because I realized a few weeks ago why I did not really like performing in plays. I wanted to tell my stories. not someone else’s. That is what I do now, I write, here on my blog, I write and preach sermons, and guess what? I am good at it. Every time I am on the pulpit. From the way I put on my makeup. To the ability to hold in my arms the loving embrace the congregation. I learned from you.

People have asked me where did you learn to do that?
How come you just stand there and people stop talking and wait for you to say something?
To tell stories in a way that holds the child attention?
How do you stand up there straight and Tall?
Why does it seem like you “own” the pulpit?
When you looking into the eyes of the congregation, how can you tell the stories you do, sometimes even crying and yet, you are able to hold it together to get the point across?
How are you able to share deep from your heart, sometimes deeper from your very soul and touch them?

The answers to these questions very. From just being open to what the Divine in me has to say, and trusting the Divine to do that. It is looking at the congregation, not as a classroom or an audience, but as holy entity, every. one. a soul that is open and ready to hear and share.

The other answer is that I took 3 years of drama in high school
I stayed in high school because of drama. Because of the friends that I made, some of whom I am still close today. I stayed in high school, because of a teacher who sometimes smoked his pen and told me that “feeling are not right or wrong they just are”
It is because I had a teacher who saw me as not just a student, but a fellow soul on the same beautiful, scary, fun, fucked up journey that is LIFE.

Today, Mr B. My husband and I went to a local university to get information and the paper work to get my bachelor in Religious Studies. I am going to be a preacher and a story-teller. Not a scary one! LOL, but the kind that just loves, that will speak for those with out voice, children, the poor, the ill, the unwanted the unloved and even the unlovable.

I am not planing on becoming a minister at a church. I plan, ( i should say that I feel called) to minister to the different and the other, maybe that is a prison. or hospice. or even just on the streets of Portland. Just sharing to the masses that G*d loves them period, No matter who they love, no matter what they have done, that they are saved by grace that is for everyone. EVERYONE.

I am 48 years old. I have three kids from age 14 to 6 all in private school. with me, that will be 4 tuitions. Holy Shit!! I am going back to school. WE have no idea where the money will come from. I suspect that the Divine has that under control. I know I can do this. I know I will not only get though it, I will succeed. because I got though high school. The real, very real truth is that it is because of you.

I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

In faith,
Erika
Class of 84