The Sunday morning after my hospital discharge which was the day after my surgery there was a strong urge to attend my home church as a testimony of what God had just done. While in the recovery room being lifted from the fog of anesthesia,on Friday I was aware of the many prayers coursing their way to God’s ears, including my own. I spoke directly to Him through Jesus and here I am; able to stand in worship two days after the removal of a dangerous tumor that could have killed me. The sermon message on this particular Sunday was also something I needed to hear. Taken from Matthew 18:15-20. For more than a year I had been purposely avoiding this Christian family for selfish reasons, and therefore this lesson was one I not only needed to hear, but also one I need to heed. I can’t help but think that God wanted me in this place and time to  teach me and others what He can do.

Luckily, I was at work amongst people with whom I share my faith in many ways. Their pressing concern is what forced me to call my doctor and eventually make it to an emergency room.  In the words of the 21^st Century Psalmist, Richard Smallwood, God’s appointed angels were watching over me.

“Unseen hands guiding me
though my storm and through my rain
Healing hands holding me
Through the darkness of my pain
Wings of loving hands
Around me so i will not fear
For i can feel the presence covering me
Nothing but angels watching over me
Angels watching over me”

Yes, the symptoms had been surfacing for weeks after celebrating a milestone birthday.  Constant headaches, forgetfulness (dementia), loss of simple motor skills such as getting up from a seated position without dizziness.

© September 7,2010 – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved.

a’Kihoro SPIRITUAL CREATIONS Publishing

Faith in Stained Glass

How resolute are we as regular, everyday people? Each year we sit down and make a list of things we need to do or should have done thinking this will make us a better person. We resolve to stop doing things that are unhealthy, discouraging, unfaithful, and ungodly. What is the purpose of being resolute?

Resolute = characterized by firmness and determination, as the temper, spirit, actions, etc.

This year we leave behind a decade of world wide turmoil, political storms, wars, increased poverty, climate changes causing more quakes and tsunamis, and both natural and unnatural destruction.  The last year of this decade saw the inauguration of the first African-American president of the United States -who is also awarded a Nobel Peace Prize, the death of a lion (Senator Edward Kennedy) and his sister Eunice Kennedy Shriver, founder of the Special Olympics, the fall of media icons and politicians Going Rogue.

One of the most difficult loses for millions of people around the world in the last year of this decade is Michael Joseph Jackson.

Are we committed and determined enough to stop hatred, wars, and unkind actions? Perhaps we are willful enough to do as we please regardless of the consequences. Perhaps we are willing enough to let go and let God; let God handle needs. In other words… Have FAITH!

When you (I) sit down to ponder what you (I) will resolve to do, not do, stop or change, always (I will) remember…

• Noah was a drunk
• Abraham was too old
• Isaac was a daydreamer
• Jacob was a liar
• Leah was ugly
• Joseph was abused
• Moses had a stuttering problem
• Gideon was afraid
• Samson had long hair and was a womanizer
• Rahab was a prostitute
• Jeremiah and Timothy were too young
• David had an affair and was a murderer
• Elijah was suicidal
• Isaiah preached naked
• Jonah ran from God
• Naomi was a widow
• Job went bankrupt
• Peter denied Christ (3 times!)
• The Disciples fell asleep while praying
• Martha worried about everything
• Mary Magdalene was promiscuous
• the Samaritan woman was divorced, more than once…
• Zaccheus was too small
• Paul was too religious
• Timothy had an ulcer…

AND
Lazarus was dead!

Now!  No more excuses! God can use you (me) to your (my) full potential, and when you let go and let God you (I) won’t have to ponder over making your (my) annual New Year’s resolutions.

© December 30, 2009 – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

Eldrick (Tiger) Woods

“All I wanna say is that they don’t really care about us!”  I don’t care whether they call us… African-American, black, people of color or even the N-word, it boggles my mind that in the United States there is still a culture set on destroying anyone of us who gains a tremendous degree of fame and fortune. I suppose boggle is not the verb I should use because I am not overwhelmed or bewildered; I am angry as hell.

I can assure you that my anger is nowhere near the intense level of anger the man standing at the center of this very vivid controversy feels about his own transgressions. In fact, I firmly believe the man deeply regrets many of the decisions he has made in his personal life over the past few years, however, that is a different story for another time.

For the most part, it seems the celebrity of blacks who obtain their fortune through sports and entertainment is the root cause of the tremendous discord deeply embedded in the psyche of White America… though they are loathe to admit it. And, of course, this celebrity places them under an unnerving degree of scrutiny whether they like it or not.

For more than 10 days now, there has been a media frenzy building around an incident that took place in the private life of Eldrick (Tiger) Woods, the son of a black father and an Asian mother. Tiger Woods knows he is an African-American -just being based upon the U.S. one drop rule, however because of his mixed heritage  he made a conscience decision to blend into the country club sports network of golf where his athletic prowess is recognized.

If we are to believe everything presented to us by the media, we now know that a bevy of unscrupulous females have emerged as either a one time or current mistress of Tiger Woods, even during his not-so-acceptable marriage to a former Swedish model. The “breaking news” gets more bizarre with each passing day, and is based on pure speculation. Respected news media are giving ‘top story’ status to any rumors coming in from sources whether they are reliable or not.

Tom Joyner’s Morning Show is having a field day making fun of Tiger Woods and what these recent events –whether pure speculation or not, may have done to Woods’ clean image. This is where the verb boggle can be put to good use. The insensitivity of the comedy pouring through the radio boggles my mind because it fuels the speculation and negativity to the point that both tabloid print and television media have requested interviews with Joyner. Were the interviews requests looking for an honest assessment of the situation, or because Joyner -a black man- openly made comedic fun of Tiger’s dilemma? I actually had to turn the radio off.

We have followed Tiger Woods since his childhood, just as we followed the career of another child prodigy who achieved celebrity, fame and fortune, and channeled his fortune into caring, universal causes until the media began tearing him down. Although the alleged ‘unscrupulous’ behavior was different from the speculation surrounding Tiger Woods, it was still the beginning of his downfall.

As long as Black America doesn’t pose any type of threat to White America we can make as much money, gain as much celebrity, and even try our best to assimilate their culture. It’s almost like the slave master and the overseer (media) mentality weighing in to bring them down if they get too uppity. Let us just suppose the accident that started all this was at the home of Phil Mickelson. What would the media do with that story?

Tiger Woods is on the threshold of meeting and breaking the record of one of the golf world’s greats –Jack Nicklaus, and has surpassed many long standing achievements dating back to 1913. He, along with his father, developed the Tiger Woods Foundation which is dedicated to children offering character development programs, scholarships, grants, junior golf teams, and the Tiger Woods Learning Center. The Foundation is helping young people reach their goals.

Tiger Woods Design is a business venture slated to design and build golf courses in three locations around the world. Three are currently in the works… Dubai, North Carolina and Mexico.

The tragedy here is the media –because of ratings, which of course translates to dollars, has created such a rush to judgment that a feeding frenzy beyond comprehension has brought people crawling out of the woodwork to stake a claim on Tiger the golfer, not the man. The root of all the attention is based upon something that is personal to Tiger and his family, and need not be addressed in the media.

Laughing at ourselves helps make our societal journey a little easier, given the many obstacles we as a people face every day. We must, however, be very careful about the perception we give our oppressor –and yes, as long as one group feels they are superior to another there will be oppression. The tone of media spin at a time like this plays right into their hands, and we provide even more fodder by our own insensitive actions in the midst of this madness.

Whether all or part of Tiger Wood’s situation is of his own making is not important, especially since he has not broken any laws –just perhaps gone against some people’s moral values. Each of us have our own demons and we are hard pressed to cast a sinless stone in anyone’s direction. The thing we cannot allow is a white controlled media to continue spinning rumors and creating stories based on speculation and innuendo, or the voices of money grabbers looking for  a huge payday and their 15 minutes of fame.

If the other child prodigy were alive today this is what he’d have to say. Tiger, take a listen.

“Tell me what has become of my rights
Am I invisible because you ignore me?
Your proclamation promised me free liberty, now
I’m tired of bein’ the victim of shame
They’re throwing me in a class with a bad name
I can’t believe this is the land from which I came
You know I do really hate to say it
The government don’t wanna see
But if Roosevelt was livin’
He wouldn’t let this be, no, no

Skin head, dead head
Everybody gone bad
Situation, speculation
Everybody litigation
Beat me, bash me
You can never trash me
Hit me, kick me
You can never get me

All I wanna say is that
They don’t really care about us
All I wanna say is that
They don’t really care about us”

Lyrics: They Don’t Care About Us, written and composed by Michael Jackson, MiJac Music (BMI), MJJ Productions, Inc.

© 2009 Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

My Natural Hair

It amazes me how much emphasis we place on our looks in the U.S. Cosmetics, beauty, and hair care is a multi-billion dollar consumer industry. What we look like is a major factor in the type of lifestyle, job, and friendships we have throughout our lives. Though I have not seen Chris Rock’s documentary Good Hair, I have read a number of articles from a few very prominent people about this societal concept of black hair. When you look at me the first thing you see is my African heritage. There are no visible signs of my Scottish ancestors, or the Europeans I don’t even know about.

I painfully remember the taunts I received while growing up about having “good hair,” though I personally don’t place my own hair in that category. Even today, people -especially African-Americans comment on my hair with questions like “How do you get your hair to look like that?” or “Girl, I wish I had hair like that… you don’t even have a ‘kitchen’. The kitchen is the hair at the nape of the neck that is usually very dry and curly (kinky) on the heads of some women or color. Wanting to be accepted by my peers, I begged my mother to let me get a perm.

About ten years ago, I decided to stop putting harsh chemicals in my hair after developing a severe eczema around the hairline. The chemicals also caused hair breakage, dryness, and left me with lifeless strands of hair that seemed to come out by the comb full. To alleviate the problem I cut my hair to about an inch from my scalp and began proudly wearing a feminine short-cropped hairstyle. This was an emancipating experience for me; I was no longer slave to the products that caused the damage in the first place.

Back when I asked for my first perm, the stylist told me I was crazy -that I was going to ruin my hair. After more than 30 years of chemicals, she was right. It has taken a number of years since I put a halt to the chemicals and that first initial cut for me to love and understand what is now my absolute God given natural hair. For years, I wasn’t even aware of my own curl pattern that some women pay top dollar to achieve; it was already there so I decided to stop cutting it as well. Now my hair is healthy, the eczema is long gone, and I save a ton of cash from not using products I didn’t need in the first place. I can’t wait for more growth to allow me to be more creative.

What I have noticed and experienced is the change in some segments of society, and acceptance as an intelligent, educated woman -especially by older whites, in the workplace because of my natural hair. When I wear a free-style (without a headband) which allows the curls to cascade over my forehead, I receive comments from some of my white co-workers like “Oh I like your hair better when it’s smooth.”  Once I slicked it back with a load of gel and my director commented on how sophisticated she thought I looked.  That comment was most insulting because I’ve also noticed that I’m no longer asked to visibly assist when we host high profile or international visitors.

With the exception of certain careers, i.e. entertainment (music, theatre and the arts), and journalism -to a point, the natural state of the African-American woman’s hair is still looked upon as unacceptable in many circles. Initially my stylish short-cropped hair is perceived as the thing some women do as they age and considered non-threatening however, since allowing it to grow and becoming more adept at styling, there is a definite shift in perception from the non-Hispanic white people at work.

This poses the question to those who find cause to judge me by my hair. Do you where your hair in its natural state? No one questions the stringy, oily, often shedding hair on your head. In fact, I find it amusing that some whites try everything they can to achieve a thick bouncy, curly head of hair. They’ve even tried African braids and locking to no avail. In their case I suppose one could use the old adage, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Thank you Lord for creating me in the image you purposed. I love my natural hair.

Note: I now use products produced by Carol’s Daughter.

© 31 October 2008 – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

Michael Jackson 1958-2009: He will forever live in my heart.

Well, I actually did it. I went to see This Is It. If you know anything about the grieving process, you will understand that this was a crucial part of my grief over the death of Michael Jackson. My initial apprehension about going to see the film was filled with thoughts of not being able to watch without bringing back the flood of emotion and tears that became a part of my daily life for weeks after his death. Wow, even while writing this I am emotional and listening to his music, which constantly plays in my house.

Going to see the movie was challenging also because I went alone. It is amazing how difficult it was to find a friend willing to go with me. Some people indicated they were not interested in seeing this death film. Others gave ridiculous excuses alluding to all the tabloid fodder over the years.

I’ve know Michael Jackson from afar all of his public life. It was during my own pubescent period when I first heard that powerful voice pour through the radio singing I Want You Back. I was hooked, and from that point on Michael, his music and his message have lived in my psyche. I cried with him when he sang She’s Out of My Life, chanted “Ma Ma Se,Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa” from Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’, and understood his deepest emotions when he sang Earth Song. I was with him one hundred percent through all of his agonizing tribulations.

My latest book Amani na Mapenzi: Love & Peace Volume Two contains a tribute to Michael with two poems In The Music and He Had to Die as well as two essays Prejudice is Ignorance and Dance, Dance, Dance. Michael is a psychological study in the damaging affects of man’s inhumanity. He didn’t fit the mold of the publicity hungry, media seeking, jet-set Hollywood type, he was about creativity… his work, his spiritual beliefs and his humanity.  Therefore,  instead of embracing his genius, some saw fit to create at will and feed a tabloid image giving no regard for the human being who was just plying his God given talent.

Let me tell you, there is nothing but life giving energy throughout the film. For all the naysayers, we must remember that this is rehearsal footage, which under normal circumstances would never be seen by the public. We see a 50 year old Michael Jackson will a special light in his eyes, and a level of energy that belies his chronological age.

Some of his dance moves are not as powerful as they were twenty years ago, but they are still there. His James Brown swishing -which he perfected like no one else other than James himself, his signature Moonwalk, the signature Billie Jean dance, the Beat It and Thriller movements, and head snap is all there. In fact, they become more powerful as the beat of the music fuels his energy. Occasionally the sparkle in his eyes fades, but it returns in a split second throughout the various rehearsal sequences. There were times during the film that I found myself moving with Michael, I guess because I am so familiar with his choreography and anticipate every muscle movement.

There is absolutely no hint of any health issues and drug or substance use. For the trained eye one might notice a hint of arthritis in his knees, and think that he is too thin; but he is a dancer and able to compensate for those minor nuances. We see a humble Michael Jackson who is all about perfecting what would have been his last overseas concert venture. His passion is for the audience to receive and enjoy the best entertainment possible. That was (is) Michael Jackson.

This Is It would have been one hell of a concert. Not only are the song-sets -which were chosen by the fans, a reflection of his musical genius, the staging, scenery, and technology are something to remember. No one was going to walk away without a feeling of euphoria and amazement. Michael Jackson is (was) a one-of-a-kind phenomenon. There will never, ever be another like him.

© 30 October 2009 – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved.

a’Kihoro SPIRITUAL CREATIONS

Michael Jackson

Everyone’s life has value…think of it as a precious coin. Coins have two sides, just as life begins in birth and ends in death. Without both sides and everything in between -life, just as a coin, will have no value.

Can you imagine living without the in-between?

Can you remember what you were doing at the age of five?

Sitting in silence with my eyes closed, mourning the loss of someone who has been a part of me since the beginning, I tried to imagine what it must have been like to be Michael Jackson. I’m thinking what it must have been like having fun with your family, especially your brothers, singing and dancing in the basement.  We’ve all done that at some point in our lives -at least I can say I’ve been there.  Well having fun is wonderful and when your father suggests that the family can make money singing and dancing, that sounds wonderful too. It is wonderful until it becomes an obsession.

Okay, so now starts the living out the dreams of the father, things are going to improve -especially since the singing and dancing brothers get a big break.  Father’s obsessive dictatorial push grows even stronger.  Lives are now being managed, no one has a mind of their own. This is good until one day you look around and discover you are no longer five years old, but ten years old.  You are singing and dancing all the time -rehearsals, recording sessions, television performances, club dates and stage shows all over the country -when you realize that another ten years has gone by and you’re now fifteen.  Everywhere you go people recognize you and you’re starting to realize that everyone wants a piece of you.  You can’t go anywhere alone… you can’t go to beaches, parks, amusements, movies, concerts (unless you are the concert), shopping, restaurants, or for a simple walk.  Makes you wanna holler  -throw up both your hands.  Oh, that’s another singer’s story.  Lets get back to being Michael.

Somehow, along the way, your talent emerges and outshines the talents of your brothers causing dollar signs to appear in the eyes of producers, promoters and your father. Now, we all know that no matter how much love exists between brothers at least one -maybe two or more, will become green with envy. Most likely, the father begins to play ends against the middle and you start to feel like an outsider. You love what you’re feeling in terms of the ideas coursing through your brain, and you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to jump out there and give it a try.  You’ve been in the business for a while and you’ve seen the toll it takes on some of the best; Marvin and Paul come to mind though their pain and turmoil has not yet surfaced at this point in your life.  People are pushing at you from every direction.  Your chance is coming.

This is a time in America when black and whites still stand with a rope drawing a line in the sand.  Music, with the possible exception of jazz, is still a dividing factor among the races with artists trying to ‘crossover’ the color line.  Motown, which is where you got your start, perfected crossover artists; black to white audiences.  Even the new innovative methods of marketing such as the onset of music videos set demarcation lines through vehicles like cable television and MTV.

A knight in shining armor comes into your life to lift you out from under the weight of the past years.  He sees your talent and potential, and the two of you team up to create what becomes a powerful suite of music. You’re empowered.  With the success of the first musical effort and with your new mentor, the two of you embark on a greater challenge which results in career and world changing magic. You become the hottest selling recording artist in the world, you break down color barriers to open doors for others, you win accolades and numerous awards; everything has come together after more than twenty years in the music business and you’re not even thirty years old.  Where did the time go?  What happened to the family?  Where are the buddies?  Although there is schooling, there was no one place where you part of the class, no teenage crushes, no high school proms or graduation, no college life with dormitories and pledging for Greek letters. Now what?

You still can’t go anywhere in peace, can’t even hold a simple conversation on things other than the business… and if you want peace and quiet you have to stay secluded, so you take the money you’ve earned, buy up some land and build yourself a place where you can do some of the things you missed as a child. Only problem is that it won’t be fun if you’re there all by yourself.  Well who better to share this wonderful place than the little ones?  Even better, you decide you want to help those who can’t help themselves so that they don’t grow up without a childhood memory.  This is great until somewhere along the way, someone with unrelenting motives sees dollar signs and decides in their twisted mind that something is amiss behind the gilded gate of your retreat. Now you are perceived as someone sinister instead of someone with a good heart… a child’s heart.

Damn, damn, damn!

Can’t stop here because there is another aspect that is so tormented you need to become someone else. Your public persona must keep up with the successes you’ve created, else you’ll be stuck being a grown-up who never had a chance to grow up. Okay, maybe if you tweak a little bit of the outside you’ll relieve some of the torment; though you’re not even sure what is the root cause. Anyway, one thing leads to another and before you know it you’ve evolved into a different physical person on the outside, but deep down on the inside you are still you.

Are you keeping your own notes? Let’s see… now you’ve been in show business for thirty years, you’ve become extremely wealthy, extremely extravagant -that’s because you are such a giving person, and yet there’s still something missing.  And, the bottom feeders and hangers on who want -no need- to be near you are also helping to destroy you.  Suddenly you become fodder for simple mindedness, trashy newspapers, and across the pond in the UK, you’re referred to as ‘Wacko Jacko’.  This is painful. You also have to endure both a physical and mental pain that has developed over the years. Your insides are burning when suddenly someone takes the wonderment and turn it into something sinister.  You’ll discover later that this endurance race is just the start.

Know what, you realize that you need to pour out love on someone special and block out the world’s insanity. Finding a spouse is not easy because of who you are and what you’ve become however, the perfect person steps into you life. The story of their life has similarities to yours, and with a tremendous amount of understanding, you get married.  Pressures on the outside become tremendous and with two years you’re single again. Children…your own children that’s the ticket. Within the next ten years, you accomplish becoming the parent of three beautiful children, the two oldest from your second marriage. Of course, your methods are criticized perhaps because no one but you and those involved need to know details of your most intimate life. Now at least you have a legacy bloodline, but wait…that may prove to be difficult at some point.

Hey, readers are you still with me here?  Maybe you should sit in silence with your eyes closed and try being Michael when you’re done reading.

Think for a minute. You’ve been in show business most of your life, you’re starting to age meaning you can’t perform like you could a few years ago, you have three children and you’ve been battling internal and public demons for years now.  You have mounting debt and you’re life has been filled with promoters, lawyers and accountants while you’ve had to dodge bullets of accusations about your perceived lifestyle; this last one was the most painful experience of your life.

After many sleepless nights in reflection and discernment, you realize your responsibility to set matters straight and decide to face the world and its demons head on, one more time; this is it.

Like a coin you had the in-between.  It is sixty-five days before your fifty-first birthday. Yesterday was a good day.  Working on your planned salvation is fulfilling, yet strenuous. Your body aches, you are physically tired, your mental stamina is exhausted, and within the blink of an eye God says “Come home my child, I will take care of everything, with me you can get your the rest.”

RIP Michael… Amani na Mapenzi: Love & Peace

You will live forever in my heart and in my home where your music often fills the air.

© June 27, 2009  – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All rights reserved.