A Reflective MJ

One thing that continues to trouble my soul since June 25, 2009 is the fact that Michael Jackson was not trying to die.  He had too much to live for -first and foremost, his own children, along with his passion for healing the world through healing children.  At 50 years old, he was aware of his abilities and had his own concrete plans to live long into old age.  During the announcement of his then, upcoming concert tour he told the audience “This is it, this is the final call.”  What’s sad is that he wasn’t talking about leaving this earth, he was talking about working himself into a frenzy to perform the quality his fans had become so accustomed.  He was telling us… ‘I’m getting old, and as much as I’d like to keep going, I’ve got to slow down.’   And, as usual with Michael being the exacting professional, he gave it everything he had… including his life.

There are many young people, especially African-American 35 years and younger, who remember only the sensationalism brought upon him at the hands of others, or his ever changing physical appearance.  They refuse to listen to his music, thus they are robbing themselves of his talent, his genius, his message.  In a conversation with a young woman whom I consider highly intelligent,  she admits that she doesn’t remember anything else about Michael Jackson except that he was a child molester.  When I quickly responded to her that no, he is not, her reaction was “Yes he is.  Look at all the publicity and the trial.”  Here’s how the rest of the conversation continued…

“Don’t you believe he’s a child molester?” she asked.

“No, I do not.” I responded.

“Why not, it has been proven.” she continues “He was arrested and had to stand trial.”

“He was acquitted on all counts.” I responded.

“Just because he was acquitted, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  What about the child before?  Why did he settle that one out of court?  How can you say that he is not a molester?” was her rather agitated response.

My reply…”The God in me will not allow me to view him as a molester.  I have never for one moment believed that he could hurt a child.  He’d hurt you before he would harm a hair on any child.”

The young lady tried to paint a different scenario by asking “What if it was your child?  Suppose your child came home and told you they slept in someone’s bedroom, with an adult.”

My response went something like this… “First, my child wouldn’t be with an adult I didn’t know and trust.  I wouldn’t accuse the trusted person of molesting the child until I found out the facts, was absolutely sure, and had concrete evidence (both physical and psychological).  Even if I were suspicious, I wouldn’t push the issue without being absolutely certain something portentous happened.  I would have to speak to the adult (with or without the child present).  Jumping to conclusions does not mean anything out of the ordinary happened.  It speaks to my friendship and trust in the individual.”

And my young friend said…”Well, you are certainly different that I am.”

For the many who don’t know Michael and can’t imagine him beyond the entertainer, here is a glimpse into the man.

2001 Heal the Children Speech at Oxford University.*
This is part 1/4 of the audio w/full text. You can continue to listen to parts 2/4, 3/4 and 4/4.

* Heal the Children Speech on YouTube

© 2009, Sharon Moore Stenhouse – all rights reserved.

Footprints in the Sand

Recently I launched a heavily researched, well-developed and well-planned creative writing through Bible study workshop called Seven Biblical Women. Even with a complete marketing approach to include a brochure with registration information, community and web advertising, footwork and good old-fashioned word of mouth campaign, the attendance did not meet the expectations.

I anguished for weeks over the number of people who loved the workshop idea, seemed impressed with the marketing but did not register. My biggest concern was the target audience -Christians and those involved in any genre of writing, who took lightly to registering in advance for a new untested workshop. These are my colleagues, peers and friends.

When the launch date finally approached, I made the decision to go forth with the workshop knowing I would have to make strategic changes in the program on the fly, based on the number of registrants and warm bodies in attendance. My own plan as I envisioned the success of the workshop was falling apart. That morning as I was getting dressed I prayed and asked God to give me an anointing… telling him that the workshop was to his glory, not my own; it was not about me, it was about him.

I arrived at the workshop site 15 minutes early (7:45 am) and sat in my car 35 minutes before someone arrived to unlock the doors. During this period of waiting, I became overwhelmed with the anxiety of not being able to start on time, since I had equipment to set-up and test. Further, there were refreshments on the way that also required attention. At the advertised start time of 9:00 am, four people had arrived. A feeling of dismay was about to overtake me when I suddenly heard the sound of laughter and many voices. Warm bodies were beginning to arrive.

The workshop began behind schedule however; of the few people sitting before me, I saw nothing but eager, smiling faces.  In my head, I said…  “Here we go Lord.”

What a Joyous Day

The workshop introduction and presentation of biblical cultural history flowed without a glitch, and fostered lots of questions.  In the original plan, the workshop required a minimum of 21 people.  The pre-registration number topped out at 14, and by the end of the morning session, the number of attendees dwindled to nine. Talk about thinking on your feet!  At this point, we were supposed to be in seven discussion groups of three people each, so I took a vote and we agreed to forego the group discussions and work together collectively. We read aloud, asked questions, and inserted thoughts, ideas and summaries of the material that opened up a floodgate of expression. This turned out to be exactly what I was trying to achieve in the original planning of the workshop. The interaction was much more than I imagined.

As a result, I put on my performer’s face and read a powerful monologue for the Samaritan Woman. The Spirit of the Lord moved through every person in the room. By the time I completed the reading, everyone was up on their feet cheering, praising, and giving thanks; not to me but to Jesus. We then engaged in an interactive question and answer game filled with so much fun and laughter, we all had tears of joy.  The workshop closed with a reading of the prayer For Knowledge of God’s Creation from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. Afterwards, we hugged and danced in praise.

Here are the testimonials:

From an email received the following morning…

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow!  Hope this finds you well rested today from the very successful debut of the Seven Biblical Women workshop ministry. It was a blessing to be a part of how God has prepared you to be a blessing to others and empower them through the written word.”

From the attendee evaluations…

“One of the best workshops I’ve ever experienced.”

“Excellent visuals, professionally done.”

“Beautiful – Excellent!”

“The instruction was good – good intervention”

“Fun”

“Yes, I would recommend this workshop to others, including my church.”

“Most definitely plan to use the workbook for further Bible study.”

“The game show…That was awesome, a lot of fun!”

“This workshop helped me to appreciate more being a woman and a daughter of the Heavenly Father.”

God had a plan already in place for the success of this workshop…you see, the original vision came from him. He entrusted me with this work and allowed me to develop it, as I am sure he watched over me closely. He was not about to let his work fail. He also gave me the assurance that my planning was not flawed, it only needed a little tweak to give me the confidence I needed to continue in this ministry.

I am encouraged. This experience has shown me that we sometimes loose faith, and when we do, we must put our trust in him. Through the anxiety, I carried prior to the launch of the workshop, perhaps God laughed, not at me, but with me. He lifted me, and all who participated in a wonderful time of new knowledge, new techniques, new friends and most of all Christian fellowship.    To God Be the Glory!

© 2009   Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

And They Danced

“And David danced before the LORD with all his might; and David was girded with a linen ephod. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the LORD with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet. And as the ark of the LORD came into the city of David, Michal Saul’s daughter looked through a window, and saw king David leaping and dancing before the LORD; and she despised him in her heart.” …2 Samuel 6:14-16

“True praise of God, as distinguished from false praise, is first of all an inward emotion–a gladness and rejoicing of the heart, a music of the soul and spirit which no language can adequately express.” … International Standard Bible Encyclopedia

Being in the midst of true praise is the most exhilarating feeling one can experience. The very core of the body changes, outside of any self-restraint, with no absolute explanation other than an all-encompassing advent of the Spirit.

I attended an event titled “My Dance is Praise” on Saturday promising anointed dancers and singers, deliverance, and soul saving time in the Lord. Indeed the event held to its promises. Dancers of various age and from various churches –including Brooklyn, NY, presented choreographed interpretations of the message in contemporary recorded Christian songs.

The event opened with a resounding African drummed “triumphal entry” reminiscent of biblical scenes where crowds cheering, while waving flags, flowers and psalms rejoiced. All in attendance rose to there feet with an overture of hallelujahs, shouts of joyous celebration and singing.

Throughout the dance, performances offered an awakening with inspiring, soulful, and emotional array of movements –some obviously well trained. It was refreshing to see children offer African inspired dance along with ballet themed presentations. The participation level was outstanding: feeding the audience with God given gifts, raising the level of a spiritual presence, and frenzied movements from a dancer channeling the spirit of David.

It became obvious that righteousness lives in the Black church, given the many difficulties faced by people in their daily lives. We were reminded through testimonies of the trials faced with drug abuse, incarceration, broken families, sickness, and renewal not only through the dance, but also by those willing to tell their stories. One dancer -particularly one of the most reflective, amazed us all by her ability to administer such powerful movements despite having gone through hip replacement and other surgeries to correct a birth abnormality.

The program closed with a moving, tearful dramatic dance questioning the audience for the assurance they are ready to say yes to God.

© 2009  Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

I Give You The World

Recently I attended an event with a group of Christian women who prayerfully watched the documentary film Soulmate… Everywoman’s Journey to Finding True Love.  The film’s description as listed on Amazon.com is “For those still waiting to exhale, Soulmate is a gripping cinematic journey into the realities facing today’s successful, saved and single African American women. This deeply personal portrait reveals the trials and triumphs of unforgettable women while offering hope and practical advice on such issues as loneliness, the desire for sexual intimacy, men on the down low, the ticking biological clock and the uncertainty of the future. This inspiring film offers some surprising revelations about the quest for ones true…Soulmate”  Directed by Andrea Wiley, the film although interesting to watch did not offer up the spiritual aspect of what a soulmate should be.

A search could not find a true dictionary definition of the term however; I did find a description online via Wikipedia… “Soulmate (or soul mate) is a term sometimes used to designate someone with whom one has a feeling of deep and natural affinity, friendship, love, intimacy, sexuality, spirituality and/or compatibility.”

If I ask myself the question does God really provide a soulmate, I also must answer myself yes. The description given in Wikipedia is what I have always believed is the true meaning of the term. What I also believe is God supplies all our needs and gives to us the mate he desires in our lives, even when we are least aware.

On September 23, 2008 I received a phone call from my daughter hysterically informing me that her father had just died. Immediately, I went numb and reached deep into my spirit to garner enough strength to calm the hysteria and the tears pouring through the phone I held in my hand. Upon closing my eyes to fight back my own tears, I realized that not only had my adult child lost her father, I too lost someone special. Images of every meaning of the term soulmate came flooding back… the natural affinity, friendship, love, intimacy, compatibility and so on.

Now that my daughter’s father is gone, I realize he was my soulmate. In the back of my mind I have always known he was the one, the soulmate by definition, which is something I’ve rarely spoken about openly. There has never been anyone in my life that fits the description completely. I might even reason that is why I have remained single, after having married a second time, for much of my life.

The Back Story

We were very young, I in the eleventh grade of high school and he in his first year of college. I was working as a clerk in the neighborhood drug store when an older female co-worker touched my arm and said she wanted me to meet someone. There standing in the aisle just in front of the pharmacy counter was a tall young man with the brightest smile I had ever seen. The co-worker said she knew him; speaking highly of him, and that he wanted to meet me. Introductions are made, and I go back to work. Day after day whenever I was on the schedule, he would come into the store -sometimes only buying a package of gum, while making sure I noticed his effort to smile and speak. The co-worker finally convinced me to go ahead and talk to him; which I did with some apprehension.

It was 1966, a time when life seemed so much simpler. The tenor of those days was at best, the epitome of family where children are parented being governed by strict values. Although age 17, I was not allowed to date; in fact dating was not even part of my vocabulary. This presented a problem needing some imagination, and the help of my older sister, so that I could arrange meetings with this new young man. Eventually I had to move in with my sister so that a continuing relationship could blossom. And, blossom it did. His name was Donald; D.J. for short, and we became inseparable.

D.J. was not only his name it is what he did to make ends meet while attending college. He was a disc jockey at a radio station located just eight blocks from my sister’s home. He also came from a rather intense family where he was the middle son of six children -two brothers and three sisters, a very laid-back father and an extremely controlling mother. In fact, his mother ruled his house and everyone in it.

For more than a year, our relationship developed into being in love. The memories are full of long conversations, laughter, and exploration -not physically of each other but of the things we had in common, and building family ties. We spent more time with each other than we did away from each other at his house and mine. There were dinners with the families, movies, amusements, concerts and my introduction to broadcasting. He worked five nights a week from 6pm to midnight. After asking his boss at the radio station for permission to have me as a visitor, he picked me up each day to walk to work together lugging schoolbooks, so that both of us could keep up with our studies.

We began to make plans. He asked me to marry him after I graduated from school and began teaching me the requirements needed to obtain a commercial broadcast license (back then you had to be licensed to be an on air announcer)… just in case I ever want to work with him in the business. In fact, I had gotten so good at working the broadcast board and turntables; there were nights I ran his show except for opening the mike. D.J. would be in the production room studying for an exam. People at the station started referring to us as Mr. and Mrs. Life was great, our love for each other was growing so we moved to the next level.

One of the biggest smiles I remember came when I told him I was pregnant. He ran around the station telling everyone to get out the champagne because not only was he getting married, he was going to be a father. The smile disappeared when we told his parents. His mother’s words were… “Well, it seems these two have got to get married. Humph, there will be no wedding here.”  She even asked me, “Missy, how did you get pregnant? It is Donald’s?”  At that point, we were forbidden to see each other.  His mother hated the fact that he was a disc jockey, a profession she felt incorrigible; beneath his upbringing and would not elevate his status in the ‘black elite’ community.  In fact, she blamed me for encouraging him and now that I was pregnant, his mother developed a total disdain toward me, and the relationship I had with her son.

His mother requested a meeting with my parents, without Donald present, to let them know how she felt, and again she reiterated that there would be no marriage. My parents were not in agreement with her.

Donald dropped out of school and disappeared. During my pregnancy, I contacted everyone we knew to help me find him. I was able to contact him the week before our daughter was born. He had run off and gotten a job at a radio station in North Carolina. My mother called him when the baby arrived and he immediately dropped everything, came back and held his daughter with tears in his eyes. In fact, he could not take his eyes off her and he was cautious about how anyone else held her. Three months later, we ran off to my uncle’s home in South Carolina and were married.

We were happy; we were a family of our own. Our stay in South Carolina was easy until we discovered how difficult it was to find jobs. My aunt was willing and able to watch the baby but without finding work, we were strapped for money. Eventually we came back home. The reception by his family was respectful, but cold.

Donald did get a job briefly working at another radio station in town with very low wages, and we lived in our own place as husband and wife for a while. Then all the pressure from his mother demanding that he go back to school, leave ‘that girl’ and let her take care of the baby starting getting to him. Discussions became arguments and we separated.

Weeks went by without a word from him and my attempts to speak to him went unanswered. Then, on a rainy evening, he came to me with tears in his eyes to ask that I come away with him; he was leaving town forever. I didn’t know what to do. He said, “It’s now or never.”  Perhaps it was fear; I was 19 by then with no high school diploma because pregnant girls, in the 60s, had to drop out of school.  So, I stayed.

Eventually we were divorced; both of us remarrying. There have been times over the years when we did connect. In person briefly, but there were many times we had long phone conversations about our lives with constant reflections on the love we had for each other. There was also the continuing interference from his mother over the years, which deepened the wounds from earlier times as she worked hard at driving a huge wedge between my daughter, her father and me. In fact, his oldest and second oldest sisters gave their mother willing assistance. The redeeming factor for D.J. and me was his father who, before his own death secretly made sure we could continue to establish communication, I suppose because he knew what his son and I had lost.

Circumstances in our lives prevented us from getting back together, even though we talked about doing so once. I was divorced from my second husband, going to school and busy providing a cultured life for our daughter, and he was constantly moving around the country trying to get a permanent foothold in broadcasting.

Donald, after all these years I still hold a special love for you in my heart. I cherish the beautiful daughter we made, who is the part of you I have always been able to hold onto. Where we failed was not in growing with each other, or in loving each other but in allowing others to influence our life decisions. The vows we took instructed us… “What therefore God has joined together, let no one put asunder.” Mark 10:9

May you rest in peace, my soulmate, my D.J.  With Love… SAM

I wish I had written this story while D.J. was alive so that he would know exactly how I feel, although somehow I believe he always knew.

© 2008 – Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

Gathering of People

Education is a life-long journey. Since its inception, the mantra of the United Negro College Fund has been “A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste.” Gone are the days when a high school diploma is the minimum entry-level requirement to begin a well-paying career. Whether you are seeking a career in services industries, the corporate sector, health care, or as an administrator, IT specialist… even a minister, just graduating from high school is not enough. With the working population in the millions, the median income of high school graduates with no further education rarely climbs beyond 45k -barely enough to sustain a single person in today’s economy, and new positions are requiring at least an undergraduate (BA or BS) college degree. Further advancement within organizations is literally impossible without seeking additional education and training in specific fields.

As a child, my mother reiterated three things, which I carry with me throughout life:

1) There is no such word as can’t. Phil 4:13 says, “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.” (KJV)

2) Read… when you read you can learn anything.

3) No one is smarter than you, they are just more educated.

Circumstances caused some of us born in the 40s and 50s to forego education beyond high school. I was fortunate to amongst the first recipients of the landmark Brown v. Board of Education decision, and lived through the volatile era that followed. I both witnessed or participated in the civil rights movement as leaders fought for equal rights -especially in education, jobs and housing for people who had been denied such rights in this country. Suddenly doors began to open and I was able to achieve quality education in one of the most prestigious high schools in our public school system…all I needed to do was attend classes and with an open mind begin to learn. I had to make the grade by carrying a no less than a 3.8 grade point average for three years prior to high school, and when I graduated in 1967 my education was equivalent to four years of college.

Suddenly in the 1970s, there was movement from primary education to high schools that raised the question of unfair advantages for minorities, leading to the need for affirmative action, especially in higher education. Opportunities in higher education became available at local, state and federal government levels. Many of us who otherwise would not be able to afford college were eligible to apply for grants. The Basic Education Opportunity Grants (BEOG) and other education subsidies were heaven sent.

However, just as the government gave, they took away. Grant money dried up and student loans became the norm, resulting in the need to make serious choices; work two jobs to make ends meet and provide opportunities for our children, or borrow money to continue our college education while struggling financially. I chose to provide for my child and expose her to opportunities I didn’t have as a child.

Employment was slightly different. Back then, doors opened rapidly and I was able to not only test and obtain an excellent position with the city government, upward movement was merit based according to job performance. Any additional education was to achieve certification in a specific field or to enhance professional development. This no longer holds true today. My resume, although extensive, no longer opens doors.

Unfortunately, education is competitive in nature. Society places a much heavier emphasis on the degree of education one has to determine ability and worthiness, which is still unequal and discriminatory. There remain many obstacles to overcome including, underlying racial tensions resulting in a different type of oppression in public education. School systems have once again become separate and unequal, while families still struggle to afford higher education thus placing the burden of competitive achievement on children to seek scholarships. Children are growing up too fast -becoming stressed out little adults because of the push to achieve in all aspects of their lives.

We should not allow this to discourage us from voraciously seeking as much knowledge as possible. Education begins in the womb. It is the responsibility of every parent to instill the importance of being educated into the heart of every child, without pushing the envelope to become more than their own ability. It is the responsibility of everyone to continue to seek knowledge in order to help our children achieve.

Education teaches us about ourselves, opens doors and leads to a better quality of life. It is our responsibility to stand up and fight for quality, affordable education at all levels, in all neighborhoods and for all children.

Through education–from birth to death–we engage in a world of cultural exchange that has to be pleasing to the creator, regardless of our beliefs be it Allah, Jesus Christ, Buddha or other sources of self-spiritualization.

Why do we need to be educated? Knowledge = Discernment = Understanding = Wisdom. Education affords us the opportunity to change the world, one mind at a time.

© 2008 Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved

Prayer

What I have come to realize after being divorced for many years, is my ex-husband and I did not share the same core values. For him, the ideal marriage was keeping a wife “barefoot and pregnant;” to use an old phrase. During our relationship before we were married this deeply embedded ideal, passed down from generations of men in his family, never surfaced. I’m not sure if I would have even felt differently about him or his family had it come to light. We were both way too young to even think about getting married at the time -18 and 19 years old. Of course at that age no one would have been able to convince us otherwise, we were no different than young people today who think they have all the answers.

The marriage didn’t last more than two years. All the love making, humor, communication, or material comforts of our home could not mask the fact we were two souls with differing values and goals in life. I didn’t love him any less for being who he was then however, I didn’t like what he was doing to me emotionally. He bascially tried everything in his power to stifle and control my spirit. And you know what? I believe this was not purposeful, but resulted from the mindset of his male role models; it is just who he was.

I have since given a nickname for men like my ex-husband —I call them the “Ephesian Man.” These are the Bible toting men (and women) who read what the Apostle Paul tells the people of Ephesis (Ephesians 5:22-24) about what the Lord requires of husbands and wives, and they take it completely out of context.

The passage from Ephesians: “Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.”

The entire passage goes further as Paul tells husbands to love their wives just as Christ loved and gave his life for the church. Husbands should love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself -after all, no one ever hated his own body. He feeds and cares for it just as Christ feeds and cares for the church. We are members of God’s body. When a man loves his wife he leaves his father and mother, unites to his wife, and the two through the marriage covenant, become one flesh.

Would I become involved with him or someone like him again? The answer is a definitive no. After years of learning and discerning in my faith walk I now know what a loving relationship looks like.

As humans, both male and female, we have the same needs: love (intimacy), support, compassion, affirmation, faithfulness, honesty, truthfulness, and security.

One of the poems in my book Amani na Mapenzi: Love & Peace is titled Making Love. The poem reflects upon the fact that in relationships we are constantly making love (spiritual, Agape, and a lover’s love).

Here is an excerpt…

Love is love.
Or is it God
Is it with God
Can it exist without God?

Self love is love.
Or is it God
Is it with God
Can it exist without God?

Being in love is love.
Or is it God
Is it with God
Can it exist without God?

Making love is love.
Or is it God
Is it with God
Can it exist without God?

When I think about love in its truest form I think of God. He loves us so much he gives us the gifts of Agape love, being in love and making love. To be in love is human…to make love is human…to be human is to be in the image of God. To make love I must be in love; to be in love I must love myself.

© 2008 Sharon Moore Stenhouse – All Rights Reserved