I have written this before...or well copied it after Shakespeare wrote it and after King Henry Spoke It

But it holds true in our lives today. No matter what you are up against be it inequality, bigoty, an unruly Walmart check out clerk. We find ourselves, backed into fight or flight reaction. Sometimes, we forget where our backbone was stored because we really didn't believe we were going to need it. It's time to find it. Wear it constantly, be on guard. Be kind, be aware.



Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there ’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.


it doesn't hurt to know I have an army of angels and at least one fairy hovering over me either.


Thank you all friends of different shapes and sizes. You are with me.

Grace is the Ocean, Salvation is the Spring Board...
I had a talk, with my dear friend Emi. You need to know the circumstances I suppose, if it really matters. We were listening to Rebecca Scott, drinking and eating potatoes. If this sounds rambling it probably is. I don't sleep lately. My life, my expectations of life, has been wiped off the face of my imagination. I am free floating, not comfortably, in a sea of loss, confusion and the search of honesty and trust. I am continually contemplating human insecurities, outside influences, and the power which still rises in me that guides me, sometimes not so specifically in the direction I am supposed to be going. Whoda thunk, God would play "Warm or Cold" with me. And add more than one target for me to find. I pray, he will explain it to me, one day. Until then I just keep moving toward to the places I feel connection.

How do I know that I can trust my feelings? I spent my life with parents who were alcoholic and dysfunctional. I was told all my life, "honey, everything is okay." but something inside me told me this wasn't true. But when you are little, you depend on adults. You expect them to tell you the truth. So I grew believing they were telling me the truth and I couldn't trust myself in my own gut. Now I suffer from naivety' . I have told countless friends, that I am so naive that if they were to walk up to me and sucker punch me, after I recovered I would stand next to them and as they drew their hand back to hit me again, I still would believe in every cell of my body, that they would pull short their punch. I don't know how to harden. No, that's not true. I know how to harden too easily, and it scares me. It scares me because I know, once I turn it off, I'm off. The emotions are irretrievable. I actually feel nothing. I am unnegotiable. It is what it is. I expect people to move along. I wipe them, or the memory or the event from all than the deepest part of my memeory. Classical. I am am told.

I have done that several times in my life. When I dropped middle school, I turned off all the emotions of the want/need of social contact. I read James Michner. Listened to James Taylor and John Denver and pretended I was somebody people adored.

I tried High School for about a month. The thing about High School, the people who hated and bullied you follow you and recruited others. I dropped High School for home school and lived inside the radio like "Angie Baby".

Emi and I spoke of physical manifestations of what Grace and Salvation was to us. For the first time Emi made me picture in my head that Faith is the diving board. It is offered to us to climb up in our fear and let faith walk us to the edge. Salvation is the leap. But salvation is not the destiny. The love of God is the water which we dive into. Not knowing if we will hit concrete or warm loving water. Water in which we swim effortlessly in Grace because we have accepted the gift of the spring board, and the leap, the leap of faith of salvation. Salvation not being the destination but the journey into God's love and acceptance and grace. It is Grace in which we shall be saved. It is Grace in which we swim. In which we minister. In love each other. Accept each other.

Are you ready to put aside your fear of the concrete we know has always laid before our feet, and jump in the faith of Salvation, into Grace. The graceful swim of humanity, where we all swim with scars on our arms, on our faces, inside where no one can see and know we are equal.

Am I disjointed here? Probably. There is a cyclone raging inside me. Throwing words out not necessarily collected in proper order or structure. But I am weary. I don't sleep much. Church is in 9 hours. I haven't slept. I haven't contemplated where I may meet God as I open the doors of the Boise UCC, my home.

When I wake up with my alarm, I will think about Emi and her take on what salvation is and I will start looking for my spring board. I want to swim in ever lasting love. I want to have faith to let my feet leave the spring board and soar in the moment before gravity pulls me down into the water... water which I want so badly to to encourage everyone around me I love to come into the warmth of grace.

I have only 3 hours now to sleep before I need to start looking presentable for my day. I will sleep with prayers of my the people in my life which have much bigger leaps of faith they will need to be taking. May God bless them, prompt them to swim toward those of us who are treading water and waiting to help them with a rescue breath and a warm bed and welcoming arms of Grace.

There But By...

Tonight, there are people who will sleep in their own beds for the last night. There are people who are truly dependant on the kindness of friends and strangers. There are people with overflowing gifts of abundance to which society assigns no value.

There are also people, who are only just one paycheck away from the fate that awaits those I have spoken about above. Is it you? You don't think so? It *is* many of us. Don't fool yourself.

Am I my brother's keeper? ... Yes, I am my brother's keeper. I am under a moral obligation to him that is inspired, not by maudlin sentimentality, but by the higher duty I owe myself. It is when you have done your work honestly, when you have contributed your share to the common fund that you begin to live. Then, as Whitman said, you can take out your soul; you can commune with yourself; you can take a comrade by the hand and you can look into his soul and in that holy communion you live. And if you don't know what that is, or if you are not at least on the edge of it, it is denied you even to look into the Promised Land. - Eugene V. Debs, speech given at the founding of the Federal Council of Churches, Girard, Kansas, 1908

So what do you do? Greet them as you were greeting Christ. Let them know, you are there. Don't pick them up and carry them off. Don't try to fix them. Remember, they might not be broken. They may have lost many things but they have not lost their dignity or their sense of self. Be worthy of their trust. Live true to your word. Walk in faith that they may be guided to feel safe to ask of you anything they may need. Walk in faith that you will be able and ready to give to them what they ask.

We are a reflection of each other. Look deep into your brother's eyes. You will see yourself looking back at you.

A Feast of Purple

Excerpt from Acts 16: 14 - 15

"A certain woman named Lydia, a worshipper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul. When she and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, 'If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.' And she prevailed upon us."

Reflection by Donna Schaper

When you get a really good invitation, something more than just the invitation prevails. Warmth ensues. We feel richly connected, downright purple. Alice Walker says that womanism is to feminism as purple is to lavender. Without going into the competition between women that this statement implies, let us at least allow there is a difference between purple and lavender. Lydia probably knew it well.

Our world spends a lot of time trying to dilute us. Almost like the wine is being turned into water, instead of vice versa. We get multi-tasked to smithereens or multi-task ourselves to the same situation. We get weighed down by the "what ifs" of the next few decades. We are sickened by the sick care system and stress out trying to reduce the stress in our lives.

We may need a good invite to Lydia's house. Or we may need to invite some people to our house and have a feast of purple, not just in cloth but also in food, conversation, wine, song.

We may need to warm and be warmed so that our color can deepen into something undiluted.


Thanksgiving looks nothing like it did when I was a kid. Trust me, that is not a bad thing. Although I think back of all those faces of family members who have never faded from memory, we were just a big bunch of disfunctional people. Lots of alcohol, lots of stories of the good ole days, and eventually someone would get pissed off about something. Good times, good times.

As I grew up and as family died off Thanksgiving was different. I was twenty something and really not too into the tradition however, I would dutifully show up to eat and watch the Sherry flow. Waiting patiently for the time I could spit to either the silence of my own apartment or the new set of dysfunctional friends with marijuana.

Then I got married. New family, new traditions, old family, old traditions and two newly married people trying to sort out what our own traditions. Still chaos, still alcohol, anger and too much food.

The first time I ate at the restaurant for Thanksgiving I felt out of my element. I felt as if I was breaking some sort of moral sin of Thanksgiving. I got over it. But it was weird.

My second marriage brought yet a new tradition. We picnicked on the floor with the babies and ordered dinner from Cracker Barrel and watched movies. Finally the alcohol was not flowing except perhaps a few Blue Moon's my ex-husband likes to drink.

I find myself again, looking at a strange and new Thanksgiving. History has shown me that it will enrich me and teach me that tradition really is just a word for continuing to do the same thing even when it isn't any fun. Last night, I celebrated a Thanksgiving of sorts holding the hand of one of the most beautiful woman I may ever know. My friend Emi met me for potato skins and a few drinks and we closed down the bar with conversation which we just couldn't find an end to. I danced in prayer of being happy in the moment. I gave thanks for just being.

Tomorrow, yet to see what that will look like. Many of you are probably in the same place. What, where, when, who, if? Or perhaps it will look just like any other day. Some of us are in places where it is a hard search for the situations in which we want to even say thank you about. Some of us, facing despair, loneliness, anger, isolation just wish it would just go away. Some of us will be blessed with being surrounded by people, family, or family family. New faces, old faces.

My wish for you is you find your Feast of Purple. Look to those around you and remember they are in your life for a reason. Care for them. Let them care for you. Raise a glass and tell them how much they mean to you.

Ya'll warned me... you can't just stop at one...

Meet my next tattoo. It will go around my ankle. The right one I believe. The other one is on my left arm, I don't want to randomly tilt to the left if I can help it. I used to think that something girlie was going around my ankle. But life/images are speaking to me in completely different ways these days.

One More Word of Thanks

These little girls have been my motivation, inspiration and salvation through 2 very long years. Hannah, with great pride actually helped me with my college english classes. Emma helped me with flash cards. They put up with me while my head was buried in books. They put up with me being so tired at night that I would have to say no to "just one more chapter mom".

I can't tell you how many times I gave them the speech about the importance of education. I am sure after a while all it sounded like was, "blah blah blah blah blah blah..." But they dutifully acted like they were listening. Thank you darlin' babies. May you find yourselves in a cap and gown in your twenties rather than your fifties. But also remember its never too late to change the course of your life.

Chickens, Puppies and Cows... OH MY!

Gina took the girls to her girlfriend's farm today while I was at the Boise UCC for God's Gallery Art Night. They collected fresh eggs for breakfast tomorrow! Woo Hoo!

more pictures

Total Unstoppable Joy

more pictures

Name Change

I know, I know, this is about to give you a biblical verse. But I ask you to think passed that right now if higher powers are not your thing.

I know many transgendered/ing people who have been bullied, hurt, scorned, ignored, discounted.... it goes on and on. Even myself although I am a woman and plan to stay a woman, also want my name changed. I no longer want that yoke around my neck. I kid you not, when I requested my name tag at church and I actually saw my ex-husband's last name on there I wanted to vomit. I hadn't thought it out while filling out the name tag form. A name is a name, right? I wore it once and I was so uncomfortable I wanted to die. After service, I took it off and threw it away. I am Nina Michelle. Period. One day, when I have the time and money, (certainly I have the inclination) I will change it.

When people refuse to call my dear friend the proper pronoun I get angry. When people make a point to call a dear friend by a name that no longer fits, I get angry. One time slips? Sure. Correct them. But purposeful continuation of the wrong address is fucking abusive and disrespectful. As you see here it is biblical. Once Saul became who he was supposed to be he was no longer Saul...

May Goddess/God bless those who are struggling with this issue.


Excerpt from Acts 13:1-12

"But Saul, also known as Paul, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked intently at him."

Reflection by Martin B. Copenhaver

Names are important. A name is so much more than, say, a label attached to a jar. We identify with our names. In fact, I feel so closely identified with my name that if I had a different name I feel like I would be a different person. And when we change our names, it usually marks a big change in one's life. When our daughter Alanna was very young she could not pronounce her name, so she called herself "Lala," and so we did, too. Then one day, when I called her Lala, she announced, "I am not Lala. I am Alanna." In that statement she was not only pronouncing her name, she was also announcing that she was now a big girl. No one ever called her Lala again.

Saul had been a persecutor of Christians. But then he had his own encounter with the Risen Christ, and his life was changed forever. He too became a follower of the Way -- just like those he had formerly persecuted. The change was so dramatic and so complete that his old name simply no longer fit. This new person needed a new name. So he became known as Paul.

And when you or I are baptized we are given a new name, the name of Jesus Christ (in fact, some people speak of baptism as "christening" -- literally, taking on the name of Christ). In baptism his name is now part of your name. How might that realization change the way you approach the day?