My First Post Kids

This fall I signed up for a course through 99U that I thought would launch a new brand of me and my work. A bunch of young, hip guys would be there and my less-hip self could go and rub (fat) shoulders, you know?  I was terrified.

 But, Sam (7) got sick and I couldn’t get into the city.  I contacted Paul Jarvis, the guy I most wanted to see.  He was gracious,  Of course your kid comes first,” he said.  

 Paul has designed websites for people I’ve been following for a while but that’s not why I wanted to meet him.  He loves rats (I have a bearded dragon, (among other things) which some people think is weird, so…)  He writes.  His designs are resonant, clean, clear.  Like the message I want to send.  He is honest, the way I stand up every week and am honest.  Paul might not be my friend but, maybe, he wouldn’t hate me. 

 This week I found a woman/website -- her stuff sounds new!   A revolution!  Wow.   Nice.  And:  shit, I’ve been saying this stuff for twenty years.  Damn the torpedoes I needed marketing!!

  I am right now, right here, gonna get over being afraid of being exactly who I am.  Because she got a book published (well, more than one). She got a big ol’ presence online.  She’s standing up and getting bucks for speaking what I’ve been saying for more than a zillion – effing – years.      (O Pour me!  Over it!)

 I am beyond frustrated by that.  Will I seem derivative?  Here’s the thing:  I am proud  because I serve a faith community that has been on the fringe without even knowing it; never balking at it. Yay you! A messed up, but perfect people iiving more and more into joy, into acceptance, into welcome.

 I am going to come out and say that God, which I name as Joy is the goal of our lives.  And I want to say that GLBTQ, hungry, FED, any-national, homed or homeless, up, down, sidewise: all the folks I’ve preached to/for/about YOU ARE WELCOME HERE.

Let’s open that thing up.

Blessings, Peace, Shalom, Namaste, Shanti,

 Rev. Diane Samuels, Mt Sinai Church, right on North Country Rd.

if you aren't amazed out of your former church gig, call me up.