Author Archives: chrishaun

All Saints

by chrishaun | Leave a comment

My therapist called it ‘walking into the den of the lion that mauled you’. I just called it scary.
I had decided to visit All Saints Presbyterian Church and I wanted to pass it by him before I went.
He face broadened in that wide gentle smile that at once puts me at ease and want to beat him with the office manager.
“Why are you scared?”
I looked at him with his smile and started to reach for Kimberly.
“you’re talking about lions and mauling and you want to know …”
“Why you are scared….”
He was still smiling as I aimed Kimberly at his kidneys.

*   *   *

In case you want to know , I was scared because I was going to a traditional Presbyterian service:
…that was a traditional Presbyterian service
…in the high ticket part of town
…and that was founded by folks that even I had heard of
and that means dressing up. Dressing up was scary enough… all I could think of was the swamp rot I was going to get from having to wear pantyhose.

I did not want to dress up for this. But I didn’t want to look like a bum either. They would know that I didn’t belong there and that I was starting over. Besides, (oh Lord, I can hear ’them’ now) “one would think that the love of God would mean that you would put a bit more effort when you can to worship right?” Right?

I didn’t know, so I just decided to spilt the difference and wear makeup and 4 inch boots. When all else fails, vent your inner amazon…

And this is why it took me so long to go to a traditional service. Because when I think about going to a traditional service, I don’t think about God, getting closer to God, what I will learn, or communion.

Instead, I go back to my days of [Cult]Church, where you had to look, act and smell the part or you were not righteous and pitied. The skirt or dress had to be sharp, the shoes and the bag had to match, the makeup was right and tight and you had to wear department store perfume (they know what that Revco shite smelled like). You wanted them to say “That is a young sister that will marry an elder!” whenever you walked by…

That isn’t what church and being a disciple is about.
I learned that from the kindness and support of folks who helped me come back. They showed me by their actions that grace is inclusive and kind, and the effort to come and be fed is much more important than the effort to look righteous.

And the folks at All Saints reinforced that. And it began at the door.

I should point out All Saints started as a UT church plant and grew into a church that is located in the high rent area of West Austin. To give you an idea, this is the area that Michael “Dude, you’re getting a” Dell and Richard “Lord British” Garriet own homes. This is where money is. And to be sure I am nowhere near where money is, so the intimidation factor was high. And I was intimidated.

I should not have been.
Why?

1) The church services are in the gym of a private school. Alternative sites always put me at ease as they remind me that God can be found anywhere. This group, at least in my mind, was more concerned with congregating together and living the life of discipleship than the size of the sanctuary. Or that it had bleachers.

2) One of pastors was at the door and was more than happy to help an ebony amazon with a very lost look on her face.

Imagine the scene: You are a 5’9”, auburn haired pastor standing in the lobby, looking around, talking to folks and then a 6’2” (yes, she is in heels, but that isn’t the point), plus sized, ebon woman with what look like bracelets hanging from her ears walks up to you, looking lost and scared.
What do you do?

Do you:
a) Ignore her and hope she finds who she is looking for, or at least the donut table.
b) Walk away and have one of the women introduce themselves
Or do you…
c) Walk up with a smile, introduce yourself, welcome her, show her where everything is, then ask her about herself as you walk her to the donut table, where you tell her what time the service starts and where to sit for the best view.

Guess which one Tim Frickenschmidt did… (pssst! …choose ‘C’!)

3) The donut/bagel table was ALL wabi sabi… I mean it was to’e up! Not everything was in its place, neat and abnormally precise. There were bagels and donuts laying around, schmear in 4 different locations, the knives was under one of the boxes and people were walking around getting what they needed and leaving the rest. They were too busy laughing, chatting, introducing themselves and inviting me to play volleyball to worry about everything being in place. It was a place of communion, the gathering together for encouragement and healing (and carbs).

4) I was immediately co-oped and adopted. They introduced themselves, ask questions about me and about how I found them, walked me in the sanctuary and offered seats next to them. I was patiently walked through the liturgy and signaled when to stand, sit and with kindness (they saw the boots and immediately showed me their Crocs) and was gleefully told that the communion wine was really wine (“knock it back (tee hee)”).

I could talk about the sermon and the music and things like that, but I knew the sermon series on Exodus was top notch; I have been following it on their website. Every church works on their worship service and the folk/blues played here was wonderful. But that was expected and could happen no matter the quality of the people there…

What matters, the reason we go and the reason that we stop going have more to do with feeling that we are welcome and wanted. The congregation is the physical representation of the arms of God. They embrace, support and guide. And I am sure, if I had asked before I came, they would have told me to wear my Crocs.

Thanks be to God.

tra-di-tiiiiiiiiooooon, tra-DI-tion!!

by chrishaun | Leave a comment

For the past year, all of my church visits have been to either non-dom or emerging denominational churches, where the King is King and style is everywhere. Great sets,  good music by worships rockers with tats and gauges and drummers in plexi cages. Closed eyes and raised hands swaying to the music. Titantrons with flashy videos and (LOUD!!) MUSIC BLASTING… IT’S A GOOD THING THAT THEY OFFERED EARPLUGS AT THE DOOR ALONG THE BULLITIN!! (WAH?). I wanted experiences that were unlike anything that I was raised with or was used to. I wanted to new sexy churchy hotness; leave the liturgies and humming and kneeling and the robes for Grandmas and the Tea Party folks – I want my Pastor to have ripped jeans and one of those nudie Britney Spears headset mikes! (Amen and AAAAAmen!)

Really!! …and not really…

The services at the [cult]Church were simple and straightforward:

Step 1: Stand up and sing

Step 2: Prayer

Step 3: The first part of the service

Step 4: Stand up and sing second song

Step 5: The Second part of the service

Step 6: Stand up and sing final song (by this time I am ready to G-O jet)

Step 7: Closing Prayer

Step 8: Go to Hot Sauce Williams

 

Simple. Predictable. Boring.  And it happened twice a week every week for 18 years.  It was comforting in its mind-numbing routine-yness, a church normalcy that was the cure for ‘worldly’ behavior and temptations that one would find during the week. It was safe, it provided an identity, I always had the security of knowing what was coming and how it would make me feel which it did every single time.

We run to tradition when we don’t want to think about the technical (that is to say the how to and the what for) of worship.  There is no need to worry about being relevant to “seeker friendly” environment, the traditions have been in place for longer than our country has… we know what we are asking for  and what we’re gonna get when we walk in. And when we walk in we take our portion of Christian Blessing, take communion, say Amen and leave.

And there is beauty in that and it was something I missed. Say what you want about tradition, but that’s the very thing that tells us who we are and what Abba wants us to do. And frankly, I don’t know either of those things.

So I needed to find a denominational, traditional service with a liturgy and communion, if available.  

And it so happened that I knew exactly where to find one…

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Choice

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Over the last few months, I have been looking for a path or in common terms, I have been looking for a goal, something to work towards. While I was a member of the [cult]Church, the goal was to preach, start Bible studies and guide people towards baptism. And there was a very precise way to do this; dress this way, say this thing, use this book, tell them this, lead them this way, teach them that… in a very straight line, linear.

After returning to Abba, I have found that the life of a follower of Christ and evangelist is anything but. There are so many ways to reach, preach, and teach and I realize that I don’t have to find them all, just the ones that I can use most effectively in service for those who serve and those who seek.

And I thought I had to leave The Hill to do that.

The Hill is very young (just over a year old) and I see so many ways that I can serve and assist them in reaching, feeding and equipping those within the congregation and the community.  And the more I thought about what I could do, and the more I prayed about what could be done, the more I realized that I wasn’t fully equipped for it. I needed to learn something else, but I had no clue what.

So I went back to what I knew. When I was to reach and teach before what did I do?

Um…

I read the Bible daily.

I did personal study.

I went to and participated in the Theocratic Ministry School and honed my skills…aha!!

I have always done the first two, even after I left the [cult]Church. But I haven’t had any real training since I have returned to Abba and to the Church.  So I found it at the Austin Stone. And I got fed. But the time that I spent took me away from the Hill and that’s where I was supposed to be…where I wanted to be.

But I wouldn’t be doing any good if I wasn’t fully prepared, right? They would think that I really didn’t know the Lord if they knew that I was at another church getting trained, wouldn’t they? They would think the worst of me after I talked about all these things that I wanted to do for them and then just run off, right?

No.

I don’t have to be fully prepared, that is to say I don’t have to ensure that. But I do have to be ready to learn each and every lesson that Abba provides. So I take the classes at the Stone and humbly take in the information and apply it.

They know that training (equipping) is essential and that it is needed and the fact that I heed this portion of the call.

They know that God calls all away for a season or seasons and that the goal is Abba’s will , not our’s.

So I learn and I am fed. And I go to two different churches without guilt.

And to serve without guilt or fear seems to be the ultimate goal.

 

 

 

Storytelling, John the Beloved and Full Makeup…

by chrishaun | Leave a comment

coming through... the last thing you want to see before your morning tea...

Sunday the 7th of August had me going to Shoreline Church for a special theatrical performance by Jim Miles preforming John the Apostle. I am a HUGE fan of storytelling, especially when there’s full makeup and a Bible story, so I was absent from the Hill yet again. They don’t even bother staying up anymore. This saddens me a little.

Shoreline was the first megachurch I had heard of here in Austin, mainly because it was right around the corner from where I living when I first moved here and secondly because you couldn’t pass a car without one of their bumper stickers on it (which is only slightly better than the little white apples or My child is an Honor Student at [that school]).

Located North near the Howard Lane / Wells Branch area, Shoreline features a nursery, a school, a sanctuary that seats about a thousand easily, a coffee shop that feature Starbucks (the Green tea Chai was just the thing I wanted to see early Sunday morning), a book store with a full array of books, videos and CD’s from the pastoral and worship staff, and a children’s area with a ship coming out of the wall (which was the last thing I was prepared to see first thing Sunday morning before my tea)

This church is also different in that I wasn’t the only black person there… this was a multicultural church and it showed all through… from the blonde wearing the sari to the near gospel worship, to the female Hispanic Associate Pastor from the south campus who came for the service. Even for the size, the fact that I wasn’t ‘the only one’ gave me comfort. It was still huge, though.

Jim Miles, an actor and storyteller, then appeared on the stage as John the Beloved, sitting at his desk on the island Patmos, greeting the thousands to come to see him.

“You know you’re an old man when a thousand people can sneak up on you…” it was met with a laugh and then to the story of the Gospel from a good source…

“Because I was there”

And for a moment, just after the Justin Bieber joke (don’t ask), I believed him and he took me there with him, as good theater should.

It took me back to one of things I missed about the [cult]Church. Every year we would trek to the District Convention, where one looks mainly to find a mate, perhaps get baptized and/or listen to sermons for 8 hours a day for three days. The highlight, other than baptism on Sat morning(because you were something if you got baptized at the District Convention),  was the Drama on Sunday afternoon.

A full makeup production, it told a story of a Witness in a modern day dilemma that reflected a bible principle (‘good association’, ‘moral cleanliness’ and the like). Then the bass toned narrator would chime in and intro the Bible story that illustrated the point of how we as Witnesses should act. It was heavy handed, but it was designed to be that way and I enjoyed it because it was a story, like the Bible.

And as everyone knows, I am a sucker for a good story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Church Trekking

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I have been visiting a lot of churches lately, so much so that folks I run into from the Hill tell me that they miss me when I‘m at HEB or Target  and The Youngest Daughter wonders if I will ever find a home church.

“Are you ever going to settle down?”

“You sound like you’re middle aged and waiting for grandchildren before you die. You might consider getting a driver’s license before you worry about that.”

“Wait… before  your  grandchildren or your church, because I don’t want kids.”

“never mind…”

All the nagging aside, there are some  things that I want to make clear:

  • Yes, I am still going to church regularly…
  • Yes, I consider The Hill Community Church my home church
  • And yes, I have been very, very, unfaithful…

to the Hill I mean…

As you have seen from the blog, I paid a visit to Live Oak Presby, (The Church in the Movie Theater) and I mentioned that I have been to Austin Stone (The Church that Concrete Built). I even dropped in at Celebration NW (The Church Formally Known as Celebration Cedar Park), and I am going to Shoreline this Sunday at 9…

 

Why?

Because Shoreline is having a Storytelling who is going to go full makeup and do a John the Beloved thing, and I am a sucker for storytelling, John the Beloved and full makeup.

If you are asking me why I am visiting so many churches all of a sudden, the real answer is…

I want to see what is out there, especially before seminary.

I want to know what ‘church’ is and what is can be and what people are calling church nowadays.

I want to know that there is a place for a woman to use their gifts without being relegated to the Woman’s and Youth Ministry Ghetto, which I found is your only choice if  you are a PCA Presby or a follower of Mark “women are more gullible that men and as such shouldn’t be Pastors (Good Lord, I feel sorry of the gal gullible enough to marry him)” Discroll .

Seriously, that jackbag’s articles had me scared, and when I found out that his church Mars Hill kicks out folks that don’t agree with him and had the following to say about women in ministry, I was unwilling to join Austin Stone, which is sister church and a member of the same church plant group Acts 29 as Mars Hill. It took me back to my [Cult]Church days.

If you think I’m exaggerating, this comes from a from the Mars Hill Booklet “Church Leadership”:

 

Without blushing, Paul is simply stating that when it comes to leading in the church, women are unfit because they are more gullible and easier to deceive than men. While many irate women have disagreed with his assessment through the years, it does appear from this that such women who fail to trust his instruction and follow his teaching are much like their mother Eve and are well-intended but ill-informed.. Before you get all emotional like a woman in hearing this, please consider the content of the women’s magazines at your local grocery store that encourages liberated women in our day to watch porno with their boyfriends, master oral sex for men who have no intention of marrying them, pay for their own dates in the name of equality, spend an average of three-fourths of their childbearing years having sex but trying not to get pregnant, and abort 1/3 of all babies and ask yourself if it doesn’t look like the Serpent is still trolling the garden and that the daughters of Eve aren’t gullible in pronouncing progress, liberation, and equality (p. 43).

Wow… yeah… sorry about the tangent, but folks like that give me a reaction akin to poison ivy.

I want to know why there aren’t more house churches and why megachurches seem to give some pastors spiritual hard-ons I have heard more than one pastor, when told that I didn’t want to join a BIG church, get wide eyed and state “There’s nothing wrong with a BIG church” in a voice just slightly too loud to fit the circumstances.

Uh huh. Cover it with the hymnal and side step to the bathroom so you can finish off. We can wait.

I want church to be more like libraries or local bars, a place where people show up to find peace, instruction, a few answers and even some entertainment.

I want to see where I fit in that.

I want to see the lay of the land and where my path lies in it.

And I want to see a cat in full makeup doing his John the Beloved thing.

Live Oak

by chrishaun | Leave a comment

When I walked into the theater, It was like walking that surreal portion of my imagination, where churches were smack in the middle of where people were. Not secular, mind you…. Not the McWord of God where you can have it your way, but the Word and the Truth where it was accessible.

Like a movie theater.

Inside, there was everything you would imagine in a modern church. The screen was there waiting for worship to start, the instruments and mikes were there for worship, and worship music was the going through the speakers getting us ready for the service. People were milling around and more than one person introduced themselves.

The worship started and I started to sing ( I should stop here to remind you that even though this was in a movie theater, it was first and foremost a Presbyterian Church. This means that if they sing at all it is very, very quiet.) I got more than a few looks, the most embarrassing one from the gal who was actually singing. I don’t believe that she was mad that I was singing in as much as she was surprised that I was singing over a whisper.

With worship over, the tithe and offering was collected, lead by a female pastor, Chesney Szaniszlo. This is big for me for a reason that I will cover at another time.

Then there was the sermon. The pocket-sized pastor, Caz Minter (swear to you that I could have walked off with him in my purse, but I would’ve had to remove the Austin Stone folks from last week first) was engaging, humorous and drew you in. The sermon, part of a series on prayer, interactive and involved among other things, putting our desires and worries into a stone and casting it into water. It was pointed out later on that this was not a typical service. It figures I would show up on play date time.

After service, I assisted in tear down and the on to Rose’s Tortilla factory for fellowship.

I enjoyed it and would return. As the second denominational church I have attended during my search, it helped me reconsider what I am thinking about them (‘run away’) and that is a good sign.

What I was going to talk about…

by chrishaun | Leave a comment

Back to religion. I was at the Half Price Books at 1431 and 183 when I saw the sign for a church, pointing in the general direction of the movie theater. I walked by the sign to get to the Bundt cake shop (Nothing Bundt Cakes… get it? HA!) and walked back, stopped at the sign and looked at it for a minute.
A Presbyterian Church in a movie theater? Is that even allowed? I thought that they couldn’t have music in church… what does Church, any kind of church, look in a movie theater?
I went the theater the next day at 9:30am, walked by the parents trying to get their issue to the Cars 2 matinée before they could get out of their early morning stupor, into the lobby, past the concession stand to find a very churchy table with coffee and literature just before the ticket taker.
Two well-manicured and accessorized ladies smiled and introduced themselves, asked if I was here for the movie or the service (which tickled me…. Who asks this sort of thing?), I say the service, they hand me a flyer and I walk by the ticket taker, who shoots a nervous look at who I can only assume is her boss from the reassuring nod he gave her as I walked by.
“you’re in theater 2” she says.
I thank her and round the corner and was met with the Children’s Ministry check in just outside theater 8. This well-manicured and accessorized lady smiled and asked if I was checking in.
“Nope, Just looking in… looking in at the Children’s Ministry… in a movie theater” they smile (I’m sure that have heard that before) and I make my way to the theater proper…
To be continued…

What was supposed to be here…

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What was supposed to be here was my celebration on how I finally got it. After 20 years, and more than a few good stories later, I finally found my calling. And about going to a presby church inside an active movie theater (there was Optimus Prime action going on in the next theater over during worship).

But what replaces it is the realization that my time with the Tribe is over. I want to say it’s because we’ve had a good run or the conflicts that have happened, but the truth is is that I have just outgrown the entire mess. I try to get in there with the rest of the passive aggressives, but it just feels puny, too small, and childish. The denial is too rich for my blood.

And I shake my head at what people are willing to fool themselves into believing, thinking that their lives are just fine and everything is beautiful in their own way… as they march confidently off a cliff they refuse to see but are more than happy to point out to the next person.

Does that mean that I am perfect, free of flaw and blemish? *scoff*

fuck no.

I see them and acknowledge them. Some are badges, some are embarrassments, and others are work in progress. And they can’t be used against me. Exclusion can’t be used against me because there are people out there that I don’t spend nearly enough time with that I like better than you. And (this is the most disappointing and shocking) I can’t be manipulated because none of you have a fucking clue about what I want and what I’m really after…

None of you…

Even after you were told!!

Yes, after you were told what you needed to do to get me to do just about anything, y’all each ignored me and tried some tired assed tactic that got results that you didn’t expect. I stand over to the side and shake my head as the slings and arrows land limply long before reaching their targets.

What does this have to do with religion and the Church, Sean?

nothing. nothing at all. This is the 5 am ramblings of a womna that has been up all night thinking about the last couple of weeks and seeing who has been at her side, who has let her down, who she wished had the guts to do or say something (anything), and those who just need to stop (please).

or maybe it’s her passive aggressive way of not being passive aggressive. lol

 

 

 

 

 

In the meantime…

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When I looked at the date of the last proper post to this blog and found that it was in February, I asked “What took me so long?”

What am I looking for?

What am I waiting for?

I think I was waiting for the big moments, the things I wanted to declare off the rooftops to show that the path is becoming clear and God is working great things in my life…

Until I remember that those great moments usually show up when I have missed the little things. When I look over the pasts weeks and see that there have been wonderful little things that have happened. Wonderful slices that happiness that filled me up little by little…

That wonderful hug Moe gave me on Mother’s day.
That surprise that Bill gave me on Valentine’s day.
The feeling of warmth and fellowship I feel every time I walk into either the Garbacz’s or the Jerkin’s homes.
How easy it feels to surrender all when I am at the Hill.
Meg and Justin’s texts during the week.
Laying in the back of my car in prayer.
Getting to the point where I can admit that I cannot trust God right now (that is a very good thing as I can’t trust Him until I admit that I can’t)
Being able to get all the pain and anger out, bit by bit…

I know that there is going to be a great work that will come through me…. And I know and God knows where I came from…

The challenge right now is enjoying the meantime, the journey. I want to get there so badly that I can taste it. But I am starting to understand that I can’t get there without the lessons, good and bad, along the way.

So here’s to in the meantime. And I promise that I will share the little things weekly. And a girl is only as good as her word, isn’t she?

38 [reload]

by chrishaun | Leave a comment

this is a repost of my annual birthday post. I forgot that I hadn’t put it up here…. better late than never…

 

This time around the planet was the year that Sique died, Chrishaun returned to teaching, back into writing and into the [real]Church.

It was the story of the prodigal child, who left the [cult]Church to find herself… and she did in the far corners of the earth. She found out what the real world was like. The world that the [cult]Church told her was ‘worldly’ and would ‘spoil useful habits’ and built a life, family, and career that pleased her in so many ways.

But she also found out that she was in love… not with the red haired, brown eyed boy who saved her life even though she couldn’t save his (she would go on to try to build others in his image, but that is another story)… but with God. She remembered what it felt like to have full trust in him, to love her God boldly, and to live fearlessly for his name sake.

Unlike the lad in the bible story who ran out of money and wanted to eat the pig’s food, this prodigal child did not go back because she was in the dumps… she went back because she had survived slander, betrayal and isolation; the poison that made her stronger, wiser, and was loved more than she had been in many, many years.  And she wanted to share that feeling with someone….

…someone that had truly known how far she has come and the pain she had to go through to get there. So she prayed.

And she heard the call.

And she ran as far away as she could. And broke her nose in the process.

So upset and with a Hello Kitty bandage on her nose, she went to search for Him again and found that the path was lit with the bright lights and the loud music that was Celebration. There she reconnected with Him and found that He still loved her too. He mightily showed that He heard her prays for vindication and answered. She rededicated herself to Him and He held a feast for her…

in a place called Immanuel.

In this place she found others like her, others that wanted a truthful and transparent way of living. And she was fed and found for the first time followers of Christ just like her. And she was happy.

During this time she was guided to others whose kindness, long suffering, and patience put her to shame, but gave her a model with which to shape herself.

She found geeks that was full in their geekdom and in Christ, something the [cult]Church told her was impossible.

The feast time was glorious, and when the time came to part ways, she witnessed a group that humbly walked in the direction that the Spirit was leading them. It could have easily dissolved into defiance and bitterness. There could have been foot-stamping and shaking fists. What there was instead were tears…

(for every change is difficult)

And statements of uncertainty…  

(for very few like the unknown, especially when there is everything to lose)

And solid faith and conviction. There was a fog thick with questions and precious few answers, but arm in arm they moved ahead and wished her well as she went her own way.

To the Hill.

Not the one in Georgetown (snicker), but a small community church that felt like Immanuel and had video…

(she … likes video…)

A community within her community, she waits for the next step…

And through all of this she saw new life in her old Tribe, and through her connection to the [real]Church, found more and more reasons to be thankful that they gave her the honor of calling her friend.

But…

Something else happened.

She saw him again. Which was impossible, because she saw him die. She saw her red head boy, the one who loved her even though she was broken all those years ago. She saw the one that taught her that there was a love that was separate from sex, marriage, and games. It was the love born of kindness, truth, mercy, and forgiveness.

The man she actually saw was a stranger, but the memories were real and she realized how much she missed him and how she had over the years tried to find that same love again. She had angered and got angry at more than one man because they were not him.

But it made sense… to her, he was a god[small g]. A benchmark that could not be reached because the girl she was all those years ago has become a woman and the things that she needed then

(to be loved, to be whole, to know the happiness of kinship)

she already had. Seeing him told her that it was time to return to her True Love and that it was time for her to say good bye to him forever.

She saw that and she fought and she cried but she finally…. finally did.

And as hard as that was, what came next was worse and better.

Sitting with her friends, she turned and saw her.

And everything in her wanted to weep.

She was scolded and told to keep it together, and she couldn’t form the words that explained what she saw and what that meant.

That while she and her friends were talking about signs and omens, an omen sat right beside her.

Her Grande. The eternal sign of strength and boldness. The place where she drew her strength when all went cold and dark was there to say her goodbyes and to tell her that the days of using her crutches were over. That the days of drawing her strength from dead gods[small g’s] were over. The days of hiding behind masks and leaning on crutches were over.

Actually, the one mask and the one crutch.

“Sique”

“Sique is this… Sique is that… Sique just may well, you know how she is…” Yeah, Sique is a lot of things… and she was engineered that way.

To take the punches, to show a brave and cocky face, to be the eternal fairy godmother and the walking utility belt. Tough, bold, strong, bat shit crazy, and smart, she was everything I needed to face the world day after day.

And when Sique saw Grande, she does what Sique does.

She went for a smoke, but she never came back.

Chrishaun sat down at that chair and when I looked over and saw that woman who I swore a moment ago was my grandmother, I did what I do in situations like that.

Cry.

Or tried to. Tracye looked over and started immediately:

“don’t do it…don’t you do it…. I know that melancholy look….”

Good God, if only.

That wasn’t melancholy, that was fear…

Because the big, Bad SCAARY world is, well big, bad, scary. And that cock sure, brassy and sassy gal has given way to goofy, awkward, and quiet woman. I tried to fight, to keep the Sique persona going and found it heavy and uninteresting.

Yeah, I said it…

So… I said that to say this….

My name is Chrishaun and I don’t have a clue…and I’m okay with that.