Monthly Archives: March 2010

“Yes ma’am” and the KKK

Posted on by
30

I really am uncomfortable typing those three letters side by side up there – because who knows who will end up reading this by just googling “KKK southeast Georgia?”

I’m not in any way affiliated with “The Klan” – nor am I knowingly aware of anyone who is either. But, a few interesting things have happened lately to remind me, in very strange ways, that I’m living in the South. A south that still has a hint of “Old South” in it. A south that is… well…

I think I’m just gonna have to tell you about it:

Story #1. Apparently the KKK is still(!) around. I’ve heard reports from NUMEROUS sources (including a few interesting news articles) that a meeting was recently held in a location not-too-far from here. And the meeting addressed issues that are on the forefront of political chatter, including immigration, separation of church & state, and sex offenders. Random. I didn’t realize they were concerned with such a variety of issues. And, I don’t know if that’s comforting or alarming. If it weren’t for all these news reports, I would’ve gone on assuming – like most everyone else – the Ku Klux Klan had been dismantled.

Story #2. I recently spoke to an African American gentleman who was old enough to be my dad. It surprised me that he kept referring to me as “ma’am” because I know I look like I’m 18. Granted, he may have just been polite. Again, I repeat, he may have just been polite… At first glance, that would be the logical assumption. But, pairing his “yes ma’ams” with no eye-contact at all, felt rather “Old South” to me and I didn’t like it…  I wouldn’t have even picked up on the “no eye contact” thing, except for the fact that everybody makes eye contact with EVERYBODY down here, especially when in conversation. This is quite the contrast from Boston, where nobody looks at anybody UNLESS they’re talking. There was a time when this “yes ma’am sans eye-contact” was the right way to address southern white women. Even the young women. I’m not necessarily sure that was the dynamic between us. But the experience, if only for what it reminded me, kinda made me sad.

So yeah, welcome home, Mandy.

The night I fell in love.

Posted on by
20

I fell in love in the midst of a food fight.

It’s embarrassingly true.

Yes, it involved Drew (for those of you who were wondering). And a beach. And lots of people with lots of really really gross food. Why? We were in youth ministry.

And here comes the mushy part:

He whisked me into the water, threw me in the waves. And then I kinda just stumbled and stuttered there for a minute. It started raining. Lots of rain. The kind of rain that stings. And it pattered and pattered and bounced off the ocean waves.  And he told me I was beautiful. And he gave me his hand and we walked out of the water.

That was it. I knew.

And I still remember that night like it was yesterday.

Do you remember the night you fell in love?

If they don’t believe he walked on the moon, then they won’t believe this.

Posted on by
11

I’m not going to name any names, but I actually know some people who don’t believe we sent a man up in space to walk on the moon.

Just sayin’…

And this week, when I read about this whole Virgin Galactic thing, I thought: “This can’t be real. This has to be some article from The Onion or something.”

Do you know about this? This whole commercial spaceship situation?!

I first saw it in a tweet, linking to this post explaining that they JUST did a test “captive carry” flight with the commercial spaceship attached to the mothership, taking off and landing at the Mojave Air and Spaceport… And they are using words like this – like it’s normal everyday language, when right now my spellcheck doesn’t even recognize words like “mothership” and “spaceflight.” Go ahead, type them. They will be underlined in red.

Trying to prove that this is a joke, I hopped on to Virgin Galactic’s website and watched:

ARE YOU KIDDING?!

So I clicked the “Booking” page. (Eh, why not?) It’ll cost me $200,000 to make a spaceflight reservation on “the sexiest spaceship ever.” Don’t you think that’s a little low?

Seriously. I do think it’s a little low.

Before I picked up the phone to call one of their Accredited Space Agents (conveniently marked on every inhabited continent, with three in the state of Georgia. Three?!), my mind returned to the idea that this had to be a farce.

Of course, I’m reading this on the internet. And the number one rule states that we can’t believe everything we read on the internet.

And with today’s graphic illustration capabilities, we can’t even believe our own eyes.

But, you know what? This is America – where anything’s possible.

I guess the sky is no longer the limit.

And I guess my Mac spellchecker needs to get with the times.

Confession is good for the soul.

Posted on by
57

I’m reading this book that explains the only way to fully engage in community and connectedness, is to let yourself (with your pain and your heart and your quirks and your worries and your issues) be known. That sounds like fun, right!?

The book is called “Healing is a Choice” – but don’t let yourself get distracted by that title – or by worrying about me – or by wondering why in the world I’m reading that book. I simply mention it to give proper credit to Stephen Arterburn, the writer.

I’ve just raised expectations to the level of: “Wow. Mandy’s about to spill something about some sin in her life.”

Sorry. That isn’t the case. But, this is about confessions of a sort…

…the “things you might not know about me” sort:

  • I really like red tattoos, even though I don’t have one.
  • I recently got another piercing. Hi Dad.
  • I miss our 500 sq ft seminary apartment. (read: I miss how easy it was to clean.)
  • I hid the empty wine bottles I was saving for a friend, when Drew called to say our pastor was giving him a ride home after a meeting. (read: I have an artsy fartsy friend who melts them down in a kiln, although I’m still not sure why.) (read: I didn’t drink all the wine by myself.)

In short, I’m a tattoo-wanting, body-piercing, bad-housekeeping, wine-sipping minister’s wife.

Well, dang. I guess this is some sort of legitimate confession.

Got anything you need to confess today?

Have you ever stood up straight? (my take on “yoga”)

Posted on by
23

I used to think “yoga” was some other religion or something. And, yes, traditional Yoga is. But, when we grab our trendy “yoga” mat and head to the gym, we’re doing an exercise based on poses from traditional Yoga. Breathing. Stretches. Movements. Postures. Most true Yogis would say that what we’re doing is not legitimate Yoga. And I would agree with them. But we still call it “yoga” since the phrase “yoga-cise” just hasn’t caught on.

I got into “yoga” to relieve mental and physical stress. That part of me that used to think “yoga” was a bad idea is still pretty cautious. I’m anti-Harry Potter, for crying out loud.

(This not a post about Harry Potter. Stay with me here.)

(To be clear: I’m not inviting a Harry Potter debate in the comments. Mkay? Love and hugs to you all.)

Anyway, back to the un-spiritual “yoga-cise.”

The stuff I do isn’t related to my subconscious or meditative prayer. The instructors don’t talk about being one with God – or different states of consciousness. They just instruct me to stretch my body. Strengthen my muscles. Get into shape. Control my breathing. Eliminate stress that has been stored up in my shoulders and neck and back, causing me to wake up in pain.

For example, one of the poses is called “Mountain Pose” – standing up – tall – feet flat on the floor – back straight and even – head held high – arms down by your side – slowly breathing.

I could be wrong, but I think an R-rated movie will do more damage to my soul.

I asked my theologian husband if he thought “yoga” was evil:

“It’s exercise… I mean, to get to stand there and balance on one leg? meh. I think everyone gets to do that.”

I kinda see it in a similar light as the issue of “eating food sacrificed to idols” that Paul mentions in First Corinthians… For some, this could compromise their conscience. For others, it may be no big deal.

For me, “yoga” means less 5am backaches and less 5pm headaches…

And, just ask my husband, I’m much more Godly if I’ve gotten a good night’s rest! :)