How Southern Are You?

Just how southern are you? It’s a good question. Where I grew up, anyone who lived north of Montgomery was a Yankee. Of course back then all I knew about Yankees was that they were from the north, wherever that was, and it was bad. The world can be small indeed, and my world consisted of the people who had ever heard of or attended the Peanut Festival.

A Redneck joke came across my Google Reader today. It said you might be a redneck if you took a fishing pole to Sea World. Really? Well where in the world is Sea World anyway? And we don’t have “fishing poles.” We have cane poles, and you fish with them.

My favorite Redneck joke is the one that goes: You might be a redneck if your brother buys a new house and you go over to help him take the wheels off. Now that’s some funny stuff right there. But I digress…

Back to my question, how southern are you? My wife took a college class called “Southern Culture.” It was taught by a guy from West Virginia. Now I’m sorry, but West Virginia may be in the south, but it ain’t southern. I mean, the guy had never had a fourteen layer chocolate cake, my God! You can’t claim to be southern if you’ve never watched chickens under the house through a hole in the floor or if you don’t know what people used to do with corn cobs. Southern people know what cemetery day is and the real reasons young boys play football and which Sundays you can expect the men folk to miss church.

Now I’m not saying that those who weren’t born in it or grew up in it (southern culture that is) can’t be southern. Of course they can, if they embrace it. Cause there are two kinds of embracers in the south; those who take hold of it like the groom takes hold of his new bride at the reception after a June wedding, and those who clutch it like a parachute after being thrown out of a plane. And believe me, there is a world of difference.

You can tell when someone has embraced their inner southernness. They start using words like “ya’ll” and drop the g on most any word that ends with ing. They say things like, “Me and the kids are go’in fish’in down at the pond” or “Me and Marlene are go’in Walmart’n.” Sometimes that last one is followed by a request for pick’in up some fish bait and ice cream, since you’re there and all.

But maybe the best indicator of southernness is cooking. When your new neighbor Dave, who moved here from Vermont because their property taxes were too high and he can walk out on the back porch in January wearing gym shorts, starts talking about deep frying a turkey for Thanksgiving, you know he’s turned the corner. It won’t be long before his wife learns how to fry anything from chicken to Snickers Bars, and a year or so after that he’ll put his Christmas lights up…and leave’em. If anyone were to ever ask him about it, he’ll probably just point to the top of the town water tower, whereupon is perched a giant star only illuminated from Thanksgiving to New Years, and say that he thought it was aight.

Well I guess I never did get around to answering the question. Instead I just chewed the cud a bit with ya and had a good time. Which, after all, is big part of being southern, aight.

Abby at Homecoming

Abby went to her first Homecoming Dance last weekend. This is one of my favorite before-the-dance pics. And yes...we are proud.

Things They Never Warned Me About In Seminary

I've worked (that's "served" for you spiritual types) at a church since 1994, most of those years as a senior (read: only) pastor. For those of you not intimately related to the workings of a church let me say that church work is probably not what you think.

Joys and thrills? Yes.
Sense of satisfaction? Yes.
Hurt? Unbelievable.
Crime? Yes.
Comedy? Bout every week :-)

I have a list. It's called, "The Things They Never Warned Me About In Seminary." Here is a portion:

1. No one ever warned me drug addicts would call at 2am begging for money because they were too embarrassed to ask family or friends.

2. No one ever told me I would walk with an elderly woman through the streets looking for her husband, with Alzheimer's, who had wandered out the front door.

3. No one ever warned me eight year old boys sometimes sit on the end of the pew and ride it like a horse during the invitation, lasso motions and all. And that I would have to keep a straight face.

4. No one ever warned me that youth "ministers" sometimes get speeding tickets on church vans, run through the building with a chainsaw scaring the pee out of kids (literally), and sometimes wear flip flops to Sunday morning worship.

5. No one ever warned me that what happened at the church twenty years ago with people who are now gone can still affect decision making.

6. No one ever told me that some Baptists move a little slower than frozen molasses.

7. No one ever told me that "Baptist Pastor" is a get-out-of-jury-duty-free card :-)

8. No one ever told me about Baptist Handshakes and how timely they can be.

9. No one ever told me how much I would value the friendships that develop in various churches, or how those friendships can thrive in spite of distance and time.

10. No one ever told me how proud I would be to say, "I'm his/her pastor" or how those same words could embarrass me.

The list goes on...time fails me to write of stalkers, pedophiles, vulnerables, and liars. I could just as easily write of the givers, encouragers, or mentors. But that captures what church work is all about, a mix of good and evil, joy and profound sadness, laughter and secrets, privilege and exclusion. An elderly woman at the first church I served once said to me, "What you do, it's not for sissies." I think she's right.

My son Daniel is in the middle. It's his senior year.

Blogging Priorities

I really should update this blog more often. The truth is this blog has fallen a bit on my priority list. I spend a lot of time on Baptist Banter, a private blog for pastors that I share with a handful of guys from Alabama to Louisiana. Facebook draws much of my "internet time" too. After that, real life is the stuff of my days. I'll try to get some new posts here, maybe less content, but interesting nevertheless :-)

Off To College

I'm off to college again this weekend :-) Not for me, but for my son. Daniel is interested in Samford University, and this Friday is a big Admissions Seminar. Michelle and I are going with him...you know...so they can tell us how much it costs.

These days I do a lot of praying about college (I have another son in college already), but mostly I pray that my children will have a clear understanding of what God has for them in this world. I don't mind at all if you want to join me in this prayer too :-)

It's interesting, when I pray for my children I often find myself also praying for the many young people I know from church. Just this week I had lunch with a young man who married one of the wonderful young ladies from a church I previously pastored. When I met her she was in seventh grade. Today she is all grown up, a wife, and a nurse. Her life, and his too, continues to be an answer to prayer.

The Fish Are Biting

Matthew caught this one yesterday afternoon behind the house.

Thursday Afternoon

For some reason this view reminded me of Kansas. Even though it's actually from my yard.

Double A-Bomb Victim

Here is a link to a good article about men who lived through both atomic bombs dropped on Japan. I think it's good to hear from their own words about those days.

Rainbow

It looks like the rainbow lands in my back yard. What does this mean? Pot of gold? Blessings? I'll take the blessings. Pots of gold are overrated.