Bev's sister's blog

Looking Up

2005-09-17T22:20:00.000-04:00

Parenthood has presented many surprises, the most recent being that I am now the shortest one in my family.  I am relatively intelligent and should have realized this was a possibility, but the reality is rather disconcerting.  Are other mothers astonished when they see two tall delightful young people from across the room only to realize those are my children!?
It is not just a matter of physical stature, I suppose.  It is also that, as my aunties would say, “Why, they are practically grown.”  My son is a strapping young college student; my daughter is a willowy 17 year-old. When did that happen? Wasn’t that me just a minute ago?
Before either one of them made their noisy arrivals, Ted and I prayed that any children we would have would be servants of the only God.  We asked Him to send friends, family, and angels to help us set their feet toward heaven, and, my, He has answered that prayer!
Praise God for surrounding them with good examples and true teaching! Praise God for touching their tender hearts with your Spirit! Praise God that both of our children have committed their lives to serving You!
Amen.

I Hate The Hill

2005-09-03T16:58:00.000-04:00

I live on a hill. I take a right out of my drive and take brisk jog down to the cul-de-sac then I turn and face The Hill. I hate The Hill, a half mile of passive aggressive asphalt that taunts me every day. Climbing the hill takes heel digging, teeth clinching effort and I hate it. So why do I climb it? I do it not just because of the flab that returns when I don't for even a few days. I climb The Hill because my daughter's good friend, 17 year old Heather, found out this summer that she has diabetes and she will have to climb that hill every day the rest of her life. I climb The Hill because my friend Jenny who has two small children and cancer is climbing the hardest hill of her life. I climb The Hill because thousands of people on the Gulf Coast have no hill or home or family or anything. The greatest challenge I have had to face lately is having to wait until payday to go to Starbucks. So every day I climb The Hill and I remember and I pray. I still hate climbing The Hill, but I never regret it.

Friends

2005-09-01T22:28:00.000-04:00

The older I get the more I realize how remarkable it is to have had such wonderful friends. I watch my own 17 year old daughter and her sweet friends, and I remember how tremendous my own were and are. These were not just folks with whom I had a good time. These are the kind of friends who save your life. Every day. They loved me and prayed for me and trusted me and lifted me up. They thought I was funny and right and okay and all those things you think you probably are not when you are an adolescent. They are the holders of all knowledge of you, but they love you anyway. You can talk and talk and talk and listen and listen and be very quiet for a long time and it is all good.
Carol is my very first friend in the world. She was born one month after I was and we have known each other ever since. She lived on my same block. She knows my aunts and uncles and grandparents and my sisters and my mother. She knew my father. My husband never even knew my father. My new friends don't even know my maiden name. And I know her mom and her dad and her brothers and her houses and her boyfriends. We lived on the same street, went to the same elementary school, same church, and saw each almost every day for 17 years. All that and she still loves me and I still love her.
Lisa became our friend we were teenagers, but we became the three musketeers. Lisa was fearless and fun and faithful. She was much better at flirting than we were. We just sat back and watched. Then she fell in love. No more flirting. Wow.
I met my friend Deb when I went to college. The day we met we talked for hours, saying over and over, "I know! I know!" Even now when I have these strange ideas that I cannot really articulate very well,I think, "Deb would know what I mean."
These best friends of mine live far away from me now and I don't see them very much anymore, but they are still my very very special friends. When we do touch base, we pick up as if we saw each other yesterday.
These friends did not just entertain me, they prayed for me. They did not just make me laugh, they held me together when I could only cry. And I know they still would.
I hope and pray that our own children are so blessed.

Astounding

2005-08-31T23:03:00.000-04:00

So much astounding news today. Ann Coulter has been asked to NOT speak at Harding, and my faith in people has been restored.
Now that the Ann saga has ended, Katrina begins. Here in Atlanta we are a little inconvenienced by crazy folks who have been lining up at gas stations all day causing incredible traffic jams (even for Atlanta!) Some silly spam was believed by many folks thus creating a self fulfilling prophesy of gas shortages. The only shortage was caused by folks afraid of one. The prices are insane,too. But these things are not permanent situations. It is a lovely sunny day in Georgia.
Our minor hassles are nothing compared to the devastation on our gulf coast. Our hearts are broken for those who lost every thing.

Ann Coulter

2005-08-23T23:31:00.000-04:00

Because I know right wing extremist rhetoric is calculated to antagonize folks like me, I resist my impulse to counter their arguments.  Any kind of publicity is lucrative for them, so they choose words based on profit potential rather than conviction.  I prefer to not contribute to their cause.  I also know they could care less what I think. Yet to even mention this is to contradict myself, so let me explain. The fire is burning too close to home.  The fury caused by Ann Coulter’s invitation to speak at my alma mater makes me realize how insidious the current political maneuvering has become.  Propaganda has been allowed to reach way past our sense of civil duty directly to our view of eternal salvation. We have been convinced to bypass earnest reasoned debate, and jump right in to self-righteous condemnation.  The saddest part is that this is no longer just an unfortunate communication gap between Christians and non-believers; the nastiness is creeping into our own churches, homes, and, yes, our alma maters.
I have considered joining the fray and writing to Dr. Burks asking him reconsider his invitation to Ann Coulter.  Strangely enough, I am heartened to see how many of my fellow alumni of many political persuasions are distressed by our school having any association with Ms. Coulter.  I have this vague hope that Harding could take the debacle and turn it into a victory of some kind.  But would uninviting Ms. Coulter unify us? Or divide us even more? It will take more than a schedule change to bring about peace.  It will take a Mighty Work. Instead of attempting to wield our influence (of which I have none), perhaps we should use this approach to appeal to Dr. Burks:
Dear Dr. Burks,
I am writing to ask you to reconsider your decision to invite Ann Coulter to Harding’s campus. I come to you with no real credentials from my time as a student.  I was the French Club president for a semester and I made the Dean’s List a few times. Well, once. I did get some higher education and am now myself an educator albeit not a French teacher (the Drs. Wright would breath a sigh of relief to know this, but they will probably never read my blog.) I have not published a book (yet.) I will never have the salary to be an impressive donor.  I do have two children at or near college age, but I don’t think I would really not let them attend Harding if they wanted to go there.
In short, I have no power or influence to use to persuade you to cancel Ms Coulter’s visit.  Even if I did, I would prefer you would make that decision based on principle instead of coercion.  Consider what a powerful statement Harding could make at a time when a Christian is stereotyped as vicious and narrow-minded.  Speak for the many who are trying their best to live at peace with all men, who are prepared to defend their hope in a gentle loving manner. Make a stand for us.
Thank you,
Kimberly Choate Thames
Class of 1978

I am not Right...or Left.

2005-08-22T00:02:00.000-04:00

I am not Right.  I am not Left. I am not even anyplace in between, and, what’s more neither are you, neither are any of us.
We remember this paradigm being sketched out on the chalkboard by our seventh grade social studies teacher: a handy illustration that has grown into a destructive dichotomy. I am not just speaking as a curious observer of human nature.  I am alarmed as I see this fallacy create an either-or monster that is devouring us.
How is it that we have come to believe that all complex human beings must fit on some absolute point along this dotted line between right and left? And how is it that arbitrary, even conflicting ideas seem to be gathered together at each end? How is it that if one does not choose an extremist position, then he or she is therefore considered irresolute – a shameful fence sitter?  How has extremism come to be considered righteous?
Who has fanned the flames of these current battles?  Politicians? Preachers? Authors? Talk Show Hosts? Do they honestly believe human thought is all that linear? Or are they just exploiting the idea for their own gain? And why is the public so easily persuaded? How can this be stopped before it destroys our nation? Our homes? Our schools? Our churches?
I am sure Satan is delighted with the destructiveness of the current rhetoric and the secularizing of religion.  Old Screwtape must be delighted to see a new vintage forming to replace the scarce bottles of Pharisee.
As simple as it sounds, what we need is a new leader who has the power to change this state of affairs.  I am persuaded that what we need is this strong earnest leader who has not self-interest, but the true benefit of man at heart.  A leader who will unite us, lift us above this foolish metaphorical line.  A leader who will create a new vocabulary, a new rhetoric that will help us find how to make a right to choose not mean the opposite of  a right to life, how patriotism does not have to mean bigotry,  religion is not anti-intellectual, and moderation is not mediocrity.
This new leader would need to be willing to lead everyone, not just one political party or race.  His message will be for men and women, black and white, young and old.  This leader will need to bring a sense of responsibility to the rich. This leader will bring good news to the poor.  This leader needs to be self sacrificing and charismatic enough to develop in us a desire to follow him.
Wait…

First Day of School

2005-08-01T21:52:00.000-04:00

When I first learned the meaning of the word ambivalence, I thought, “Oh, like the first day of school…”
My life is measured by the annual ritual of back-to-school with all its anticipation and dread. Oh the disappointment when kindergarten turned out to be sitting at tables with building blocks, instead sitting at desks with books!
My new year always begins at the end of summer when I review my past, set goals for the future, and buy all new underwear and school supplies. I love school supplies. They are worth going back to school for. Maybe I became a teacher so I could always buy school supplies.
Last night I set out my carefully considered and pressed clothes to wear for my first day. I packed my book bag and set it by the front door. I set my alarm and tried to sleep. When the radio blasted on, I got up and followed my ritual: got dressed, ate a healthy breakfast, read my bible, said my prayers, drank my coffee, brushed my teeth, grabbed that book bag and jumped in the car.
Here we go… first day of school.
It will be a good day.
It will be a good year.
I backed out of the driveway
and got a flat tire.
Ambivalence

Beverly is moving

2005-07-23T07:39:00.000-04:00

As they walked into class that day, each student was handed a six-sided star made of yellow construction paper. On the chalkboard were the instructions: “Wear the star on your clothing where it can be seen at all times,” they began. I remember standing in the doorway of my sister’s classroom that day over twenty-five years ago and thinking, “This is the kind of teacher I want to be.” This teacher does not open each child’s head and pour in information; she applies it directly to the heart. Her students can testify that they walk out of her class challenged, provoked, questioning.
It is not only my sister’s teaching I emulate. She has always had such good taste in friends. Because my home was always full of teenagers who were funny, interesting, and kind to annoying little sisters, I never fell prey to the characterization of Christians as narrow-minded and boring. The friends of both my sisters delighted me with their music and laughter, flattered me with their teasing, challenged me to think about everything I had ever been taught about God. I chose the same type of companions and am still blessed with remarkable friendships.
Beverly also set a good example for me in choosing a husband. She married a kind Southern gentleman who loves Jesus and plays a mean guitar. So did I. Bev and Ken then set out to be examples as faithful partners, workers in the church, and loving parents. We also have some really great music at our family reunions.
Beverly has always been my friend. When I was in eighth grade, a fellow student and apparent neighbor noted that my 11th grade sister and I actually walked to school together every morning. She found this remarkable because her sister (same age as Bev) made a grand effort to deny her existence. Now, Bev and I could do some fair amount of sibling screaming, but I never doubted her fierce loyalty and friendship. (…even if she stretched out my shoes! And I got her favorite shirt dirty! And you should clean the room, no, YOU should clean the room… Mom would begin to sing, “Hate one another, thus said the devil…” and we would get so mad at her we would stop being mad at one another. Mom even went on to tell us that she and her sisters never fought. We would feel so guilty. I was grown before I realized her sisters were all teenagers when she was born…)
I have fallen into some deep holes at times - very frightening, no bottom, no future, no point-in-living holes and Beverly has lifted me out, fiercely, passionately. She puts my feet on the ground. She points me toward the cross. She tells me I am the most wonderful beautiful talented person in the entire world and I believe her. Without her the holes would have swallowed me, I am certain.
I told her she could move away. I told her it would be the best thing for her family. I told her I would be fine, we would see her often. I changed my mind. I am going to miss her and I want her to stay.

One November Night

2004-11-18T21:46:00.000-05:00

One cold November night when I was 14 years old, I sat on the couch in our den pretending to watch tv, but I was actually listening for the sound of the garage door opening and daddy's car pulling all the way in. A car did pull up, but it did not pull in the garage. I felt my heart sink. I walked to the kitchen doorway, and listened to my mom open the front door. I heard the nice two men on the porch tell her Daddy would never be coming home. I knew it had to be a dream. These things only happen in dreams. Only I could not make myself wake up.

The funeral was on a beautiful sunny cool November day much like this one. How could the sun just keep on shining? How strange that people kept walking around driving cars eating food combing their hair while an earthquake was shaking under my feet.

Forty four years later, all things still revolve around that moment.
Every time I hear of someone dying, I know their loved ones are walking around waiting to wake up from that dream
and
they are wondering at the absurdity of normal
and
that from then on, everything will revolve around that moment.
Where these moments take us, who we become because of these moments, that is up to how much we surrender to faith.
As for me, well, I am still becoming, still working on the surrender
and
on this fine November night
I am thankful for normal.

2004-09-02T22:39:00.000-04:00

My sister Beverly is probably writing something about the Republican convention; something about how detestable it is to use Christianity and national tragedy as campaign strategy; something about how Zell Miller has hurt so many of us who had regarded his homespun statesmanship as sincere; something insightful and well put. I know that I will agree with her and I know that I will never be able to word it as well or with such passion. So why do I write? She has said it all and said it well. Hmm, perhaps I write to put forward my homespun, but sincere proverbs. I need to share some simple truths that I have learned in my 47 years. this will be my legacy! My gift to the world!
I can only think of two so far:

Everything is somewhere, so keep looking.
If it is not chocolate, what's the point?

When I think of more, I will let the world know. Hold tight.

Sincerely,

Bev's sister

My first blog

2004-08-31T01:50:00.000-04:00

It is already apparent to me that I do not have the fortitude of my sister, the consummate blogger. I have posted one sentence, and I am already too tired to think of anything else to say. Although I am very opinionated, not unlike my sister Bev, I tend more toward fiction in my writing.
It was a dark and stormy night...