The North versus the South?

On day while I was working in my office (switchboard) a guest lecturer came up to ask me some questions regarding the location of her teaching session.  There was another  woman there, cleaning my office (and I use this term loosely – it was a 6 x 8 glass fronted box with a large desk and two file cabinets in it!)  She greeted the speaker warmly and the two began to chat immediately.

In very short order, it became obvious to me that the two knew one another from a previous speaking engagement that the older woman had there at IU a few years prior to this time.  Ellie, the cleaning woman, was animatedly sharing with the instructor what she had gleaned from the woman’s class.

She thanked her for empowering her to do what was necessary to remove herself from the physically abusive marriage that she had been in.  The instructor listened quietly and in her sweet Southern drawl said, “Darlin, whah I NEVAH told you to heit thayat mahn!!”  Ellie looked gobsmacked.

“Of COURSE you did.  You said that I should use whatever means I needed to, to get his attention.  The vacuum cleaner cord seemed like the means I needed.”  Now, it was the instructor’s turn to look gobsmacked.

She then went on to explain that what she had intended Ellie to garner, was the understanding for the need to perhaps employ some…feminine wiles in order to remove herself from such a relationship, but hitting him with the vacuum cleaner cord never, ever, E.V.E.R. entered her realm of thinking.

At the time, to a funky college student who had a disdain for all jerky men, I thought it served the man right.  If he was going to beat his wife, he deserved it.  This morning, as the memory came rushing back to me, I have a different perspective all together.  (And it has nothing to do with men abusing women – as that is one soapbox I will not climb on today!)   (You can thank me later.)    

This morning, after continuing to ponder how utterly astounded I was to think that the Lord really HAS given women much more power than we are aware of, I read Elizabeth’s comment where she mentioned she was from the south.  I didn’t think a thing of it, until I read her response to my “Don’t be a pain in the neck!” post.  She had a much better grasp of what was nigh on leaving me speechless.  I suddenly put the two together.

Ellie, my cleaning lady friend, couldn’t begin to comprehend how this woman could mean anything BUT decking this guy.  And this precious Southern Belle who was speaking, couldn’t begin to understand how Ellie could have possibly gotten THAT from her class.  Do southern woman, a la Miss Scarlet, have a better understanding of the power of their words and their ability to influence a man with them?

As a woman born and bred in the north, I have no clue.  My grandfather was a Rice from Tennessee (Rice Grist mill type), but he certainly didn’t offer me any teaching on what it means to be a southern belle.  My grandmother, his wife, was a tough big city woman who vamped him into submission, which he remained until his death.

Granted, it was definitely with her words that she held him in submission (okay, so he was just totally smitten by her from the moment he set her milk on her front stoop until the day he took his last breath, even though she had died several years before him) but they weren’t words dripping with honey and charm.

And I followed in her footsteps.  I could slice, dice and serve a man on a platter with my words.    I could field dress him where he stood, if he was in need of it.  (And I have, in my time, I fear.)  And yes, those kind of words do indeed influence a man, but I don’t recall any Ashley-types being willing to fall all over himself for my affirmations, as Mr Wilkes did for Miss Scarlet.  

So y’all….what do you think?  Are the young ladies bred in the south wiser about the power of their sweet words?  Or is it just MY lack of breeding?    (You won’t hurt my feelings if you say yes.  I promise.  And if you do, no worries, I’ll just chew you up and spit you out with my words.)       

This is a test

This is a test of the Emergency Christmas Letter System.

The blogger in this area, in voluntary cooperation of the FCC (Family Christmas Correspondence) and other authorities is employing this system to keep you informed.

Since it’s not December yet, it’s not a real emergency, however, had this been an actual emergency, you would be instructed where to tune in your area for news and other information.

This is only a test.

(However, if you come back toward the end of the week, it won’t be. I have something up my sleeve that I’m going to post, which will instruct you where to tune in for news and other information – and I hope you enjoy it as much as we have enjoyed doing it.)

(And yes, before you ask, I DO enjoy tormenting you.)

Don’t be a pain in the neck!

He was a nice enough guy. I’d known him my entire high school “career.” We’d never dated or anything even remotely like that. Although, we had eaten lunch at the same table in the cafeteria a couple times. So, when he called me when he came home from college on Spring break, to ask me out, I was a rawther surprised.

Because I didn’t want to hurt him, I BEGGED a friend of mine from college to pretend like she was visiting me from out of town, so I could tell him “No” gently. I did and he insisted that there was no reason she couldn’t go with us. So, off we went for a night of pizza and the movies….as F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

I have no idea what movie we saw that night, it has long since disappeared from my memory. What hasn’t left my memory however, is what happened part way through the movie.

There was a tall, young man sitting a few rows to the left of us. He reminded me of someone I went to school (college) with and I was looking at him, trying to see if he was the same hilarious guy that entertained me in my psychology course. (And despite the fact that “hilarious, tall young man that entertained me” would be a good description of Jeff, it wasn’t him) Throughout the evening I turned my head to see if it was who I thought it was.

All of a sudden, in the dark of the theatre, a splash of ice cold and sticky Coke plunged into my lap. My lap that was clad in white jeans, I might add… I was befuddled. I turned to Keith, the perpetrator of this hate crime and said, “What was THAT about?” “To remind you that you’re here with me” he said.

Shock is an understatement to describe the emotion that went raging through me. (Raging being an operative word, I might add)

This morning, in my prayer closet, I had a similar sort of “soda in the seat” kind of experience.

Our oldest daughter belongs to an online group of young people, called “NarniaWeb.” In this group there have been some truly thrilling, rich and deep discussions about the Lord and His work in the lives of the young people who belong to the group. Some of the participants of these discussions have been young men.

Now, these young men (and the young ladies, too) all understand that at any time, the conversation that they are participating in may be a) monitored or b) preempted by either Mum or Dad. They are cool with that, in fact, they welcome our participation and are both personable and delightful to talk to.

HOWEVER, we have still limited the amount of conversations that our daughter participates in, telling her that she simply has no concept of the power that the words she speaks could wield in the life of a young man. Even a young man who is just a friend.

We jokingly remind her of the old expression, “The man may be the head, but the woman is the neck.” We keep asking her to acknowledge that her words could distract a young man from the purposes that the Lord has for him if he so much as thinks that she is a common representative of how young women think and her thinking differs from his own.

This morning, in my quiet time I’m reading in Deuteronomy 7 and I read, “Do not intermarry with them. Do not give your daughters to their sons or take their daughters for your sons, for they will turn your sons away from following me to serve other gods”

I felt like someone had just thrown soda in my lap. All the years I’ve been reading Scripture, I have NEVER noticed that Scripture doesn’t say that the sons will lead the daughters away – but only that the daughters will lead the sons away. WOWZA. What a weight – a holy burden of responsibility settled on my shoulders.

Suddenly the concept of having modest daughters extended much further than ever before. Now, not only is it vitally important that their attire be modest, their decorum be modest, but it’s important that we help them keep their words modest. (And I’m not talking about just refraining from flirting or any of the other obvious immodest forms of speech.) I realized for the first time that its not just women that are the neck, it’s our daughters, too.

Man!! I think it would have been easier to have someone throw soda in my lap, again – I have SIX daughters to keep from becoming a pain in the neck.