Monthly Archive for May, 2007Page 4 of 4

FOR REAL

Authenticity is something I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately. Being an authentic blonde seems like somewhat of an oxymoron. I know that if “they” were passing out certificates for true “blondeness“, I would definitely get a honkin’ gold star honorable mention. But, what does it mean to be truly authentic. I have been criticized at this point before, and I guess I’m an easy target. Some things about me are so typical. i.e.:

1. One time my daughter told a “your mama” joke to which I replied “No, your mama!”
2. I love high-heels even though I’m too tall to begin with - most Sundays I’m around 6′1″.
3. I have a purse-dog named “Sugar Boy” (someone once suggested that I should’ve given him a more masculine name, but he weighs two pounds and has a bow in his hair — I don’t really think the name “Spike” would help).
4. Over the years, I have developed my own sense of style — it began when I was about seven and my mom’s best friend said to her, “You’ve got to stop letting Angie dress herself!” and continues today with the people saying something like, “I would’ve never thought to put those pants with that shirt.”
5. I’m learning how to use the computer as I’m writing this blog.
6. I’m a self-professed “drama queen preacher’s wife” who (here’s the real shocker) sings.

I could probably go on indefinitely - and that’s just the stuff I’ll admit. But, it’s not just those typical things that make my “blondeness” significant, it’s that I’ve become okay with it.

Many people, especially in the church-world, would define a good pastor’s wife in certain terms. I was told one time that my “problem” (and Byron’s) was that I didn’t care enough what “people” think. That may be one of the most honest things I’ve ever been told. I’ve been fighting this illness for a long time - the “what will people think” illness that is so epidemic among women, especially church-women, and most especially pastor’s wives. As a pastor’s kid turned pastor’s wife, I’ve suffered from this disease for as long as I can remember. My parents did a good job of trying to fight this phenomenon, and Byron has always done his best to protect my individuality. But it’s just the nature of the beast.

So, I’m okay with whatever stereotypes people may place on me - I’m sure I encourage them on many levels. But, it’s not my intention to say “Don’t define me by my blondeness” - or any other superficial criteria - It’s my intention to say that I’m okay with whatever people want to label me. Usually, labels have to do more with the critic’s own issues than reality. I’m okay with not being everyone’s ideal of a pastor’s wife. I’m okay with judgments about how I dress, or how I look, or what I say - it goes with the territory. What I’m not okay with is the assertion that I’m not “authentic” because I don’t fit a particular ideal. Authenticity is about being real. Who decides what the “real” Angie looks like. God made me the way I am, it’s just my job to be okay with that, and to be okay with whatever “people” have to say about it. I just want others to experience the freedom I’ve found in embracing my true identity - blondeness and all. By God’s grace (because that’s the point of all this), I want to stop caring what “they” think and be something a lot less typical: real - even if it’s wrapped-up in a brightly-colored, bedazzled, too blonde, too tall, too dramatic package. I’m okay with it, and I’m okay without it.

At the end of the day, authenticity is what’s going to draw people to an authentic God. Jesus didn’t take a poll of His popularity or apologize for His methods or message. So, I’ll keep Him before me, and I’m sure He can deal with me, blondeness, and all. Antithesis means to find the opposite of what you expect. Besides, how often do you see “blonde” next to a big word anyway?!

Shelter Friends

My parents just returned from Switzerland (after a mission trip to India). I’ve always wanted to go to Switzerland, and looking at their photos reminded me of why–the sheer beauty of the mountains, the land, the water… all of it. I was especially drawn to the snow covered mountains–the colder looking, the better. This is kind of ironic because anyone who knows me knows I’m a Florida girl thru-and-thru. If it’s below 70 degrees, I’m pulling out the sweaters (byron doesn’t mind this-he really likes me in sweaters). The truth is, in my imaginings of the swiss mountains there is always a quaint chalet nearby complete with a roaring fire, wool socks and hot chocolate (or Starbucks). I love my idea of snowcapped mountains because it’s comfortable and safe. I can see the snow outside, even play in it if I want to. But when I get too cold I can run to my beautiful shelter.

Ministry is a lot like my dreams of Switzerland–breathtakingly beautiful from a distance or at least in a controlled environment (preferably a Swiss chalet), but when the freak blizzard crops up and there is no shelter (or starbucks!), it may not seem so beautiful. Any ideas I may have had about doing ministry in a controlled, safe environment have been shattered lately. This may sound horribly traumatic, and there’s some of that, but mainly it’s a blessing. Leadership can definitely seem like a cold mountain with no visible shelter, but it can also give you the gift of knowing who your true friends are. How many people really know who will weather the blizzards of life with them (not just the ones who will visit the chalet and drink your hot chocolate)?  How many people can name their true “shelter” friends?  Byron and I can. God has allowed this blessing thru suffering.

Tonight I had band practice at the church. Of course, Byron went because he loves to be a part of the worship ministry even though he can’t sing (although he says that when he’s alone in the car he sounds just like the Big Daddy Weave guy!). So, I got to praise God surrounded by some of my best friends in the world (welcome back Amanda!)–People who I know will go through the fire with me (I know this because they have), and as we sang “Came to the Rescue” I was reminded again of my blessings, even in the blizzard, even when my dreams of a Swiss chalet seem so far away from reality. I was reminded that there are worse things in life than having a handful of “go to the wall” friends: having a zillion “friends” who disappear when the hot chocolate runs out. I am blessed in my sorrow and loss. And Sunday when we sing “Came to the Rescue”, I’ll smile to myself as I think: Byron and I may feel, at times, that we can count our true friends on one hand (couples counting as one, of course), but at least we can count them and count on them. To all of my true friends: Thanks for the shelter (and the starbucks!).