August 10, 2003
The Secret Life of Bees: A Book Review
Last night I finished The Secret Life of Bees, by Sue Monk Kidd. Kidd has become a spiritual leader in my own search for truth.
S.L.B. is the story of Lily, a young white girl living in South Carolina during the heated racial summer of 1964. 1964 was the year of the Civil Right Act and of serious racial unrest, particularly in the South. Lily (a funny name for a white girl, considering the backdrop of the book) allies herself with a black woman named Rosaleen, and the two go in search of family. Well, at any rate, Lily goes in search of a Mother.
Kidd's books that I've read, both this one and Dance of the Dissident Daughter (linked on the side bar), deal with a woman's search for a Feminine Divine. In S.L.B., Lily is searching for answers to the mystery behind her mother's life and death. However, in her literal search, she discovers a wealth of figurative Mothers, including the Mother Mary in a way I've never considered Her. Kidd intertwines race, religion and family into an intricate braid that makes for fascinating reading. Read it slowly--there's more in the 302 pages than you expect.
"When you're unsure of yourself...when you start pulling back into doubt and small living, she's the one inside saying, 'Get up from there and live like the glorious girl you are.'" --August Boatwright on the power of Mary
The Secret Life of Bees
August 06, 2003
Wow, there's a quiz for everything...
You are "Kraft Macaroni and Cheese". You cost a little more,
due to your promotional shapes and packaging, but the kids
won't stand for less. You try and be individual in
spite of this though. You prefer to be called "Cheese and
Macaroni" thank you very much.
Take the What Kind of Macaroni and Cheese Are You? Quiz
Created by LJ User RobProv222
I blame my sister for this quiz.
Shocking Results!
Gay Bear
Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Wow, how will I tell my mom? How will I tell my husband? How will I tell my girlfriend??
Religious Packaging: Want Fries With That Baptism?
I've been walking with a friend for the past few mornings at the local middle school track. A third friend recently informed her that I'm a pagan (I'm not exactly). This got us (well, me, actually) into a (one-sided) conversation about religion and why I just don't buy into a particular religion combo. Not even when it's super-sized.
As she fairly quickly bored with my ranting, I'll push it off on YOU, you poor unfortunate who happens to be reading right now. (please don't click away, I need to know you're there!)
I grew up in a Christian home. Not at all a pushy Christian home. In fact, the only pushy Christian that I remember from my home (this doesn't include my Aunt Polly, who believed strongly that it was a sin to dance or place things on top of Bibles, and who made me get down on my knees in her front yard to pray for forgiveness after I shot up my middle finger at my cousin) was actually...me.
In middle school I went to my first youth group retreat. Now, if you never got to go to church camp or youth retreats, you have no idea what you missed. Sure, you had to get through all the Jesus stuff, but during free time it was make-out city. Anyway, anyway, I went to this first camp, and between all the making out and weird games counselors made us play (throwing raw eggs at each other? Why? Is that what Jesus would do??), I had this religious experience. At a Prebyterian form of an alter call (much more subdued than the Baptist alter calls I later experienced with FCA), I left the room crying with my best friend and a counselor who was probably...I don't know, 20 years old? The three of us prayed together and I crossed over to a Christian. I would have been born again, except Presbyterians aren't nearly so...well, they're more subdued.
This feeling of euphoria and belonging (belonging--this is very important to me--despite my loner stance on spirituality today) lasted after I got home for perhaps a week. Then I was back to same old sinful 12-year-old Becky. You know, cussing and thinking boys are cute. A year later, a second retreat, I became a Christian again. A few years later, as a high school student, I did it again. It was fun, you know, that feeling of belonging.
In college, I looked for a church here and there (although I still believe what I began to believe in college--if God wanted me to go to church, church wouldn't be on Sunday morning. Too damn early.), and thought I'd scored a good one when a friend invited me to her Church of Christ. This is not the International Church of Christ, which I think is probably a great church. No, this was some bizarre cultish place that believed you could only date within their specific church and preached that anyone who didn't go to their specific church was going to hell. Now I wasn't a bleating sheep--they didn't hit me with that craziness until I'd gone a few times to what seemed to be fun, spirit-filled worship service. After I joined a women's Bible study, they started showing their true crazy colors and I left.
For a few years, I was really pissed at this whole God entity. I wasn't interested in finding a church, let alone God anymore. These were dark and troubled times (not really, I'm too short to be dark and troubled. Short people are called "cute" even when they're drowning puppies)...
I don't want to sound hokey or like I've learned anything from a man (haha), but really, Ike was the first person to help me begin what I consider my personal spiritual journey. The conversations we've had over the years have been nonjudgemental and they've made me think.
And I suppose thinking is the hardest part for me. I long for a "perfect fit" religion with a "perfect fit" church that makes sense to me. But it's not there. I am slowly carving out my own spiritual path, and it follows none that I've traveled thus far. No, I'm not Pagan, but certain elements appeal to me. No, I'm not Christian, but I would love to sit down to coffee with Jesus and flesh things out. I would love to reach Nirvana, but I don't believe in Heaven exactly. I certainly don't believe in hell, but reincarnation (and the people I dislike coming back as mosquitoes) appeals to me.
So. I started this long ramble of an entry over a week ago, and it's renewed my commitment to follow my own path rather than another. But for you, it's just a long damn post. Thanks for reading.