In honor of 235 years of your citizens bickering

Per usual, I'm reading the CNN Belief Blog on my lunch break.
Per usual, I'm seeking out the posts about church & state.

And I found this gem.

In honor of Independence Day, it's a post called "Why the U.S. is not a Christian Nation." And it's fascinating.

If you don't feel like reading through the whole thing, here are some quick facts that interested me:
- Thomas Jefferson was the one that coined the term "separation of church and state", but it wasn't part of the Declaration of Independence, his most notable work. It was in a letter to a Baptist church in Connecticut.
- The author says that most of the founding fathers were Protestant (I was taught in my religion classes that they were mostly deist).
- The Constitution states, "No religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States." Then at the end of the Constitution is a "Year of the Lord" reference. (Hey, they tried.)
- One of America's earliest foreign treaties, signed under John Adams, says, "As the government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion, -- as it has in itself no character of enmity against the laws, religion or tranquility of Musselmen (Muslims) ..."
- "In God We Trust" was first stamped on American currency after the Civil War, and didn't become the national motto until 1956.
- "Under God" was added into the Pledge of Allegiance 60 years after it was written (for a children's magazine) in 1954.

And the most hilarious:
- The "Ten Commandments" statues in various places around America were mostly established as a publicity stunt for the 1956 movie "The Ten Commandments."

I blame the 50's.

Now I'm not saying that we need to immediately remove all evidence that anyone in America ever believed in God, I'm just saying that maybe we shouldn't get our panties in such a bundle when someone threatens to. The symbols of "America's faith" are not the cornerstone of our country.

All this being said, the money doesn't say "In the Christian God We Trust" and in the Pledge it doesn't say, "one nation, under Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior." The argument should be whether we're a country of theism or not.

Either way, Happy birthday, America! And thanks for the ability to criticize you and blog about you as much as I want. You're still my favorite.

22 going on 30?

Today I got asked how long I'd been married. When I responded, "Oh, I'm not married. I'm only 22," I was met with a sentence of terror:

"I thought you were like 30."


This working thing must really be getting to me.

Marshmallow Bob Day

In honor of Father's Day, I've been thinking of lessons that I've learned from my own Bob. Here is a small sample:

Fifteen minutes early is on time. On time is late.

Rude birthday/father's day/sympathy cards are acceptable, and even encouraged.

Prioritize your spending. Just because someone LOOKS like they have more money than you, doesn't mean they do.

Knowledge is like a river, the deeper is runs the quieter it gets.

Passing gas/burping doesn't necessarily have to be blamed on the dog, but it does have to be followed up by stating, "Mommy taught me."

An 85 is good if the class average was a 70.

If someone has a higher position than you or more authority than you, it still doesn't make them right.

"Because I said so" is not an acceptable answer. For anything, from anyone.

Get a degree.

If you want some food, get ready to throw some elbows for it.

You don't have to grow up.

Being able to sit on the beach in a chair reading a good book all day is worth the terrible tan lines.

Travel and see for yourself.

If you're old enough to shave your legs, you're old enough to mow the lawn.


Happy Father's day to the best Bob around!

Bloggin' and Believin'

I've found a gem. Slash a hope for my future career as a religion/journalism major.

The CNN Belief Blog has a little bit of everything. Something that it has a LOT of, however, is loud-mouthed atheists that abuse the "comment" capability.

That being said, I just found this paragraph in one of the articles:

"The Protestant Reformation was in part about getting away from the authority of priests and popes. Why approach God indirectly when you can do so directly, Protestants asked. Why not read the Bible for yourself?

Unfortunately, there isn't much evidence that many American Protestants today are reading scripture with frequency or care. On a battery of 12 questions about Christianity and the Bible, American Protestants got 6.5 questions right on average, for a score of 54%. Many must rely on pastors like Long to tell them what to do and think."

Yikes.

That being said, I can't say I'm surprised. I think there is a very good point, that I have been known to argue myself, that people shouldn't rely solely on pastoral direction for spiritual guidance.

The article is about Eddie Long, pastor of a Baptist megachurch that got caught in a scandal. Go figure. We've seen this a time or two before, most notably with Catholic priests. But people are tired of the "Catholic priest caught in scandal with little boy" drama, namely Catholics. What I like about the article is that it mentions other religions and denominations that have been caught in scandals too, including Buddhists. We knew they were out there.

Anyways, if you have a lull at work and find all this interesting, take a look around the blog. They have belief and faith-based angles on current events as well as personal testimonies and experiences.

PS- World is ending on OCTOBER 21 now. Pastor Camping sends his apologies for the mix-up. Oopsies!

I like this in so many ways.

Like a horse and carriage

I helped Elizabeth shoot a wedding yesterday for one of our religion major friends. Here are some of my favorite shots:







They wanted to wait til the ceremony to see each other but we figured out a way for them to still take pictures together.

True Life: I'm an Intern

Day two on the job:

Conquered the electric hole punch (plugged it in).

Tried to make coffee with the Keurig machine but instead ended up with a cup of hot milk.

Took 20 minutes to turn on my computer, then asked for help just to find I needed to push the power button.

The irony of the fact that I work in IT does not escape me.

Psych

Welp, guess the rapture didn't happen. Not because I'm still here, but because my grandmother's still here. And if she didn't make it, the rest of us are doomed.

Though it seems contradictory, I love my home church. A large part of why, is because of our pastor, Dee Shelnutt. Yesterday he addressed briefly how dumb predicting the rapture makes Christians look, and how the word "rapture" is no where in the scripture. He then urged the congregation to be more Bible literate.

We're in love.

One of the associate pastors stood up to give the "celebrations and concerns" and, with a straight face, said to us, "I'm going to be honest, I'm not completely prepared because I didn't expect to still be here today. However, I will continue from the detailed notes that I had left for Dee."

The choir loft was in tears, laughing so hard.

Another good line from all the rapture jokes: "So what if the rapture didn't happen? It's not the end of the world."

Farewell, sinners

In the event that the rapture actually happens tomorrow, I would like to go on the record saying that I did, indeed, graduate from college.

Charming Prince Charming

First semester of my sophomore year I had a total school-girl crush on a boy in my anthropology class. He would make witty little jokes under his breath and doodle during class. I never once had a conversation with him.

His name was John. Or Joe. Or Josh. I simply called him Anthropology John.

I talked way too frequently about him to my friends and painted him as the perfect, All-American boy. He was more of a fantasy character than an actual friend to me. Or even acquaintance.

I hadn't seen him since that class, but imagined running into him in a Disney-inspired moment of passion-filled eye-locking.

Today, the day of my last day ever at UGA, I went to do a pre-employment drug screening. And there, between the redneck with the Ford belt buckle and the man carrying newborn twins, was Anthropology John.

I swear he glowed.

He looked about two and a half years older than I remember (read: oh-so mature and manly) and I'm sure he recognized me by my good looks and girlish guile.

At one point, I considered actually talking to him, but decided I liked the Anthropology John in my mind better than whoever he probably is. Sorry, AJ.

An ode to maternity

On this happy mother's day, I have given away the closest thing I have to a child.

A few months ago a cat started hanging around our back porch. I don't like cats. But I like this cat.

Sitting on the porch with one of my roommates, the cat just jumped up on my lap and made itself at home. It was soft and sweet and not evil or dirty.

After a week or so I decided to feed it. And, a huge shock to all, it has stuck around. So I've kept feeding it.

Eventually I got so attached to the cat that it made me sad to think about leaving it without finding a home. Luckily, my favorite professor/life coach in the world, Wanda Wilcox, loves cats.

I convinced her to take my cat, and today she came to pick her up.

Though I'm sad to say goodbye, Wanda is going to be the best mom in the world to my wonderful cat. Mothers come in all shapes and sizes and species, so this is an ode to motherhood.

For starters, this is the cat that has stolen my heart:





These are some mother/child combinations from abroad:






And of course, here is my wonderful mother. I cannot say enough nice things about this woman, but the older I get the more I appreciate her as a person and as a mother. I couldn't have gotten any luckier.







Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

Changing tires and gender roles

Today I was driving to the bank and called up my dear friend Elizabeth to talk.

A few minutes into our conversation she determined that she had a flat tire. Naturally I asked where she was, since we were headed to about the same place, and I told her I was half a mile away and we could handle it.

As I pulled into the parking spot behind her, it was pretty evident that the tire was, in fact, flat. Now Bob likes cars and while I can't fix a transmission or replace a headlight, I've been known to jump cars and fill up my own windshield wiper fluid (extremely impressive and difficult, I know.) Point being, I've not exactly well versed, but I've been around cars a decent amount.

So I tell Elizabeth to get the jack out of the back of the car, I lay down on the pavement and start to jack it up. Naturally, the little photojournalist herself decided she needed to document my efforts.



A bit later a man and his college-aged son pull up next to us and ask if we need help. We say we're alright but they insist and proceed to take over.

Now as a disclaimer, they were both very nice and helpful.

But when they referred to us as "damsels in distress" I about choked, and had to place my hand over my mouth to keep any unkind words from escaping. We were not in distress, and anyone you ask will tell you I am far from a damsel.

At one point the older man said, "You know what's really phenomenal? You managed to get the jack in the right place!"

Blank stare.


So while they were helpful and kind, this brought about an issue that I've been discussing with my friends and family for the past few weeks: gender discrimination.

I have said in conversations over the past weeks that I have never felt hindered by my gender. My parents always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, whether that was a dog or the president. I could do it. My mom never made us learn to cook because she didn't want us to think that we had to learn because we were girls. We were never interested, so we didn't learn.

My sisters are an attorney and an accountant/professor. And it never crossed my mind that, being women, they shouldn't be in those positions.

After thinking about it, a couple moments of gender discrimination in my life came to mind.

The summer after my junior year of high school I went to a mission trip to Gulfport, Miss. One day, while working with three other boys to drywall a house that had been damaged during Katrina, I experienced an instance of discrimination.

One of the twenty-something volunteers in our group held one end of a 12-foot piece of drywall, and I held the other. We walked it across the living room, but before putting it down on the ground to then drill it in place, the floor needed to be cleared. Two other boys were standing in the room with us, waiting for us to put down the piece to drill. Basically, they were doing nothing.

The guy on the other end of the drywall looked at me and said, "This needs to be cleared- grab the broom and sweep it up."

I was doing the same job he was. I was holding half the weight of the drywall. The other two boys were doing NOTHING. And I was supposed to do the sweeping?

I opened my mouth and took a deep breath, but before I could say what was really on my mind, one of the other two boys read my mind and said, "I'VE GOT IT!" The culprit had previously shown his chauvinistic self so I knew I wasn't reading into anything, and the other two boys agreed later.

And story number two (or three, but who's counting): The other day the girls in the house next to ours needed jumper cables. One of their boyfriends knocked on my door to see if I had any. I did, and I offered them to him. As I handed them to him I said, "Do you know how to use them?" Which was met with a look of disgust and a "Uhhh....yea." How was I supposed to know? Tons of people don't know how to jump a car.

According to Law.com, in 2005, women accounted for 30% of all lawyers and 32% of all physicians and surgeons. And the numbers are on the rise.

The term "feminist" has a lot of negative connotation to it, but in the sense that we should be exactly equal to men, I recognize with the term.

This is when men like to say, "Then don't expect me to hold the door for you or pay for your dinner." That's fine. For dates: whoever asks, pays. And I open doors for people multiple times a day. Not because of my genitalia, but because it's respectful. I don't need a kiss on the cheek, I'll shake your hand. I don't need someone to lay their coat down over a puddle for me. Lord knows I'm not wearing expensive shoes that I'm afraid to get wet.

In a week and a half I'll have two degrees "handed" to me. Every night studying, every test taken, every article written- I did it. I had men in my classes, and I had women in my classes. Same classes, same tests, same articles. If some day I'm paid less than the man next to me doing the exact same job I will have some choice words to say.

I understand maternity leave adds in another factor, but I wonder how many men could give birth, much less bear responsible, productive citizens of society. Early on, women were made out to be useful for reproductive purposes, and not much else. With the rise of women's education and liberation, I wonder how long it will be til men are reduced to being useful for only manual labor and opening pickle jars.