The Last Night
It’s really hard to believe it, but tonight is the last night I will be sleeping as a resident of Georgia. Tomorrow is the day we load up the U-Haul and head back to Tennessee.
Gone will be the quiet, star-canopied nights when I would sit on the steps of the back porch with my little dog and listen to nothing, except the sound of crickets, coyotes, or a cow somewhere across the way.
Tonight will be the last time I look at that old church lit up in the distance, the church I had no desire to leave.
Lots of Water
If you think of our time here like the old metaphor, a lot of water has gone under the bridge since we moved here in 2019. I mean, what better way to start a pastorate than be faced with an unprecedented pandemic? What fun!
But over the last three years we have had the wonderful opportunity to meet many sweet people, not just through the church I pastored, but out in the community. To begin with, there was the old black man that worked the morning shift at McDonald’s. He was the most enthusiastic person I think I’ve ever met!
Back in 2020 I started painting. That led to meeting many friends down at the farmer’s market in Sandersville. Honestly, I’m really going to miss seeing those folk on Saturday mornings. For over 2 years I sat through hot and cold, even when I didn’t expect to sell much, just to hang out with and encourage them. And, on top of that, one never knew who you’d meet that was just passing through.
Covid took its toll, of course, and we lost a few friends, some very close.
My mother came down with pancreatic cancer while here, yet she rarely missed a church service, unlike most of the rest of the congregation. I held her hand and sang “Amazing Grace” as I watched her life slip away. She just stared at me the whole time. I’ll always wonder what, if anything, she was thinking.
Goodbye to the Culture
Funny thing, growing up in Chattanooga, Tennessee, I thought I lived in the South. Well, I was evidently mistaken. I wasn’t Southern enough to put up with gnats, enjoy pineapple sandwiches, or own a truck (even though I really wanted one).
Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot down here that was wonderful and refreshing, but on the other hand, some of the things that annoyed me back in Tennessee were only made worse down here.
For example, where I was from a church was rarely more than one hundred years old. Down here their age regularly exceeds two centuries. Unfortunately, so do the family influences. Nothing is done quickly, and nothing is done without the approval of a select few (and that does not include the pastor). There is no hope of ever becoming a local if you just learned about kaolin and never picked cotton.
Back to Pavement
So, after tomorrow, it’s back to the fast-paced, bumper-to-bumper life of the blacktopped world. No more dirt roads. No more small-town limited government. No more knowing your sheriff or praying in public, even before a football game.
Next week it will be the 4 or 6-lane highways, the world’s fastest internet, 4 or 5 local television stations, a major newspaper, tons of restaurants, gang shootings, murder, drugs, and routines that sap away one’s life.
But that’s the way it’s got to be, Georgia. We had our good times, but we weren’t meant to last.
But back in the 70’s there were at least some good cartoons on the air, so my parents didn’t mind me staying over at my grandparents’ house on Friday night… so that I could wake up to Rocky and Bullwinkle the next morning… at 6 a.m.
I miss the days of pre-Scrappy Scoobydoo; the predictable and comforting theme music drawing me into another rerun of Bugs Bunny; and the pre-scandalized Bill Cosby teaching me about junkyard life through the voice of Fat Albert. I miss thinking the dinosaurs actually looked real on the Land of the Lost, and I really miss learning about the Constitution and grammar from School House Rock – I can still remember the song that taught the Preamble… Can you sing it with me?
The Recovering Legalist 
What Does a Woman Look Like?
I have a strong feeling that this post is going to infuriate some people. It may even get me in trouble with somebody somewhere. However, I am going to mix metaphors, jump right in, and open a can of worms.
What does a woman look like?
By now you are probably familiar with the Matt Walsh documentary What is a Woman? If you haven’t seen it, you need to, because it seems to have made possible conversations many have been too afraid to have until now. And when you consider that just recently Bill Maher (on HBO) questioned the trans-gender community’s growing numbers, particularly with children, I think it’s time for me to point a few things out, too.
Let’s face it, the most influential and powerful women today are not biological women; they’re men who identify as women. Men who identify as women are stealing all the spotlight from the females who once fought for equality. They’re even showing that if you want to be the best woman you can be, you should be a man. You know, like Lia Thomas.
But thinking about Lia Thomas, why is it that Lia Thomas looks like a woman? I mean, why is it that Lia Thomas has long hair? Why does Lia wear makeup? Is it because “she” wants to look into the mirror and see someone besides his self?
Why is it that men who transition into women (which they’re really not; they just look like them), they generally go with the feminine look that is so stereotypical of natural femininity? Why not stay looking like the guy they are, just without the penis? Are appearances that important when what is really supposed to matter is what’s inside?
It just seems a little strange to me, that’s all. For so long there was a certain look that women were expected to have. Women wore dresses, had long hair, did their nails, and always had on some kind of makeup. They were expected to have higher, softer voices, hourglass figures, and shapely legs perched on high heels. But these stereotypes are the very ones biological women fought against. Who said women had to look a certain way? They could wear the pants in the family, too!
Have you ever heard of a Barbie Doll? Of course, you have. Go ahead, google “Barbie too feminine” and what you will find are articles going back nearly a decade that blast Barbie’s stereotypical looks.
So, then, why the long hair, Lia? Why does any trans female feel the need to LOOK female? And the same thing can be asked about women transitioning into physical copies of men.
But let’s not stop with transgender, let’s take this even further down the rabbit hole and ask why it is that, again, generally speaking, homosexual and lesbian couples so often mimic the heterosexual image? In other words, why are there often male and female counterparts?
Dare I say Ellen and Portia?
Could it simply be that the way God designed us is innate, not fluid or socially constructed, therefore no matter how much we want to dismiss the Creator, His design still bleeds through? It’s like His will for humanity’s relationships is a holy nicotine stain that no amount of paint can hide for long.
What does a woman look like? I guess that’s a difficult question if you can’t even define what a woman is. But are “tomboys” not women enough? Are they actually men in women’s bodies? Should biological women with facial hair, deeper voices, and a love for Stanley tools exchange their baby-bearing club cards for urinals and prostate exams?
Because, after all, REAL women get breast implants and lip plumping.
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Tagged as commentary, culture, Lia Thomas, questions, social issues, transgender