2012

Rage for Theology!

Thanksgiving through a Child’s Eyes

Every year at Thanksgiving, my mother would place a kernel of dried Indian corn on our plates, and one-by-one she would ask each of us to hold the corn between our fingers and answer this question for the entire table to hear: What are you thankful for this year? It was a corny tradition (pun intended) but we participated anyway, repeating the same answers year after year: beautiful children, loving partners, adoring parents, warm homes, delicious food. Who wouldn’t be thankful for these things?

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Rage for Theology!

Voting for “Biblical Values”

Recently, there has been a lot of political admonishment to vote for “biblical values.” Pulpits, radio ads, and television commercials are flush with it.  We see it plastered on flyers, littering our mail.  And most recently, the Billy Graham Evangelical Association placed a full-page advertisement in local newspapers reminding us all to “cast our ballots for candidates who base their decisions on biblical principles.”

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Spidertales #5: “It ain’t a spider.”

During my year of major life changes (divorce, left job, started seminary, moved twice, sold old house, purchased new house, lost friends, made new friends), I began dating again. My ex-husband and I were together for eight years, five of them married.  So I was a bit rusty.  I dated a lot in college, but that was college with college boys and a college schedule.  This was big-girl dating, and I wasn’t sure how the process worked in the big-girl world.

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Spidertales #3: I Saw Something Nasty in the Kitchen

The signs were there, yet I did not heed them. In 1990, I had another life.  I was married to a different man, had a regular job at a regular company with regular benefits, and I lived in a suburb with cookie-cutter houses, where most of the residents had the same education, income, and race.  I actually went to Tupperware parties.  Two Tupperware parties.  {—-shiver—-}

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Spidertales #2: Educating Terry

Let me say this:  My parents love me a lot.  Anything you read hereafter, please keep that in mind.  The circumstances to which they exposed me were out of a genuine intention to free me from my fear.  That it did not work and that I am scarred is in no way a reflection of their greatest desire for my life to be lived in happiness and purpose. It is not their fault their daughter was born arachnophobic.

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Spidertales #1: Little Miss Muffet

Second grade was not a stellar year for me. Academically, I was fine, but it was the first time in my memory that a teacher did not like me – a rare occurrence, considering I’m an over-achiever and eager to learn.  Most teachers love having a student like me:  anxious to help, anxious to please, and anxious to get an “A.” But, Mrs. Anderson only saw that I was anxious.  My anxiety got on her very last nerve.

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