Hurricane Gustav

Hurricane Gustav has already ravaged Haiti, The Dominican, and Cuba, and it's on its way to the U.S. If you're one of the 7.2 people who make your way here Saturday, Sunday or Monday I would like to ask you to remember the people of Louisiana, as well as those already affected by the hurricane. As you know Hurricane Katrina ripped through New Orleans and the surrounding area with fury 3 years ago. Now these people face the same kind of natural disaster once more from Hurricane Gustav. Pray for the safety of the men, women, and children involved.

Sometimes it's easy to forget the danger that faces others, only because it seems far away. I do this, too. But in looking the other way we miss out on opportunities to make eternal investments in others. Prayer is a major investment that too often gets overlooked. But prayer changes things. While we may not see that investment pay off here on earth, we absolutely will in heaven.

Let's pray together that God makes us mindful of this situation and everyone involved. Pray for His mercy to rain down stronger and swifter than any earthly disaster known to man. Pray for His grace and deliverance to flood the hearts and lives of those in harm's way.

Rewriting Song Lyrics for Ministry - My Spiritual Gift

If you log on to eBay you can purchase a WHAM! CD for five cents plus $6 shipping. I'm here to say that's a crying shame! For a solid 3 weeks in the 80s women around the world fell in love with George Michael, the golden locked hottie from across The Pond. I distinctly remember wearing my Coca-Cola shirt and my fluorescent pink headband, wondering if George would ever want to marry me. As it turned out that wasn't exactly in the cards. Not only did I end up going to Bible College, which meant I couldn't jitterbug anywhere on campus and still legally be a Christian, but George had plans of his own, too. In a perfect world we would have shared mousse from here to eternity. But we live in a fallen world. WHAM! love couldn't last forever. It died leaving a string of catastrophes in its wake. Like a Careless Whisper, George "came out", cut off the blond locks, and the world embraced Michael Bolton. George and Elton John set sail for castle yonder, taking the Boom-Boom right out of my heart. To this day I can't listen to Michael Bolten and not feel cheated. (Darn you, Michael and your naked chested, middle aged, When-A-Man-Loves-A-Woman chortling! Take your spray tan, your reverse mullet, and your I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter ballads back where you came from. GET OFF MY BLOG!!!!!)

Regroup. Check hairstyle. Breathe in....whew....

It seems I have a strange kind of gifting when it comes to music. I'm here to tell you that I can take any song from the 80s or 90s, give it a churchy theme, and rewrite the words into something completely ludicrous. As of late I have come to embrace the fact that in keeping this gifting to myself I am cheating all of Christianity out of the super shiny spoofy awesomeness that's wrapped in flesh and named "Stacy". Well, that is a burden I can no longer bare. The responsibility is immense, as I'm sure you can imagine.

Here's the spoof I came up with today and posted on Stuff Christians Like. It's a bit tweaked from the original post, so if you read it before now, I sprinkled in a handful of fresh to keep things exciting. The topic was "Wicked Awesome Mission Trip Interpretive Dance Songs". Check it out:

Song: Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, WHAM! circa 1984

To pull this off with stellar salvation success you will need the following:

1) One slightly awkward teenager with jazz hands stands in the middle of the Haitian village. He's wearing a shirt that says, "Boom Boom" in Haitian.

2) Really Hot Youth Group Chick stands next to him wearing a large, uncomfortable red cardboard heart. She smiles. (But only because Captain Hottie Youth Group Dude might want to make out with her after evening devotions.)

3) 10 teenagers scattered around the stage holding yo-yos that say "Jitterbug for Jesus", again in Haitian.

4) A boom box. Granted, no one says "boom box" anymore, but this is a mission trip. If you can wear a fanny pack and fool yourself into thinking it's cool you can do just about anything.

5) Around 6.3 Haitians who presumably love WHAM! (Because who in Haiti doesn't love WHAM!?? Duh.)

Read the revised song lyrics, infer hyper-spastic salvation dancing and let the missions flow....

You put the boom-boom into my heart
You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts
Jitterbug into my brain
Goes a bang-bang-bang 'til my feet do the same
But something's bugging you
Something ain't right
My best friend told me you weren't in church last night
Left me prayin' in my bed
I was dreaming, but I should have gone forward instead.

Wake me up before you go-go
Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo
Wake me up before you go-go
I don't want to miss it when you accept Christ
Wake me up before you go-go
'Cause I'm not plannin' on going solo
Wake me up before you go-go
Take me praising tonight
I lift my hands so high (yeah, yeah)

You take the grey skies out of my way
You make the sun shine brighter than Resurrection Day
Turned a bright spark into a flame
My love for God has never been the same

'Cause you're my Jesus, I'm a sinnin' fool
It makes me crazy when you preach old school
Come on, Christians, let's not fight
We'll go pot-luckin', everything will be all right

End SCL comment.

So there you have it, a prime example of putting my gifts to good use.

Before I had this ground breaking blog, I was a drama director for a church in Arizona. I literally taught 3 whole people how to act, so I'm obviously at the top of my game.

What song would you like to see me work rework? Suggest it here. While I rewrite the lyrics you can dust off the overflow seating and fill up the baptistery. Trust me. People are going to flock.

When I rework the song, I'll dedicate the entire post to you. Wow, all this an infamy too. Is today your lucky day or what?

Finding God: A Reason To Praise

There are some days when it seems like I can't get my hands high enough in the air to praise God. Days when I see Him all around me. When there's no miracle too small for me to notice He's in it.

He shows His love in small ways that I would miss if I weren't looking to find Him in it. He's in the laughter of my son when he runs to me just because he's too happy to keep life to himself. He's in the coolness of morning that reminds me that fall is right around the corner. He's in the reckless abandon of my desire to love my Dad, regardless of what fractures there have been in our relationship. He's in everything, just begging for me to acknowledge Him.

Most of all, I find Him remindind me to stop running away from Him, to turn around, and run back to Him.

Because God is all around me, I know I'm not alone. I know I'm loved beyond understanding. I know that though some situations are bigger than me, nothing is bigger than Him. He's awesome. He's in everything. He loves me. And I love Him back.

He's in His Word.
He's above my praise.
He's around my house.
He's about changing my life.
He's the rays of the sun that break through the trees.
He's telling me to get off the computer and play with my son!!
He's everywhere. He's everything.
He's jealous for my praise. He has every right to be. Because no one will ever love me more completely or satsify my soul.

Now it's your turn. In what ways is God all around you today? Where have you found Him lately? Let's remind each other to find Him in places we may have forgotten about until now.

God bless you today!

Time

My daughter prays every night that God will protect her from bad dreams. I'm quick to remind her that should she have a bad dream, her dad and I are here for her and maybe God might use a bad dream to teach her how to trust Him. I tell her these things hoping she will outgrow her fear. What I purposely have not told her is that sometimes nightmares can be real. Sometimes nightmares have to be lived out during the day. No matter how much we might wish them away, or try to ignore them, at some point there could be a nightmare that is darker than any dream. I wish this were a foreign concept for me, but it's not. Unfortunately I am living it right now. You see, my dad is sick.

I can't dress it up or make it sound nice. It is a paralyzing fact of life right now. Because my parents live in another state it can be too easy for me to purposely forget the facts. I think that's called denial, which is one of the stages of grief.

To be truthful I have always had somewhat of a fractured relationship with my dad. Yet since my daughter was born seven years ago I had seen the fractures begin to heal. Tension gave way to the common ground of shared laughter over his new role as Grandpa. But not too long ago I heard God whisper that I was being haphazard about getting to know my dad. I brushed God off, telling Him to leave me alone. Stubborn and brazen, I knew full well there were walls built around my heart, but out of self-preservation, I refused to tear them down.

During that time it was easy for me to live as though there would always be "later" to fix deeper issues. I used words like "busy" to excuse lack of motivation to tend the relationship. I built an altar out of making sure I wasn't too uncomfortable. Then crisis hit. BAM! I saw all my missed moments fly right past me. The tailwind nearly snapped my neck. Everything I put off concerning my relationship with my dad - conversations about his childhood, dating my mom, you know, the puzzle pieces to his story - crumbled around me. The walls I built couldn't protect me at all.

Suddenly my time was spent wondering how he'd make it to the next day. Casual conversations with my mom and sister were replaced with daily summaries of symptoms. Forget about questions between my dad and I that are unanswered, move that to the back of the line. Life has taken on a new urgency. Anything that resembles what used to be "normal" has faded. It's quite possible my questions may never be answered.

I handle the circumstances as best I can. God is with me, which is no small thing, considering that I told Him to leave me alone. It is a walking testament to the faithfulness of Christ in spite of me trying to squeeze Him out. His love baffles me at every turn.

Unfortunately, there are times when grief washes over me and it just plain hurts. It's my dad - what daughter would want to see her parent suffer? The bottom line is that I wish I would have listened to God in the first place. Isn't that always the way? Hopefully next time I won't wait for the screaming circumstances to drown out His whisper. I've lost too many minutes already.

Next week I am going with my parents to hear my dad's full diagnosis. The hurdle has been knowing that once I hear what his doctor has to say I can't hide any more. The statement "My dad is sick" will be changed to "My dad has ________." And though he isn't confined to a label or a diagnosis, there's the reality of uncharted waters ahead. My heart swells at the thought. But at least I will be there, with them. No matter what happens, I can pick up from here and move forward for the duration. And that is exactly what I plan to do.

I don't know where you are in your life. You may read my story and move on. Or maybe you're tinkering with wasting your time, ignoring your family, or being resistant to God. Take it from someone who has walked a similar path: Nightmares can happen to anyone. Anything less than fully investing yourself into those around you is a waste of time. Don't wait until someone you love is in trouble - sick or even walking a prodigal's path - before you get to know them. I mean really know them. Let God show you the way. Trust me, regret tastes nasty. Spit it out while you still can.

Mr. Salvation Pants, Leader of the BBs

If Bible college culture revolves around anything it is cliques. I'm telling you it's worse than high school and then some.

First, we have the Briefcase Bangers, or the BBs. No one knows where the briefcases came from, or why carry them everywhere, but it is a defining factor for this sect. Dressed in suits from my grandfather's closet, the goal of this group is to convince the church that the Bible is not relevant unless it is preached by someone wearing polyester. Though they are academics, they are also strong devotees to anything socially awkward including limp handkerchiefs and going without deodorant. They rock the Wal-Mart pre-packaged, short sleeve dress shirt and tie combo; this is their every day uniform. Most are preaching majors, but should that fall through, there's always Star Treck conventions to keep them entertained. These guys did Bible College by the book, honing in on obeying the rules with precision.

In stark contrast, there's the group I hung with, The Nonconformists. I owe surviving Bible College to this group. I remain now, as I was then, a delicate combination of Elaine Benes meets Mary Kathrine Gallagher. We were a motley concoction of sarcasm, caffeine, and scary clown antics. Always willing to push the envelope in a conservative setting, the Briefcase Bangers considered us obnoxious and untouchable.

Never, and I mean NEVER do these two groups interact. But during my senior year, our worlds collided every Tuesday and Thursday morning at 7 am for Church Administration class.

This class would better be named "How To Marry, Bury & Baptize". The BBs ate it up. My group mocked it at every turn. While the BBs were writing beautiful eulogies about fictitious but Godly saints, we were writing eulogies for old, boring church history profs who somehow ended up dying while teaching.

Our Church Admin. prof decided that it would be a good idea for us to learn how to baptize people "the right way". So, in February, in the snow, at 7 am we all had to haul our bathig suit clad cookies to the school's indoor pool. Everyone in the class (about 40 people) was there except for the leader of the BBs, which was strange because he NEVER missed a class, so his absence was notable.

To start class the prof. gives us a demonstration of how to baptize (because we have never seen one before). Then, it happens. The head of the BBs rushes into the pool area...

He's wearing a full suit and tie. He's carrying his briefcase. And he's wearing...

HIS OWN PERSONAL SET OF WAIST HIGH WADERS. (No he didn't. Oh yes he did!)

He's out of breath because he didn't remember we weren't meeting in our normal classroom. So that means HE WALKED THE ENTIRE LENGTH OF THE CAMPUS AND MAIN BUILDING WEARING WAIST HIGH WADERS!!!!

I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head I laughed so hard, doubled over in hysterics....grabbing the person next to me so I wouldn't fall to the floor....WADERS!!!!!!!! His own PERSONAL WADERS!!!!!!!!!!!!

He had plastic/Mylar/rubberish salvation pants.

Don't bring all that mess up in here and then expect me to baptize somebody! Seriously, people.

By the time we all got in the pool the Nonconformists were over it. Mr. Salvation Pants had slaughtered the 2 ounces of reverence we brought with us to the pool that morning. When the prof gave us the "okay" to start baptizing each other it was sheer pandemonium. People were slamming each other under water, they'd spring up and fake speaking in tongues. There was splashing and cannon balls, and blood-curdling shrieks of "Hallelujah!" Some were scream-singing "Now I Belong To Jesus". Others were holding people under the water yelling, "Satan, COME OUT!" We were like Gremlins. Bad things happen when you put us in water.

The BBs literally huddled in a corner of the pool and did this strange gawking-twitching thing. Though I'm not certain I think I heard one of them cry for his mother.

If you think all the baptism shenanigans are irreverent, you are correct. But don't blame me or any of the other Nonconformists in the class. Blame the Briefcase Bangers, and their leader, Mr. Salvation Pants.

So....what kind of pants are you wearing today?????????

Bible College: How To Break The Rules (and have an awesome time doing it)

I went to a very conservative Bible college with some strict rules. I'm sure all Bible colleges have rules because "be nice and only get drunk on Jesus" just isn't specific enough for some people. I will be the first to say that going into college I knew these rules and signed a form that assured my compliance. I later learned that compliance and not getting caught are inbred cousins.

So here's a list of rules that you'll only find in Bible College:

1) No bare feet in mixed company. Seriously. Before Bible college I had no idea that taking socks off in front of aspiring preachers was right up there with pole dancing, but apparently so. I broke this rule on one very specific occasion. One night the girl in the room next to me had taken drugs, and I don't mean Flintstones vitamins. She was completely juiced, screaming about how she was going to kill herself. So I run upstairs to the head resident's apartment. She answers the door and looks down at my feet. I open my mouth but before I can get anything out she says she won't talk to me with my feet uncovered, and I would need to put on some socks and then return. Close door. Folks, I couldn't make this up if I tried.

2) Curfew is 11 pm on weekdays. It may have been 10 pm, but in order to protect myself and cut down on the shock therapy treatments, I have blocked out the details. So this means finding a way to sneak in. Typically I would go through a window. But finding a way in wasn't the problem, campus security was. Campus security is another way to say Pharisee meets narc. Actual students by day, the security patrol were the super nerds of the campus. Typically scrawny and prepubescent, they drove around in a '72 rusted out Caprice Classic. Armed with only a clipboard and pen, they could record people's sin, just in case God had better things to do than making sure I wasn't out roaming the campus, barefoot, at 11:01 p.m., which would make me a harlot. And that's bad. So bad.

3) No dancing. It is widely known that the reason Bible college students aren't allowed to have premarital sex is because it will lead to dancing. Well, that and the fact that extra stupid security narcs could catch you and wonder where babies come from, upsetting the delicate balance of the universe. My BFF, Lacy, reminded me that the actual rule was no dancing within 50 miles of the campus, which makes sense. The dork-per-capita quotient fell significantly approximately 52.3 miles from the school's front gates, and this is the reason why.

4) No shorts may be worn in any building. I was good with this one. It has always been my theory that sequin tube tops look best with leather pants, anyway. It's just generally good idea to avoid shorts in Bible college. Some preaching major who is convinced the Bible peaked in 1987 is going to break out his pleated, Duck Head khaki shorts, but forget to take off his black socks and garters. (SOCK GARTERS, PEOPLE! Get your mind out of the gutter! No self respecting Bible college male wears those other kind of garters. At least not until after graduation. Please.)

5) Girls, no scantly clad roller skating through the dorm during finals week. This is an unwritten rule. It became an unwritten rule when someone actually did it, then got kicked out of her program. Never mind that dorms aren't co-ed. In Bible College girls can't even take a shower unless they're wearing a unitard. Modesty is everything. PG-13 skating behavior will not make serious preaching students want to date you, thereby lowering your marriage-ability quotient by 76%! Unfortunately, ladies, if you don't get married within 3 months of graduation, you probably never will. (I think that's Biblical, probably in the footnotes.) Sadly, this means you might not get invited to couples-only dinner parties in heaven. And wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake of your tragedy?

6) Guys, no hair growth beyond the collar. In Bible college there are pictures of Jesus everywhere. Walking with sheep, blessing children, hugging the Old Testament professor, you know, pictures of Jesus. In all of those pictures he had long hair. This means that He would have been kicked out of Bible college, or at least written up. Then where would we be? Oh, I shudder to think...

7) No kissing anywhere on campus. Translated, this rule implies that public displays of affection are meant for more romantic locations, like walks in the park, and visits to a fancy restaurant. Or, say, under a busted floodlight, in the backseat of a car in the Wal-Mart parking lot.

So there you have it, seven of the most rigorous standards for ethical Christian living. It's a lot to live up to, but this isn't living, this is Bible College.

Which rule would get you kicked out????

(Special thanks to my BFF Lacy who encourages my ADHD and will always help me break the rules.)

Should You Marry A Pastor In Bible College? (originally posted on Stuff Christians Like)

Bible College is just plain weird. Take everything that drives you nuts about church culture. Throw it into really close living quarters. Take away deodorant, fashionable clothing, and common sense. Fold in a hymnal, lots of suits from the 80s, and a curfew. Sprinkle it with controversy and lint from the pockets of scary elders. Add 2 gallons of angst from trying to maintain technical virginity, and ta-da! Instant Bible College. (Some assembly required.)

Perhaps the most distinguishing characteristic of Bible College is the number of girls who attend with the soul purpose of acquiring their Mrs. Degree. Never mind that many, many of the guys who attend Bible College are already hot and bothered over polyester and the smell of a freshly Pledged pulpit. Still, there is one thing every Bible College guy needs before he can assume his first full time preaching position: Wifeage. That’s right, a delicate, though not necessarily too attractive, member of the opposite sex. Additional requirements include: a) owning 3 dresses from 1986, b) a stellar ability to cry on command, 3) wide hips for childbirth, and d) it helps if she’s a Christian.

However, it must be said, not every girl who goes to Bible College wants to marry a preacher. I went to Bible College to actually go into vocational ministry. I had no plans in any way, shape, or form to get married! Wicked crazy, I know, but it’s true. I actually graduated single, which was a risky choice. Everybody knows a girl doesn’t get married within 3 months of graduation has a 76% higher chance of never saying “I do.” It’s a good thing I met Dan or right now I’d be icing the cake of my own tragedy. Whew. Guess I dodged a bullet that time.

Obviously you can see the conundrum for young women who attend Bible College. Do they sell their soul to the Bible dictionary, pony up to the polyester smack down and shout, “Preach on!” Or, do girls opt for vocational ministry, thereby rolling the dice when it comes to love and romance? What a sticky pickle! Wouldn’t it helpful if there were, say, a beacon of light to guide these girls in their hour of need? You know, maybe a quiz, thrown up on someone else’s blog when the owner is out of town? Well, you’re in luck…

Welcome to the Stuff Christians Like/Stacy From Louisville Cooperative For the Preservation Of The Integrity of Bible College Love Super Quiz 2008

The purpose of this quiz is to help you determine if you should marry a preacher or stay single in Bible College. Answer the following hypothetical scenarios according to the decision you would make if you were a single female in Bible College. Guys, just read along. I’m serious. Don’t pretend you’re a girl when you’re reading Jon’s site. It’s poor form. Here we go!!!!

1) Your major is:
a) Bible and youth ministry, elementary education, missions, or urban outreach
b) You don’t pick a major. College may cost $9,000 a year but that’s not too much to pay to find your true love. Besides, everyone knows pastors are loaded and he won’t mind paying off your loans.

2. You open the closet in your room to reveal:
a) ringer t-shirts, a SCL t-shirt, jeans, flip flops, a pile of dirty laundry and a half-eaten bag of Cheetos.
b) Four hoop-skirt bridesmaid’s dresses, cellophane wrapped wedding dress, a hand sewn polyester/leather tie nighty combo, and 15 complete sets of maternity clothes

3. You’re in your room studying when you hear frantic shrieking from down the hall. Instinctively you know it’s “the engagement ring scream”, meaning someone else – not you! – is getting married. You:
a) Roll your eyes and finish your paper while humming “Another One Bites The Dust”
b) Grab your stuffed cat, Kooky Kitty McScratchbottom, bury your head in your pillow and contemplate wearing more skirts that reveal your shapely ankles

4. In Church History class Mr. Bible Banger leans over and says, “What’s today’s date?” You:
a) Pull out your birth control dial pack, flip it open and say, “Let’s see. Oh! It’s Thursday already! No wonder I’m thirsty!” (Extra points if you throw in a wink.)
b) Bat your eyelashes, straighten your hair bow, and say, softly, “Kind sir, it’s September 18, 2008 in the year of Our Lord. Might I water your camels?”

5. A cute guy asks you for help with his homework. You:
a) Walk with him to the library and teach him Greek
b) Type up his sermon outline, iron all 10 of his short sleeve dress shirts, make a casserole, and cross stitch Bible verses on his damp handkerchief.

You’re doing great! Last one….

6. A guy you’ve been seeing asks you to marry him. He promises to love you and:
a) You suck his face off instead of answering his question and tell him you’ll get back with him…later.
b) Never throw you under the bus when the elders blame you for the crappy women’s ministry program

So, how did you score?

Mostly A
You should not date in Bible College. You should not get married in Bible College. You probably should not ever say the words “Bible College” or speak a sentence with the words “Bible” and “college” in it, ever. You are cut off. Know why? Because you are like me. As I stated before I graduated from college single, which was fine with me. What I didn’t tell you was that because of my sass mouth I didn’t have too many dates in the straight-laced environment of my college. Don’t get me wrong, I had a blast in college, especially when I learned how to break the rules and not get caught. Am I proud of breaking he rules? Why yes, actually. But I’m most proud of not getting caught. In the grand scheme of things, that’s all that really matters. I think. Flash forward 10+ years and I’m married, I’ve got two kids, and from time to time I break out my Bible dictionary. Does that make me better than anyone else? No, no it doesn’t. That’s what a diploma is for…

Mostly B
Marrying a pastor isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I guess. Getting married as an excuse to have sex and be out past curfew is, and I saw a lot of that, unfortunately. There are some guys who attend Bible College who are hip and fly. If you’ve got your sites set on a Metrosexual future worship leader, that’s good. If he rocks the Pumas and the faux hawk, that’s even better. If he’s really hot in a subversive, yet dark and Biblical kind of way and could potentially make $75K traveling with his band, “The Hermeneutics”, then by all means, find that guy and suck his face off without hesitation. On the other hand, if you’re going to an ultraconservative school that cranks out obscure, pulpit-hogging Bible bangers with weird hips and unzipped flies, you need to pay attention. This quiz might just save your bacon.

So there you have it. My best attempt at breaking free from the comments section on SCL. For years now I have told my husband, "One day Honey, I'm gonna make you proud." I'm sure in his mind he thought I might return to my prebaby weight or cure cancer or something. But no. God had bigger plans. I get to traipse around SCL for one whole day. You know, that's pretty good for a chick that was single when she graduated from Bible College.

IT'S BIBLE COLLEGE WEEK!!!!!!!!!!!

In 1992 I graduated from High School. The world was my oyster. (I don't really know what that means, but I've always wanted to say it.) I was going to shuck it for all it was worth and then some. But I wasn't going oyster shucking for myself, I was doing it all for Jesus. That's right my friends, I was headed to Bible College. (Where, coincidently, I never ate shellfish of any kind. Dang.)

Bright and shiny, squeaky clean, glittering with sage wisdom, Bible College. In my mind I had it all figured out. I was immersing myself in the think tank of all Christendom - everyone there, young and old, would adore me. Mothers would want their daughters to be just like me. Guys would want to date me. Professors would shamelessly beg for my theological insight. Flowers would bloom and angels would sing everywhere I went. We would all laugh, and hug, and sing "Kum-by-Ya". I would surely help usher in the greatest revival of all time. It would be holier than heaven itself.

Then I got there.

And realized it sucked.

I guess it's not so much that it was so sucktacular, it's more that the culture of the whole thing was just plain weird. That's not to say that I didn't have fun while I was there or that I didn't get a good education. It's just that Bible College is so....so....well, it's Bible College.

Take everything that drives you nuts about church culture. Throw it into really close living quarters. Take away deodorant, fashionable clothing, and common sense. Fold in a hymnal, a few suits from the 80s, and a curfew. Sprinkle it with controversy and lint from the pockets of scary elders. Add 1/2 cup of angst from trying to maintain technical virginity, and ta da! Instant Bible College. (Some assembly required.)

This week we will discuss the ins and outs of Christian education at its best and worst. If I lived this for 4 years and paid about $30,000 for it, surely you can come along with me as we hop, skip, and jump (over land mines) down memory lane. Surely my experience will not be the same as yours. I'm the first to acknowledge that I graduated 12 years ago and much has changed in church culture since then, so presumably Bible Colleges, Christian Universities, and Seminaries have also changed. Yet still, I have a hunch that some things will never change.

If you never went to Bible College this will be all new to you. That's fine because I'll hold your hand and lead you gently. If you're one of the lucky few who did attend I'll be more than happy to indulge your guilty pleasure, you name it. Mrs degrees? Briefcases with no real purpose? Delivering a pretend eulogy while a classmate lays on a table next to you, pretending to be dead? If you have an idea or experience, let me know. Otherwise, let the antics begin!

Someone broke into our house...

Do you ever sit back and wonder what you will do if someone should ever break into your home? Of course you do. Like me you probably imagine that you will be spectacular at defending yourself. No one imagines suddenly morphing into Pizza the Hut. No, maybe you're a Ninja. Or Wonder Woman. Or Jan Crouch from TBN. (Okay, maybe the last one is just me.) In your delusion, perhaps you're strong, or crafty, or exceedingly ambidextrous. No matter because everyone knows that this is a fantasy and this will never happen to you. But then, it does...

Someone broke into our house Friday night. Seriously.

I slept through the entire thing so I feel I have the duty to piece the story together, grossly exaggerating the parts that are unclear to me.

OKAY this all happened really fast, so read really fast and imagine lots of shock and adrenaline:

Dan wakes at 3 a.m. to find a criminal exiting our home. He has taken Dan's wallet and car keys. Dan runs through our front door to find the thief is backing our car down the driveway. Dan runs after him, "GET OUT OF MY CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Then Dan starts running down the street behind the car.

Thief Dude stops the car and gets out, holding his hands in the air. He starts running away. Dan chases him. Then he catches him.

Dan: GIVE ME MY WALLET!

Dude: I don't have your wallet!

Dan: Get back over to my house! NOW!

The guy starts walking back to our house, which is really polite in a felony kind of way. He wasn't a very smart felon, however, because he didn't put our car in park when he got out and started running. Consequently the car was rolling down our street. When Dan went to get it the perpetrator took off. Dan called the police.

No one was hurt. The kids and I slept through the entire thing, including the police searching our home looking for clues. When Dan told me later the next morning, long after it had all happened, I lost it. All the "what if" scenarios washed over me like a wave crashing against a rocky shore. My knees literally buckled under the pressure.

In the limited amount of time I have had to process this, I keep coming back to the idea that I could have lost Dan. I mean, really, my husband chased down someone who was brazen enough to break into our home. There are so many things that could have happened. If I dwell on them too long, the tidal wave crashes all over again. That wave renders me defenseless against the demons of my mind. All the horrible "what if" situations are Satan's way of distracting me from what God did in and around me that night.

His provision is best summed up like this: My kids and I slept peacefully in the midst of real danger. We found safety in the form of pillows, blankets, and the shelter of God. We pray His protection over us all the time, so why should I be surprised that He did just that?

Looking at all of my life I have to wonder about the times I let the "what ifs" rob me of what God was actively doing around me. For me, I can easily get lost in the dungeon of my mind, shackled to fear, or at least indecision. There is nothing Satan would like more than to immobilize me. Being stuck in one place keeps me from moving toward God.

It has taken me a few days to process everything, which is probably normal. But today is Sunday, and it's over. God is here and together we're up and walking.

What about you? Are you stuck, or are you walking it out?

Thanks for a great first week!!!

I think it was the movies of the late 80s and early 90s that ruined me for romance. To this day I'm still waiting for Mr. Idealistic in a trench coat to hold a blaring boom box outside my bedroom window, proclaiming his undying affection. I realize this is asking a bit much, but there are some days I’d settle for a poncho and a clock radio. (The light, the heat…I am complete) But I digress.

As you probably know I've been leaving obnoxious comments on SCL for awhile. Now blogging on my own I've had over 450 of you read my little ramblings in the past 4 days. That has been awesome and I thank you for giving me a chance, and I hope you'll stick around. Your comments are fantastic and I look forward to building up a little community. Again, thank you.

Of all of you who have visited there is one person whose comment completely lit me up inside. It's my husband, Dan.

As I have said before, Dan is very cut and dry. He's not the romantic type, or at least not in the traditional sense. In fact, when he asked me to marry him he gave me a Hulk Hogan doll. What woman could resist that?

The other night we were falling asleep. The house was quiet. I thought the talking was done for the day. But out of nowhere, he said the most romantic words a female sanguine could possibly ever hear: "I think you're pretty funny." Just like that and then he rolled over, pulled up his blanket and went to sleep.

He and I have been laughing together for over 14 years now. As of late, he's read my comments on SCL, probably because I called him - at work - every time I posted one. Imagine me, like a Golden Retriever puppy, jumping and salivating, "Dan! I just left a comment on Jon's site. Want me to read it to you? Do you? DO YOU?!!!!" (After all, who could resist me?)

Come to find out he's my biggest fan. Nobody loves me like my husband. I forget that more often than I should. Don't know why I would automatically assume he's anything less than exactly what God designed for me. When it comes to brass tacks, I know I've definitely married up.

So thanks again for reading! Next week we'll tackle Bible college, or "It's Not Too Late To Enroll Somewhere Else". I'll keep bringing the ranting and raving if you keep reading!!

0-~,

Stacy

Women's Bible Study: A Quiz

Every Tuesday morning I haul my cookies out of bed at 4:45. I put on make up, dress in clothing I chose the night before, and use hair product. This has been my regular routine for about a year. It's admitedly over the top, even for me. But this my friends, This. Is. Bible Study morning. What? What's that you say? Sweet Baby Jesus doesn't care how my hair looks or that I am wearing clothes my kids aren't allowed to touch? Oh no, no, no. You apparently haven't experienced the phenomonon called Women's Ministry.

Ah, Women's Ministry - the place where estrogen and encouragement shake manicured hands over fat free, sugar free frothy carmelattes. I fell all warm and huggy just thinking about it. Oh, I may be quirky but I like me some women's ministry, and throw in a Bible verse and BAM! instant Bible study! Whew, I gotta slow down or I'm going to start stitching a Bible cover any second. Deep breath.

We all know that God did not intend for women to study the Bible alone. We can't even pee in public without girlfriend support, let along deciper God's Word. Knowing which group to join, however, can be a serious crap shoot. So, did you ever wish there were a test, brilliantly assembled and say, on a blog somewhere that could help you in this area? Well, isn't that a coincidence. Here I am to help out.

This is the Which Bible Study Should I Take So That I Don't End Up Hating It & Drop Out Half Way Through Test, or the WBSSITSTIDEUHI&DOHWTT 2008. Below you will find a list of questions. Answer each one according to what, hypothetically, would most appeal to you in a study group.

Okay, go!

What do you bring with you to your study?
a) Scrapbook supplies, stamping supplies, knitting needles and a Bible
b) KJV, a legal pad, 73 different colored pencils, and a commentary
c) Bartles & James in a Scripture Sipper and an OK! Magazine

What characteristics best describe your study group?
a) An enchanting cornucopia of lip liner, brownies, and Crest Whitestrips.
b) Saved. Sanctified. Sword drills on steroids.
c) This is a study? I thought we were going to Starbucks…

Your group meets:
a) Somewhere with big round tables, floral centerpieces, and glue sticks
b) In the sanctuary. On cold, hard pews, of course. This is a Bible study.
c) Come hell or high water. You haven’t had a moment to yourself since last week.

You miss a week. What happens?
a) You never learn how to decoupage
b) Your leader calls, demanding to know why you were absent. You tell her your uncle died. She quotes “let he dead bury their own dead” and highly suggests you show up next week. Or have your Bible dictionary taken away.
c) Miss a week? And give up free child care? I don’t think so.

If you had to compare your study to a game show it would be:
a) The Price Is Right – We’re giddy with anticipation – somebody’s going to win a door prize!!!
b) A game? Studying the Bible is NOT a game. You heathen.
c) Deal or No Deal – no childcare, no deal

You ask for prayer requests. Your group would most likely say:
a) My Aunt’s neighbor’s friend’s dog has worms. You all know how she just loves that dog. I’m a cat person myself, but anyhoo…
b) The new Metro worship leader. His tattoos are obnoxious and he wears a ski cap - and in the sanctuary of all places. For shame.
c) Heavenly Father, please, please let this meeting run long because my twins are teething.

Typically the women in your group wear:
a) It varys. Patchwork denim jackets, sequined holiday sweaters, handmade jewlery, hair product and acrylic nails...
b) Mandatory skirt and blouse, plus a button that says "Nobody Loves Jesuse More Than Me"
c) Maternity clothes, pregnant or not (ok, I appologize for that)

Your group smells like:
a) Sun ripened raspberries with soft notes of sweet baby Jesus
b) old hymnal, squeaky highlighter and holiness
c) ketchup stains and exhaustion, erroneously masked by Wal-Mart body splash

OK, last one...

In you group you are studying:
a) Chicken Soup for the Soul and different ways to say “bless your heart”
b) The Bible. In Greek. And Hebrew. In context, verse by verse.
c) SCL or SFL on your iPhone while someone lectures about…something.

So, how did you score?

Group A: Happy, Happy Jesus Loves You Hugfest

This group would love to meet you!These women are a shiny, sparkly compound of crafts sticks and Bible promise books. Get a group of them together and let the Jesus flow. They meet in a big room filled with food, conversation and sweater sets. Table centerpieces abound, as does encouragement and high pitched laughter. Forget your Bible? That’s okay, the woman next to you has the entire book of Joshua embroidered on her skirt. Need a hug? Prepare to be smashed to the bosom of everyone in attendance. So jump on board the fellow ship and get ready to ride.


Group B: The Holy Alliance of Hermeneutics (or The HAH)

These girls mean business. They would love to meet you, but only after you have gone through a test to assess your highlighter skills. A formal inquisition to evaluate your commitment level is required. These groups attract devoted academics of God’s Word. Have question about Levitical law but you’re not sure where to look? They can tell you. Don’t even know where Habakkuk is? They do. Have questions about salvation? Justification? Sanctification? Pronunciation? Purification? Perspiration? Alliteration? They can quote you book, chapter, verse, and cross references without missing a beat. Homework, attendance, and skirts are manditory. Every other month head covering is optional. So if you're up for the challenge of in-depth Bible study, daily homework, and panty hose, welcome to The HAH.

Group C: Mommy Group

If you have a child, you're in. It's that easy. Many women have been kept from going completely insane from the pangs of motherhood because of this group. This is a safe haven from stick fingers, diapers, whining, and Dora. In spite of their love for Bible study, this group doesn’t do much homework for obvious reasons. Typically there is a group speaker. Topics might include: “Spanking on a Budget”, “Cook for a Day/Eat Out for a Month”, “Sex? Are You Kidding?”, “Kid’s Benadryl: How To Mix It In Peanut Butter”, or “Potty Training: Just Shoot Me Now”. Oh, and did I mention FREE childcare?

For me I have been a member of all three groups at various times. Right now, my Tuesday ritual revolves around me being a member of Group B, The HAH. It's kicking my tail - a 21 month commitment, memorize 70 verses, 6 hours of homework weekly. I have to be at church, in my study room at 6 am, but I'm not going to complain. It's a good thing for me because I am sucktacular at being disciplined.

So what about you? What kind of group study are you in?

Prankfest Vol. II: Bear, Boar & Spear or How To End A Mission Trip

In the summer of 1990 I was a sight to behold. I had a curly perm, a marked up Bible and white Keds with red socks that matched my scrunchie. And, oh yes, I was a Christian. But this time I had a slight edge on salvation because I took a mission trip.

It was a week long stint in inner city Indianapolis. Though only 20 minutes from most of our homes, culturally, it was a world away. We started the week as a shabby, sarcastic, know-it-all group of teens, and ended the week with a resolve to save the world. We decided we loved each other above all else; no matter what, we were family. There were times of sharing, tears, confessions, horrific body odor, and laughter. And we even managed to end the trip without anyone hooking up. Or singing "Friends", which is a miracle in itself.

At the end of the week we went to some one's house who was from our home church. We came over to debrief our trip and swim. This family's home was a stark contrast from the poverty-stricken homes we had been staying in. These folks just happened to be loaded.

Upon arriving we all went to various parts of the house to change into swimsuits. I was assigned to the basement bedroom. The basement doors led out to the pool deck. Everyone going to swim would head down to the basement eventually.

In going through the basement you couldn't help but notice that there were roughly 37 deer, elk, and moose heads mounted on the wall. There were hunting guns proudly displayed. There was a tribal shield and a spear from another country. Certainly not a PETA-friendly room.

The focal point was a massive bear rug. I'm not a bear rug connoisseur, but I think this one was probably exceptional. This had come from a huge animal. The rug had the full head of the bear, eyes open, and teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. It was scary, intimidating and impressive. It was also a source of inspiration.

I turned all the lights off in the basement so it was very dark. But there was one spot light, at the end of the stairs that stayed on all the time. I am certain that light was placed there just for this moment.

I grabbed the bear rug and draped it over my back and head, and looked in the mirror. Spectacular. Really, it was as if heaven opened up and Jesus himself whispered, "Go forth!" So who was I to ignore God?

I crouched beside the stairs, frocked in bear, and waited. Slowly, they approached. Victims one and two, the "cool guys" from the trip.

When they came down the stairs I let out a blood-curdling scream and literally flung myself right into them.

I have never seen such terror on any one's face.

After they regrouped themselves and changed their pants, you could see light bulbs going off in their minds. They looked around the room and decided. We were going to do the same thing, but worse, to every person who came down those stairs. GAME ON!

One guy took a snarling boar's head off the wall and discovered it would fit perfectly over his face. Because of its mounting it would stick out a good 2 feet. Excellent. The next guy took down the shield and spear. The air was heavy with angst and cunning. (And gas. Kevan liked him some bean dip.) I re-bear-ed and took my position. The wild boar was on the other side of the stairs and spear dude was in the shadows.

We were the Three Musketeers of Terror. Jumping out of the shadows like absolute freaks of nature. Oh, we were immature and hateful, wicked people. Which was fantastic. At 15 years old I had never been this proud of myself. What an accomplishment. As groups came down the stairs we scared the living crap out of all the other kids on the trip. The best was the shy girl in our group. She almost cried. I'm not saying this is good, I'm just saying...

But then we heard it... The adults were approaching! Hide! Hide! Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide!

This had to be perfect. The entire group hid. It was our last scare and everyone was counting on us. We quickly amassed what we had learned from pranking everyone else and receded back to our dark lairs, giddy with sweat and anticipation...

Three...
Two...
One...
LUNGE!

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

We were up on them like gang bangers in an alley! A freakish display of bear, boar, and spear! It all happened so fast, but in my mind, it was all slow motion. Especially the part when someone screamed:

"O h S#%@!"

Instantly the room fell deftly silent: our leader's wife dropped the S-bomb!!! That, my friends, was not a mission trip words.

As the boar mask came down and the bear slipped to the floor we all exchanged knowing glances: This. Was. THE part of the week we would carry with us to our grave. At this point, who cared about poverty and drunken homeless people? If you can get an adult - any adult - to drop the s-bomb on a mission trip you go down in infamy. (...or you end up being blog fodder 17 years later, when everyone else has moved on and you are still immature....Duh.)

So, if you have to end a mission trip dropping the s-bomb is a good way to go out on a high note. Yes, there are other words that people like to use to end trips, like, "Amen" or "I love you" or "Good trip, dude". For me, I just happen to like the irony of profanity. But that's just how I roll.

What are your favorite mission trip words? How do you roll? (Don't say something like, "Down a hill. Ha. I roll down a hill. Get it?" Really people. I do have standards.)

p.s. No. I did not know Stuff Christians Like was featuring a mission trip post before I wrote this. I've got nothin' but love for SCL - I'm not a blog spoofer. I'm a stalker, but not a spoofer.

"Mom! I may have sunburn but my hair rocks! Plus, I'm cute. Watch out 2nd grade, here I come!"

Apparently self-esteem isn't in short supply today. Yes, it's a bit obnoxious.

I have no idea where she gets it.

Probably from her dad.

Sunburn on Sunday

Last week my kids spent 8 hours on a pontoon boat. It was hot as snot and on the river it's easy to get sunburn. My daughter has red hair and very fair skin and she got the worst burn of everyone. She was fine with it and never really noticed it, or that it had started peeling, until she went to church that Sunday.

When I picked her up after Sunday School she was quiet and sad. "Mom," she said, "the kids were making fun of my sunburn. It really made me feel bad." Then she started to cry. "I have to go to school on Tuesday. If they made fun of me here, what will they say at school?"

Oh crap. CRAP! For so many reasons...C.R.A.P.!

So many lessons learned in one hour of Sunday school that weren't even part of the curriculum:

1) People at church can be no different that people in the world. They can say mean things, make you cry, and make you scared to face "the real world". (Suckfest Lesson I.)

2) Appearance is more important than what's inside. Yes, I know that part of growing up entails grappling with personal appearance. Kids make fun of noses, ears, freckles, zits, bad hair, braces.... But still. (Suckfest Lesson II)

3) People can turn on you. No matter how nice you have been in the past, no matter if you've been friends before, kids (even adults at times) can be fickle. (Suckfest Lesson III)

Did I have an awesome opportunity to teach her about how God sees us from the inside? Yes. Would this have been a good time to suggest that we pray for the (ingrate, evil, hell bound, unsanctified, idiotic) kids (raised by rabid wolves) in her class? Yes. I could have talked to her about how we all sin, that we have to choose our words carefully, that God still wants us to love others (even if they are voluntarily retarded) no matter how they treat us. Of course I could have done all of those things, because all of those things are core truths.

But in those moments, with the facts of what happened to her swirling around me, I was confronted with all the times I stood in her shoes.

The truth is, I have often found myself being treated worse inside the church building than anywhere else. Am I suggesting that the church has never been a safe haven for me? No, not at all. Rather, what I'm saying is that Christians can be just plain mean, under the guise of "in Christian love".

After the birth of my son I dealt with severe post partum depression. It was the darkest, scariest, most vacant feeling I had ever known. Life was all around me, but I was living death. Like the victim of a horrific calamity whose arms are severed, I lost touch with any of the vitality around me.

It was impossible for those around not to notice the crisis. Women in my Sunday School class certainly noticed, both by observing me and hearing our cries for help. My husband became my advocate, asking women in our church to help me in any way they could. We were dignified, not begging or demanding, just asking for relationships, really. Unfortunately that backfired.

One of my husband's friends called him later the same Sunday that we had asked for help. Apparently a good size group of women clustered together were heard to be saying the following, "I am not going to help her in any way." and "Well of course not, that would only be enabling her laziness." and "It's surely a spiritual problem." Needless to say, any depression I had felt up to that point paled in comparison to the abandonment and isolation that descended upon me. Not to mention the embarrassment. Oh, the embarrassment. So in those moments I reacted. I seared my heart closed. I threw up walls made of steel and concrete and vowed never, never to make myself vulnerable again. Of course that backfired, too. Long after the post partum depression went away, situational depression stepped in. I continued my resolve to keep people out. I refused to invest myself in anyone, ever, out of fear, and sometimes out of sheer hatefulness. Essentially, I was stuck in Suckville for over 3 years.

Am I blaming the situation on everyone else? Absolutely not. I surely had a hand in my own demise. Unforgiveness made a monster out of me. What I am saying is a truth we all know too well: It's not impossible to be hurt by the church. By the same token, it is entirely possible to marinate in unforgiveness until we're so soured by it we lose all perspective. That is what I didn't want to happen to my daughter.

So in those moments when she felt so bad about being teased in Sunday School, I said nothing. I held her while my heart cried along with hers. Over the course of the rest of the day we talked about being careful about how we treat other people. About forgiveness. About the possibility that maybe some kids were just curious about what happened to her. About how to respond if she were made fun of again. Then, we made fun of sunburns and called each other "lizard skin" as we pulled molting skin from her face. Sick, I know, but she laughed. Somehow, it made everything okay.

Yesterday was her first day of school. She was peeling worse yesterday than she was on Sunday...but no one at school said a thing, which is good. But somehow bittersweet.

This is a really heavy post for me. Maybe it strikes a cord for you, too. Of course you're always welcomed to comment but if I might suggest something it would be this. The worst thing we can do is dwell on the past - it's okay to acknowledge past hurts, but setting up camp there will do us in every time. I would hate for this to turn into a bash the church session. Instead, supporting each other is what it's all about, for me at least. I would like to know how you have handled your disappointments, good and bad.

p.s. This MUST be said: God loves us no matter how beat up we are, or even if we're the ones doing the bullying. Truthfully, I've been both people, and I'm not proud of that. Jesus will never smack you sideways, be unloving, or make fun of your sunburn. Don't let the ruin of others ruin you. Forgiveness - and maybe moving on - is key.

p.p.s. "Suckville" and "Suckfest" aren't in the spellcheck. Who knew?

Yo Mama Is...

I do not know your mother. I have not met her but I'm sure she is delightful. I'm sure she is thin, quite beautiful, smart as Oprah and then some, and smells like springtime. If I met your mother I'm sure it would be like skipping through wildflowers, sunlight showering over me while singing "How Great Is Your Mom"(sing with me, how great is your mom...). Yes, it would be just that spectacular.

And I'm sure you feel the same way about my mother. I'll thank you on her behalf. Imagine yummy chicken and dumplings, scrapbooking, and too many knick-knacks rolled into one stylin' heap of hugfest. That's the ray of light I call "Mom". (If anyone ever tells her I described her that way, you're dead.)

So now we're even. We've got nothin' but love for our mothers. Good. Let's move on...

I LOVE "Yo MAMA" JOKES! They're ridiculous and sarcastic and therefore I heart them. It's kind of a giddy little secret that I keep these jokes hidden away so I can have "Yo Mama" wars with friends. When you meet me in heaven I'll still be trading yo mama jokes - but not with Jesus. His mom is off limits for obvious reasons.

I'm always looking for more "yo mama" jokes to add to my arsenal. That's right, I like to keep my guns locked & loaded.

So what I'd like to suggest is that today we have a "Yo Mama" smack down. I'll share my favorite yo mama jokes if you share yours. The ones marked * are the ones I came up with on my own. Extra points if you come up with your own, too. Let's keep it clean.

On my mark....

Get set.....

Go.....

Yo mama is so ugly yo daddy had to tie a pork chop around her neck to get the dog to come to her.

Yo mama is so fat she had to be baptized at Sea World.

Yo mama is so smelly she uses Lysol as deodorant.*

Yo mama is so dumb she signs her comments "Anonymous".*

Yo mama is so greasy you could fry chicken in her armpits.*

Yo mama is so fat she thinks gravy is a beverage.*

Yo mama is so fat she thinks dunkin' donuts is a new water park.*

Yo mama is so dumb she thinks The Food Network delivers.*

Yo mama is so slow it takes her 2 hours to watch "60 Minutes".

That's all I've got. What about you? Don't you have a favorite? This could make history. Let's set the bar high, for posterity's sake. Leave your comment here. Yo mama would want you to.

Why Stacy From Louisville

Well hello! Chances are you've wandered you way over here from my favorite site, Stuff Christians Like. Especially since I did a guest post for Jon Acuff, the site's author, this little blog has taken off. (I highly suggest you check out that post. It's about my observations on Bible College love affairs, which is frightening and crazy rolled into one.)

Many of you have asked me about starting a blog and I have been putting it off. Or, to tell the truth, I've been hiding. It's easy to post comments and talk smack with Jon. Maintaining my own blog that is fresh and original is much harder. Being sarcastic comes naturally to me, but being cool does not.

I'm creative with just enough literacy to make me dangerous. A few days ago, when e-mailing Jon he said the following:

"You are cooler than me, which would be a compliment if I weren't such a dork."

To which I responded:

"No, I am a dork, but a cool dork. Which basically means I have good hair and an annoying personality. My advice to you? Get some hair product, use it, and see if things don't start looking up."

I started commenting on Stuff Christians Like in March (under the guise of "anonymous" no less) and everything just kind of snowballed from there. I kept posting because it released the sarcastic beast inside me. I didn't know what to pick for a user name so since I live in Louisville, KY, Stacy From Louisville was born. I kept leaving comments on that site and Jon contacted me, saying I was famous. He said people loved my stories and he was sure I'd get lots of traffic. So, here I am. And here you are - one way or the other, we found each other. (Reunited and it feels so good...)

Though I post as "Stacy from Louisville" I want you to know that I'm really just Stacy. What I mean is that though I may be ridiculous at times I'm just a normal Believer, wife, and mom. My life has had some pretty rocky pitfalls and I'll share them with you. Then, of course, there are marriage snags, my battle with pride, parenting and the search for God's heart that sometimes leaves me baffled. But all of that is okay. Because there's the other side...

I'm a Bible college grad - I could mock that all day. And will. There's my 4 year run as a sex ed. teacher. Oh yes, I have walked many a school campuses only to hear, screamed from across the lawn, "Hey! Sex Lady!" Then there are my thoughts on church culture, my love for creativity... And life. Plus, I live in Kentucky. Need I say more?

I'm glad you came to visit. Maybe you'll come back. But if you don't I'll still be posting comments on SCL. I'm crazy like that.

I'll always be open to your questions and ideas for blog entries. Help me get the creative ball rolling. Really, it's nice to meet you.