Hers was the last bootie shaking.  Through the din of the crowd’s cheering and whistles, you could barely hear the fading lines of Billboard’s #1 hit, Eye of the Tiger, before the contest was over and the redneck crowd erupted in unanimous thunder, announcing its winner by shouting our roommate’s name.  It was the same cacophonous pitch we heard most every Friday night after the Best Bootie Contest in the muggy Coyote Ugly bar we hung out at in South Texas in the fall of 1982. 

“RUTH-IE!  RUTH-IE!  RUTHIE!”

I was going to a Christian college in the Bible belt, and as one of a handfull of rowdy party girls on campus, a few of us had hooked up and decided to rent an apartment together.  Funny how partiers always find each other.   (”Do not be misled:  Bad company corrupts good character.”  1 Cor. 15:33)

Denise was our ringleader.  She came from such a long line of respected HPU alumni and donors that her last name was minted on an entire dormitory.  Her parents were divorced, and I’ll never forget her showing me a picture of herself at the beach around kindergarten:  wet ponytail, little pot belly, and a smile as big and warm as the state she grew up in.  Her mother had written in capital letters, red ink “SUCK IT IN HONEY!” on the bottom, and after I met her in Fort Worth, I  don’t think the woman came up with another original criticism throughout Denise’s entire trek through puberty.

Lisa came from big money too.  Her father owned a chain of tractor dealerships, and when I would go home with her for breaks, they insisted on paying for everything.  “Southern hospitality.”  Lisa eventually moved out - had to.  Her mother disapproved of us and was cutting off the money if she didn’t.  And aside from her laughing in my face when I told her my hair wasn’t bleached (it wasn’t back then) and pinching her shoulders around us like we had a communicable disease, in hindsight I don’t really blame her.  I have a vivid memory as an 18 year old sitting lamely on the couch, watching the profile of Disapproving Mom cart out the boxes, and thinking “Dang.  You could practically ski off that nose.  If I had all that money, I’d look up a surgeon.” 

In hindsight, Lisa was probably the brains of the bunch.

I chose HPU for 2 reasons:  One, I knew the Baptist bent would make my mother happy, and two, it was conveniently located in Texas - about as far away as I could get from her. 

Denise, Lisa, Ruthie and I were as different as chalk from cheese, and how we all ended up together only God could manage.  The only thing we did have in common was that we fit into a conservative Baptist college about as well a white glove fits in a pig pen.  Because deep down we all felt dirty.  For different reasons.  But as it turned out, Ruthie kept filthier secrets than most.

This is for Ruthie.

(to be continued)

“…Author of life…” Acts 3:15

“…Author of salvation…” Hebrews 2:10

“…Author and Perfector of our faith…” Hebrews 12:2

Aside from my lessons in rich character study from the Bible, the Author of My Life has also seen fit to deeply impress me with a host of characters from reading classic literature over the years.  I have a unique collection of novel “friends” - favorite characters from classic books and authors - that are somewhat of a community group, as it were, of my own.  The pen of fabulous writers have written characters who to this day polish, challenge, rebuke, correct, and train me in righteousness in more ways than I could articulate.  Although never a replacement for my favorite Author, classic works nevertheless have had a tremendous (more…)

So Johnny Depp is my favorite actor, and Sweeney Todd is the first play I ever remember going to in my life, at the Follies in Virginia City, Montana.   I had lost my first tooth, which means I was around 7.  Yeah, I know, my mom was slightly gothic too.

So, of course this is where Fandango and I meet for advance tickets.

So, aside from all the criticisms and gothicism and icky isms we can banter, I am totally thinking of Wendy’s posts as I watched the character of Mrs. Lovett unfold, namely,

“…the temptation will be to meditate on your loneliness and become fixated on the circumstances surrounding your singleness.  You need to be distracted from that self-centered mental path.”

Uh, you go girl.  Just spelled it out for the character of Mrs. Lovett, brilliantly portrayed by Helena Bonham Carter.  See her face above?  Captured.  Completely “fixated” “distracted” and on a “self-centered mental path”, because she is lonely, and follows Sweeney Todd into his evil spirals.   Mrs. Lovett has a good heart, but becomes an accomplice to heinous acts, all in the name of loneliness. 

Dear, sweet, precious, innocent, lonely young (and seasoned) single women who love Jesus:  Take note:

Loneliness that is not submitted to Jesus can be a gateway for the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.  You may be astounded at the compromises you make.  You will be heartbroken.  You will feel numb.  You can live years in feigned happiness while satan weaves an unsuspecting web, culminating in sticky, unprecedented agonies while trying to escape. 

Men who don’t love Jesus are just Sweeney Todds in the end. 

And, just like the final act in the play and movie, you play with fire, you get burnt.   Attested.  Please listen to us.  Review the posts, starting with In the Waiting, and think about this:

“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.”  Luke 5:16

“God sets the lonely in families {churches and community groups?} , He leads forth the prisoners with singing; but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.”  Psalm 68:6

“Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.”  Psalm 25:16

“I will never leave you nor forsake you.”  Joshua 1:5 / Hebrews 13:5

Oh, so much better to be “alone” (as if you can be with Jesus) than in bad company, my friends. 

So the esthetician is chatting away as I’m getting my brows waxed, and my brain hiccups after her comment about, “…as your skin matures…”.  I hearing nothing she says after that.  “As I mature?  My skin matures?  What are you saying?”  The light-bulb comes on (more…)