in and of the world: part 1

Quickly... I have lots of excuses for not posting in a month and only posting once in October. Feel free to ask about them on your own time. Now I have some venting to do!

A couple of weeks ago (actually, I think it was on my birthday), Dad took Waylon and I to the Briarwood girls' volleyball playoff game. Overall, it was a great experience. Fun, glory-day memories are in that civic center. I played on two volleyball state champion teams in that arena and one almost-champion team. Those were the days. sigh.

Waylon had a big time. Lots of balls. Lots of noise. Lots of crazy (crazy-young looking) high school kids doing crazy things. Lots of Grandpa.

Our day was overshadowed by an unfortunate offense. We noticed the ghastly-short cheer leading uniforms (how could you not) when we trekking from the car to the door. Dad and I were both taken aback at the amount of thigh hanging out of the girls' "skirts". Much to my dismay, embarrassment, shame, disappointment, DISGUST, the front of the uniforms read no other than "Briarwood Christian."

Awesome.

I can not begin to word for you what I was feeling and thinking at that very moment, or even this very moment (though rest assured, I will try.) A flood of things was running through my head then. Among them (beyond what I've already mentioned) was asking the girls how they could wear those uniforms with that name on them and feel like an accurate representation of Christ; or maybe asking, at least, when those uniforms came into play (cause it sure wasn't when I was there); or suggesting they please tie those wind breakers around their wastes as long as we were behind them to protect my one-year-old son's baby eyes from seeing something he shouldn't see for a long, long time; or asking the darling girl with her skirt half-way unzipped what she might be attempting to accomplish with this; or maybe asking at least one of them what, if those skirts could talk, did she think they would say... I had some ideas for her if she couldn't come up with some of her own. There were lots of things, and this was only in the parking lot.

Inside, the games were running over so we were subjected to the faux-pas for an extended amount of time. Now, don't get me wrong. I KNOW this is what EVERYONE ELSE is doing. I KNOW this is how the COLLEGE girls cheer. I KNOW this is probably what PUBLIC SCHOOLS are promoting, without the weight of a CHRISTIAN name to bear and a CHRIST-WITNESS to present. I KNOW these things.

Truly, the person or people I really wanted to approach once we were inside were the cheerleader moms. Yes, the ones holding the extra pom-poms and embroidered bags.

"Excuse me, ma'am," I might say. "I was wondering if you might put into words for me the exact image you think your precious daughter is portraying at this very moment. Could you tell me what you think those skirts might say if they could talk? Cause your daughter couldn't. Or could you tell me, sitting in these stands as a proud parent of one of these doll-girls, that you would love for Jesus to come sit right beside you so you could point out which set of thighs belongs to your daughter. What might his response be? Would he be as proud as you? Would he say, 'My my, those are some handsome thighs. Perhaps she should roll that skirt a time or two so we could see a little more.' Is that what He might say? Do you, ma'am, think you and your daughter and your family and your friends and your school here, or there, or anywhere are accurately representing our Lord and Savior and everything that HE stands for and everything that HE did? Because something in me, actually EVERYTHING in me, says you are not. All of you are not."

I might say something like that to her.

I seriously want to write a letter to whomever is in charge at that blessed school these days. What a pity. What an absolute shame and embarrassment to say that is where I went to school.

What a hypocrite. What an unimaginable way to finally turn away all of the lost whose best attack on the Christian church today is that it is full of a bunch of hypocrites. They would be right about many churches, especially in Birmingham where it is mostly a social scene and an economic fill-in-the-blank of what many church-goers want to appear to be... and they would be right about BCS. And I am so sad.