Opinion Posts/Controversial Archives - Page 26 of 26

An Open Letter to A&E

December 19, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

To Whom it May Concern,

I felt almost compelled to write you this letter. I’m angry, sure. But it’s also sadness that infects me over this whole Duck Dynasty debacle. Yes, some may think it’s silly, but I’m having trouble not taking it personally. No, I don’t know Phil Robertson on a face-to-face basis, and I only know him by what he says publicly. And that’s the point. He has been known for speaking publicly the beliefs he holds true. I respect that. But now he is being publicly persecuted for speaking his opinion. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.

There’s more to this issue than homosexuality. Yes, as a Christian I can give you several Bible verses that clearly state why I believe homosexuality is wrong. The Bible, the guide book I use for my life, instructs me in all areas detailing for me as a Christian the things I should not partake in as a follower of Jesus. So basically I know not to have sex with goats while murdering my neighbor and worshipping a gold statue of a bull.

I’m not going to address the multiple number of guidelines and commandments that I believe are put very specifically as right or wrong in the Bible. Today I want to address with you the subject of equality. You seem very interested in equal and fair treatment of all people at the A&E network, and I can really get behind that.

For example, I see your network will not tolerate any comments considered judgmental or demeaning to the LGBT community. If something is said that could possibly offend this group by someone affiliated with your network then you will have them removed, such as is the case with Phil Robertson.

When I served in the US Navy I experienced unfair treatment based on my geographical orientation. I was unfairly treated because I was from the South. Some people assumed that my being from Mississippi meant I was bigoted, close-minded, and racist. This couldn’t be further from the truth. I called this treatment “reverse racism.” I was being treated differently and unequal, and it just wasn’t fair. People put me in a box labeling me “Southern.”

I see this same reverse racism used for the Christian community. People who believe in Jesus and stand by the instruction as put forth in the Bible are being placed in a “Christian box.”

In this Christian box we are being labeled as bigots, close-minded, homophobic, and judgmental. Our persecutors are completely ignoring our strong values of loving every man or woman regardless of their decisions in life. We openly profess our love for others, but also stand firm in what we believe is right and wrong as instructed in God’s word, the Bible. Our acceptance of others is ignored, and instead our personal beliefs of what sin is, this is what is highlighted. It is highlighted and called intolerance. Apparently standing up for what you belief is intolerant of others.

This is reverse racism at its finest. This is unequal treatment and intolerance in a major way. The treatment of Christians and the persecution of the Christian church is offending to our personal beliefs and moral code.

I am a Christian and I am offended! I’m offended that I don’t have the freedom to speak what I believe without being publicly persecuted for it.

I am a Christian and I am saddened that you judge my lifestyle and beliefs as “silly, close-minded, and bigoted.”

I am a Christian and I am angered that you are so intolerant of the values that I hold so dear.

I am a Christian and I’m tired of being treated so unfairly. You’re okay with me as long as I stay inside my church building and keep my mouth shut. But if you publicly ask my opinion, I will be stoned for standing firm in what I believe.

It’s not right. Shame on you A&E. Shame on you for toting tolerance of all, but really only meaning that for a select group.

I have watched for the past decade as people of God are becoming more and more ridiculed. Don’t hate us for standing firm in our beliefs. We don’t hate you. We actually love you. We just desire the same fair treatment you proclaim for all people.

Sincerely,

A Persecuted Christian

That is all

For my regular blog readers: I am still fasting. God is so good. Today is day three and it’s much easier than yesterday. If you missed the beginning of my fasting journey you may find it by clicking here. You can also see what God revealed to me on day two by clicking here. I think you’ll be blessed by my journey too.

3 Facts for the Day (Prejudices in Medicaid?)

December 4, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I’ll just start this with a disclaimer. I’m not claiming to be tackling the subject of Medicaid. That’s a vast topic, with many differing opinions, some quite heated I’m sure. I have decided to simply address one side of Medicaid and the people who receive it. This post is my opinion. Some are going to disagree with me. That’s wonderful. Freedom of speech and the right to your opinion is what makes America so great. Some things about America need work though, such as healthcare. I am not claiming in any way to be an expert on the subject. I also sadly don’t have the answers on what we should do to improve things. I do hope this will bring some biases to light, and perhaps awareness may foster future change. I have had experiences and am choosing to share them to make a central point, one point amongst many available I assure you, in this post. The purpose of this particular post and this specific problem I’m confronting is to bring awareness that it exists and maybe, just maybe change a few people’s opinions and how they react to others. Feel free to comment and share. I encourage a good debate, but there’s no need to be hateful to try and change my mind on how I see things.
When I was pregnant with my first child I was working as a Registered Nurse. The small company I worked for offered private insurance. It wasn’t bad, but I had carried better elsewhere, at larger corporations. The small business was also experiencing financial troubles and all full-time employees had been cut-down to part-time hours. It was mandatory, but supposedly temporary until the company could get back on its feet. I loved my job so I hung in there with everyone else. At this point I was naive and became aware of the inherent medical costs of having a baby. I was not able to pay the outrageous deductible my insurance required, and realized the entire hospital stay would be out of pocket for me. My husband was also temporarily unemployed at the time. It was suggested by a friend to look into pregnancy Medicaid. Even though I was a nurse, my income at the time was low enough that I was eligible. I had been paying into Medicaid faithfully for over 15 years, and I felt it was my only option to afford the costs of having a baby. After being on pregnancy Medicaid your baby is automatically enrolled into Medicaid at birth up until one year. If you want Medicaid after that, your income must be reevaluated. With my second pregnancy I was working for a larger company, full-time, and with excellent health insurance. My husband was also working full-time. So I have had the opportunity to experience my own healthcare and that of my child with Medicaid versus with private insurance. I’ve noticed a few things that are really disappointing. These are my personal experiences. If you are on Medicaid you experience different treatment versus your treatment with private insurance. My first child never saw a physician her first year of life other than as a newborn in the hospital. Every time she was seen it was by a Nurse Practitioner. I have nothing against Nurse Practitioners. Some of my best friends and most trusted colleagues are Practitioners, and they’re very capable. The point is I was told quite plainly by the clinic that the Pediatrician there did not see Medicaid babies. I had no choice but to have my child seen by a Nurse Practitioner. My second child, on private insurance, has seen the Pediatrician every single time. I see big differences in the way I was treated during both my pregnancies. I got appointments sooner and much easier with private insurance. My treatment in the hospital was far superior the second time around. This is no fault of the hospital. I think people just treat you differently when you’re on Medicaid. The first time the woman helping me fill out the birth certificate actually assumed I was not married. When I corrected her she was visibly embarrassed. A few other examples I have experienced personally follow:

I was pregnant at the same time as another female I’m extremely close with. She had Medicaid. I had private insurance. We were both in our second trimester. We both had colds with almost exact symptoms. I made an appointment on a Saturday at an acute care clinic. I suggested she give them a call as well. She called me back and told me they had refused to see her stating since she was pregnant she really needed to address this with her OB-GYN on the following Monday. They certainly didn’t think that was the case with me. I was seen and treated same day.

I have a close friend with a baby similar in age to my youngest. My baby has private insurance. Her child has Medicaid. Not too long ago our babies had very similar symptoms. Again this occurred on a weekend. My child was seen immediately. Her child was not. She was instructed to follow-up with his regular pediatrician. With our children having the same exact symptoms here’s what occurred at my child’s visit.

Blood tests, nasal swab, throat swab, full assessment of baby. Prescriptions called into pharmacy of choice.

Here’s what her son got.

Pediatrician looked into his ears and throat. That’s it. She didn’t even listen to him with her stethoscope. She suggested some nebulizers, but didn’t call any into the pharmacy. No blood work or any other tests for that matter.

There’s a thousand reasons I’m sure someone could come up with for why these children were treated differently. Maybe you could think of a couple reasons why the adult women were treated differently too. And that’s fine. You could even be correct. But I personally believe they were treated differently because of their payer source. I have experienced both resources and I personally feel I had better treatment, better access to care, and better outcomes with private insurance. Occasionally I get frustrated at my rising cost of insurance. I work what’s called part-time eligible, meaning I work part-time hours, but am eligible to purchase insurance from my employer. It is definitely more expensive as a part-time employee. And I’ve experienced rising co-pays and deductibles recently. I’m still paying on my portion of the hospital bill with my second child. It’s hard when both kids get sick. That’s at least $50 in co-pays and never mind what the prescriptions will cost for two! I sometimes miss no co-pay and free prescriptions with Medicaid. But, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I feel my children get better healthcare on my private insurance. I feel blessed that I’m able to afford healthcare for them and that my husband and I are in a place financially where we don’t need to place the children on Medicaid. They get treated differently. Statistics prove that outcomes are worse with Medicaid patients. I have worked in Case Management in the past and have seen this to be true.
I believe there’s a bias to people on Medicaid. I believe they are treated as if they are deadbeats who sit around and drink beer, abuse prescription pain meds, and procreate for the sheer fun of it. People wrongly assume that everyone on Medicaid is abusing the system, laying around on their lazy butts eating their free cheese and not paying taxes. They think women on Medicaid are promiscuous, unmarried, and have several baby daddies. This prejudice, this wrongful assumption of character makes the people who really need government assistance shameful of their position. A lot of people on Medicaid just can’t afford healthcare. They are working full-time or two or three jobs trying to make ends meet. They may not have access to insurance or it may not be offered where they do work. Here in the South there are a lot of small businesses where insurance either isn’t offered or is simply too costly for a family to afford. Some people have children with disabilities and the cost of care is too high of a burden, making government assistance the only plausible option they have.
Point being; good people are on Medicaid. A lot of them may be people you know but they’re too ashamed to mention around you that their children are on Medicaid. They don’t want to see the undeserved disgust in your eyes, so they don’t tell you. This prejudice and judgement have bled into the healthcare system. Yes, Medicaid does generally not reimburse as well as private insurance, and this has a lot to do with biases in care, but I’m afraid a lot of it is personal also. People see Medicaid and they often think: poor, trash, unemployed, degenerate, addicted. Perhaps this is the case sometimes. Perhaps some people abuse the system, but should good people receive bad treatment because of it? Not everyone on disability is lazy, or an alcoholic, or a drug user. Did I come up with that on my own? No. I see the bias in healthcare all around me. Some people experience illness, injury, bad circumstances. You can’t lump everyone into the same negative pool. They don’t deserve it. Next time you think of judging someone, or treating them different, please remember that you don’t know their story. You haven’t walked in their shoes.

I would like to add that I received good healthcare with Medicaid. We live in a wonderful country with some of the best healthcare available. I just felt it was better with private insurance.

That is all 🙂

Original image from etftrends.com

3 Facts for the Day (An Honest Word to the Empty-Nesters)

November 21, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

We’ve all experienced it, the well-meaning comment from an older woman, another mother whose own children have left her nest and all that remains are memories of tow-headed toddlers, and count-down calendars marking the next holiday to bring their big babies home for a few days. I’m not angry first off. I completely understand, and I am not even ready to think about how you must feel, how there must be an empty place in your day that was once filled with chaotic noise, or an empty place on your lap where squirming bodies once sat as you read a book. Maybe it’s not so much empty as it is that there’s just too much room. There’s way too much empty space in the bed, a huge expanse between you and your sleeping spouse because neither one can become accustomed to the lack of little sweaty, kicking bodies dreaming between you. There’s far too much empty time in the day as you dust a shelf and rearrange a glass trinket, turning it just so, and then try to hold back tears when you see the small crack in its side, super-glued back together long ago from a ball thrown haphazardly. Do you remember how you yelled when it hit the floor, how your finger pointed, and you said, “out!”? Do you remember? Do you?
I guess that’s where my frustration lies. I can see where you’re coming from, but can you remember where my struggles derive? Can you see that I’m tired? Do you see the bags under my eyes, placed there by a night of interrupted sleep, piled upon another night, a week, months, even years of not enough rest? Can you understand that I have to clean my house? Yes, I don’t expect it to look like it once did, but I can’t not clean. We would end up tripping and breaking a bone while trying to step over a mound of toys and trash while carrying a paper plate of microwave, nutritionally-lacking food that we dripped onto our already stained clothing. It would be anarchy! Were you yourself so tired once upon a time that your memory has left you, that it has been forgotten with the passage of years? I think deep down you haven’t forgotten, you’ve just made the decision to make those things less, and the good things, the pure things, the hugs, the kisses, the face of a sleeping angel be what stands out in your memory, the photo album of your mind that you page through so often. And I get that. I do. Can you somehow let me know that you get me too?
I see it so often. A tired, frazzled mom will publicly state her frustration, and she is instantly bombarded:

“You’ll get sleep one day.”

“Enjoy them when they’re small. They’ll be big before you know it!”

“They’ll be starting college next week. You’ll see.”

“Don’t worry about keeping a clean house. A house will keep itself. Children will not.”

While we honestly, truly appreciate your advice and expertise on the subject, this is what we hear:

“Your complaining too much.”

“It sounds like you don’t appreciate your children.”

“You are putting your house and your job before your kids.”

“You’re failing at this.”

“They’re going to grow up and hate you. They’ll move away forever!”

While we appreciate your advice to savor their childhood, there’s something I would like to share with you. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re the 1,752nd person to tell us this, and I just mean this week. We know they grow fast. We’re the ones sitting there with wide-eyes and an open mouth, in shock as they shoot up before our eyes, outgrowing pants and shoes. We see them learning to walk, then learning to run, then getting on the school bus, and we’re freaking out enough as it is. What we need is someone to say:

“I understand.”

“Parenting is hard. It’s okay to get frustrated, or angry. It’s okay to complain, to scream.”

“This doesn’t make you less of a mother. It just makes you a mother.”

We want your advice. We really do. But more than anything we need your support. We need you to tell us that we’re doing good, we’re doing really good. We need a hug, not a condescending comment on how we don’t appreciate our children. We do. It’s just tough. We need you to try and remember that part, to remember how hard it was for you once upon a time. Maybe you do remember, and if that’s the case then please, let us know that. That’s all we want to hear, is that it’s okay to be frazzled to the point of crying. We need to hear a “job well done,” because one day they will grow up. One day, and one day too soon I fear, we’ll be the empty-nest mom giving advice to the young mother of a newborn, and we’ll need to know we did our best in the crazy, busy, rewarding job called motherhood.
That is all 🙂

3 Facts for the Day (You’re Raising a Bully)

November 20, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I was skimming through posts on social media today as I rocked my youngest daughter to sleep when I came across a horrific video. It was one of those train-wreck type videos that you don’t really want to watch, but can’t seem to turn away from. In this poor quality clip I watched as three teen girls ridiculed one of their peers. They punched, kicked, pulled hair, and shoved this young girl until towards the end when they forced her to strip naked for the camera, then taunted her as she cried. It was horrible, and it was one of those instances where you wish you could rewind time and forget what you had seen. I was tormented by the young girl’s shame and disbelief for her own plight. Her sagging shoulders spelled out the defeat that her countenance proclaimed for all viral viewers to see. Why?!! I wanted to know. Why do we live in a world where young girls can treat each other like this? Had it always been this bad? Was it worse, or do we simply live in an era where cell phone videos are easily uploaded to the World Wide Web? Either way it upset me that I’m raising girls amidst such ugliness.
Just this weekend I was talking with a group of other parents about my fears for my girls. I seldom use the F word (fear), but it’s really something that fills me with frantic anxiety to imagine my girls experiencing a fate in adolescence like the one I endured. Bullies, mean girls, and the like are things I’ve blogged on before, having personal experience with the topic. I can’t fathom watching either of my daughters go through such a difficult experience. As I spoke this concern to a co-worker he explained his opinion that it was good for kids to be allowed to go through such hardship because it developed strength to deal with adversity, that it showed them the ugliness in this world, and prepared them to deal with it for the rest of their lives. Sounds pretty good doesn’t it? Even I had to agree to some extent at the time, but as I thought of it today it just made me mad. It made me angry and saddened me that my children should go through being the subject of someone else’s mockery so they could grow up and continue to receive such petty behavior from supposed grown women. I got to thinking about that perspective, and maybe that’s part of the problem. We’re so busy training our children to be defensive, to be fighters, to be able to withstand the ridicule of their enemies that we’re missing out on teaching them to embrace the weakness of others, to help a fallen friend, or to give aid to those in need.
I’m afraid to say that we as parents are fully responsible for the state of our children’s future. We are raising tiny bullies, little people we are teaching to keep their guard up, and fight back. While I’m all in favor of teaching your little one to stand up for themselves and not be picked on relentlessly, I think we’re teaching our kids that this is bound to happen to them. We are raising distrustful, pessimistic children who are ready to throw a punch when someone taps innocently upon their shoulder. In place of teaching the character of Jesus who helped the needy and saw the best in people amongst the worst of people, we are teaching them there is no such thing as good people anymore. They are on the look-out for bullies at every corner, watching in anticipation for someone to say something cruel, and waiting with baited breath to respond in their own defense for such hateful, yet expected behavior. We are working our hardest to toughen up our children, make their skin thick so they can’t be hurt. In our quest to prevent harm to our kids, we are forgetting to teach them how to be soft. We’re missing out on showing them sensitivity, empathy, and self-sacrifice for someone else. We’re raising kids that know how to defend themselves, but have no clue on how to embrace someone who is hurting. They know how to stand with a raised fist, but not how to bend down and extend a hand to the kid laying on the ground. We’re teaching our kids how to survive a cruel, heartless world, but not how to change that destiny. They know how to respond to a bully, but not a friend in tears. It’s cliche, but there needs to be more lovers, and less fighters. Instead of raising kids who can fight against adversity, perhaps we should raise them to change it, to embrace instead of push away, to give a helping hand, rather than a guarded one. We are responsible for our children’s future. We are molding who will fill the world they inhabit.

I saw this on social media as well, and loved it immediately.

That is all 🙂

3 Facts for the Day (Lest You Be Tempted)

November 16, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I am about to tell you something that you’re not going to like very much. You probably either don’t believe it, or you don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to tell you anyway.
I believe you are capable of cheating on your spouse. I think you have the ability within you to commit adultery. I think we all do. Now before you get angry, shake your head, and stop reading, give me a chance to explain.
I remember an incident in my previous marriage. My husband, at the time, was away on business. His government job often took him to California for a week or so at a time. I recall one such trip he was going to be away during a big football game for his favorite NFL team. He planned to catch the game in his hotel room. As we spoke on the phone about it he told me his plan to get a case of beer and invite a female co-worker (who also loved the Bears) to watch the game with him in his room. As you can imagine, 1000 miles away, over a phone connection, my heart leaped into my throat. I suggested to him that scenario might not be appropriate. He immediately agreed and said, “You’re right. That might not look good to our other co-workers.” He just didn’t get it. I wasn’t worried about how it looked to them. I was worried about how it looked to me. I was unaware at this time of his unhappiness in our relationship so I had no reason to suspect infidelity, whether he committed it or not. All I knew was that it might not be a stellar idea to place himself in that situation.
I remember a lesson I was taught when I was in a Discipleship Training School. The much respected leader of our school spoke to us that day. I don’t recall the specific subject matter being taught, but I do remember what he said. He was married with two children. He stated it was a happy marriage of eleven years and I had every reason to believe him. Some couples you can see the way their eyes twinkle when they look at each other, or the way their fingertips linger on each other when they end an embrace, and you just know that they’re madly in love. This was how I saw that dynamic leadership couple. As he stood before our class that day he revealed,

“I’ve never cheated on my wife. I’ve never thought about it, nor have I ever wanted to, but I think I could. If given the right circumstances, I think I probably would. I love her more than anything, so I’m going to make sure those circumstances never exist.”

At the time I remember being shocked and a little disgusted. I couldn’t imagine him admitting such a thing or even thinking it. I wasn’t married then. Now I am. For the record, I love my husband more than anything. I cannot imagine being unfaithful to him, but I also know I’m human. I know temptation is all around us, and it’s waiting to attack Godly marriages, or any marriage for that matter. Even Jesus was tempted. He won against temptation, but He’s the Son of God without sin. I, on the other hand, am definitely not. I don’t choose to go out drinking beer with my buddies anymore. I’m not knocking or judging anyone who does. It’s just not something that is good for my family or me. I can look back and see why I enjoyed it so much though. While out in a crowd, under the influence, I felt like a sexy beast. I was confident, outgoing, and an incredible comedian in my altered opinion. I was flirtatious and perhaps a bit promiscuous. Just being honest. And I’m being so transparent to make it clear that some situations usher in temptation. Some situations give it a welcome mat right at your front door. Other times, it’s a bit more tricky. Other times it sneaks in a back window, temptation disguised as a well-meaning friend, someone to listen to you, a shoulder to cry on, perhaps even a member of your congregation. This is why it’s so important to not allow a situation where you might be tempted.
Every Christmas I buy red and green M&Ms and put them in a tree-shaped dish by my front door. I put it out last night. I noticed pretty quickly that my three year old was sneaking back to that dish over and over. I instructed her to ask me first. Then I instructed her strongly, “No more candy!” She just couldn’t help herself. I had no choice but to move the dish out of her reach before she made herself sick.
It’s beyond a kid and a candy dish, but I think we’re at risk of making ourselves sick, our marriages sick, our souls sick. I think if we allow ourselves to be in a tempting situation, we can fall. I can’t for the life of me imagine doing such a thing, hurting my husband, our marriage, our children, but I’m not going to set myself up for failure either. I’m not going to test my strength and resolve to the limit when the stakes are so high. For marriages to stand untarnished they must be treated with utmost regard, handled with tender hands like the fragile and precious gift they are, not taken for granted and left out in the elements to weather the storm.

Mark 14:38
Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

You don’t think it’s in you to commit adultery? Good. Prove me wrong. I dare you.

That is all 🙂

3 Facts for the Day (The Abandoned Call of Fatherhood Edition)

November 14, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

Not to long ago I cared for a man just a couple of years younger than myself. His reason for hospitalization was based on poor decisions he made for his life which is often the main reason of injury or illness in thirty-somethings. I don’t say that with any hint of judgement. It’s merely a statistical fact. Anyway, we spoke at length as I’m prone to do with my patients. Upon conversation, he shared with me that he had two daughters. The firstborn he stated was nine years old. He then shared that he had not seen her since birth. Naturally curious, I pursued further on the specifics of such a tragic situation in my eyes. I can never be certain of the full capacity for truth in these matters, especially when the person in question is coming off of mind-altering substances. He gave many reasons why he couldn’t see his daughter, and I’d honestly be lying if I said I felt any of these excuses were valid. A reason like geography or the mother’s dislike of you is not a good reason to never see your child in my personal opinion. I wasn’t angry at this young man. I was simply sad. I was upset for him, and the lost relationship with all the beautiful things that entails that he was missing, and I was also upset for the poor young woman who did not know her father.
When I become aware of a situation like this, I take it personally. I can’t help it. I think of my own biological father. He was a man who sadly cared only for himself, and any other human being always ran a distant second place. My childhood memories with him are of broken promises, his constant, repeated absences, and unfortunate situations like stealing my birthday money to buy cigarettes. I don’t think men are aware of the lofty position they are ordained by God when they father a child. God places men in a position over their children where they are expected to exemplify to the best of their ability the characteristics of our Father God in Heaven. They are to be a protector, a provider, a fortress of strength, a place of unconditional love where their children may find comfort and rest. When this role is not fulfilled, it sets the child up for future failure, being uncertain of themselves, and lacking in an example to serve them throughout their adult life. Young girls, I believe, are especially affected by this lack of earthly father love. They feel rejected, unworthy of love, and will have a poor example of a man’s character with which to base on future relationships. I was gifted by God with a second chance to learn these precious examples. He placed another man in my life to step into a father’s role. Many women never have that opportunity, and in my opinion are left lacking an example of strong character for future choices in a mate. I also believe there is an empty place in their life that they may try to fill in unhealthy ways. I think they will always feel a sense of rejection and unworthiness due to their father’s absence. My own biological father was eager to relinquish parental rights for me in the face of impending medical bills. Although it was for the best, as I was adopted by my loving dad, I honestly still have issue with his quickness to abandon a relationship with me. It’s something God has worked with over time, and continues to do in my life.
As I spoke with my patient, I explained to him my own feelings of rejection from my biological father. I urged him to work on himself, change his life for the better, if not for himself, then for his little girls. I warned him that she would be forever affected if he continued to accept a nonexistent relationship with his daughter, that one day she would wonder why he didn’t try harder. Men have a weighty responsibility placed upon them when rearing a child. It is not for the faint of heart, or for the non-committed. It is the highest position, the most important job you will ever be given. The outcome of your efforts will influence a generation, and make or break the future for them. It is not a task to be taken lightly, but a calling of utmost importance to mold young minds, protect hearts, and build-up spirits. I only pray that more young men will see the gravity of their actions, the responsibility that has been placed upon them, and the ramifications if unwillingly to take their role seriously. God gave fatherhood as a reflection of His love. It can’t be taken lightly. The children will suffer.
That is all

I would like to add that I am aware that men are not the only parent who can shirk their responsibility. Though I can’t imagine such a thing, and cringe at the thought, I am sadly aware that some women are capable of neglecting the responsibilities of being a mother, the best gift God ever gave to me. I chose to write this blog mainly on the absence of a father because that is what impacts me personally. It is not meant to imply that only men leave. That being said…
That is all, again.

3 Facts for the Day (Bad Reputation Edition)

November 8, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I recently posted a blog about the South, toting its positive attributes. I received a lot of feedback, mostly positive. One comment, though, really stuck with me. I kept going back to it in my head, not because it angered me, but rather it saddened me. It spoke of Southern churches negatively, and stated the ones the writer had encountered were void of the Holy Spirit. Ouch. I got to thinking about that, and I came to a conclusion folks. We have done this to ourselves. I’m sorry to say, but we alone are responsible for the bad reputation Southern Christianity has acquired. Only we could be responsible for taking a well-meaning phrase like, “Bless her heart,” and turn it into an insult. I even used it in my blog that day! I would like to convince you all that I truly wished blessed hearts on everyone, but that will not change the negative connotations that have come to follow the phrase. As I pondered on the mess we have created of Southern hospitality and Christianity, I was reminded of Olympia Dukakis in Steel Magnolias. In one scene she comments:

“Well you know what they say, if you don’t have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me.”

I always got a good laugh out of that scene as I’m sure most of you do too. But when you really think about it, is that the personality you want to portray?

When I became a Christian my life changed. It didn’t happen overnight, but slowly God began to change my character, and convince me to treat others in a way that He could be proud of, and in a manner that was reflective of Christ. I think we miss the mark on that a lot. I know I do. I’m guilty of looking at someone by outward appearance and making a snap judgement. I try not to, but I slip. We all do. The problem is we’ve been slipping way too much. This may make you angry. This may convict you. I don’t know. What I do know is that it has to stop. We are ruining our family name. When I say our family name I mean so much more than a simple surname bestowed upon us here on this earth. My maiden name is Graves. I love my family, and I love where I came from, but I’m here to tell you that my last name doesn’t mean a thing. It doesn’t define who I am or who I will become. That’s a big problem in our geographical region, the South, and it’s one reason we are so judgmental and hypocritical of our brothers and sisters in Christ. We look at something as silly as a name and think that defines who someone is. It doesn’t. My name doesn’t define me. What defines me is my adoption into the family of God. When I dedicated my life to Jesus I became reborn, and I got a new name. People forget that, and instead focus on who someone’s earthly daddy might be and where he works, rather than rejoicing that y’all have the same Heavenly Father. Or perhaps we look at outward appearance. “I can’t believe she wore that to church?!” If you are focusing too much time on the outfit you are clothing your outward body with then you are wrong! The focus should be how you clothe your spirit. We should desire this:
Proverbs 31:
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future.
26 When she speaks, her words are wise,
and she gives instructions with kindness.
27 She carefully watches everything in her household
and suffers nothing from laziness.
28 Her children stand and bless her.
Her husband praises her:
29 “There are many virtuous and capable women in the world,
but you surpass them all!”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last;
but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.
31 Reward her for all she has done.
Let her deeds publicly declare her praise.
It seems that the way we have decided to look at others, judge others, treat others, that this behavior is hindering our walk with God. It is also sabotaging our relationships with others. Sadly, it is chasing people from the church. It is giving us a reputation of a bigoted congregation, an empty building where God does not dwell. I hope that breaks your heart as it does mine. Love. This is what we need. This is what God asks of us. He asks us to love one another. We when are unable to follow this one simple command, He cannot live in us. When the hate, envy, and spite is taking up too much room, He is unable to set up residence. The devil seeks to destroy the church of God, and we are making it easy for him. We are allowing him into the house of God through our hearts, our hearts set on judging others. Lost souls seeking Christ’s love will not find it by way of our squinted eyes and pointing fingers. We have to lay that down. We have to lay down our petty ideals at the alter, clean the spaces of our hearts of all the trifling gossip, and make room for Jesus’s love, make our hearts a dwelling place for His spirit so that His light will shine from us and beckon the lost, the hungry, in essence our brothers and sisters, to join us in God’s house to celebrate His goodness. We have built an awful reputation for ourselves, and it’s going to take a lot of work to change things, but we have to do it. We need to do it. Let’s start now!
That is all 🙂

3 Facts for the Day (Southern Pride Edition)

November 6, 2013 by brieann.rn@gmail.com

I can remember when I received my first blatant comment concerning my Southern heritage, and I recall the surprise and hurt that came with it. From the moment I was hustled off the bus to be processed into my new life in the military, it would start. I saw the amused expressions when people heard my accent, or even the audible snicker when I answered their question and they repeated back, “Mississippi, huh?” I would quickly grow tired of people asking me to repeat myself simply so they could derive pleasure from my pronunciation, and I would especially dread the repeated question from everyone I encountered, “Where are you from?!” In bootcamp I easily managed to nail down the highest scholastic scores of not just my company, but every single one on base. This score earned me the reward of extra minutes to call home, a Letter of Commendation, and my mom a special seat next to the Commanding Officer at my graduation. (I may be bragging a little, but it all goes along with the story at hand.) All the different award winners were recognized at our pass and review (graduation) by marching in a separate formation. At practice for this ceremony, I was confronted by a superior. He asked the question that I had become so accustomed to, “Where are you from?!” (I seriously put the exclamation point because that was how people asked it.) Then he asked what award I had received. When I answered, he commented with, “I didn’t realize they made smart people in Mississippi!”
His comment was simply the beginning of many I would receive over the years I spent away from the South. I became accustomed to reverse racism and snap judgements made at face value, all which assumed I was an ignorant bigot. It was assumed that since my speech was slow that I also had a mental delay. I was also branded a racist, intolerant of any and all minorities. I had always been careful to articulate my words. This was something my mother had taught me from a young age, explaining to me that a southern drawl sounded ignorant. (Y’all forgive her. She was a Yankee at the time and didn’t know better.) We had arrived down south from California and she was not very keen on our surroundings. We expected to stay briefly, get back on our feet, and return to bigger cities, far away as soon as we were able. Something strange happened though. The warmth of the South, both in weather and the hearts of the people there, drew us in to its charm. She would grow to love it, and be unable to leave even if she wanted. We became Southerners. Still, she tried to instill speaking properly to me, to help prevent future assumptions of ignorance. All her instruction was for naught it seems, for once I found myself up north, my articulation and purposeful pronunciation only served to draw more attention to my Southern accent. I’m surprised I didn’t try wearing a banner that read, “I have a 4.0 and my best friend is black.” I was that desperate to be seen for more than my Southern roots, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, regardless of what I did.
I realized that people would see me as they wished. If you want to see the majority’s opinion of the South simply turn on a major news network and watch their stories from Mississippi or Alabama, complete with on-the-scene interviews. They could interview ten people, but will choose the one individual with the slowest speech and thickest accent who says the most inappropriate thing. They do this because it fits into their stereotype. (I’ve come to discover, though, that stupid and hateful is everywhere, not simply one region.) When I moved back home to Mississippi I realized something profound. I realized that I was fine with that. It was okay if they saw me as slow and insignificant. I realized I could smile sweetly while they underestimated me for I knew the truth. I had been around the world and I had seen it. I had seen that while we are stereotyped as the most hateful people, intolerant of differences, that we are truly the most loving. I had experienced a break-down on the side of the road in both places, and I knew down south is where ten people would stop and offer to help. When you sneeze in Mississippi, people will say “God bless you,” and they’ll offer you their last tissue. Your neighbor will be late for work to watch and make sure your kid gets home from the bus stop safely. People in town may know all your personal business, but nine out of those ten will pray for you rather than simply gossip. If you need a ride, or a baby sitter, or a hand moving an old refrigerator, it will be easily found. It may be called the Bible Belt, but I reckon that’s okay with me. I don’t mind being surrounded by God fearing folks. It’s where I know I can raise my children safely, and not be afraid. If God brings revival to our Country, I think it will originate from the South. Don’t you? I don’t try to hide my accent anymore. I wear it proudly, savoring its sweetness like a glass of ice cold tea (sweet of course). I’m not ashamed of where I’m from, but proud that God thought enough of me to place me here. If you’re thinking about going up North, well, go on. We’ll be waiting for you when you come back. If you’re a Northerner, and you’re tired of all the fuss, come on down, but don’t underestimate us. We’ll accept you as our own. After all, you chose to come to Heaven on earth.
That is all 🙂