Day 7 In Kentucky
Hard to believe that I've already spent 7 days in God's Country. Only 4 more days to go. Then it's back to the land of grocery stores that don't sell loaf bread and horns that don't stop honking. Before I forget, thank you for the prayers on behalf of nephew Jack. When they cut him open to excise the cystic mass that was in his neck, its size had shrunk from the last doctor visit. It looks like everything will be just fine. And with some very visible stitches, he has become quite popular with the girls in his age group (about 9). I guess the young ladies are impressed with the ruggedness that comes with stitches and scars and things.
Speaking of honking horns, until Wednesday (two days ago), I hadn't heard a single, solitary horn blow since arriving in the beautiful south. Then on Wednesday, my mother and I were pulling into a liquor store parking lot to buy a last-minute Christmas gift. The lady in the car in front of me was blocking the entrance for no particular reason that I could determine. Suddenly I hear a horn blow. A strong, dual-tone horn that meant business. You could tell that this horn had hair on its chest and ice-water in its veins. The lady looked around, over her left shoulder, with a look of fear that one might see on the face of a novice rollerblader in Central Park headed into the horse-carriage area by mistake. Then I looked down for a second and realized that it was my hand on the horn button of my mother's gasoline-efficient SUV. Egads! My New York driving had invaded Bowling Green, KY!
In retrospect I realize that, likely, the lady was not afraid of the horn per se, but rather she was afraid that she had been spotted by someone who knew her and knew that she was most certainly not the type of lady to be seen patronizing a liquor store. I make this conclusion presuming that she is a Baptist. That's a reasonable conclusion based on population demographics. And, you see, Baptists don't drink alcohol.
That is, Baptists don't drink alcohol...in front of other Baptists.
Speaking of honking horns, until Wednesday (two days ago), I hadn't heard a single, solitary horn blow since arriving in the beautiful south. Then on Wednesday, my mother and I were pulling into a liquor store parking lot to buy a last-minute Christmas gift. The lady in the car in front of me was blocking the entrance for no particular reason that I could determine. Suddenly I hear a horn blow. A strong, dual-tone horn that meant business. You could tell that this horn had hair on its chest and ice-water in its veins. The lady looked around, over her left shoulder, with a look of fear that one might see on the face of a novice rollerblader in Central Park headed into the horse-carriage area by mistake. Then I looked down for a second and realized that it was my hand on the horn button of my mother's gasoline-efficient SUV. Egads! My New York driving had invaded Bowling Green, KY!
In retrospect I realize that, likely, the lady was not afraid of the horn per se, but rather she was afraid that she had been spotted by someone who knew her and knew that she was most certainly not the type of lady to be seen patronizing a liquor store. I make this conclusion presuming that she is a Baptist. That's a reasonable conclusion based on population demographics. And, you see, Baptists don't drink alcohol.
That is, Baptists don't drink alcohol...in front of other Baptists.
posted by Michael Vernon at Friday, December 26, 2008
2 Comments:
Yes, exactly! That gave me a laugh.
But now for a true teetotaler:
My mother would never even cook anything with alcohol in it, let alone drink it; she still doesn't. I once asked "why?" since the alcohol cooks out of the dish and there is no inebriating effect.
Her answer was twofold: one, as a Christian, she could not, with a good conscience, support the distilleries whose key function is to produce products that lead to the ruin of life, whether of the drinker or his family or victims; and two, when we set an example of our Christian principles before those of other Christians or even unbelievers, we have to avoid even what could be contrived as the appearance of evil; thus, she would never want to be caught entering, within, or exiting a liquor store because it might lead some other person to believe that she believed the consumption of alcohol for inebriation was acceptable. She still believes that all consumption is wrong...like the Baptists, only more conservative.
Her reason were based on these verses, which were frequently employed in our house. From James 4:17: To him who knows what is right, and does not do it, to him it is sin; and from Romans 14:12-14: So then each of us shall give account of himself to God. Therefore let us not judge one another, but rather resolve not to put a stumbling block or a cause to fall in our brother’s way."
Okay, fine, so you don't want others to mistake your character by frequenting the liquor store; that I understood. But this behavior of watching out for our fellow brethren who might not know better went so far as to preclude us from going to restaurants that served beer or wine (namely, Pizza Hut!) which I thought was patently idiotic, and I regularly expressed my disdain for said policy. I mean, why would someone naturally jump to the conclusion that you were having a glass of beer with your pizza unless they actually saw you drinking the beer? I could see the point for not patronizing the liquor store, since you're only going there for one thing...but pizza? Come on!
While she eventually relaxed her prohibition on patronizing restaurants serving alcohol, you would still never find her within 500 yards of a liquor store.
Now I love my mama, but I figure that people will just have to think better of me than being an alcoholic when they see me leaving the liquor store.
As you can see, the verses were burned into memory, but as you well know, I do not hold to those same principles! :-)
How did your church get its communion wine?
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