"Our Daddy's Taught Us to Reload"

If you have never held a rifle pointed into a cloudless sky and yelled "pull," chances are, you were not born in the South. By the time I was twelve, I had learned to lead the sight on a rifle the length of a loaf of bread when partaking in the hobby know as skeet shooting. With the gun against my shoulder and the barrel of the rifle sight staying ahead of the clay pigeon, I pulled the trigger. And BAM! It was blown to smithereens. This is known as skeet shooting. (No birds or other animals are involved.) 

Our Daddy's taught us to reload. We were taught to respect, not fear, guns. When I grew up, my father and uncle owned a gun club. They held competitions for skeet shooting throughout the year. This is where I learned how to handle a rifle and shoot skeet.

The the most memorable event was a men's only, once a year event hosted by the two of them. It was by invitation only with all the free beer, calf fries, and French fries the men could eat. Serious and just for fun shooting competitions were held. Each year, it lasted into the wee hours of the morning. In this world, securing an invitation was like getting a table at the Oscars. Most of all, it was for bragging rights and provided a year full of stories and good times to be told and remembered.

The young girls in our community learned early how to handle, reload and shoot rifles and handguns. Of course, all this was done in full make-up with a smile on our faces.  Hair coiffed and done up because, after skeet shooting, the girls would load up in the new Cadillac to go shopping at Smith's department store in the "city."  That was the way of women in the South when I grew up. And it was wonderful.

The hazards of smoking are now well known, but when I was growing up it was acceptable and trendy. I mean, have you ever seen smoke flowing from a woman's nostrils as she looks down her nose at another person? It is a sight to behold! One you will not forget. A grown man could be reduced to a puddle on the floor. 

Rich, poor or in between, there is a southern pride in men, women and children born and raised in the deep South. If you were not raised here, it could be challenging to understand. With a cup of Folger's coffee and a Salem cigarette in a crystal ashtray, the problems of the day floated away with the plume of smoke.  

The lip print and color of red lipstick on the cigarette butt was as incriminating as a fingerprint. Not all southern ladies smoked, but they did wear make-up and lipstick. Whether they were the "old sisters" my Dad had to dance with (previous blog) or had a day of hard labor ahead of them, they were put together. Ready to meet the day head-on like the steel magnolias we were raised to be.

The meanest thing I ever heard my grandmother say about another woman was, "Oh, Honey, she doesn't primp." She made a face like she had seen or smelled something very offensive. A woman's station in life did not matter when it came to whether she was presentable in the community. Or whether she was accepted. One of my earliest memories is that a pencil skirt, Hanes hosiery, and a pair of high heel alligator shoes would take you places few dared to dream.

Our Daddy's taught us to reload and our mothers and grandmothers taught us to cook. If you have never had a homecooked meal from a southern kitchen...Well, you have missed one of nature's most authentic pleasures. Now, don't get the idea you can come into a southern woman's kitchen and ask for a recipe. Or how long it takes to cook something. You will not get a clear answer because there isn't one. It is a pinch of this and a pinch of that. It all depends on the tastes and smells bubbling up from the pots on the stove and in the oven.  

There is a hypnotic grace in the deep South, one that cannot be duplicated. Even Hollywood is unsuccessful in its attempt to recreate a southern accent in actors who were not born here.

We are unique. So are you.

Ladies, if you are ever down this way, get ready for a good time!

No one will care if you whoop and holler and throw your hat in the air.

That is...if you have your lipstick on, your hair is done, and you carry yourself with pride.

With a Wink, A Smile, and One More "Pull!"

                                                      And Bam!

                                                      Jinger

“Go Johnny Go!”

“If you can dance, you can have any girl in the room.” That’s one of those magical sayings a good Southern Mother tells her sons, beginning at a young age.  My father told me that it sure proved to be true when he was young, so being a good Southern Momma, I passed it on to my boys. It worked for both generations.

What I wouldn’t give for one more night of laughter with my boys two-stepping and twirling across the kitchen floor. With George Strait’s voice booming across the airways. Those are some great memories!

The South was, and in many parts, still is a patriarchal culture. However, my Grandmothers were the “stealthy” backbones of their families. Make no mistake, they were shrewd and wise in their own ways. A quiet force my Grandfather’s had to reckon with when all was quiet, and no one else was around. So when my father’s mother wanted him to take dance lessons, the farm went on “hold” for that to happen.

“He (or she) can cut a rug,” is an old saying in the South that describes a person who can really dance. All eyes were on my Daddy when he “Cut a Rug,” Jitterbugging to “Johnny B Goode,” by non-other than Chuck Berry. It was priceless to see.

Grandmother was so proud of the way Daddy could dance that she had him practice with her “old lady girlfriends.” The ladies loved it and Daddy called them the “Old Sisters.” Secretly, I really think he enjoyed it too. Each time he would tell me the story, he would laugh and laugh. 

A not so subtle hint to all you guys out there: Ladies of all ages love to dance!

Dancing is a beautiful way to have some good ole down-home fun! It’s also an excellent exercise that’s good for your heart and circulation. The physical body is designed to breathe deeply and to move. Dancing meets all these needs.

Flow, or constant natural movement, is one secret to happiness and makes life worth living. Music and movement from yoga to hip hop can help release pent up emotions that could be compromising your health. Rock and Roll to the Texas two-step, at the very least, will create a better mood. 

With free time on the books, music is coming into awareness to speak to the soul. What song or music is bubbling up from inside you? During this unprecedented time in global history, what pleasant experience is music bringing to mind?

The joy of music and song will play a more significant role in my life than before this lockdown. I want to share with you the lyrics of Lee Ann Womack’s chart-topping song. She captures the essence of taking another chance in life. To believe in yourself enough to try one more time.

When you get the opportunity to step up your game, and you will, I hope you dance.

I did...

“I Hope you Dance”

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty-handed
 

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin’ might mean takin’ chances, but they’re worth takin’
Lovin’ might be a mistake, but it’s worth makin’
 

Don’t let some Hellbent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to sellin’ out, reconsider
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance (Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along)
I hope you dance

I hope you dance (Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder)
I hope you dance (Where those years have gone?)

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

Dance

It is never too much, and it is never too late. 

How about it? 

Let’s dance!

Rock and Roll,

Jinger

"Shhh…Don’t Tell, It’s a Secret"

If I had a nickel for every time I heard this growing up…

Everyone has secrets. Some are best to stay a secret and others are harmless.

For every saint, there is more than one sinner. If the body could speak, ooooh, what a tale it could tell. It's a good thing we are resilient. The heart will heal and the tears will dry.

The global quarantine has given us quiet time to reflect on life. Time away from the daily distractions. Time for secrets from the past to find a way to resurface.

When a memory comes to mind, consider it an opportunity. If it’s a sweet memory, enjoy it and feel it down deep in your soul. If it’s not pleasant, reflect on it. Your soul is reaching out to your mind to let you know it’s time to let it go - and let it go forever. 

Secrets in the south outnumber the stars in the skies. Some flow as deep and dark as the backwaters of the mighty Mississippi Delta. Others drift through the mind like a warm summer breeze. I have a long history with both.

One long buried secret from my childhood has made itself known during isolation. I thought this event was buried decades ago.

Perhaps I was wrong. 

Like it was yesterday, I could see my ankles were crossed as I was twirling around on the padded drug store stool. I had a long, iced teaspoon in my hand. I was reaching to eat ice cream from a tall, frosted, drugstore parfait glass. It was a beautiful day, and my kindergarten teacher’s husband came in and sat down next to my mother and me.

We said our hello’s and he casually asked if I wanted to go home with him. He told us that his wife and daughters were on their way home from shopping. The girls and I could play together for the rest of the afternoon. I was happy to leave with him.

There was no reason for my mother or me to suspect anything out of the ordinary. I got in his truck, smiled, and waved goodbye to my mother.

But this man had a secret…

I was only five years old. 

I was completely innocent.

I was about to see the dark side of man. 

My guardian angels were with me in force that day. When I found myself alone in an empty house with a man who had a dark secret. When he called my name, I walked down the hall into the last bedroom of my teacher’s home. I saw a man I knew and respected facing open closet doors with no clothes on.

For some reason, he was alarmed by my reaction. My family was a pillar in the small community, and he became terrified. I remembered my grandmother’s phone number. My aunt came to get me.

I held this secret for years. Not physically touched, I was emotionally burdened by trauma from someone I had trusted. As quickly as I had eaten ice cream earlier in the day, my childhood innocence was gone.

The secret was a heavy load for a five-year-old who had begun her day with her mother in the small-town drugstore.

When writing this post, I said a final goodbye to "Mr. M" with no emotional charge. 

I pray there is something you can let go of too. The event is not as important as how you have carried it mentally, emotionally and physically. Let it go. Your life is waiting.

Life is to be lived.

And for eating ice cream.

Blissfully Blessed,

Jinger 

Attention Walmart Shoppers

Tensions are running high due to the uncertainty we are all experiencing. It's been a rough three weeks for many of us, including me. We are a planet on lockdown, housebound for the first time in our personal history. It's different, unsettling and unnerving. We don't know if this will be life-changing too.

For the sake of transparency, I will use myself as an example of unusual behaviors during this quarantine. I've been housebound for over three weeks, haven't seen my grandson in a month, haven't eaten sugar in a week and have spent no time with my husband. I can see my real nails for the first time in a decade and I have over an inch of roots growth in my blonde hair.

I stand firmly on these factors as the reason I came very close to getting into a fight with a woman in the checkout line at Walmart today. (Yes, Walmart...) How cliche' is this? Just sayin', it's a good thing she was observing the six-foot rule.

Everything appeared normal when a woman, checking out in front of me, became hysterical. She began harassing me to move back further than the six-foot line by throwing her arms up in the air to make her point. My hair was covered, I had on gloves and I had a mask on. Understanding that her unhinged behavior had nothing to do with me, I gave her grace. Smiling from behind my mask, I willingly moved back three more feet.

Like a bloodhound on a scent, she unleashed her frustration on me to move back further. That is the exact moment, in my housebound mind, she crossed an invisible line. I firmly brought it to her attention that her hair was flying around like a banshee, she had on flip-flops and was not wearing gloves. Most concerning was that she wasn't wearing a mask. There was no protection from her verbal spewing. It could easily reach others in a thirty-foot radius - who, by this time, were all staring at us!

I have not behaved like that since...well, I don't remember. Maybe never. Growing up, my mother would say, "That's not pretty," about this type of behavior. In the deep south, it was all about being pretty in one way or another. Your looks, actions and the intent behind constant smiles were as important as your salvation.

After the verbal sparring between the two of us, the woman got control of herself to pay for her items and leave the store. I then moved up in the line to pay for my groceries, thankful for my background in psychology had taught me "people do things for their own reasons, not for mine."

As I walked out of the store, I was overcome with concern about the pressures and hardships the COVID19 pandemic is causing many people. Housebound, feeding children, paying the rent with little or no money coming in. It must be terrifying to all who are affected by this virus in different ways.

It's essential to be mindful that we've all stepped into the Twilight Zone together.

Give yourself and others grace.

I pray you and your family have safe passage through this unprecedented time. 

Jinger, "The Masked American"

The Flexitarian

I cannot lie, I admit it. I got sucked into watching "Tiger King," a Netflix documentary. It has taken social media by storm. Maybe this is our way of finding something zany to connect about during this social distancing and quarantine we find ourselves relegated to.

As I watched the mishandling of magnificent wild animals, I wondered if this popular show would spike the shaming of people who still like and need meat for their protein needs. Healthy, humanely sourced protein for survival? There are many of us who do very well on the Paleo and Keto way of eating.

We don't escape the need for a variety of nutrients to feed the body. No matter what's in style or the new trendy way to eat. Food rituals can be powerful. Make sure you are aware of your own nutritional needs. 

Don't eat this, don't eat that. Count your carbs, calories, the fat you eat and write down everything you put in your mouth. Did you feel a touch of anxiety creep up your spine? I do.

One of nature's most necessary activities has been reduced to another job and another way to make a person feel bad about themselves. As if they have no discipline or order in their lives.

Where is the grace in all of this? Where is the joy that feeds the soul as it's feeding the body? Where is the balance that creates wellness in the spirit and the soul.

Don't give in to fads and food shame if you don't choose to eat a certain way. I don't want to give up on food pleasures I grew up enjoying. So, through trial and error I found a replacement for chocolate cake in a chocolate protein powder. There are many goods one on the market. As another healthy dessert alternative, I mix a full scoop with one-fourth cup of water in a small bowl and put it in the refrigerator. It makes a delicious, satisfying chocolate pudding.

Mother Nature provides a rich and vast buffet of sources of food. Find your food lane, your body stoke that satisfies your every need for joy, health and grace.

Happy Body, Happy Life!

Most of my friends are vegan and vegetarian. Their astrological signs are found in air, water and fire. I am the only earth sign, meat-eater in the bunch! Unlike my friends, I am very flexible in my food choices. Even though I am a "meat-eater," I don't care for the label.

We got creative and "The Flexitarian" was born!

Take care, be safe, enjoy your meals and live as healthy as you can.

Bon Appetit Friends,

"The Flexitarian "

The Darkness Can Hide in Small Decisions

The words "young" and "old" are loaded words.

The darkness loves to use them.

To keep humans in a box.

In fear of fulfilling a destiny.

In coaching I often hear, "I'm too old or I'm too young."

When I hear these words, a fire burns in my soul.

Chronological age is the most overused excuse in the book of life.

Jesus was the master of non-judgement and grace.

What an example and wonderful way to live.

Why do we still give chronological age so much power?

We are here until we are gone.

Why stop living?

I challenge you to leave someone grace today on our glorious planet earth.

Give GRACE to the words young and old. Watch and wait.

Their power will disappear.

Your light will shine bright again.

I think I see you now!

Much Love,

Jinger

There is no going back

"I can't go back to yesterday; I was a different person then." 

- Alice in Wonderland

"Going somewhere?" my grandmother asked me.

"Yes," I replied clutching a sack lunch close to my six-year-old pounding heart. "I'm going back to Daddy's house!"

I had lived a short five years of early life in a fairy tale. However (sigh), just like all fairy tales, it came to an end. When I was young, it was like living in the clouds being the only child born to the prom queen and the football captain. Living in a sleepy little farming town in the deep south where love of family, farm life, food rituals and the Episcopal Church were deeply ingrained into our psyche.

One day, when I came home from visiting my grandmother, I found my mother crying. She was packing items in the house. This day had begun just like every other day, filled with sunshine, cousins, aunts and uncles, and the smells from a kitchen only the south can produce. I didn't understand what was happening, but I wanted to help. I walked across the uneven wood floor to my father's chest of drawers. With all my might, I opened the heavy bottom drawer and reached to begin packing his clothes.

"What are you doing?," mother asked.

"I'm packing Daddy's clothes too," I said.

My mother walked over to the chest to close the drawer, look straight through me and said, "He isn't coming with us."

Did the fairy tale just end? Did Alice just fall down the rabbit hole? As an empath, I felt the effects of intense emotions pour through my little five-year-old body. It was true, this part of my life was over. In the coming years, it would prove to be nothing more than a distant memory. The happy times didn't last, but the emotions and the effects of those emotions would last a lifetime.

Thank goodness God provided a soft landing, a safe place for us to go, a time to heal with my maternal grandparents. I believe many of my adult choices have been overshadowed by the longing to go back to the fairy tale. One that was not there anymore. One that can be written about but not lived again.

We can never go "back." We can't even go back to yesterday, so why spend a lifetime trying to reproduce what was and can never be again? I spent too much of my life doing that very thing. Spirit put this on my heart to offer you a different perspective.

Have any of these thoughts crossed your mind?

Go back home

Go back to a relationship

Go back to eating a certain way that doesn't work

Go back to a job

Go back to...........you fill in the blank.

With free will, we can go back, but life guarantees it won't be the same energy as when we left. People, circumstances and surroundings are always changing. Even today, as we face a global virus, structures and the way of being that we grew up in are changing.

We live in a global society. In my heart, I believe the coronavirus has impacted our planet in many ways. As this pandemic subsides, and it will, I believe our lives will be changed in ways we cannot imagine. The lazy summer days of safety and sameness are forever altered and changed. I believe we will emerge with grace and goodness finally tipping the scales in their favor.

We are being called to stand up and be counted in our humanity. To serve others and understand that no one is a "throw away" person. All are worthy of concern and care. This is not to say the darkness has disappeared. It is part of our experience on this planet. Simply know it's there and, on occasion, will rear its ugly head. Fear will feed the darkness and I for one, don't want to participate. We are children of the highest God and He will prevail.

You may wonder if I ever think of the fairy tale? Yes, I do. When I can't sleep, I go into my heart and visualize Grandmother Coleman's home, where I would take a nap on the floor, on one of her homemade quilts in front of a big grey box fan. The memory never fails to comfort as I drift into sleep in peace and safety with a smile on my lips.

What is a place of safety and solace in your mind? Please share where you go in your mind to relax.

I'd love to hear about it.