I am proud to be from the great Southern state of Tennessee. Many say this is God’s country, and come autumn when the leaves are in full bloom, it’s hard to argue the point. We are friendly, gracious people. We have four fairly distinct seasons, rolling hills, abundant lakes and rivers, the beautiful Smoky mountains, many notable cities, the Titans, the Predators, and our beloved University of Tennessee Volunteers. We offer everything from barbecue and bluegrass to football and festivals. Plus, we have aquariums, white-water rafting, a Lost Sea, a Rock City, art and history museums, a national park, a myriad of historical landmarks, and most importantly… Dolly Parton. It’s a fine place to call home.
I was 23 years old before I realized that some people don’t share my affinity for the South and our ways. I was in graduate school and we were required to take a class called Spiritual Formation. For some reason, I thought this would be a fun one to take my first semester, so I signed up with a very misguided sense of excitement about all we would learn that year. Little did I know it was a class primarily about self-exploration. I could tell within ten minutes of the first class meeting that we were going to have to write about and talk {out loud!} about all sorts of personal things… our families of origin, our church experience, our salvation experience, our thoughts on God, our successes, our failures, our dreams, our fears, etc. The introvert in me cringed.
I nearly withdrew after reading through the syllabus that first day. But, I needed the credit for this class. So, I stuck with it and thought I was sailing along fairly smoothly until the mandatory mid-term conference with the professor came along.
I’ll never forget the way he summed me up on that day. This is what he said, in a nutshell… “Basically, Hollie, I think you’re a good Southern belle.”
Being the Southerner that I am, I would normally take this to be a compliment of the highest form. But, I can assure you this man meant it as anything but such.
He went on… “Southern belles are syrupy. They’re polite and sweet. They know how to put their best face forward. They’re good at image maintenance. But, they’re not very authentic. And, I want to know the real you.”
My immediate mental reaction was one of, “Who does this guy think he is? Not only has he insulted me personally, but he’s essentially insulting the entire Southern culture. Some nerve! I’ll show him a Southern belle as I walk right out of here and politely drop this class.”
Alas, I did not.
In fact, I started thinking about what he had said {albeit in very blunt fashion}, and I began wondering if there might be some hint of truth to it. In time, I started writing my papers with a little more transparency, and I slowly started sharing with a bit more vulnerability. And, though I never became that person who jumps at the opportunity to share a personal story with a room full of people, I think I became a more authentic version of myself all because this man who I found completely insulting and unnecessarily direct in his assessments challenged me on something. By my third year there, I liked him. Even more, I valued his opinion.
All this to say…
Seventeen years later, I’m in Tennessee and am raising three girls in this Southern culture. I say “y’all” and “coke” and “buggy.” I have an appropriate reverence for good bacon and biscuits. I smile when I pass a stranger, wave to the mailman, and practice other Southern niceties. I just sure hope I’m more authentic than your stereotypical Southern belle.
In the age of filtered photos and carefully curated social media accounts I feel like authenticity is more important than ever. And with three girls who are figuring out how to do life and friendship in a selfie/digital age, I want them to know the value of being genuine and real with themselves and those around them.
Brene Brown says, “Authenticity is a collection of choices we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.”
This is not the way of a Southern belle. But, I think it’s a better way.
I’ve been talking to the Spouse about why I have a blog and what my purpose is for writing here. And, this is what it always comes back around to: I write because I enjoy writing and feeling a sense of connection with you when I do. I do it in the form of a blog because it helps me consistently chronicle our family stories for our girls. But part of me does this because it forces me to be a little bit more vulnerable than I would be otherwise. It challenges me to share more than what one might see on an Instagram picture. It reminds me who we really are, who we want to be, and how much we all need each other.
So, thank you for being part of my ongoing spiritual formation. Writing here, even just once a week or so, keeps me honest and reminds me we’re all in this together…
…here in the South, thank the Lord.
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