The Tattered, the Torn, the Psychedelic…

“You look just like your Mama.”

I’ve heard it A LOT in my life – and I love it every single time I hear it. My mom is the most beautiful woman in the world to me (Sorry, Mom, I know you don’t like to be the center of attention. Too bad.) 🙂 And it’s true too… I’ve gotten to where when I’m telling people to look for my mom at an airport or an event or whatever to “just look for someone who looks just like me with shorter hair.” They always find her. It’s a neat party trick.

*Photo of me by Connie Rock. Also starring her shih tzu, Roi.

I didn’t see it really until I was in college. Up late one night looking through old photo albums, I saw some pictures that I wondered how I got into… and then realized they were her. We both love dogs, the beach, softball, sunshine, chocolate, and Jesus. I like that. I’m proud to be her daughter and to be named after her.

But there’s another way I want to look like her. 

I want her faith. 

I watched and learned from her as she taught me about Jesus as a kid. But I don’t think I realized the depth of her faith until she watched me leave for the field for months at a time with little-to-no-contact from me. It was hard for me to go, but I imagine so much harder for her. 

When I was 6, we got baptized together.

And sometime around age 21, I took her Bible (Sorry, Mom). It wasn’t her study Bible, just the one she used as an Awana leader. It was the perfect size for me to take to Swaziland, because my giant study Bible would could have been a doorstop it was so heavy. Not great for lugging it to the other side of the world. But I came back and kept using it… it became my textbook in Bible college. Soon it completely replaced my brick. 

This past Sunday I was staring at “my” Bible while in church. No longer does it look new. Which is good, really. But it’s to the point where it’s a struggle to keep it open at all. In fact, I have to hold it together with a rubber band for fear of losing entire centuries’ worth of God’s Word. Philippines – 1 Peter has completely fallen out and created its own section. Other pages are ripped. The entire spine is cracked all the way through and most of it threatens to tear at any moment. 

I’ve fought it. I don’t want a new Bible. In fact a few years ago in efforts to stop its falling apart -and to reduce weight in my carryon – I bought a tiny one for travel. But it hasn’t been the same. I always look forward to coming home to this Bible, the one that has been there through my 20’s. Yes, it’s all the Word of God, but I am going into this kicking and screaming. Especially after I realized that the same translation has been updated and reads differently than what I’ve known my entire life. This Bible has been everywhere with me. My SiSwati name is written in the front (Sibahle Thandaza- meaning “Beautiful Prayer”), not to mention the verses I wrote in the back while in Swaziland because I had no paper, and used them comfort Make Queen (pronounced “Ma-gay”… the “K” is a hard “G” sound) when her roommate died… only to have those same verses comfort me when she died 2 weeks later. I can hear Drs. Wetmore and Juncker in my New Testament classes whenever I’m in any of Paul’s letters, and smell the spices of India while finding that verse in James about peace and righteousness that I really like. And most recently, at church up here as Scripture has once again come alive for me. 

Not to mention the psychedelic pages. I love color. It makes me happy. And more likely to remember things.

Also, I don’t like change. 

And the best part – the verses Mom underlined when she used the Bible. I still know which verses she underlined. I love reading them and knowing these are her favorites. 

Which got me thinking…

If one thing special about this Bible is who it came from and who imprinted it with her faith… then, why not start this one off the same way?

So, I bought a Bible. (BTW, how are there so many now? And why are all the ones for females SO VIVIDLY PINK? And why doesn’t the bookstore arrange them all by something that makes sense, like translation? But I digress).

And these pretty pens. (I removed black and red, because the text itself is black and red, and therefore using those colors to underline goes against my love of psychedelic and becomes camouflage).

And I’m going to ask YOU – will you underline my Bible? 

I’m going to pass it around. Take it home to Jonesboro and to my Mama, of course. And my Dad too. Then pass it to whoever I can. If you read this blog, you mean a lot to me. You’ve inspired me, taught me, and I love you and respect your relationships with God. You’re my family, my friends, my teachers, my coaches, my Sunday School teachers, my teammates, my co-workers, my friends’ parents, and my parents’ friends.

I’d love to see the verses the mean a lot to you. 

If someone is in the US and wants, I’ll send it to you via media mail to do the same. Let me know Please underline a verse that means a lot to you. You can make a note in the margin or not. Doodle in the corner, or not. Leave your name or initials, or keep it anonymous.

But I want to pick up this Bible in a few months and know that it was touched and written in by those who mean the most to me. Maybe that will make the transition easier, as this becomes the study Bible of my 30’s. 

Especially if you make it psychedelic. 🙂