The good old Bible Belt. I dig it.

When I was turning the age where I was responsible enough to fill out important-ish forms for myself (like college applications), my mother had a very serious conversation with me about a certain section that I needed to be sure to answer correctly. Under no uncertain terms was I to leave out the "Southern" from in front of the "Baptist." Huh. I didn't think so much about it, after all, with deep childhood roots in a heavily evangelical South Carolina, attending church was just as second nature as going to the bathroom. I thought everywhere was the Bible Belt. I probably didn't even know what that term meant... how could anyone anywhere not be belted by the Bible? Especially with all of the preacher's proclamations of hellfire and damnation if one wasn't on the "right" path. My mom's directions didn't seeem so far-fetched.

Leaving the bubble that was is Chapin, South Carolina South Carolina, I learned just how crazy the Bible Belt can be. How crazy Southern Baptists can be. No dancing. No Disney. Speaking in tongues. Hating on other religions. I'm not trying to promote anything here, I'm just saying... my eyes were opened a little when I got to experience life on terms outside the Belt. Seriously. Who disses on Mickey Mouse?

Living here for another round, I guess my senses are heightened when it comes to evangelism in the South. Maybe I'm a little cynical. Maybe. I'm more of a free-thinking kinda gal who doesn't try to impose her beliefs on others and who accepts the idea that people of other religions have just as much faith, devotion, and rights to their personal philosophical beliefs. Still, I like The South. I dig it.

Last weekend, Matt and I traveled to Lake Lure, a beautiful spot nestled snuggly in the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. I was super excited, because I heart the mountains of Western NC. They are calming, soft, slow. The place smells of moonshine and peach jam and campfires. Bluegrass music resonates throughout the valleys. People are welcoming and warm and genuine. The scenery is rustic and full and raw, holding treasures of the incredible stories of its residents. And everyone has a story. Every. One. And everyone is a part of the Bible Belt. Every. One.

And the enormous crosses mounted in nearly every yard are the most gigantic buckles to remind people of the fact that the Belt has a stronghold in those mountains. They are everywhere, bearing messages such as "Blood Secured Redemption" and "He Died for Sinners." But, they really seem like they fit just fine in front of the houses where Billy Graham is just as celebrated as Big and Little E. This is the land where there are more churches and snake handlers in any one town than there are schools, banks, grocery stores, and filling stations combined.

And everyone likes to talk about goin' to church and the Lord, especially at the local public spots. In fact, when I pulled into one mom n' pop shop, these two mountain fellas were shooting the breeze, talking about Jesus and Sundee and checking out their dollar bills that, for some reason I've yet to understand, had ALL been marked with Bible verses. Huh. How'd they get on there? I guess someone has a stamp for those things that every bill they get is marked with before it leaves their hands. Where else could that happen but the Belt?

I know it seems a little different to those of y'all outsiders, but it's an interesting part of the culture. It's an accepted part of the culture, and one I don't think should bid its adieu. The Belt is the way it is for a reason. And I dig it. But, I fill out my forms how I want, Mother.