Lip Smacker Sinner

Part 12

Enjoying makeup made me feel like such a sinner. As much as I wanted to wear makeup I did a better job at resisting it then I did with music. I occasionally wore a little blush to school. This didn’t happen until I was about 14 years old. No one ever said a word and I think I know why. My face is naturally red. I tend to look rosy much of the time so the tiny bit of blush I was applying did not show up at all. I wore the blush to fit in. Some of my friends at the time, girls in the church, were experimenting with makeup. It was a huge act of rebellion to wear cover-up if you had acne or a lip gloss you might try to convince adults it was only Chapstick. Most of the time I did not wear the blush but carried it in my purse so the other girls would think I was cool. Now what I did wear pretty much all the time was Lip Smacker. I loved and still love the cherry-scented option I rarely put it on anymore but I always have some in case Lip Smacker fever hits me. I also wore the Dr.Pepper and Bubblegum scents. Lips were a big deal back then. I can remember so many sermons, Sunday school lessons, and discussions at school were about shiny lips. We as young girls were responsible not to lead men into sin dreaming about our shiny lips. Chapstick was ok as long as you did not put on too much, Carmex was an issue because it made your lips too oily looking. No one ever questioned my Lip Smacker tube probably because back then it looked just like Chapstick, but I knew in my heart that I was breaking the rules. 50% of the time I felt terrible and worried if my Lip Smacker addiction was leading me straight into Satan’s clutches and the other 50% of the time I felt like a rebel and I liked that feeling a lot. I did have one major misstep with regards to makeup, clear nail polish. Let that sink in, clear nail polish caused me more trouble than the blush or Lip Smacker. The sad thing about the clear nail polish is I wasn’t doing it to be rebellious. My nails have always been a source of frustration for me. They break and tear no matter how much time I put into caring for them and focusing on good nutrition. I tried to use clear nail polish to protect them and make them stronger because I had read about it in a teen magazine. The teen magazine was a sin too but I will discuss that more later. My reasoning was that it was not a color and so it would not tempt anyone into sinning. I was not doing it to draw attention to myself except that maybe I did not want my nails to look scraggly all the time. Little did I know that it would be such a huge issue. 

Every year we had a church picnic. I attended more because it was expected and it got me out of the house than I liked being there. By this point, 14 or 15 years old I knew I did not fit in with these people but I did not know how to get out. I was having an ok day until Darlene Grant, the pastor’s wife, called me over. I immediately felt that awful feeling in the middle of my chest, I now know that feeling to be panic. She never talked to me unless it was something bad or had to do with the youth choir. I always saw her as standoffish and aloof, I was not one of the chosen children so she didn’t bother herself with me. On this day she had a message to deliver, her message was, “Either take off the clear nail polish or don’t come back to school in the fall.” Well, that went from zero to one hundred really fast! There was no discussion leading up to that moment, just a statement. I tried to explain myself and she told me that shiny nails were unacceptable. If I wanted stronger nails I should soak my nails in raw eggs. Part of the reason I had to remove the polish is because nail polish was not allowed no matter what kind it was, also it might lead to other things like pink nails. The most important reason to not have shiny nails is it might draw attention to your hands and cause your brother to stumble. I’m sure it was also seen as a mark of being proud and not shamefaced.

 1 Timothy 2:9 “In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array.” 

Now I have to wonder how she even knew I had clear nail polish on? You would have had to be really studying my hands and she never gave me the time of day. If I had to guess I would say that someone tattled to her. The message I received was that everything I did or did not do might cause a man to fall into sin right down to an extra shiny fingernail. What if I buffed my nails to make them shine would that be a sin as well, better to not do it just in case. Darlene Grant did not care that my fingernails were breaking off to the point of bleeding, she only cared that I stay in line and control my evil impulses. After all, I had led one man into sin already, everyone knew about that. She never said those words to me but that was the message I received. I know now that a childhood filled with hunger and bad nutrition is probably why my nails have never been in great shape, but whether or not I had food was not their concern. Controlling my overdeveloped and sinful body was their number one concern. Darlene Grant never said a kind word to me. She never asked how I was doing or offered comfort even though she was aware of how hard my home life was. She only ever approached me to deliver bad news, to reprimand, and to question me about another child. I never saw the love of God or grace coming from her. She was not friendly or kind to my mother. She could have offered me a lifeline and showed me God’s love but instead she looked down her nose at me and made it clear that she saw me as unworthy. 

You might wonder if the church knew about our money issues and I can tell you without a doubt they did. My mother would go through times of attending church faithfully and then “backsliding” and then returning. She never felt welcome there so it was hard to keep coming back. She would cry at the altar or at her seat and it was always about money. No one offered help except for one time. Sister Ida Crowder helped my mother pay our electric bill so we would not lose power. My mother was embarrassed and proud but she took the money and she never forgot how Ida helped her. Shannon, Jeanette, and Ida were all kind to me when I was a child and I think it is important to point out that they were all women of color. Other than Barb and Juanita most of the white women at Calvary Gospel acted as if they were too good for my mother. I’m sure they judged her for her short hair and for the fact that she wore pants (it was required) on the job. I have to wonder if she would have fallen into line more if they had just offered her some kindness and included her. My mother was especially close to one of these women and we spent a lot of time with her especially before my mom married Jim. Just the other day it struck me how this woman knew my mother so intimately but did not offer her any real help. It makes me wonder what her motivations were. I have always seen this woman as kind and gentle but now I wonder. Was all of that niceness a front? She taught my mother two Bible studies and called her when she did not come to church. Maybe in the end she did not see my mom as a friend but as just another soul to be won. I believe they may have felt that it was better to let my mother and by extension, me suffer because they thought it would bring us to God. 

Pastor Grant preached about tithing regularly. We had been members of several churches over the course of my childhood and my mother said none of them focused on tithing as much as Calvary Gospel. Tithing meant giving 10% of your income before taxes to the church. Often they would ask for even more money for missionaries and building funds. My mother did not tithe. She always put something into the offering plate but she felt whatever she could spare was enough. From my earliest memories she always gave me money to drop into the Sunday school box because she believed that giving to God was very important. She did not believe he required 10% before taxes. This gave the church something else to judge her for. They believed that if you tithed the proper amount that God would bless you abundantly and give you all you need. If you’re having money problems then it could be because you are withholding what is God’s right to possess. It all belongs to him and he is just letting you use it. 

Malachi 3:8-10 “Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings. Ye are cursed with a curse: for ye have robbed me, even this whole nation. Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” 

I tried to fix this issue for my household by tithing on all of my money. If my dad gave me a twenty for my birthday I would give the church 10%, babysitting money, really any money I got my hands on would be subject to this teaching. I always felt so grown up filling in my tithing envelope. It did not lead to full storehouses for my family and it was just another way in which we were wrong. I always had hope that my giving would eventually turn my life around. Granted I was young but I did have faith. Because of this I can understand how people fall prey to prosperity ministries. 

My mother got the message that all of her problems were her fault very early on. When she went to the pastor for marriage counseling he asked her if she tried to be sexy for my dad so he would stay at home and not cheat. Our money problems were probably due to her not tithing properly and working an ungodly job. Yes, driving the bus for the city was ungodly. The main reason is that it required her to wear pants. When she found out about this requirement she talked it over with folks at the church. All but one told her that it would be a sin and she should trust God to bring her another opportunity. My mother was not college-educated and she had been trying to better our circumstances for a long time. She felt she had to grab this chance because otherwise, nothing would ever get better for us. One woman, Pat, who was also pretty impoverished told my mother not to listen to the other people and do what she had to do for her family. Pat also wore pants to work. This made my mother feel a little better but she still worried that taking this job could mean she would miss the rapture. Pat was a lot like my mother, on the outside of things and very poor. On the upside, our situation improved substantially after my mother took the job with the city. I had a free bus pass that I used until I was 21 and we had health insurance. Things were not amazing but we had money to keep the lights on and keep food in the refrigerator.

My mother was not well. Along with her depression she had developed pretty severe asthma. Many people within the church communicated to my mother that if she would just get her life right with God, meaning lay off the pants, tithe, and stop cutting her hair among other things, everything would be alright. Her illnesses were due to sin and demons. She needed to have more faith and believe that God would heal her. It makes me sad to recognize that she and I were living the same torture. Feeling like if we could just get things right with God somehow the pain would stop, hunger and poverty would cease, and we would finally be loved by God. I don’t think she was aware of my feelings. I took on the role of her caretaker before I was out of elementary school. I tried to make everything better, brighter, and I tried to keep her safe. This meant being a good kid and never getting into trouble, it meant not taking too many risks, and not really sharing my feelings with her. This of course led to more isolation. She would often tell people she did not worry about me too much because I always did the right thing, never got into trouble at school, and stayed involved at church. Sadly I think this made it easier for her to ignore me when other louder more pressing problems were going on. By the time I was 11 or 12 years old, I felt like my mother had moved on from mothering me. She met her second husband, started a new more demanding job, had my little brother, and I just faded into the background. I was on autopilot, dependable, and mostly grown.