Growing up in a pastor’s family, we moved every few years and lived in church parsonages. The homes often contained discarded furniture and accessories no longer needed or wanted by some of the parishioners. It seems that in most congregations there was at least one person who claimed the right of ownership of the parsonage and its inhabitants.
One of the parsonages was next door to such a woman. She came in the back door unannounced and made herself at home. We never had to wonder what the woman thought because she freely offered her opinion and advice which included what was wrong and what we needed to do.
She quickly overstepped her bounds. It was obvious she didn’t approve of me. She thought girls were supposed to be girlish, which I wasn’t. I preferred being outdoors hiking, climbing, camping or rappelling. My attire included hiking boots, jeans and flannel shirts, and I climbed trees.
One day she barged through the door and shoved a bag at my mother. In it was something for my room – ruffled white lace curtains. When I saw those curtains of lace, I was mad – more like livid. What right did she have to tell me how to decorate my room? My parents gave me no choice but to hang the curtains. Fine, I’d hang the curtains!
It was just a few days before she made another unannounced visit. You can guess why she came – to see those ruffled lace curtains in my room. I led her down the hall with a factitious sneer on my face. She walked into the room and saw the nice white lacy curtains waving gently in the breeze from the opened window. Then she saw the rest of the room. A small gasp escaped her lips. Hanging from the light in the middle of the room was “thing.” “Thing” was a contorted twisted clothes hanger dripped with multi-colored wax stalactites draped with various colors of string confetti. Big colorful posters and slogans hung on the walls. Rappelling off the green trunk was the big doll I got as a little girl. She was rigged up and partially suspended wearing a rappelling seat complete with carabiners. The bed was frameless, the mattresses on the floor, and covered with a purple and green tie-dyed bedspread. Other non-lady-like trinkets were scattered throughout the room. There was even a black light. Gasp!
That’s the only time I saw that woman speechless. She huffed, turned on her heels and was gone. She never asked to see my room again. Since my bedroom window faced her house, somehow, I think seeing those curtains of lace blowing in the breeze brought her no satisfaction.
