Musings of a Neo-Hippie Mom (Part I)

My papier-mâché hippie puppet from college art class.

My papier-mâché hippie puppet from college art class.

When I was in college, I decided that I was a neo-flower child. After all, I had been born around the time that people were putting flowers in their hair and VietNam was going on.
When I mentioned it to one of my relatives, he nearly exploded. Apparently, he had been a real hippie, and he did not want that kind of lifestyle for me.

But he missed the point that I was trying to make.

See, growing up in a small town, there was a dearth of free-spirits, so I was an anomaly. It wasn’t until I got to college that my peers didn’t disparaged because of my deep faith in God.

The different between me and the hippies of the 1960s-70s is that faith.

I have something that I’m willing to give my life for. I am plugged into the Source of love, beauty, and peace. One of my favorite Bible verses is Galatians 5:22-23.
And isn’t that what the hippies were striving for? They were just misguided, right?

Galatians 5:22-23

Galatians 5:22-23

So, even though I’m a suburban housewife—and uncool by default—I still contend that I’m a neo-flower child. I go by the words of my Best Friend…a radical for His time. Seems like I go against the grain of popular thought for my day, too.

I may not be “a progressive thinker.” I may be accused of hating certain groups of people. (I don’t hate anyone…I simply abhor what they stand for).

I may be accused (Mt. 5:10-12) of being backwards and ignorant. I may be considered to be a prude, and I’m sure that I’ll always be in a minority, but I’m okay with that.

How about you?

Peace out, y’all.