June brainstorming

A string of thoughts for the last day of June. Disagreement is not hate. It is dangerous to smear whole groups of people with that kind of wording, not to mention hypocritical. On the other hand, speaking truth without love, I have heard it said, makes the truth repulsive. I am dismayed at the comments made by opponents of the recent same-sex marriage ruling, not because I am in favor of same-sex marriage, but because I think the dissenting arguments are foolish, and make the opposing side look ignorant. They’re using all the wrong points to make their points. We shouldn’t be arguing stupidly that homosexuals are terrible parents whose children are scarred for life, or that there have been no civilizations that allowed conjugal homosexuality. Homosexual people can make fine parents from a secular standpoint, and many of their children turn out fine in the world’s eyes. What we (Christians and others) don’t like about it is that those children grow up believing homosexuality to be acceptable, which in God’s eyes, it is not. We should just admit that. Also, there HAVE been societies of old (and new ones as well) which considered homosexual union to be acceptable. Saying otherwise is to make us look uneducated and racist, only conscious of Western civilizations.

Opponents should instead be arguing for State sovereignty, religious liberty, and a closer look at the Constitution- whether or not this should even be included. We should be defending against being called “haters,” when we simply have a different belief system. We should, as other journalists and bloggers have said, take the beam out of our own eye regarding marriage, and work on what’s broken there, before yapping about the speck of homosexual marriage.

We look like bigoted idiots. What are we really trying to accomplish? More and more first world countries have accepted same-sex marriage, and more and more Americans have been accepting of it as well. We (opponents) want future generations to not have this as their new reality, but it’s already the de facto experience of the hundreds of children already being raised by same-sex couples, married or not. The politicians against same-sex marriage act like that’s not happening, like there isn’t already a couple of generations of children who would want their same-sex parents to be married. Marriage itself hasn’t meant much anyway, since so many marriage laws have changed over the last century. What were we trying to protect? Who did we think we were fooling?

But mostly, I am dismayed that the Supreme Court even gets to decide this for us. Some friends and I agree that it should be left up to the States. Even if every State votes one by one in favor of it, at least then we’d know that it was truly the will of the people, and not a small group who don’t properly represent the people.

I am not writing this to be negative, or hopeless, but honest. We are fighting God’s fight, and to the world it doesn’t make sense. Opponents of the SCOTUS ruling need to analyze the country’s opinions on the subject, and about modern marriage as an institution. And read some gosh-darn history while they’re at it. We are just as hypocritical as those who are intolerant of our supposed intolerance. It is our responsibility, besides the issue itself, to call into question the fact the Court just mowed over the desires of about half the nation. Regardless of the subject matter, that’s not acceptable.

I am not a patriot; my allegiance is to God’s kingdom. I don’t really celebrate Independence Day, and I only vote when it seems to really be a big deal. I usually don’t get political. This issue, however, is alarming to me. I will remember St. Augustine’s words, quoted by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.: “An unjust law is no law at all.” I will expand that to include interpretations of the Constitution. If the nation wants to let gays marry, then by golly, that’s what is going to happen. But I have the feeling that the squeaky wheel got the grease here, and a whole bunch of people didn’t have the right words to defend themselves against it, scattered as they are by their own folly.

I have gay friends. Some of them know how I feel about gay marriage. Some don’t. That’s because some of them understand the difference between disagreement and hatred. I am not from under a rock. I completely understand the reasons why people are in favor of gay marriage. From a totally secular standpoint, why the heck not? The thing is, a huge number of people are not looking at it that way, but through the lens of their faith in God, to whom it is sinful. We know the truth about it- God’s truth, which is the ultimate reality. But His message called also for repentance and love, not condemnation.  We don’t have to agree with what we believe is sin; we can call it what it is, but it’s not our job to condemn someone for it, especially non-believers. I’ll say again, what we really are concerned about are the future generations of children growing up thinking that it is acceptable, and dealing with the struggle to maintain religious liberty in the face of it.

The Quiet Power

“Well-behaved women seldom make history.” I am bone-weary of seeing that bumper sticker. I see it on the same car, everyday, on my way to the job I wish I could leave open for someone else. I don’t want to conquer, or roar, or make history. Why do I have to make my mark on the world? I want to make a home. I desperately long to make beds, make breakfast, lunch and dinner, make pies and bread, make my own soaps, cleansers, medicines and home decorations. Someday I would love to make our clothes. I want to make my husband happy, and make God the center of our lives. But history? I’m not interested.

I’m too tired at the end of every work day to attempt a fraction of that list, by the way. Just accomplishing the basics is enough, with the sputtering energy I have left over after my frenetic job and long commute. Working out in the world just isn’t for me. There are wonderful women out there doing amazing things professionally, politically, and so forth. I don’t presume that all women need to be at home, making soap and pie. But I do believe that many, many more women deserve to have the chance to stay home, and would be of better help to themselves, their families, their marriages and their communities by doing so. There are women called by God to serve the world in the big leagues, but it’s good to remember that charity, and nearly everything else, begins at home. “Well-behaved” married Christian women like me, who are not very accomplished in the world’s view, have the quiet power and humble calling to accomplish great things for God. I can recreate heaven on earth in my very own home. Multiply that by hundreds- imagine hundreds of little havens of love, safety, peace and beauty in every community- and surely the world can change. A blessed home changes us from the inside out, one well-fed, well-rested and well-loved person at a time.

Bored and offended

I am not touching on the subject of gentleness today. Rather, I’m inspired to explore some things that cause me to lose my gentle, sweet or quiet “cool.” Bear with me.

I have a friend who has, on more than one occasion, sent me a text during the workday to tell me she is bored. My initial reaction is usually, “Are you kidding me?!” because I have received those texts while doing something like wiping a screaming twelve-year-old’s behind or deflecting an eighteen-year-old kid’s fist. *I do check any and all texts at work because that is how most communication happens "on the floor." It could be a matter of life or death. Not kidding.*

My second typical reaction to my friend’s boredom is, “Are you kidding me?!” This in the sense of, “We are grown adults. Boredom is for eight-year-olds.” This woman is a mother of two with a full-time social service job. How in the name of Pete is she bored? I sought Google’s advice on the subject of bored adults, and lo and behold, most of the results had to do with helping children overcome boredom. Why? Because adults have no business whining that they are bored. I stick to this conviction whether I am working my frenetic, dangerous job or whether I am home, doing my much preferred job of homemaking. No boredom allowed past the age of twelve. In a perfect world, I’d say, “ever.”

In my internet quest to find support for my opinions on boredom, I came across this, which highlights a related and equally irritating pet peeve of mine: http://themattwalshblog.com/2014/09/16/sorry-but-its-your-fault-if-your-offended-all-the-time/

I don’t agree with everything Matt Walsh has written, but I do agree with much of it, and this one for sure. One acquaintance of mine called people who are constantly offended, “injustice collectors.” Matt Walsh’s post gives the impression that it’s a societal epidemic, which I am inclined to say is true. I have another friend who was once my housemate and is the very person to whom that witty acquaintance was referring. This friend, as yet another mutual acquaintance once quipped, “will complain till the cows come home.” It’s true that she’ll complain and complain ad nauseam, but to put the two together- constant complaining and constant offense-taking, is a surefire way to lose friends. She hasn’t “lost” my friendship, but I have desired to distance myself from her to a large degree. Her “injustice-collecting” was a big factor in my leaving the house we shared. She comes from a position of privilege; she has more to lean on in this world than I ever did. She is able to live with her parents until she can find another place. Yet she has found a hundred and one reasons to play the victim over the years, and take offense to the slightest things. My own parents were nearly penniless and both chronically ill for much of my life, and had little materially to give me. It has taken so much effort to bite my lip around this person.

I will leave the in-depth analysis of these subjects to people like Matt Walsh. I can conclude that I don’t have much patience for bored, offended, whiny adults. I love them, and by and large I’m still friends with a few of them, but I won’t tolerate that kind of shortsightedness. We are so. darn. privileged in this country. Especially those of us who are white. Like myself and these two particular friends.  Last night I watched a video of Jack Black’s experience in Uganda with a homeless boy. The boy is alone and lives in a garbage dump. What he says he wants is an education. I imagine he also wants a family, a home and some clean food.

So friends, don’t complain that you’re bored or victimized, or offended by some trifle. Use your energy to improve yourself and maybe to help someone else who is less fortunate than yourself.

Strengthful Womanhood is Work

"Where a strengthful womanhood keeps the house wisely and well, in prudent care and orderly comfort and cheerful peace, there, in the daily duties, trying and tasting, her character issues in loveliness of bloom and blessedness of privilege, softly shadowing the household beneath its gracious power and unselfish gentleness; so that the heart of her husband rejoiceth in her, and the love which was planted within those walls strikes down its roots through all the thin soiled fancy and passion into the rich ground of manly reverence and honor, from which to draw a sustenance and life which shall keep it fresh and green in the midst of the years as those that are planted in the house of the Lord.”  
-JR Miller


I found this rich quote within a post: 
http://www.generationcedar.com/main/2011/01/a-wifes-part-the-good-wife-is-a-good-housekeeper.html

With my mind these days on the subject of gentleness, I was pleased to see it so elegantly placed in a good teaching. It occurred to me in the moment I saw it, that first I must "keep the house wisely and well," and so on and so forth, and keep up my "daily duties," and in doing so, a more consistent "unselfish gentleness" will be mine. My impatience is also a stumbling block. It will be hard, since on Tuesday of next week, I must return to my job at the school, and won't be able to be a full-time homemaker. But day after day as I do my best with God's help, load after load of laundry, sink after sinkful of dishes, in submission and with respect to my husband, my ungodliness will fall away, revealing "loveliness of bloom and blessedness of privilege." I must wait upon the Lord. I can't expect to change overnight. It is work.

A tangible reward? "...so that the heart of her husband rejoiceth in her..."
God knows what He is doing.

Bugbears and Tomfoolery

In an effort to not simply tack up a bunch of disjointed ideas on this blog, I thought I’d continue the subject of gentleness and how challenging it can be when you’re new to it. God gave me a taste of the grace of gentleness under ideal conditions. Immediately after, He gave me a test. 

That night I slept very badly. Poor sleep is an old enemy of mine, and it usually results in some flashbacks of the worst time of my life- it’s happened twice, once at sixteen and again at twenty-one, when I got this tomfool fright in my head about the process of and ability to sleep, and couldn’t sleep more than an hour a night for a few months. One of my deepest fears is that a period like that would come upon me once again. I don’t really believe it would; my brain and body have changed so much since my pregnancy, and I am able to nap for the first time in my life. That’s a clue that it’s all good.

Anyway, whenever I have a night (or nights) of poor sleep, the old fears creep up, and I become a monster. That’s what happens when fear crowds out love. I was irritable (beyond what fatigue would produce), agitated, impatient and self-seeking. All I could think of was to relieve myself of this bugbear, by any means possible: meaningless distraction, shopping, trying to reinvent myself, even if just for the moment until the panic subsides. My wifeliness and homekeeping fell to the bottom of my list. The day after a bad night becomes an exhibition of all the dumb things I’ve moved beyond since my early adulthood.

This time, it became the adversary of my efforts toward a gentle and quiet spirit. I don’t think I’ve totally recovered them. I have since caught up on sleep, and have resumed my usual homemaking routine, but as soon as I did, it became clear that I’d fallen on my face when presented with my first “gentleness quiz.” Did I turn to God for strength and peace and the grace to carry on in love? Well, eventually. How long did it take me? About sixteen hours. Too long. In the meantime, as I said, I resorted to all my foolish tricks of years past. It is a constant thing, this work toward gentleness.

The best thing I can say is that for the first time in this kind of situation, I did return to Him before the full twenty-four hours had passed. And as I sought Him, I saw results. God is real, He is there for us. I may have failed, or at least, passed with a D for diploma, but He is always there, no matter what we have done. 

He remains faithful when we lose our faith, hope, love, or our minds. Turning to material things, a new hair color, a pagan practice, a useless distraction, instead of Him, has always resulted in self-loathing and emptiness. It may take awhile, but the gnawing sense of lack doesn’t disappear. When I turned to God, He didn’t simply relieve me of my fear, but also replaced the fear with love. And wholeness. Thankfully, with that came gentleness once again.

It is a struggle to maintain it. It is hard to keep mindful of it. With my eyes on Jesus, it is less of a burden. I am serious. I have a few atheist and many agnostic friends. I’m sure they could come up with a slew of reasons why this had nothing to do with God, but simply a changing of my focus away from old habits, or some such thing. 

It actually helps sometimes to play my own devil’s advocate. From that kind of analysis, as the sole proprietor of my brain, I can tell you that it really was the Lord. Nothing in this world has the capacity to give me a refill of true love and wholeness except for Him. There are some convincing decoys and knock-offs, but the truth is that Jesus is the real deal. He is the way, the truth and the life. I can’t prove it to you. But I can tell you that I know Him, and I can tell you what He has done for me. He can do it for you, and He will, every time.

So, if you have made a decision to cultivate a gentle and quiet spirit, and you find yourself discouraged, have faith! He is continually working in us, and He is always there with help and grace when you feel like you can’t do it. Remember that His Spirit is what creates us anew and makes us whole, thus enabling us to be loving, selfless, and gentle.

Gentleness

I have been motivated by the writing of Mrs. White of the blog, The Legacy of Home. She is a traditional homemaker of the type that I want to be. She has often written about gentleness, especially regarding the “gentle art of homemaking.” In an attempt to settle my worried spirit, I gave my best effort toward gentleness in my work at home today.  

What a difference it made. I am much calmer than usual. As I worked, I felt my old pattern of rushed, tense posture and movement overtaking me, but the remedy was simply to think to myself, “gentleness.” It worked every time to soothe the agitation. And you know what? Four out of my five homemaking goals for the day are completed, done in two hours. What good did all that frantic rushing around do before? None.

I have also accomplished some other things not on my list, as well as some essential non-homemaking things, such as physical therapy exercises. Through it all, even opening some potentially alarming mail, I breathed the word “gentleness,” and tossed up a prayer for help in achieving that. Deep breathing is something prescribed by my physical therapist, who noted my habit of tension and stress. I have attempted it for days and days, often successful, but many times forgetting. The simplicity of mindful gentleness, with Jesus in sight, is the key.

Though the countdown to the end of my days at home is ticking menacingly in the back of my consciousness, keeping gentleness has helped me focus on the moment at hand. Taking one’s time with each task is so healthy, and it allows for the task to be done to its fullness, and aspects previously unnoticed suddenly make themselves apparent. New ideas have room to float to the surface. This happened today as I did some rearranging and problem-solving in the closet and kitchen. Living in such a tight space as we have, I have been frustrated at my failed attempts to create efficiency out of inconvenience. Today, with a “quiet and gentle spirit,” I made steps toward that goal.

Many misunderstand the verse where that phrase is found, 1 Peter 3: 3-4 which reads,

3 Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. 4 Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. (NIV)

Some may think that St. Peter is teaching women to be silent, frumpy doormats. That interpretation is wrong. I never believed that, yet I had a murky understanding of what it means to have a “gentle and quiet spirit.” Yes, it means being “quiet,” and “gentle.” But focus on the word “spirit.” St. Peter didn’t say “quiet mouth,”  or “gentle feet.” Spirit is inside of us, assisting us in our hearts and minds, and showing itself outwardly through our behavior toward others. We receive this beauty from the Holy Spirit.

We are to be settled, calm, gentle and quiet inside, so that we are not stressed, harsh, brash or thoughtless on the outside. This is specifically taught to women, because we are the ones entrusted with the care of people. We are the primary nurturers of children, homes, communities, our husbands and aged relatives. I’ve come to realize that we will have greater strength for these tasks of caretaking if we maintain that gentle and quiet spirit. This is the special power of gentleness, and I thank God that I could experience it at last. Gentleness is truly a gift that He has given me today, despite (or likely because of) my proclivity toward the opposite.  It’s not easy to keep, but with God, all things are possible.

A little late...

I want to be an editor. I am unsure how much to invest in this desire; I know my ultimate desire is to be a homemaker and maybe a homeschooler if I have more children, but in the unlikely but possible event that my husband cannot provide for us due to illness, or God forbid, I end up alone, I need a "skill set." I finished college, but I didn’t learn much and I don’t really have a skill set. Also, I really enjoy editing. I love words and language, and I love making documents just right, as good as they can be. I love reading what others have written and helping to showcase the best in their work. I seem to have a talent for it, but I don’t have a lot of professional knowledge.

While my grammar and usage are very good, they could be much, much better. I should have taken more notice when I received the award for excellence in the written English language at my eighth grade graduation. I was an English major only for a semester; I switched to Liberal Studies because I thought I should be a grade school teacher, and because the English major coursework focused so much on literature. Literature is great, but it’s not my favorite thing to study. I love the language itself, plus I prefer to read non-fiction. I reasoned that since I was a good student, I would be a good teacher. So, I was half-heartedly on my way to a teaching credential with the track I chose at my second institution.

I was in a very bad mental and emotional state when I transferred schools; my focus was on survival, not big-picture career planning. I just followed the path I’d started at the junior college. I’d had some classroom experience before I transferred, from working in an after-school program for three years, and that experience even qualified as my internship to fulfill my degree requirements. I cared about kids, but my heart wasn’t in teaching. I was uncomfortable with my judgment and comportment in discipline, and wasn’t the best classroom manager. I am sure I could have done it, but I just didn't want to.

It didn’t help that I had another spiritual/emotional breakdown in the middle of my last year of school, and quit altogether. A few years later I returned to school with even less drive and focus, but I eventually completed my degree coursework. I owe the school money because I didn’t qualify for financial aid in the last semester, so my transcripts and diploma are held hostage. But I finished. I am paying gobs of money for a degree that didn’t teach me much. To be fair, I didn’t apply myself much, either. My excellent organizational, language and study skills got me through it with decent grades, but I didn’t absorb a whole lot of useful knowledge. I wasn’t trying to. I was still just trying to survive.

So now, with some real-world work experience, a husband, and more self-understanding, I want to start a new course. I don’t want to work with kids anymore, though that’s what I’ve been doing, teaching kids who have developmental disabilities for the last six years. That’s great and such, but I’m burnt out mentally and have been injured physically. So, editing. I believe I can do it. I’ve already tried it informally. I want to learn how to do it. I’m just a little late, is all. 

Expanding my knowledge of editing only adds to my "career goal" of homemaking. I think it's wise for ladies at home to have skills that can transfer outside the home circle if need be. Many lovely blogging homemakers have this covered, and they do it with grace and finesse. 

Accomplished and proactive homemaking is another "skill set" which I'm a little late in developing. I am the daughter of an accidental housewife- my mom was a medical assistant who "retired" at 43, because her diabetes was finally catching up with her. She is a wonderful mother, but a C-average housekeeper. 

Mom was the family taxi, she was fully and lovingly present to us, she got the basics done, and that was all. She didn't have any hobbies that I remember, and hardly any interests. She was a microwave cook at worst, and a semi-homemade/canned food cook at best. From her I learned generosity, kindness, the importance of prayer, and the meaning of unconditional love. From her I did not learn how to cook, clean, decorate, or organize.

My goal is to be a well-rounded homemaker, editing abilities included, and because God always gives second chances, it's never really too late, not while we live and breathe. With Him on my side, it should be a joyful challenge and I'm looking forward to it.

Dirt

It has occurred to me that my homekeeping is more than just a ministry to my husband (and future children), more than just obedience to the word of God. My husband and I watched the film Dirt! last night, which is about, well, dirt. The basic idea that the filmmakers convey is that dirt, the skin of the earth, is alive and essential to the survival of our planet. They illustrate the ways in which dirt is a living thing, and the ways in which traditional societies and people of faith around the world have had a relationship with dirt, and the ways in which our modern (industrial) society is ruining dirt, possibly irreparably. There are also examples of how violence against humans is often connected to violence against the environment.

Thankfully, the film ends with examples of people around the world who are doing their best to heal dirt, and consequently, heal ourselves and the whole planet. Dirt! is a good one to watch after you've seen the short film, "The Story of Stuff," by Annie Leonard, and any of her subsequent films. Dirt! goes into detail particularly concerning modern agricultural practices, which I feel is the preeminent "dirt" issue which we can easily do something about, just by the choices we make.

My husband and I consider ourselves to be rather eco-minded folk, and much of what the film had to say, we already knew. But the reminder for me is timely. As a homemaker, I have a great chance to drop out of consumerism entirely. I am in a good position to take the time and effort to do what little I can, like the hummingbird in the African folktale told in the film, who put out the forest fire one drop of water at a time. I already am doing a lot just by making my own food and buying less "stuff." I no longer drive a car. I purchase as much as I can from local independent stores, and buy clothes at thrift shops. We love to buy produce from the farmer's market. I wash dishes by hand and toss the washwater into the garden. I do the same with my bathwater. I hang my clothes on the line to dry. Still, I know I can do better. We can start growing food, even in this drought. I can use that wash and bath water to water veggies instead of just a pile of mulch. If I am able to stay home (I'm on temporary disability) and not return to work, I'll even have time to learn to make clothes for us so we hardly have to shop at all.

Keeping house is a way to help heal the dirt. It's harder when I have a job; I eat more junk and restaurant food, use more transportation, buy more stuff we don't need, and don't have as much energy to plan and take care with what I'm doing about water, laundry and so forth. Money becomes more important than other values in life. Also, I take poorer care of my clothes when I work at a job, and out of exhaustion I make more mistakes and need to replace things that I'd otherwise care for and use longer. I also have less time and energy to plan, budget, and think of more ways to improve our environment. This is important to us, as stewards of God's earth.

Maturity

Maturity is something which I have tried so hard to display, because I believe in it and because I believe our society could use some more of it, but I’ve come to realize and must admit that I am not actually mature. I suppose am mature to some extent of course, but the level of maturity which I so ardently desire to wear on my sleeve isn’t the reality of my soul. I’m not even close. I often forget, since I am so much isolated from those whom I love, that maturity is borne out of consideration for others; essentially, maturity is respect and love for oneself and the rest of the world. I’m desperately lacking both. I have a hard time letting God love me, but I don’t wish to explicate that right now, and therefore I have a hard time expressing and receiving, even feeling love. I am referring to agape love.




Alongside my struggle to let God in and let go of the fear that squashes my ability to love, I will continue to make steps toward walking the maturity walk, not just talking the talk and wearing the t-shirt. It’s a fine balance, loving oneself enough to not sweat the small stuff, but still having the discipline to daily keep oneself emotionally controlled, house neat and clean, beds made, bills paid, and so forth. I am as yet not certain how to achieve this balance. I have high standards, which I continue to uphold, but my process of keeping the standards can be self-destructive.


I’m very good at looking the part. I dress conservatively and modestly, rather like my fifth grade teacher, except for her ABC-pencil-apple sweaters. I don’t (usually!) text while walking in the street, or chat loudly on the phone in public. For a time, I even refused to listen to music with earbuds during my commute, and looked askance at my fellow passengers who did. How adolescent! I scoffed in my mind. When I caved in to my desire to have classical radio accompany me to work, I chastised myself severely, and fought it out inside. Such a silly thing to get hung up about. It is just causing consternation in my spirit.




Among my coworkers, I have made no secret of my disdain for pop culture and my refusal to participate in scandalous or childish break-room chatter. I huffily declined every invitation to go out after work. The principles behind the behavior will not change- I still dislike pop culture, vulgar talk and “hanging out” with this particular group of coworkers. What needs to change is my “too-good-for-this” posturing and “huffiness.” I’m a big sour puss, and it’s probably not doing anything to further the cause of Jesus. They should know we are Christians by our love, not our snobbery. And I’m certainly not having any fun in life. No joy in that attitude.


I have seen the movie Ratatouille so many times now, that the first analog which comes to mind is Anton Ego. In the world of “all that is right and proper,” I am Thérèse Ego. Most of the “dialogue” is in my head, but some of it pops out of me, and the attitude is certainly displayed in my behavior. It’s not true maturity, and it will soon turn to bitterness or implode into a black hole of depression. I’ve already got a problem with depression and anxiety. Discipline is not micro-management. Humility is not self-deprecation, and maturity is not self-righteousness.