I'm Guilty, Too

Yesterday, Hubby and I joined our daughter at a youth group event focusing on Martin Luther King Jr. The man did great things. I believe the Spirit spoke through him to our country. I still can't hear the end of the "I Have a Dream" speech without tearing up -- I'm a sucker for powerful words containing powerful truth delivered in a powerful way.

But all I could think about last night was an unfortunate fact I learned about him in recent years: he cheated on his wife. Many times over.

I know, I know . . . this doesn't discredit any of the great things he did. All of us have our secret sins that we struggle with -- we'd all be shocked to see the ugliness in the lives of our greatest heroes, I'm sure. But this particular sin has been hounding me lately.

I just finished reading O'Reilly's Killing Patton (if you're curious for a review, a good book, but not as compelling to me as his other three). Patton cheated on his wife. FDR cheated on Eleanor. Everyone knows about Kennedy's dalliances (from one of O'Reilly's earlier books). And of course, history is filled with stories of influential men and women who fell in the same way. Frankly, I'm so tired of hearing about great people who change the world but can't keep the most basic promise they make to the person they are supposed to put first in their lives. Depressing.

What's worse, I seem to be inundated with stories of friends whose marriages are on the rocks right now because of adultery. Several more just in the last month or so.

Good grief. It makes me despair of my own daughters ever getting wed. I don't want to watch them suffer the pain of that kind of betrayal, and I've started to feel lately like it's almost inevitable that it will happen to one of them. If nothing else, I will probably spend their entire married lives watching for signs, suspicious . . . and I don't want to do that.

Why does sexual sin -- in every form -- so permeate our society? Not just our society . . . the world. Throughout history. Sex is a blessed gift from God. Why does mankind consistently mess it up so badly? Why can't we get this right?

A book I'm reading reminds me that the marriage relationship is a picture of our relationship with God. (In fact, every significant relationship we experience in life is used in scripture to tell us more about us and God.) And scripture also uses the experience of adultery as a metaphor for how we, on our end, broke that relationship.

That's sobering. I have just as adulterous a heart as all these philanderers I've mentioned. I consistently turn away from the One I gave my life to, the One I promised to put first in my life, and turn to other gods for relationship and satisfaction. And yet He calls me back -- over and over -- loves me anyway -- never lets go of me. Unbelievable.

If we weren't capable of such profound depths of sin, we would never know the extent of God's love and mercy and grace. What an amazing God we serve. He makes ALL things work for our good, even the sin and rebellion we repent of.

Reality TV Christians

Apparently John Luke Robertson is engaged. And apparently he and his fiancee are staying abstinent until marriage.

My first reaction: I would never want to put myself in a position where I felt such information needed to be shared with the world. I have NO desire for fame.

My second reaction: it saddens me to no end that being abstinent until marriage is a big enough deal to be a news story.

Seriously.

A friend was telling me a while back that, at the church we attended together a couple moves ago, most of the young people we loved and respected have no qualms at all about living together and having sex before they get married. None at all. Christian young people. It's just no big deal.

I cannot tell you how sad that makes me.

I suppose I would expect that of unbelievers, but even in them, it makes me sad. It's one thing when you have an ideal in your head to save yourself for your wedding day, but you fail to live up to your ideal in the end. That's a sad thing, too. But it's quite another to go into your dating years without even having the mindset that saving yourself is a desirable thing worth the effort. Without feeling any sense of shame or guilt AT ALL about crossing a line that the God you claim to worship and submit to has clearly drawn for you. Clearly.

How in the world did we get here? How did the church manage to raise a generation who has so little regard for the word of their God?

Ugh. If I think about this too much, it really discourages me.

So back to John Luke. I haven't seen "Duck Dynasty" for a while -- my girls kind of got off of that kick. They're more interested in the Duggar crew these days and their various courtships, engagements, marriages, and baby-birthing.

I don't know what to think about the Duggars. If nothing else, they at least are putting some important topics out in the public eye to be discussed. Like modesty, healthy relationships, and such. And for the most part, they don't seem really pushy about things.

They just seem annoying. Are friends going to hate me for saying that? The Duggars annoy me. They're the kind of people that, if I knew them in real life, I would admire for some things but would avoid having to spend too much time with them because they just flat out turn me off.

Maybe they're different in real life -- maybe they would seem a little more genuine and natural than they do on TV. I can't imagine living your life in the public eye like they do: staging conversations and situations for the ever-present cameras (because yes, I have no doubt most of those are "staged", even if they are conversations and situations that would have happened for real without the cameras there).

For instance, when Jessa's boyfriend (I forget his name) approached Jim Bob to ask for permission to propose. They did this on camera. I don't believe for a moment that Jim Bob walked into that room without knowing that this discussion was going to happen. It was awkward; it was weird; it was a personal moment that did not need to be acted out for the world to watch. And it annoyed me that they did act it out for the world to watch.

I suppose I should be happy that there are confessing Christians out there living a Christian life in the public eye as a testimony. But I'm not sure that I am. I think I'd rather there were more confessing Christians living a good Christian life in their homes, neighborhoods, and workplaces for their friends to see as a testimony.

And dear friends, that would most definitely include saving yourself for marriage. Sigh.

No, You CAN'T Have It All

A few minutes ago, while scanning my Facebook newsfeed, I clicked on an article titled, "Why Women Still Can't Have It All." I'm not sure why I did; such articles usually annoy me. And I haven't finished reading the article yet (it's thirteen pages . . . yeesh), so I don't know exactly what conclusions the author is headed toward. But the beginning is rather interesting.

The author is a woman who works at Princeton, I believe (like I said, I haven't finished or read really closely yet) and who spent a couple years in Washington in a high-profile, highly influential position -- the job of her dreams. Yet she gave that job up after two years to go home and spend more time with her family, realizing that her "dream job" simply wasn't worth the sacrifices she was making.

She talks about how choosing to leave your job and "spend more time with your family" has become a euphemism in Washington for being fired. How crazy would it be for someone to actually make that choice of their own volition! Who would give up this kind of power and prestige to devote more energy to being a spouse and raising your kids? Nobody, of course.

But she did. And now she's speaking out, taking back the lies that she used to tell young women in her speaking engagements -- that you can have a high-profile, powerful job and never sacrifice anything in your family life.

Reading this reminded me of a seminal moment in my life. A couple of them, actually.

The first was during my first year of teaching, which was my second year of marriage. I was busting my butt trying to be a good teacher -- and for those of you who don't know, being a good teacher is hard work. Long hours. And for me, constant thinking about students and how to help them and how to get through to them. I was also trying to figure out this wife business -- how to give my husband the attention and support he needed, cook meals, maintain the house, all that.

Then one day, I had a sudden scare that I might be pregnant. I literally was so emotionally distraught, I had to call in sick. The idea of adding a baby to this mix was inconceivable to me.

The reality was, I was too much of a perfectionist. I wanted to be Perfect Wife, Perfect Teacher, and eventually Perfect Mom . . . and I was now coming to the painful reality that this was not possible. And I spent a week or two fuming about this. FUMING at the fact that I had been told all of my life that I could be anything I wanted to be -- and I had been lied to.

The second seminal moment was when hubby and I started talking about having children. I had been teaching for a few years at that point; I was juggling Wife and Teacher fairly well. But I sat and considered seriously the prospect of having a baby and realized I didn't know how to do add a Mother ball to my juggle. And the reason I didn't know is because I had not seen anybody do it well yet.

I knew three kinds of teachers. 1) Lousy teachers, who put minimal effort into their job and got minimal results. 2) Teachers whose lives were completely centered around their jobs -- most of them were single, or childless, or with grown children, and/or their spouses worked for the school system, too. And 3) good teachers who had lives outside of school but who were literally making themselves crazy or sick -- most of them seemed to burn out after a few years.

I had no role model for how to be a good teacher, a good wife, AND a good parent, all at the same time. It was easy to assume that it couldn't be done.

I'm now trying to do all three for the first time in my life. So far, so good, but it is definitely a challenge.

In any case, I'm stunned by women -- and men -- who throw themselves into high-pressure careers and somehow think their families aren't affected by this. I suspect they are in denial; I suspect they know that their families are adversely affected -- they just don't want to acknowledge it. Why?

I probably shouldn't go there . . . maybe another day . . .

Tell Me What Greatness Looks Like, Mom

My friend lost her father a week ago today. Her son is a student of mine, a classmate of my daughter's, so the family has been on my mind a lot this week.

I lost my father thirteen years ago -- my mother the year before that. Other friends who have lost a parent talk about thinking about them every day. I can't say I think about either of my parents every day. I never lived close enough to my parents for them to be an integral part of my daily life as an adult -- maybe that's why. I don't feel a hole in my daily life to prompt their memory. It's mainly on holidays that I miss them, or at other random times . . . like this morning.

My dad grew up on a farm in Kansas during the Dust Bowl years. Mom grew up in small-town Missouri, daughter of a high school principal and elementary school teacher. From what I understand (I had to piece these details together through relatives after they died), they met in Cape Girardeau, Missouri, where my dad was stationed for some part of his military training during World War II and where my mother was teaching in a one-room schoolhouse (I think Cape Girardeau was where the one-room schoolhouse was . . . oh, I wish so much I had asked her about that experience!).

From that point, Dad left for officer training at Harvard (that's how a poor farm boy from Kansas ends up getting a Master's degree from Harvard), and the two of them continued what my mother called a romance of letters. They apparently wrote each other all through the war.

As you can guess, my sisters and I would give just about anything to see those letters.

This is hard for me to imagine. As I recall, they didn't have a whole lot of time together at Cape Girardeau. Maybe a year? And this was back in the day when people were a bit more cautious about their romance. My dad, in particular, would have been cautious, I think; he was always a very conservative one.

But maybe not in Cape Girardeau? They apparently fell for each other hard enough to maintain a long-distance relationship for a few years through nothing but words on paper (no email, no texting, not enough phone calls). And it flourished to the point that they got engaged soon after he returned from the Pacific.

How do you do something like that? My daughter and her long-term, long-distance boyfriend would probably like to know.

I remember asking my mother once what made her think my dad was good husband material. I mean, on the surface, someone from my mother's background might not see much in a farm boy from Western Kansas whose family of nine lived in a basement (she said when she first went to meet the family, they hadn't even built a house over the basement yet -- they literally all lived in just a basement). Her answer was, basically, that she saw greatness in him.

Wow.

I lost my parents too early. So much I should have asked them.

When Anger is Sinful

Anger is an attack. It is a physiological response to a threat -- the "fight" part of the fight-or-flight response. I think this is important to establish because we tend to justify anger that there isn't much justification for.

I first learned this fact about the nature of anger in grad school when I had a baby at home, and it was very revealing to me. Many afternoons, my daughter would wake up early from her afternoon nap, and I would be so mad! I had so much I needed to get done during that nap! I didn't get even half of it done!!  #!%@!!!!

Then I caught myself and stepped back: anger is a response to a threat, so why is this a threat to me? What exactly am I defending myself against? When I sat down and examined the situation, my anger was ridiculous. She's fourteen months old. She sleeps when she's tired . . . she wakes up when she's not. It's not like she's conspiring to selfishly dominate my attention and keep me from ever achieving my other aspirations in life.

I also found this fact about anger enlightening when I looked at my reaction to other people's anger, because although I wouldn't have been able to articulate it, anger terrified me. Frightened me to my core. It didn't even have to be directed at me, and it didn't even have to be coming from people close to me, but when those two things were true, it was even more terrifying. When someone I loved got mad at me, in my gut, I was preparing myself to be destroyed. Destroyed. I have no idea why I reacted so strongly, but it was my reality.

I've learned over the years to control my fear, to trust the love of my loved ones despite their anger, to reason myself into reacting calmly and appropriately instead of with the torrent of helpless tears that my husband once confessed struck him as manipulative. I know in my head that somebody else's anger won't destroy me. But I've realized recently that in my heart, the fear is still there. I wonder if it always will be.

But today, I'm less concerned about my own destruction and more concerned about what I may be destroying in others . . . like my family. I don't know how my husband and kids feel inside when I get mad at them, but if it's anything resembling my own reaction, I NEVER want to be the cause of that kind of fear in them. Especially when, as I said at the beginning, most of my anger is not justified. Oh, I always think it is. Don't I have good reason to be mad when my kids don't do what I ask them to do? When they behave selfishly and irresponsibly?

Not when I realize that my anger is an attack. It is a response to a perceived threat from them, a response which, at its physiological core, is designed to squash them, to dominate them, to put them into submission and establish myself as top dog. We don't think that's what we're doing, but we're deceiving ourselves. Anger is a physical response to a mental perception of a situation. A fight response to a threat.

Anger isn't an appropriate training technique. Anger doesn't teach -- or when it does, it teaches that you are a threat to me, to my comfort, to my agenda, to my sense of self, and I won't allow you to be that. I'm in control. I will stop you. There may be circumstances where such a response is appropriate and necessary, but not in the daily life of your typical family. Anger may often be more selfish that the selfish behavior that provokes it.

But we don't think of it this way because it's just so natural to get mad -- and natural is always right, yes? Trying to subvert our natural impulses just messes us up. Right?

Pfft. Lies from Satan. We are by nature sinners,and we are emphatically instructed to stop sinning.

But let's do it right. We don't want to stuff our anger after it rises; we want to stop getting angry in the first place. We want to "be transformed by the renewing of our minds" so that we stop seeing other people's faults as a personal threat and don't have the instinctual response to attack them to protect ourselves. We can't really stop ourselves from getting mad about something as long as we're perceiving it as a threat; we have to change the way we're thinking about the people and situations in our lives -- then our bodies won't turn on that fight response to squash our "enemies" who threaten us.

So, yes, I believe there are times when my anger is sinful -- or, more accurately, when it is a sign of sin in my life. When it is selfish, when it hurts others, and when it is clearly a sign that I don't trust God like I claim to. We don't need to sit around feeling guilty about being sinners . . . but we don't need to sit around indulging in our sin either. Be transformed by the renewing of our minds. God, teach me to think the way you think.

Magic Words

Let's say you're a coach, or a teacher. Your job is to help young people get better at performing a certain task -- running, singing, writing, whatever. And there's a particular young person in your keep who needs feedback from you today.

Wanna learn a secret that will increase his effort by 40%?

A team of psychologists from Stanford, Yale, and Columbia did research on how to give helpful feedback. "How" because as we all know, how you give such advice is as important (if not more important) than what advice you give.

They discovered a secret phrase, a phrase that, when used, increased the effort among white students by 40% and increased the effort among black students by 320%. (They didn't go into the reasons for that discrepancy, so I won't either, though I have my thoughts.) Here's the magic sentence:

"I'm giving you these comments because I have very high expectations and I know you can reach them."

Let's dissect that a bit.

"I have very high expectations." No soft-pedaling here. No dumbing down to what they can do easily. You have to have high expectations and own them, without apology.

"I know you can reach them." Confidence in the student's abilities. No doubts. You have to have the vision of the student succeeding and then communicate that vision to the student, because their vision is hazy.

The article about this research brought out another important factor here: "The secret is to understand that this feedback isn't just feedback. It's a vital cue about the relationship." When you build a connection with your students or trainees, and build a sense of teamwork in the group that identifies them as special and capable of great things, then words like these become "authentic, clear signals of trust, belonging and expectation."

A key word there is "authentic". You can't manufacture this kind of faith in your kids; they'll see right through that.

This was awesome for me to read, because I already feel this way about one class I'm teaching this fall. I already have a vision for each of them; they already are on their way to this kind of bond. Now, the other class, I don't know as well . . . and I suspect they will need some building up.

But more than that, I see application here for every relationship we have in our lives -- particularly in our families. Our children need to catch our vision for them. Our spouses, too.

Nineteen magic words. The trick is to believe them when you say them.

25 Years

When you're a month shy of 21, the idea of being married for 25 years is almost inconceivable. Well, maybe not inconceivable . . . but it sounds like a long, long time. Like a lifetime. Because it is, when you're a month shy of 21.

Once you hit that 25-year mark, it doesn't seem like it should have ever felt so inconceivable. It even feels like something you can aim for one more time. But it still seems like a long, long time. It's kind of hard, some days, to remember what it was like to not be married; it's so much a part of who I am.

Hubby and I have done SO MUCH in the past twenty-five years, it seems. Since we said “I do”, we've completed three college degrees between us, lived in eight different cities (five different states), and between the two of us, worked full-time jobs for seven different employers (not even counting the short-term work we did here and there).We had two children who are now nearly raised – and we even started the parenting thing relatively late in our marriage. We've been members of five different churches and regular short-term attenders at more. Hubby has played on innumerable softball and basketball teams. I've performed in innumerable music and drama productions. We have friends all over the country.

Wow. It's been a rich life.

It's been a hard life sometimes. Marriage is not easy. There were ugly times -- a lot of them. “Love will keep us together” is a lie. Hard work and sacrifice and sometimes pure stubbornness – and above all, the grace of God – is what keeps us together, because love (at least love as you know it when you're a month shy of 21) comes and goes. You need to love someone before you marry them, but I think you have to be married for a while before you learn how to Love someone, with a capital L, the Love that matters. 

And even then, there's no guarantee. Although I've known couples who loved intensely until the end, I've probably known more who have limped into their final years, hanging together just out of habit, or obligation, or convenience, or fear of the unknown. 

Lord, save us from that fate. Please. Teach us how to Love . . . with Your Love . . . until the very end.

Happy anniversary, honey. Here's to Loving forever and Loving well . . . until the very end.

The Octogenarian Newlywed

I don't know for sure how old my Uncle Jim is, but my dad (the eldest sibling) would have turned 91 yesterday, so Jim must be in his late 80s. And I just heard Uncle Jim is getting married.

Yeah, my jaw dropped, too. Except that he's my Uncle Jim, and he's just kinda like that.

He's been widowed twice before, so this is his third marriage. His bride (also in her 80s) was widowed three years ago, according to a news article about her that my sister told me about. She immediately decided to go back to college, printing up business cards to hand out to the students calling herself "Granny Franny". Someone even nominated her for Homecoming Queen. Sounds like the kind of lady my Uncle Jim would marry.

Still, it's hard for me to imagine getting married at that age. I mean, what exactly does marriage offer you at that age that you can't get just by being friends? I doubt they're marrying for the bedroom privileges (although, again, this is Uncle Jim . . . I can't quite bring myself to eliminate that possibility).

Is it terrible that I found myself wondering if there are financial advantages to tying the knot at that age? (Because it doesn't seem like there would be many . . . but then Lord knows I'm no money guru . . . )

Do they want someone to help take care of them as they age? That's possible, but they're both aging, so I don't know how reliable a help they'd be to each other. Plus Uncle Jim has been pretty darn independent his whole life; it's hard to imagine him needing to be taken care of. And Granny Franny doesn't sound like a fragile, needy little thing, either.

Honestly, why shouldn't somebody in their 80s want to get married? I assume they're getting married for the reasons people should get married: they love each other, and they want to build a life together, even if it's a relatively short one at this point. They're house-hunting in Topeka (house-hunting!), and my sister said he sounded VERY happy.

God bless them! I hope I have the energy to consider starting a new life path in my late 80s. I just hope I live to my late 80s.

My Daughter Thinks She's Courting

When I got home last night, hubby and our eldest were watching "19 and Counting", the episode I've heard a lot about lately where one of the daughters is starting to court and they're setting up all the rules for that.

Courting is something I'm familiar with now that I've been a part of the homeschooling world for a decade or so. I haven't experienced it, but I'm familiar with it. I've known families who have done it, in a variety of forms, with their kids. But I had other friends who saw this episode and were astonished at the idea.

For her part, my eldest was horrified. She said, "If you ever made me do this, I'd probably leave home." Her biggest beef was the fact that this couple never got to talk alone together. She'd go crazy if she could never talk to her boyfriend alone, she said.

It all led to an interesting discussion, though, about dating and courtship. Because my daughter believes that if you set aside the ultra-stringent requirements about never being alone so there's little temptation to impurity, she thinks dating someone and courting someone is about the same.

Hubby and I disagree with her strongly. Dating is casual. Dating is not focused on a future goal of marriage, at least not by definition. Dating is a form of entertainment -- at least, that's what it has become in our society. People date folks that they would have no intention of marrying, and might date them for years, even getting very physically serious with them.

But apparently, that's not how our eldest thinks of dating. Sure, there are people out there who misuse dating that way, she says. But dating is supposed to be about finding a mate. She's had a couple other boyfriends before this one, and she says that once she realized this was not a guy she was interested in being with forever, she ended the relationship. Essentially, she said, she's always been "courting". She's "courting" her boyfriend now.

First of all, I'm impressed that my daughter has such a mature view of relationships. But secondly, I'm surprised she doesn't realize how unique she is in looking at relationships that way.

I also need to explain to her today (because I couldn't think how to explain it to her last night) what I see as the major distinction between courtship and dating. One doesn't start courting until you are ready to be married. She and her boyfriend are quite aware that they are not ready to be married right now. They have not completed their educations, they have no income, etc. etc. If she was really courting and not dating, they would have held off having any kind of romantic relationship until marriage was an imminent possibility -- because a romantic relationship that goes on and on for years and years without tying the marital knot puts you in a position of being seriously tempted to go too far physically, for one thing.

Plus, it's kind of "playing" marriage. You're "committed" to someone, but not really. You expect a kind of faithfulness from each other without the maturity or intention to be genuinely faithful as faithfulness is defined. Your faithfulness ends when your interest ends . . . and that's not faithfulness at all: that's training for divorce. You really have no right to make claims on another's heart until you're ready to give them a permanent claim on yours.

So, no honey, you're not courting, you're dating. But really, I'm not big on the courting vs. dating debate, mainly because there's a lot of semantics involved. I don't care what name my daughter gives to the current relationship she has with her boyfriend. I care most that she is willing to talk to me about it and take my advice about how to do this relationship in a wise and healthy way, whatever she's calling it.

Parenting . . . if we knew how hard it was before we got into it, the race would die out.

Saturday Night

Christmas 2013 just ended for me last Saturday night when my husband took me to see "Wicked" at the Majestic Theater. No, I had never seen "Wicked". Yes, that's kind of weird for someone as into theater as I am.

The evening started out with dinner. Since I picked the show, I let hubby pick the place to eat, and he chose a Mexican spot in Alamo Heights. And here's where our homebody tendencies show: we didn't build into our evening's schedule a 30-40 minute wait for a dinner table. Forty minutes? And then waiting to be served? Not happening -- so Mexican was out. We had Five Guys. Which I think I probably liked better. Mmm . . . Five Guys.

And it was a good thing we didn't try to make the Mexican place work, because as it was, we barely got there in time for the curtain to rise. Downtown traffic in San Antonio on a Saturday night? Unbelievable. We spent a full twenty minutes driving one block down Houston street. Luckily, I knew where a parking garage was and we turned off Houston, praying there was still room inside. There was -- at the very top. So we parked and hustled our well-dressed booties down the elevator and down crowded Houston street to the Majestic Theater.

Ah, the Majestic Theater! Beautiful. Just beautiful. Maybe one of the most beautiful theaters I've been in. Of course, I couldn't see much from our seats: the absolute top row of the balcony (the only seats left by a few days before Christmas when I received the gift from my husband). But I took a good look around at intermission. Bee-yoo-tiful.

And even that top row was a relatively pleasant experience. We had top row balcony seats for "Les Mis" in Philly one year, and my husband had to leave at intermission. The seats were so tightly packed in and it was so hot that high up that he was absolutely miserable. We had some nice cool air blowing on us at the top of the Majestic.

The show was fabulous. The theater was packed. And of course, one of the disadvantages of being in the top row balcony of a packed theater is being behind everyone else trying to leave when the show is over. But even then, the crowd moved along pretty efficiently, spilling us all back out onto Houston street.

Which was STILL crowded. And loud. Not until we saw some folks wearing ridiculous green hats did it occur to me that this was St. Patrick's Day weekend and maybe that accounted for the huge crowds. Of course, we've never been in downtown SA this late on a Saturday night, so maybe this is typical weekend stuff.

But if so, remind us to never go downtown that late on a Saturday night. The traffic!  Holy cow!!  It took us over an hour to move the eight blocks or so to get out of downtown and onto the highway. We sat . . . and sat . . . and sat . . .

. . . and watched people going into clubs. I've never been to a "club" on a Saturday night. I'm not sure I've been to a "club" at all, actually. I looked at these people dressed to the nines, a few already stumbling a bit, heard the music blaring, saw the flashing bright lights, and I thought, "There is nothing appealing about that scene to me at all." Nothing. I have an old high school friend who has played at clubs -- I might enjoy listening to his band sometime. But other than that, clubbing looks hellish to me from the outside.

Is this because I'm an old fart? Maybe. But I think even as a young fart, I would have chosen a quiet evening at home over that.

But young fart or old, I'll fight the crowded, noisy streets for a great night of theater. At least once in a while. Definitely worth it.

Guess I'm Just a Sorry Excuse for a Modern Woman

A comment thread on a friend's recent FB post prompted me to make the following declarations:

- Although I'm a bit fuzzy on the current definition of a feminist, I'm still pretty sure that I'm not one.

- I don't believe I've ever been in a situation where I have been held back or mistreated simply because I'm a woman. However, this is most likely because I chose a career field that has historically been dominated by women.

- I don't at all doubt that there are women out there who are held back professionally or mistreated simply because they are women. But I also believe there are men out there who are held back professionally and mistreated simply because they are men. Example: I can't tell you how many times over the last twenty-five years my husband has been one of the last couple candidates for a job and lost it to a woman or a minority . . . but it's enough to convince me that it's not a coincidence. And I'm quite tired of television shows portraying all men as either violent sex maniacs or wimpy buffoons dominated by their wives.

- I have no problem with the term "mankind", even though I am not a man. None at all.

- I also have no problem with masculine pronouns being used to refer to a generic person. In fact, I find "s/he" and "his/her" and all their ilk to be quite annoying. They are MUCH more disruptive to effective communication, I think, than just saying "he" and assuming your reader has a modicum of common sense.

- The only time I recall experiencing any direct discrimination for my gender (and even this wasn't really direct) was at a church Hubby and I visited several times when we first moved to Hutchinson early in our marriage. He actually was the one who pointed out to me that women were never asked to pray in the Sunday School class, and did that bother me? (Not really.) When the church had a missionary couple come in to speak for a weekend -- and the men gathered to hear the husband speak of the mission efforts while the women gathered in another room to hear about the country's food and clothes -- that's when we decided to move on in our church search.

- There are a lot of super-conservative Christians that have a lot of super-conservative views on women that I don't agree with.

- That said, I think the Bible teaches that wives are to submit to their husbands, and I agree and do so, to the best of my ability. It's not a question of inferiority and superiority. I am "inferior" to my husband in some aspects, and he is "inferior" to me in other aspects, and we are equal in value before God. It's simply a matter of position; someone needs to be in charge in any organization. I knew when I married my husband that I was hiring a CEO for my family; if I didn't trust him to do the job well, I wouldn't have married him. Rarely has he ever expected me to "submit" to him because we rarely disagree on important matters regarding our family, but I'm prepared to do so. Anyone who uses the Bible to make women doormats has not thoroughly read their Bible.

- Men (as a whole) are physically stronger than women (as a whole). This means that men (in general) are better suited for certain jobs than women (in general). There are many other differences between men and women, and I like my men and women to be different. Again, it does not mean they are different in value.

- I had male OB/GYNs deliver both of my babies -- and I loved them.

- I prefer not to attend a church with a woman pastor. But I don't know that this has to do with Biblical admonitions against women in the ministry -- I think it's just a personal preference.

- I'm still not sure what I think of women in ministry roles as a whole. I had a friend once (a woman Sunday School teacher of a couples class) who believed that the church made a big mistake when they allowed women to take leadership positions in the church because this gave men permission to sit back and stop leading -- which they did. I tend to think there's something to that. I also know that if I were tapped to teach a class at church and I knew that there were several men who would not attend or who would give less credibility to the teaching because of my gender, I would step down and give the job to a man . . . because it is far more important that these men hear the word of God with an open heart than it is for them to get over any misogyny I suspect they suffer from (especially because getting over their misogyny would require them hearing the word of God with an open heart first).

- I was uncomfortable with Sarah Palin running for Vice President because she had young children -- and especially a very young one with special needs -- and I felt she would not be able to give her family the attention they needed if she were Vice President. It did occur to me at the time that it was hypocritical of me not to apply the same standard to men running for office . . . which has contributed to my belief that high-level offices in the national government (President and such) really need to be filled only by people who do not have children at home. Everyone should put their families first, and a President really can't.

- When a man opens a door for me or stands to give me a seat on a bus, it never occurs to me that he is implying that I am incapable in any way. I'm just terribly impressed at his good manners.

- I understand that many women have experienced genuine abuse based on their gender. This is abominable. I also think there are many women (and men) who frankly are just too darn sensitive. There.  I said it.

- Please feel free to call me a "lady". I strive to be one. I think I can tell when you mean it in a pejorative sense, and I'll get over it if you do.

Settling for What's Natural

Recently, several of my FB friends have been posting links to a blog by a guy named Matt Walsh, posts I enjoy reading but often hesitate to share on my own page because of his tone. Although I usually agree wholeheartedly with what he says, I frequently take issue with the snarky, mean-spirited tone in which he says it.

For instance, he recently responded to a sarcastic, self-aggrandizing critic who wrote trying to explain to him that monogamy isn't natural. His sarcastic, self-aggrandizing response ended with his calling the critic an imbecile.

But the points he made were excellent ones. Of course, monogamy isn't natural, he said. It's above natural. It's supernatural. A healthy monogamous relationship requires us to use the qualities human beings possess that make us something more than the animals.

I had a long conversation yesterday with an old Jersey friend, and one topic that came up is how curious it is that it has become the expected norm -- especially among young people, and even among Christian young people -- to live together before getting married. The argument, I expect (for the Christians at least), is that they know they are going to be getting married -- they're probably already engaged . . . essentially, anyway, if not officially. It just makes so much more sense to live in one place until then. They save money on rent, on gas going to see each other . . . they're going to spend all their time together at one or the other apartment anyway, right? It's just so much more convenient.

And I get this argument. My husband and I had this exact conversation concerning our living arrangements the year we were engaged. We "wasted" money on a dorm room for me when I spent almost all my time at his apartment. It was quite inconvenient.

But here's the thing: who said God calls us to a life that's convenient? To a life that's easy? Or "natural"? In fact, when I read what Jesus tells us, it seems completely the opposite. We're supposed to expect it to be hard -- and to be quite different from what our nature is pulling us toward.

Because in the end, marriage . . . no, let's go further. The Christian life is not about life getting easier. It's not about God making us happy people. It's not even about God making us good people. It's about God making us His people. About fixing the broken relationship between Him and humanity, one person at a time. And being in a right relationship with God requires an accurate and intimate knowledge of who He is and of who we are.

What if the only way we can understand who we are is to be frustrated by our limitations? What if God asks us to do more than we're capable of to show us how far we are from Him? What if He intentionally calls us to a higher life than we can live "naturally" . . . what if He purposefully gives us more than we can handle on our own . . . what if he knowingly puts us in situations where a supernatural, spiritual behavior is required from beings whose spirits are dead, just to reveal our dead spirits to us -- so we turn to Him for new life?

Because ultimately, getting that relationship right is the only way to be really happy.  Or to be good. Or maybe even to be "natural". But even if it made us none of these things in this earthly life, it would still be God's goal, and so we know it's something even better.

Prideful Shame

A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life. - Proverbs 31

I've always wanted this to be true of me. And I've always been frustrated by my efforts. No matter how hard I've tried to be a good “helpmeet”, to make my husband's life easier for him, I always seem to screw up and cause him more trouble. (He, of course, tells me otherwise, but what does he know.)

Over the weekend, I made our Christmas letter (a handwritten scrapbook page that I copy to mail out) and realized I'd left something out he wanted in. So I redid the page, made all the copies and stuffed them in the envelopes . . . and then realized I'd messed up his new job title. And then I opened the newly-arrived mortgage bill and found that I apparently didn't get the mortgage paid last month somehow.

I put down the mortgage bill and went out for a jog around the neighborhood with tears in my eyes. I hadn't slept well or eaten well during the Thanksgiving holiday, which may have contributed to my emotional state, but my pity party was real. How could I have missed getting the mortgage paid?? Forget about whether my husband was disappointed in me – I was now disappointed in myself.

I read something recently about spiritual pride. We usually think the proud person is the one who thinks they are so righteous, that God must be so happy to have them on His team. But it's just as prideful to think God is dreadfully disappointed in you.

Consider: I know that all of humanity is sinful, so sinful that we can not possibly live up to God's righteous standards apart from His Spirit making that happen within us. But I know that God is great. That He knows we are dust. That He loves every person despite their sins and foibles and failings, and He forgives us when we come to Him. That He casts our sins has far as the east is from the west.

Everyone's but mine. My particular sins are SO bad that God just can't get over them. They are far too heavy for that east-to-west casting. He knows that I, being more than dust and better than the dusty world, was capable of better, and so His disappointment in me continues beyond my repentance. He can forgive everyone else – but not me. MY sins are greater than God's capacity to love and forgive.

You see the pride there?

There was a day in my life, when my eldest was a baby, when I had done something to make my husband mad at me. I don't remember what it was, but I remember just hating myself and how I always messed things up, even when I was trying so hard to do the right thing. And I remember thinking to myself, “I'm always going to screw up; I just have to hope that someday, he will decide to love me anyway”.

Don't think I'm crazy or anything, but I swear I heard a voice that was almost audible: Long before you were born, I knew every screw-up you were ever going to make . . . and I decided to love you anyway.

I cried. And my life was changed. But I still need to be reminded.

Three Things To NOT Do When a Woman Is Crying (And One Thing TO Do)

I offer this as a service to guys everywhere, particularly you young ones just starting out on this relationship gig. You should be taking notes, gentlemen.

 

1) Don't even think about hinting at “that time of the month.” Seriously. You may be right, but just don't. We know better than you do how crazy our body chemicals make us.  If we don't realize that that is the source of our emotional outburst right now, we will eventually, and your trying to rush that process will only prolong it.

But even more than that, blaming all of our tears on hormones just minimizes the real problem . . . and yes, there usually is a real problem. It's possible that your lady just fell apart into torrential sobs over absolutely nothing, but it's not likely. It's more likely that the hormones simply magnified the reaction to a very real problem that deserves very real attention.

2) Don't try to make her stop crying. At least, on a surface level. When I see a teenage boy with his weepy teenage girlfriend trying to make her laugh to stop the tears . . . or, God forbid, tickling her (seriously, do you have a death wish?) . . . I think, “Yeah, dude, she'll think that's cute and appreciate your effort for a while, but be prepared for the blow-up one day.”

Once again, you have to remember that under the apparent hysterics, there is a real problem. When you minimize that problem, you are minimizing her. It's demeaning. I know you mean well -- so does she, that's why she'll put up with it for a while -- but there comes a point where you look like you aren't interested in the whole woman here.  You're only interested in a happy, pretty plaything that entertains you and responds to the push of a button.  That's not a woman; that's a doll.  Buy a doll.

3) Don't try to fix the problem – at least at first. I realize that sounds COMPLETELY contradictory to what I said in my first two points. And here is where I'll admit some craziness on the part of my gender. Men are fixers; they see a problem, they fix it. Women are not men. Sometimes, we need some wallow time. We need to feel the full emotional impact of what we're dealing with and get a grip on that before we can deal with it. Yes, we will over-do it occasionally and indulge in our wallowing to an unhealthy extent (ladies, you need to recognize this tendency in yourself and work on it so your man doesn't have to attempt the dangerous maneuver of pointing it out to you).

But I'll let you in on an important secret: often, when a woman is not able to get past the emotions of a situation and move on, it's because somebody in her life (currently or regularly in the past) has minimized her emotions so much that she has learned to compensate by exaggerating them. She has to over-react to demonstrate -- to herself and to you -- that her feelings are legitimate.  That SHE is legitimate. Weird, yes . . . but only to a man.

Your woman would probably welcome your suggestions and insight into her situation, but not until she's ready.  Not until she's felt the full emotional impact of that situation.  Not until after you . . .

* DO sit with her and help carry the burden.  Listen. Hold her hand. Affirm how bad things are. Yes, even if you don't quite understand why things are so bad. I'm not saying to patronize and lie . . . I'm saying take the time to understand what this means to her. Did you catch that key word?  UNDERSTAND. Attempt to understand. Women are extremely relational by nature. They won't care to hear your suggestions until they are convinced you really get the problem.  How can you fix things until you understand?

This is hard for men; I get that. But let me give you some encouragement: the more you do this, the less you may need to do this.  The more understood she feels, the quicker she can get through the emotions and be ready for your assistance in solving it all.

Do I hear an "amen", sisters?

And More Updates

So, I think it's time for some updates on the Kandt family's progress here in San Antonio.

• As of yesterday, we are officially moved into our new house. Hallelujah! We thought we were moving in last Friday, but the movers couldn't make it by then. We had to be out of the apartment by noon Friday, so we were in a hotel room over the weekend. I have spent a lot of time the last several days carrying our family's necessaries up and down stairs, between apartment, hotel room, and house. I should have lost weight. But I bet I haven't.
• As of last Wednesday, we weren't going to have internet, cable or phone at the new house until the 13^th. That was almost worthy of a big cry. That's a week and a half in our house without things that have become much too necessary in our lives. But I've been checking with AT&T a few times a day, hoping for cancellations in their installation schedule . . . and my persistence paid off! They're coming to install this Friday! Another hallelujah!
• As the movers were unloading yesterday morning, my husband left town for a week-long business trip. That really stinks. It was sad being here in our new house last night without him. I miss him a lot.
• I already wrote about my youngest's cross country experience. But the afternoon of that first meet, she also auditioned for “A Christmas Carol” at a local youth theater. We got word Monday evening that she was cast as the Ghost of Christmas Present! A pretty significant role for her first play there – and probably as big of a role as she could get as a female in that show. Her audition there was different than we've experienced anywhere else. They took each kid into a room behind the stage where they listened to their memorized one-minute monologue (my daughter did an excerpt from the book: Scrooge's fiancée releasing him) and had them do a short reading from the play. Nobody saw anyone else's audition. Not sure what I think of that. But I'll say this: while I was waiting for her to come out, I was thinking, If I were casting this play, I'd cast her as the Ghost of Christmas Present. So, of course, I assume this director is brilliant. :)
• The oldest is plugging along in school. It is definitely more academically challenging than Sioux City East was. She was assigned a C.S. Lewis essay to read and answer questions about, and even I found it pretty difficult. Next week, they have a required overnight retreat for the juniors and seniors that she doesn't want to go to. She doesn't like being away from home anyway, and she doesn't know too many people at school very well yet. I'm hoping it ends up being a good experience for her. She also can't get over the strict uniform guidelines (only black hair ties?  No bracelets or necklaces?). But I think she looks darn cute in her uniform, actually.
• The youngest is enjoying school. She even comes home anxious to do homework. We'll see how long that lasts!
• I'm unpacking. And I'm really tired. But it's a good tired. I love my new house, and I'm enjoying making it our own. But I do wish my husband was here. And the internet was on. And the cable TV.  Okay, I'll stop whining now. 

#lookingforlove #allthewrongplaces

I nearly jumped a curb in the van yesterday when the friendly DJ on the radio, who fills in the gaps between songs and ads with entertaining factoids, informed me that one-third of new marriages these days are the result of relationships that began on the internet.

Are you kidding me?!??

Now, I realize I'm nearing old fart status.  The world is a different place than it was when I was dating, I understand.  I know how the internet has changed the way we interact and all.  I even have friends who met through a dating website and who seem well-matched and happily married.  So, maybe this is just me.  But.

I still cannot imagine seeking out new relationships on the internet, much less committing my life to one of them.  You know, friends, people lie.  The web is like a virtual reality world -- you can put on any face you want and be whoever you want with few or no consequences.  Even with the people I talk to on Facebook, who are ALL people I know (or once knew) in real life, I understand that they are showing me only the part of themselves that they want to display to the world.  This isn't the real them.

Of course, face-to-face interactions can be just as false.  I mean, that's the whole problem with dating -- it's not like real life.  You're going out to entertain yourselves and each other, putting your best face on and your best foot forward, for a few hours at a time.  Once you get married and start actually doing life together, a completely different person can emerge.  But the internet makes those false faces even easier to don and maintain.

I am so glad to be out of the dating scene.  If I were to lose my husband (God forbid) and have to start over . . . well, I just might not start over.  Dating is scary to me now.  At least dating with the idea of finding a lifetime partner . . . and I wouldn't date with any illusions that we're "just enjoying each other's company" because I know how falling in love can slip up on you unawares. 

Marriage is great -- but marriage is hard.  Hubby and I have spent almost twenty-four years now growing up together and figuring out who we are and how we mesh and how to make life work . . . and I still don't think we're "there" yet.  It is truly a life-long process.  A wonderful one -- a challenging one -- one I wouldn't give up for the world -- but one I have no desire to go through again with someone else.

Especially with "JoeBloe24" whom I only know from the internet.  Yeesh.

Marriage and Maturity

Homeschoolers are an interesting crowd, really.  In our co-op in New Jersey, one woman told us, “I remember the day I joined this group, I was so relieved that you didn’t all wear denim jumpers and tennis shoes!”

 . . . and you might have to be a homeschooler to get that one.

In any case, one of the interesting things I notice about homeschoolers is, as a group, they tend to marry younger than the rest of us.  I’m not exactly sure why.  They are often more mature at a younger age than their peers; that’s probably a good part of it. 

The rest of us in society encourage kids to put off marriage until they are older, more ready, more mature.  Of course, nobody has a really clear definition of maturity in this context.  Mature enough to . . . hold down a job?  Raise a child?  Communicate patiently and effectively with your spouse?  Stop partying every weekend?  Achieve self-actualization and have a good sense of “who you are”?  Such qualifications would eliminate a good chunk of the population, and the species would start to die out.

I wonder, though, if we’ve got this thing backwards.  Maybe part of the purpose of marriage is to bring us into maturity.  Maybe this is why, historically, people have married young, and parents have had a hand in choosing the spouse – so the mature parents can ensure a good match.

One of the first things I learned after I got married is how selfish I was.  And then I had kids – and then I learned how selfish I really was.  Maybe, for some of us, it takes being married to realize how far we are from maturity.  Maybe we can’t learn to communicate patiently and effectively until we have someone in our face all the time whom we have to figure out a way to communicate with.  Maybe it’s easier to get a sense of who you are when you have an intimate companion there to contrast yourself with.  Maybe some of us will never be motivated to become a good, mature person until there’s someone we love who desperately needs us to be good and mature for them.

I read a book once with the subtitle, “What if marriage isn’t about making us happy, but about making us holy?”  Exactly.

Things I Will Miss . . .

Things I will miss when my husband leaves tomorrow to go work in San Antonio:

- Someone to keep the lawn mowed.

- Half of the clothes in the laundry basket.

- Someone to answer the stupid phone while we're in the basement doing school.

- Hearing the garage door open and knowing he's about to walk in the door.

- A tired body in a sweaty t-shirt returning from basketball with the guys and responding to my inquiry with, "Puh, I should just quit and never play again" . . . or "Yeah, I should just go pro now and get it over with."

- A reason to keep peanut butter in the pantry and Diet Cokes cold in the fridge.

- One more person relieving me of one more meal to cook each week.

- The random bad jokes . . . and the good ones.

- The warm body in bed beside me, and the hand reaching over to find mine when the alarm goes off in the morning and I'm still too groggy to talk.

- Someone to keep air in the van's back left tire that leaks.

- A loving voice telling me I'm beautiful all day long when I feel fat, slovenly, and crawl-under-a-rock worthless.

- Someone to do tag-team parenting with when my frustration and exhaustion reaches its limit.

- A pair of eyes whom I want to please motivating me to NOT quit school early for lunch because I'm sick of science . . . to NOT snack on a tub of ice cream . . . to get up and do some exercise instead of playing a few more rounds of Sudoku . . .

- The car parked on the right side of the garage that I have to maneuver around.

- Someone to figure out why __________ isn't working right.

- Seeing his wedding ring when I hold his hand.

- The alarm going off at 5:30 on Friday mornings reminding me that my husband cares enough about his walk with Christ to give up precious sleep and go meet with a couple guys at Hyvee for breakfast and accountability.

- An intimidating presence to scare the boyfriend into treating the daughter right.

- Praying together at night.

- Someone to watch the news with me.

- The hugs and kisses and snuggles, on demand, whenever I need or want them.


SIGH.  Only a couple months.  Thank God for emails, and texts, and Skype, and unlimited long-distance . . .

The Post About Sex

You know, I realize that I – being a Southern Baptist pretty much from conception – am not typical in our society anymore.  But I honestly don’t understand the sex thing, folks.  Recently while listening to certain friends spill their guts about sexual encounters they’ve had and the havoc they caused in their lives, I’ve had to bite my tongue to keep from saying to them, “Look, here’s a simple way to prevent such problems:  don’t have sex with someone you’re not married to.”

Seriously.  I understand that we all are tempted and we all fall sometimes.  But right now, I’m talking about people who start with the mindset that there is simply nothing wrong with having sex with someone you’re not married to.  This is not an unusual mindset these days.  And I don’t understand that.  When did mankind decide that this was progress?  That this was the way to go for the betterment of humanity?

Just picture for a moment what things would be like if we, as a society, held to the good old-fashioned belief that sex is for married people only.  What would that world look like?  Let’s start with how many unwanted children would not be conceived – and also not aborted.  I realize monogamous sex would not end the problem, but surely nobody can argue that it wouldn’t improve matters tremendously.

Consider how many dating relationships would be so much healthier and happier because they are centered on something other than sex -- which would then lead to marriages starting on more solid foundations.  Lord knows the institute of marriage could use a shot in the arm these days.  Furthermore, how many married people’s sex lives would be more satisfying for lack of past wounds and experiences?  There is a lot of research out there about how people who waited for sex until their wedding night are far more satisfied with their sex lives later than those who felt no compulsion to show such restraint.

STDs?  They would almost go the way of the dinosaurs.

Think of the effect on young people – the impact of an entire generation spending their teen years NOT wasting their time and energy and intellectual resources scheming about getting in and out of various people’s pants, because they’ve entered their teen years assuming and accepting that this is not an option for them.  How much stronger would our young people be – particularly our young men – if we intentionally taught them how to rule their passions rather than to be ruled by their passions . . . and convinced them that it’s possible to do so?  Imagine what change a generation with that kind of self-discipline and commitment to high standards could make on society.

Is it difficult?  Of course.  Will people fail and need to pick up and try again?  Certainly.  Is it intrusive in people’s personal lives and free choice to even suggest it?  Well, we have no problem these days “intruding” into people’s personal choices about the food they eat.  We actively encourage good nutrition by teaching everyone about healthy food choices and why they’re healthy.  We teach it in schools – we campaign for junk food to be removed from school lunches – we are even starting to require restaurants to post calorie counts by the items on menus.  And we justify it as a public issue because of the health costs that obesity burdens society with.  Yet, we turn an amazingly blind eye to the public costs of sexual promiscuity – costs in physical health, emotional health, damaged family structures . . . they are countless and they are profoundly destructive.

It’s obvious why the religious community preaches abstinence.  What I don’t understand is why the nanny-state secular community hasn’t gotten on board. 

"Sex Makes You Stupid"

My youngest introduced me recently to a song that her sister introduced her to:  Maroon 5’s “One More Night”.  She was hesitant about the song at first because, she said, the lyrics seemed to be “very inappropriate” (her words . . . obviously introjected from a lifetime with me).  But as she listened, she decided that the lyrics actually had a pretty good message.

But baby there you again, there you again making me love you
Yeah I stopped using my head, using my head let it all go
Got you stuck on my body, on my body like a tattoo
And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid crawling back to you . . .

“I think,” she said, “that this is about how now that they’ve had sex, they're having a hard time leaving even though they realize this is a really lousy relationship.”  Looking at the full lyrics, I think that’s a reasonable interpretation.

And it seems all the more reasonable to me in light of an article a friend recently shared with me titled, “Sex Makes You Stupid”.  The author talks about how sex has a physiological effect of “clouding your vision”, giving you a case of temporary amnesia about certain transgressions and faults in your spouse.  And this is a good thing in a healthy marriage.  When you spend so much time together over many years, it is important to be able to let go of the minor annoyances and missteps.  God "programmed" that little blessing into the sex act to help smooth out the rough places in our marriages.

However, what is a blessing and a bond-enhancer in a marriage can be disastrous in a dating relationship.  Have you ever met anyone who is in a relationship where there are being treated like crap?  And you’ve wondered, why in the WORLD do they put up with this?  Why can’t they see this for what it really is?  I bet you that nine times out of ten, that couple is sleeping together.  Sex clouds your vision.  And you do NOT want your vision clouded during the part of the relationship where you are figuring out if you can trust this person with your heart.

I’m very glad my daughter gets this.  And very impressed that she seemed to get it before I even brought it up.  Not bad for a twelve-year-old.