You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July, 2007.
EDIT: This turned out WAY, WAY long. And that is not an apology; count it instead as fair warning.
A few weeks ago, after I got IttyBitty in his bed for a nap and LittleBit on hers for rest time, I plopped myself in front of the tv for a few minutes. I happened upon a CSPAN presentation of Vanity Fair journalist Leslie Bennetts discussing her book, The Feminine Mistake. Now, let me warn you… I’ve been writing and mulling and editing and mulling and writing this post for the past few weeks. I have a *strong* opinion about this; you should know that before you continue reading.
Eyes wide and breath held, my stomach sank as I listened to Bennetts describing her work: interviewing working mothers, compiling statistics, formulating theses on the long term social ills produced by stay-at-home wives and mothers. For example, a study has shown that working (outside the home) mothers live healthier lives (to which the host said, “Oh yes, smaller butts and better breath.”) and are generally less depressed (Bennetts’ comment: “Housework doesn’t make anyone happy. Big surprise… If you asked a man if he’d like to stay at home, keep up with the children, endlessly reorganizing the linen closet, of course he’d say no. Why are we so surprised that women don’t enjoy it either?”).
But when asked directly, “What about the woman who wants to stay home, who places priority on being home for childrearing?” Bennetts dropped her bombshell: “That’s fine, as long as she understands her responsibility when the children are gone, when she’s in retirement age.” She then proceeded to unpack a startling set of “data” stating that stay-at-home mothers are financially draining the economy — “socially irresponsible” I believe were her exact words. We who work at home need to be aware that, “… a man won’t always be there to provide; someone won’t always be there to take care of you… if you’re prepared for that inevitability, then fine, stay at home.” Bennetts is quick — QUICK, mind you — to point out that findings by Dobson’s Focus on the Family have misinterpreted data, but we are to rest assured that *her* data need not be questioned for reliability.
Now, in fairness, before I begin detailing my absolute abhorrence for her conclusions, you can watch the interview here. In fact, I encourage you to do so; this is a strikingly clear picture of what many in our culture believe — partly as result of the “Mommy Wars” — about stay at home v. working mothers.
Apparently, Bennetts has met with tremendous opposition in the blogosphere. I’d just as soon not be added to the list of “We can’t stand her!” but I will tell you that I do take issue with *many* of her conclusions.
Bennetts asserts that girls should not be setting aside chunks of their lives for family and home, but should be continually involved in what she terms as “meaningful work.” Here’s the problem — in her interview, she discusses the need for “meaningful work” yet defends many of her “financial responsibility” arguments with data from women who are forced to work in areas that you and I will readily recognize as not-so-meaningful work (example, the mother who’s pulling as many hours as the Wal-Mart greeter to keep food on the table, the woman whose husband has lost his job and she’s with the temp agency). Bennetts only attempt to reconcile these is her assertion that if the woman didn’t depend on the man to make the money, if she’d pursued meaningful work, she wouldn’t be in the predicament she’s in now.
That flies ALL OVER ME. Let me tell you why:
I am the product of a single, full-time employee parent. I am neither dumb nor desperate; I do NOT believe the lie of egalitarian marriage (because who gets to decide where 50% really is? and because I’ve seen first hand in my divorce ridden family’s multiple marriages, it doesn’t work); I *was* brought up to place value on a career (again, divorce ridden, “you never know what could happen”); I chose “meaningful work.”
My mother was the example of all the BAD that comes when the Body of Christ straps itself to ideology and misses Grace completely: her Baptist church basically stopped talking to her; the friends there she thought she had didn’t know what to do with a divorcee in the 70’s with a little baby and no husband who wanted to work in student ministry. She was pitied by the families at both the Catholic school I attended first and later the Christian one because “oh, that little girl is growing up in a ‘broken home!’ How sad! Have you thought about marrying again?” as though any man — ANY man — would improve our situation. She was humphed at and eyebrow-scolded for working full time in the banking industry, for buying cupcakes and arranging them on platters rather than baking made-from-scratch cookies for the bake sale. And no matter what, there were always the questions, “Do you think Sarah will be ok?” “Don’t you think she needs a father figure?” “How is she going to learn about marriage and family?”
Answers? I am 30-something with two beautiful, bright children who love to laugh and are growing in wisdom and stature before both God and man; I am happily married to a man with whom I share complete honesty, absolute trust, and SCADS of fun.
So shut up.
And you know what, Ms. Bennetts?
YOU shut up, too.
Yes, I believe in “meaningful work” — that is why I’m home.
I believe in “fiscal responsibility to society” — that’s why I don’t burden the childcare crisis with my own because I have the luxury of keeping them with me.
I believe in “facing the reality” of providing for myself — that’s why I’m willing to work from home, work part time, work full time, work at what I love, work at what I tolerate, or work at what I hate in order to help provide for my family ANY time the need arises.
Ironically, I agree with Bennetts in one area: I do *not* see staying at home as a status symbol: I see staying at home as a success symbol — I have successfully arranged MY life to do what *I* am called to do. My aunt wasn’t called to stay at home, my mother couldn’t, my grandmother didn’t really want to, some of my best friends are *absolutely* called to work outside their homes; but at the end of the day, each of us goes home to look in a mirror and speak to a God Who establishes the work of our hands for us. (And fyi, the Proverbs 31 woman — wonderful as she is and abused by liberals and ultra-conservatives alike — was NOT solely a mother! She even went out and worked: check out her vineyard, her sashes, and her works that praise her, where? In the city gates).
I am SICK of high-minded feminist attitudes like Bennetts who assert that apart from a career, I’m doing fundamental damage to myself, the community, and my children. I’m sick of women like her standing on the backs of mothers — LIKE MY OWN — who have no choice but to work in order to say that women should work. Who’s to say “should”? I thought the feminist movement was all about choice? Or is that only in regards to who’s allowed to breathe and who isn’t?
And I am SICK of the Christian community as a whole sitting back doing NOTHING to live an example that DEFIES such overblown pompous hullabaloo. Again, Galatians: “If you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other.” (5:15) I’m sick of overly proud stay-at-home families (both the moms and the dads) who act like theirs is the ONLY way to live and other mothers — LIKE MY OWN — who choose/must work are somehow inferior or missing out.
At what point do we, as the Body of Christ, get to stand up and LIVE in such a way as to render these discussions moot?
At what point does “what God has joined together” reflect such stability that our *lack* of divorce points to something about marriage others would want? (Oh wait, that might actually be close to the real meaning of marriage) At what point do we heed God’s scriptural warning to put aside that which causes dissension and carry one another’s burdens in love? At what point do we take our freedom in Christ seriously enough that we don’t worry about “eating meat” — we accept that one person’s faith allows them to stay home and one person’s faith allows them to work and only our Master can make us stand or fall?
As absolutely stunned, saddened, and completely enraged as I feel at Bennetts’ conclusions that somehow I’m burdening my children’s generation by staying home or that I’m a complete twit for depending on my husband’s income to support me, I simply cannot wait to prove her wrong!
In the interview, Bennetts is speaking of the girls who say they’re going to have a career for a while and then stay home with family and then come back if needed when she says, “Let me show you 15 years from now; I’m old, I know how these things go. Your husband isn’t always going to be there to provide for you. You’re going to need the investment in your career.”
Let me tell you something — I’ve got 10 out of the 15 in and this is how it’s lookin’ — and this is how it’s gonna be because I am JUST ornery enough to live to tick somebody else off:
If the God Who created me decided that I needed to go back to work full time, I would do so with bells on and tell those know-it-all self-righteous women who think that’s a “sin” they ought to worry about standing accountable for their own callings.
If the God Who made me the way I am, with the brain I have, the dreams I hold, the passions I long to pursue, gave me permission to stay at home with my children full time for the next 18 years, I absolutely shout “GLORY!” and we’d break out the watercolors.
If God, Who created my husband, decided to call him Home, then I would do WHATEVER my hand found to do to provide for my children and our home, whether it was meaningful, meaningless, menial or magnificent — and no six-figure salaried, cushy journalist-from-home or feminist on the campaign trail is going to tell me which definition my work falls under whether it’s at Wal-Mart, Wachovia, Wall Street, or Wood World.
If God, Who knit us together and wants NO man to pull asunder, watched as I became foolish and tore my own house down or my husband forsook the wife of his youth, He would redeem our lives, our children, and our futures. And I — alone — would be accountable for what choices — career or otherwise — I made in the wake of the Master saying, “Go and sin no more.”
And if God, Who is able to make me stand, will grant me length of days, I fully intend to live in such a way that my marriage and my home blows the mind of these feminist rhetorics, my attitude will reek grace to those who assume they have a corner on the Savior, and when He DOES come to get me, I’ll hear two things – “Her children rise up and call her blessed (happy, fortunate, and to be envied)” and “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.“
Though never formally invited to a Meme, I am going to do one (please understand, I am enough of a goober to thoroughly ENJOY made up questions and the multitudinous possibilities of “what if,” the land of imagination, and excuse to talk… err… type).
1. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Pizza. Honestly, I just love the stuff. My gut reaction was chocolate, but three meals a day of chocolate would possibly burn a hole in my esophagus and require a crane to move me in and out of bed. Not to mention, I have distractable tendencies… at least I could vary the toppings on the pizza.
2. What’s the most nerve-wracking close call you’ve ever had? One evening while D was on the road, I picked up the phone to call him and had no sooner hit “send” when IttyBitty began to choke — like REAL choking — face blue, gaspy little coughs, it was TERRIBLE. Obviously, I threw the phone down, LittleBit is panicking so I told her to go to the living room and pray, I did the best Heimlich I could (which didn’t seem to help) and prayed and quoted Scripture over him, hung him upside down and shook the best I could, D called back and I answered long enough to say, “He’s choking! PRAY NOW!” and hung up, Heimliched some more, and finally, FINALLY the little guy started coughing heartily and turning red. The whole time, I was “steady” in that only-by-the-Holy-Spirit way and could hear my daughter praying through her tears in the living room. I held both angels tight and we took turns thanking God for His healing and His rescue! We called Daddy and told him the good news — he’d hit his face before the LORD and was teary. That was WAY too close a call for me… I pray we’ll NEVER see anything like that ever again!!!!
3. Name five features your ultimate dream house would have.
1. A real Hibachi grill in my kitchen island (hey, this is “ultimate” right???)
2. 7 bedrooms (we LOVE having company! oooo! and I want them decorated)
3. Gi-stinkin-normous kitchen/dining room combo with a fireplace (can you tell where I like to spend my time?)
4. 4 car garage/workshop for my husband
5. Amazing yard with creek and playsets and tire swings and old trees for the angels and their friends
4. Who has been the most influential non-relative in your life? KB; we taught Sunday School together for several years and I was AMAZED at her love for the Word! She knew it, she breathed it, she could teach it, and she LIVED it. Being with her gave me a thirst to truly soak up Scripture so that it would pour out of me the way it poured out of her — in action and in word.
5. What one non-physical feature would you most like to change about yourself? Oooo… that’s a toss up (mainly because my mouth seems rarely James 1 ready), but probably my lack of follow through (read as: sheer laziness). I love, love, *love* to start things but struggle to finish them. Sometimes, I don’t even really get started; I get all “idea-ed” up and then go nowhere with something that would have been great. Ugh… makes me nauseous just typing that because it’s so stinkin’ true… 
Ok, so as part of my vast readership (stop laughing), consider yourself “tagged” if you’d like (ok, I mean it, quit laughing). Leave me a comment if you do it so I can read your fab-5 answers (you’re not going to do it, are you? you’re too busy laughing at the first sentence… I shoulda’ known…)
“For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision has any value. The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.” Galatians 5:6
Galatians 5 has been the heartbeat of my quiet time for the past two weeks. It is a beautiful chapter and I am so grateful that God has kept me there; D and I both come out of heavily legalistic backgrounds, so I love Paul’s insight (in all his writings) on legalism and freedom.
And this verse resonates LOUDLY in my heart; all the areas that *I* fear being judged/evaluated by, yeah, they don’t matter. In fact, the whole reason Paul had a problem with Peter was because Peter wanted to put on the right “show” for the Jews. So, my “show” doesn’t matter… Huh… who woulda thought that…
Neither clean house or cluttered house matters; the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.
Neither homeschool or private school or public school matters; the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.
Neither beautiful appearance or barely-made-it-out-the-house matters; the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.
Neither gi-normous SUV nor tiny hybrid matters; the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.
Neither fashionable clothes or Good Will finds matter; the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.
Neither staying at home full time or working part time or working full time matters; the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.
Faith expressing itself through love. God looks at the motives more than the actions. It’s not the what, it’s the why.
How freeing!
How GLORIOUSLY FREEING!
We are no longer bound by making “the right impression” — we are bound to the law of love. We are no longer held captive by the looming expectations of impeccable mothering or perfect helpmeeting. The blessing of godly counsel is just that — blessing, not Holy Writ. He is able to teach and train and remind us at every turn; how sweet of Him! How undeserved!
My little ones LOVE to paint. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to paint. And right now, nothing delights them more than painting boxes. I don’t fully understand it, but I guess since a box is bigger than a paper, it’s more fun to do together and far less competitive. When they get to a stopping place and rush to get us to see it, we are THRILLED!!! It’s just too cute! I can hardly wait until Christmas because I fully intend to ship gifts in them! They’re FABULOUS!
And God has used them to drive home part of what He’s teaching me of freedom: when LittleBit and IttyBitty show me their boxes (feet dancing, arms flying, 90-to-nuthin words and all), it is a CELEBRATION! And when I went downstairs to switch loads of laundry and nearly stepped on one, I gasped. I had the same “freeze” moment as if I’d harmed a priceless piece of china. Why? Because it was THEIRS! And THEY are precious! And they worked hard to make something beautiful and fun and exciting! We couldn’t have been more pleased if they’d painted with real oils on canvas.
And the summation of this freedom-fest?
The mind blowing thought that when I step out to obey Him, He is NOT disappointed. God Almighty sees me holding up my messy “box” of obedience and He LOVES it! I’ve used my freedom to walk in His footsteps and He celebrates it with me! Sure, as I grow in Him, the boxes will get neater; I’ll probably move up to canvas one day, too. But His love won’t change; He won’t be more accepting of me, prouder of me, less punishing of me when things “look like they should.” He loves me infinitely NOW. And I am free to express my faith through love ANYTIME in ANYWAY He sees fit!
Holy God, You amaze me! I am SO honored by Your presence, and I am FLOORED by Your love! THANK YOU for choosing to make me one of Your own! I LOVE YOU, LORD! Amen!
There is NOTHING like the love of my children to catapult me into who I LONG to be. I want — so, so desperately — to be that mom who walks with Jesus so that my children *see* Him walking hand-in-hand beside me. I WANT them to be so familiar with Him, so in awe of His glory, that worship isn’t something they “do” it’s part of who they are. I want them to offer themselves as living sacrifices without feeling that it’s a decision to be made, but as natural as breathing, everything, one step at a time, offered up to Him — therefore, *I* want to offer myself up as a living sacrifice without feeling sacrificial. I want this passion for what I say I believe be the fuel for my every day living.
It may just be me, but I struggle to *be* so they can *see* — the litany of dreams I have for them is always on my tongue; the fiery example to help them flesh those out isn’t as readily available.
The college pastor at our church taught an AMAZING lesson on freedom in Christ a few months ago (in fact, I think I’ve mentioned it in another post, and it’s absolutely worth discussing again). He said that freedom in Christ means being free to be who we’re called to be — free to choose that which will accomplish the desires He has placed on our hearts.
What does that true freedom look like? Because it sure sounds more ethereal and inspiring than empowering and enabling.
Freedom in Christ means I’m prepared and willing to share my walk with Jesus with my possibly unsaved brother because I am prepared in season and out of season, ready to give an answer for the hope I have, and I know that my Father is not willing that any should perish but that all should come to eternal life in Christ.
Freedom in Christ means I can embrace the unique rhythm of our lives; it means I am free to not shove us in a box of “shoulds” because for everything there is a season.
Freedom in Christ means I can walk away from a bowl of ice cream because I have the fruit of self control and am free to guard my heart with all diligence.
Freedom in Christ means I am able, willing, motivated, and consistent in homeschooling my children because He who started this good work is faithful to complete it and that which His hand has started, no one can stop. I have everything I need for life and godliness.
Freedom in Christ means I can choose to daily work on cleaning my home because I am a wise woman who builds her home, not a foolish one who destroys it with her own hands.
Freedom in Christ means I’m free to get up early enough to feel on top of my day and get in the bed early enough to get adequate rest because He grants sleep to those whom He loves and I will run and not grow weary, I will walk and not faint, I will mount up on wings like eagles; I am free to get up while it is still dark and find a quiet place to be with my Father as my Lord did.
Freedom in Christ means I’m free to answer kindly in response to others’ anger or annoyance.
Freedom in Christ means I’m not bound to worry when the cattle are lean and I’m faithful in stewardship when they are fat.
Freedom in Christ means that “feeling” depressed or harried doesn’t mean I am because I put on the garment of praise; I have come to Him for rest because I am a sheep with a Shepherd, and He has compassion on me.
Freedom in Christ means that the law of love in in my hands and on my facial expressions and faithful instruction is on my tongue.
So often (read as: too often), I am oh-so-ready to tell my children “what” we believe and fail to walk with “Who” we believe. Pretty sure St. Francis of Assisi was the one who said, “Preach the Gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.” Though I’m quick to paint that sign over my life outside these walls, it’s echo is in fact resonant within them. It’s my freedom in Christ that will both enable and fuel my day to day living here; by Grace I have been saved, and only in Him do I exist and hold together.
Interestingly, my devotion last night from My Utmost for His Highest contained this quote: ” we must decide whether or not we will accept the tremendous spiritual upheaval that will be produced in our circumstances if we obey His words.” I LOVE that Chambers says the upheaval comes “in our circumstances.” Yes, obedience ignites my heart; yes, it stirs my mind. But so, so beautifully, the application of His Word results in upheaval of all around me — as He changes me, as I am obedient, my little niche is transformed both in my own eyes and through the poured down blessings onto those around me. When I walk in the freedom of obedience, things change.
LORD, You know my heart; You know what I pray over my children. And, humbling enough, You know how and are working to bridge the gap between those prayers and my example. Please forgive me! And THANK YOU that You never leave me as I am; THANK YOU for moving us from glory to glory! THANK YOU that ten, twenty-five, fifty years from now, there will be fruit from the branches You’ve pruned and caused to obey. I love You, Jesus! Amen.
LORD,
Thank You for today and for Your love. Father, my heart’s in about a million pieces, but I want to lay it all down before You. You know what Your will is; each day is already written down. Thank You for Your Sovereignty, and Thank You for being Abba. If we never have another baby, LORD, I am blessed beyond measure. Thank You that godliness with contentment is great gain; YOU are my very great reward. And You have given us exceedingly and abundantly beyond ALL we could ask or imagine. Father, our lives are Yours. It’s all Yours, Father. Amen.
Because my husband travels so much, we’ve developed some unique (albeit offbeat) ways of staying connected when he’s gone. Though we do these things for D, I’m sure some of them could be adapted for grandparents out of town, temporary absences from Mommy or Daddy, etc. So, here are some things we do to keep us all celebrating together:
1. We have a classroom map of the US on our kitchen wall that we use to mark each city they visit. At dinner time (which, with the empty chair, can seem odd without Daddy), we mark the city on the map and pray for the band, “all the guys” that travel with them, any other artists/pastors traveling with them, and for the people in that city to come to know Jesus as their Savior.
2. Like many “traveling” families, we have webcams. Even when we can’t do live video chats, the littles and I make videos for Daddy detailing all the fun of the day — play dough creations, songs (sung *incredibly* loudly), painting masterpieces, just talkin’ — so that he gets to “see” our day. Our children LOVE it (do you know a 5 year old that doesn’t like to watch themselves on video? me either) and it gives D more fodder for preschool phone conversations (which, in case you’ve not had one lately, can be very general and very loud). D also used his webcam when he traveled to Asia this spring; we didn’t go with him, but we got to see the amazing views from his hotel and I even got a sneak peek at the fabulous gifts he was bringing back for LittleBit and IttyBitty. We were literally on a 12-hour time difference, but we all got to “see” each other daily through videos.
3. When the absence is especially difficult, we write letters and send care packages. Not just any letters mind you (especially considering that two of us can’t write — no smart jokes that it’s actually three, thank you), but really fabulously sappy, cheesy letters. I let the littles write/paint/color/draw their greeting to DADDY, then I take dictation. I ask them to tell Daddy what they miss most about him and what they think we should all do to celebrate when he gets home. Instead of making them sadder, this actually helps them identify the needs that are feeling left out at the moment (which helps me to step in and meet them) and they end up laughing as they think up the silly things they love about Daddy and the things we do as a family. For example, my husband has a goatee and longer hair, so LittleBit and IttyBitty both think it’s LOADS of fun to tussle Daddy’s hair into his face or have him tickle their foreheads with his beard.
We can’t always mail the letters (they’re in a different city every night, so I have to plan carefully and strategically for a piece of mail to actually reach him where he is and not where he *will* be — or even worse, where he *has been*), but when it’s possible, we try to include a care package for “all the guys” (my children’s term for the band and those who travel with them). This takes their eyes off of themselves and puts it on all those people they love who are, like their Daddy, sacrificing home time to fulfill God’s call. One year, we did Valentine’s packs — we filled reusable sports bottles (like you drink from on a bike, not disposable but small) with homemade valentines, crazy magnets, card games, and candy. LittleBit cut out the cards for the name tags and IttyBitty slathered everything in glitter. They LOVED it and couldn’t wait to “send ev-wee-one a mssgge” (I still don’t know how she said that with no beginning vowel sound, but I assure you, she did)
4. D and I carefully choose Bible accounts to sometimes directly reinforce the reason for our lives. Instead of going to the next lesson in the little study Bible, we go back over Jonah who was *sent* or Paul who was *called* so that others would know the love of God. I never, never want to manipulate Scripture for my own use, but I do want my children to have a firm, Biblical grasp on the fact that we “do this” because it’s the gift we’ve been given, not because we believe in some talent or think it’s “cool” or because it pays the bills. If he’s got a long run (or if he’s going out for the first time in several weeks), we begin preparing our hearts during worship time so that it’s not a shock and we all remember why he’s gone; then we spend our worship times praying for Daddy and “all the guys” while they’re gone.
Hope God will show you some cool things to do with your angels while they’re away from friends or family, and when He does, feel free to stop over here and share! Until then, this little list Works for Me!
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