Sometimes...

Sometimes I hear a poem, quote or song that reminds how lucky I am to be married. My husband Taylor was and is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Thanks to the band Travis for reminding me of that.



P.S. This video is sub-par, but the song is just lovely

All the single...little girls?

I've been meaning to blog on this issue for a while. I've been meaning to say what I really think. I've put it off for various reasons. The biggest reason being that I wasn't really sure what I was trying to communicate. Then, two days ago, all my thoughts became clear when I saw this video.

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Oh. My. Word. The first time I watched this I sat in stunned silence. Every time I have watched it since, I have cried. This two minute video has a doctoral thesis worth of intellectual fodder. I'll try to keep it a bit shorter than that.

It's easy to watch this video and be shocked. It's easy to ask the obvious questions about these girls. (The most obvious being, "Where are their parents!?") I think there is, however, a bigger societal issue that needs to be examined. This video of these eight year old girls is just an example of much larger problem; that is, the sexualization of girls and the infantilization of women.

The signs of this problem are everywhere. Little girls dressed like strippers. "Boyfriend jeans" that you can buy for your toddler. High heeled shoes for infants. The converse problem of infantilization is also evident. We see women models posed in magazines holding teddy bears. There are sexy little bo-peep costumes on sale at Halloween. There is the rise of the vapid, female celebrities, like Paris Hilton. We are dressing girls in the trappings of womanhood, and demanding woman maintain the personality of child. What's the deal here?

What the deal is, I think, is an effort to keep women from accessing and embracing full personhood. I'm not talking about woman being better than men, or some ridiculous idea of a superior sex; we are all fallen. What I am talking about personhood. The right to reach one's full potential as person: emotionally, physically, intellectually, and spiritual.

Society is telling girls from the moment they are born that what really matters is their sexuality. It is important to dress sexy. To act sexy. To be sexy. This idea than carries into womanhood. What is defined as sexy is inherently childlike. Super models with pre-pubescent bodies. Hairless leg and armpits. Passive. Uninformed about sexuality. Dependent.

And it is this push to make "childlike dependency" synonymous with "sexiness" that frightens me the most. There is nothing healthy about life long dependency. There is nothing sexy about stunting one's potential in the name of sexuality.

What this shocking video boils down to for me is this. If someday, I have daughters, I want them to know that being a well-rounded person who loves God and people is what matters. I don't want them to make the mistakes I did. Don't obsess about your weight. Don't pretend to be ignorant on subject just so a boy can teach you something that you already knew. Don't be weak to get attention.

When they are young, I will tell them play outside, to get messy, to wear their hair in braids, and to be friends with boys and girls. And when they are woman, I will tell them to be strong, to study their passion, to be more concerned with the people around them than their waist size, and to be friends with both men and women. I will tell them that independence, intelligence, grace, and confidence is what being a person; a woman is all about.

Eclipsed

I will be the first to admit that I don't blog about my faith much. I can't really say why that is. In past blogs, it was a frequent topic. Many of my friend's blogs are loaded with what God is teaching them. For some people the words just seem to spill out, but in past few years my spill has slowed to trickle.

And, again, I can't say why that is. I suspect it has something to do with the feeling of absolute certainty I had about my faith when I entered college. Of course the words could spill out; I knew the right words. It was a feeling that all but faded midway through second year of school. For the past four years, I've been in a strange season ( strange for me anyway), of my faith feeling so deeply personal and private that any outward expression of it felt trite and fake.

It has been a deeply painful season.

But one that I think has been so necessary. I have been forced to reexamine what genuine expressions of faith are. I, who was never at a loss for words, was forced to be quiet. Oh, it hurt. Oh, it was so good.

Tonight, home alone, I was saw a link that friend posted to a David Crowder You-Tube video "How he loves us" . At least 25% of worship songs make me gag. (Really? History Maker? Have we realized that the song is all about me, me, me.) However, I usually enjoy David Crowder's way of creating imagery, so I watched.

Somewhere through my third listen, I felt my throat tighten. I felt my eyes well. It has been years. "When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory."

Here it is, my blog about my faith: I am wayward Israel. I am the woman caught in adultery. I building the golden calf. I have innocent blood on my hands. I am Peter, too scared to get out of the boat. I am holding back the best of my sacrifice. I am scorning the word of the prophet.

I am longing beyond words for my humanity to be swallowed whole. I am waiting for the day when I will be eclipsed by glory.

Why changing the duvet cover is everyone's least favorite chore.

This is why I lie awake at night worrying about the future of women.

A wall stencil available on Etsy.com.

Redemption

I am coming to believe that there is no greater metaphor for redemption than the arrival of spring. I can feel spring slowly coming to southern Manitoba. The air is losing its sharp edge. I can hear birds chirping when I start my car in the morning. Soon the snow and ice will melt away, and the little sprigs of grass will, with great effort, push through the hard soil. I can feel life returning.

After roughly five months of winter, I am longing for the warmth and the sense of renewal that I know is coming. Creation is about to be re-birthed and today I find myself crawling out of my skin in anticipation. "For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now" (Romans 8:22). I love that. The earth is groaning, travailing, and longing for spring; for redemption.

I find that there no better way for me to picture humanity's longing for redemption by God than the way in which these prisoners of winter await spring. Don't I want a second chance? Don't I want rebirth from the darkness of myself? Don't I desire to break through my hard, earthy soil and lift myself toward the divine, the sacred? Don't we all want that?

Whatever your view of eschatology might be, I believe that, in some way, God will redeem his people and his earth. How can a creator not want to restore his creation? How can the plants, rocks, trees, and grass not want the warmth of spring to fall on them again?

I have heard it said that the creation reflects the creator. If that's true, then our Spring is coming. Our seemingly eternal winter will end. This story ends in redemption. With soil cracking wide open, green shoots bursting forth, sunlight beating down, rainfall soaking the earth, and the sacred swallowing up the profane.

I hate Charlie. And his horse.

Ever wake up in the middle of the night with a charlie horse? You know, that excruciating type of cramp in your calf? This has happened to me from time to time. Usually it can be massaged away, or simply stood on to stretch the muscle out.

This is all well and good. Then one gets married. And a simple leg cramp becomes embarrassing and traumatic for two.

I woke up at six this morning with the most painful leg cramp that I can recall. As soon as I awoke, I began hollering, "Ouch! Ouch Ouch!" I threw back the covers and jumped to my feet. Unfortunately, the muscle was a bit tenser than I realized, and rather than my foot bending, it simply locked and gave way under my weight. I fell to the floor and landed on my tailbone which only made me holler all the louder.

Then my poor husband woke up. He sat up, looking panicked, and discovered me sitting on the floor wailing in pain and still trying to stand on my bum leg. He pulled me back up into the bed and began to comfort me from whatever awful thing had just happened. Imagine my shame when all I could utter was..."uh...I had a...leg cramp."

Sheesh.