on gender reconciliation


Supposedly when C.S. Lewis became a Christian, he quit keeping a journal.  He thought it was too self-centered.

C.S. Lewis wasn’t a woman.

And journal or no journal, the man wrote down his thoughts.  There’re a lot of men out there, who over the course of thousands of years, have done the same thing.

I’m not gonna hold it against them.

Let the men become famous.  The women will carry on, without fame or glory, bearing witness to the fire of the holy human lifespan.  We’ll gain wisdom with our silence.

We’ll find healing in the hidden words.




Lord, I believe

Sometimes it feels like I was born into the wrong civilization.  I don’t relate with Western culture and the functional lack of spirituality. Even Christianity, a religion to which I am deeply loyal, seems insufficient, at least at times, at least for me, maybe not in matters of the human heart, but in the suffering of the human psyche.

The ancients seemed to have a much higher grasp on what it meant to be human.  The sophistication of the Western world has completely neutered its humanity.  Christians assault each other with the endless diagnostics of sin.  Humans are idolatrous.  Humans are selfish.  Humans are corrupt.  Even the good we do is sinful.

I can’t take it anymore.

It’s like a walking death.  We are the walking dead.

I want to see the good in people.  I want to believe that there are two sides to every person, not just the unavoidable one.

How can we stand to live so disconnected from our bodies and souls?

In Eastern religions they fear evil spirits and worship the trees.  As Christians we worship the Maker of the trees, the God of the spirits, the Ruler of even the underworld.

The Spirit of God breaths life into people.  The apostle Paul is the perfect example of a man who creates his own reality by seeing the worst, but believing the best.

“Neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who submit to or perform homosexual acts, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor verbal abusers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God.”

And such were some of you.  It was me who was that person.

I don’t want to be that person.  I am not that person anymore.

Stop telling me that’s who I am.

“But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.”



february musings


I heard the sound of birds this morning, followed by a squawk of the same species, but different voice.  One of my hopes for living out here is to come away with a more intimate knowledge of nature.  Right now, they’re birds.  I have yet to learn their names.

Two years in a row, we saw when they left.  The first year was the last week in October, this past year, the first day of November.  Come 9 o’clock in the morning each time, at the tail end of breakfast, the kids and I heard a loud ruckus right outside the dining room window.  The backyard trees exploded with black birds.

There are natural phenomenons so magnificent, that the primal response for me is to laugh.  It happened last summer at the solar eclipse, as soon as the darkness covered the sun.  I laughed out tears then laughed them away.  In those ninety-so seconds of indescribable light, I nearly lost consciousness of everyone around me.

The crickets started chirping in afternoon heat, a sound you never hear in the summer til evening!  A rooster crowed from the next farm over, doing what the light had told him to do.  I heard the laughter of one of my sons, stretching out his arms like he was spreading his wings, running gracefully round and around in the yard.

The kids and I ran outside to see them.  For the next half hour, we followed as they flocked from one set of trees to the next.  We ran through the athletic field and stood at the fence, for they had flown across the street in to the neighbor’s back yard.  The last time we saw them, they were flying away, waving again for the ones who missed them.



clear waters

“Difficult and rich–this is what a person in an authentic maturation finds at the essence of it all-and it shows–both inside and outside on the person who strives toward it.  This we know, there is a noticeable difference between a considered life of depth and one based on phantasmagoric beliefs.  On this journey toward “true home”, though we may, from time to time, turn back to record or measure from whence we came, we do not turn back in order to turn back.”

~Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves~

a brief overview

The first year of homeschooling I had to learn the value of discipline.  When I say discipline, I don’t mean figuring out the best way to deal with a child’s unwanted behavior.  I mean doing the thing you want to do, whether you feel like doing it or not.  This is particularly difficult for a person who thrives on following my heart, whose thinking process follows the line that if I don’t feel like doing it, it isn’t worth doing.

If I don’t see the value, I won’t waste my time. This is why I say I had to learn the value of discipline.  I am a person driven not only by what I feel, but also by what I value.  Where some people rely on reason to keep their feelings well-ordered, more often than not, what keeps me from being completely ruled by my feelings are my firmly-held values.

One thing I value is time together.  The best part about homeschooling for me is the fact that it gives us a chance to be a family.  I’ve often told people the best part for me is getting to spend so much time together, which, by and large, has also been the most difficult part.  Two b-words are needed in order for family to work: boundaries and basic human decency.  This is something I’ve had to accept for myself, to change about myself.

People need space and respect.  I am a human being, and human beings need space and respect.  It isn’t selfish to set a boundary.  This is one of those things I would wish to be aware of if I could go back and do motherhood over:  I would respect myself enough to make adjustments and accommodations for the sake of my own needs and limitations.

The Christian mommy blogs refer to this concept as “giving yourself grace”.  I definitely needed grace, and on the worst days, I suppose it’s only the grace of God that gets any of us through.  But for me, I needed more than grace.   I needed God in tangible shape and form.  I needed boundaries, something hemming me in, building me up, protecting me from the weaknesses and harms of the self.  I needed a class on the right way to live.