And… uh, we have been…
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I’m not sure which topic of conversation or question generates more questions than laundry or meals for families. I’m thinking that both are either areas of great frustration or testing or are grounds for great victory or great defeat. As for meal times, women generally ask me questions that are more logistical or are more along the lines of creativity and time-saving methods (I’ll share about some of these tomorrow). Women are generally more able to get that area of homemaking “mastered” or taken care of than they are regarding the dilemma of… the laundry. Laundry. There’s always more laundry.…
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So, I’m sitting here writing a post on Motherhood and a letter pops up in my inbox and I read it and respond… it’s a letter regarding being a keeper at home and the writer asks if its okay or appropriate for a woman to leave her home according to Titus2 in order to teach in a school… as her pastor said, she is bringing her home with her… and on it went… and so I replied. Just going along… sweetly thinking. That’s how most all my days go. Then while I replied to a few more letters and another…
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I had a message all typed out (and no, I hadn’t saved it) and it got lost in an accidental circuit breaker switch bump. And so it goes… another ooops. I hope to recollect my thoughts on the matter I was writing about bcz it seemed important to me. You know, lots of times when I sit down here in my little office I look out and see the always the same yet ever changing view outside and I think of things I’d like to share… thoughts I’d like to somehow convey about marriage or family or motherhood or even…
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Only in recent years have WMD’s or the term WMD’s become a commonly known or commonly used term. I think about the devastation of weapons of mass destruction and as I often do, I think of how ‘weapons of mass destruction’ might correlate to the home or motherhood. It’s a term of war or arsenal of the enemy. So, I was walking through the store and I heard a tired, exasperated and foolish mother unloading her WMD’s on her children. WMD’s are what I’ve come to think of in recent years when I hear a mother’s angry outburst or some…
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You can just pass over this entry if you’re not interested in reading more about the course of “the church” in America/the world today. I received a newsletter from this morning from Sojourners – I read for info. I had just been reading a couple of articles at Slice of Laodicea and some by Ken Silva regarding the most recent from Rick Warren and, among other things, his relationship with Rupert Murdock (now there’s a purpose driven guy! and it’s not church, believe me. It’s spiritual, though, of the darkest kind: money/porn/power). But back to that Sojourners letter. It reminds…
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It was with shear astonishment that I held my first child – our first child – twenty-eight years ago, and it was with awe and humble amazement that I saw that God had, indeed, given us a precious gift. I saw my Lord and Saviour in a whole new way. It wasn’t just that He had forgiven me of my sins, redeemed my soul and had given me the free gift of salvation and eternal life, never-to-be-separated from God through faith by His atoning death and resurrection, and it wasn’t just that He had blessed my womb, but also that…
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I want to share today on a particular matter that I find to be discouraging. I know that it is one of the unintended matters or, rather, the message is unintended, but when a mother leaves her home so that she can pursue “meaningful work,” or “have real conversations with real people,” or to “not waste” her life, she is saying to her children: you are not as valuable as ______, or spending time with you is not fruitful, relevant, important, or fulfilling [to me!]. I’ve met many young mothers who work outside their homes in careers or what have…
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If the apron is the uniform of motherhood, then the van is motherhood’s company car. Now, when a mother first starts out, she has the starter car… it’s the two door model she attempts to “make do” until she has to move up to the dreaded “mini van.” It doesn’t take much time (or brains) to conclude that getting in and out of the back seat with a baby carrier and all the stuff doesn’t work well in a sports car. You know, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret and it is this: I sort of cringe…