The Top Nine

Thus far in my research for blogs that uphold Biblical womanhood, these nine stand apart.

1. Femina, run by Nancy Wilson, her daughters and daughter-in-law. There are many wise, Godly words being written on this blog. Read only if you want to be challenged.

2. Girl Talk, run by Carolyn Mahaney and her daughters

3. Scarlet Lillies a blog run my two young wives and mothers who share recipes, thoughts, pictures, and lovely gardening tips.

4. Making Home Jess at Making Home shares Godly wisdom about motherhood and being a wife.

5. Large Family Mothering A sweet mother of fourteen shares her life and love of her family and home.

6. Ladies Against Feminism Ladies Against Feminism post links to articles about things happen in the United States that are related to the home and womanhood on a regular basis. These articles are great food for thought.

7. Domestic Felicity Mrs. Anna T, a Jewish wife, shares her thoughts on being helpmeet to her husband and provides much wise insight for single women.

8. Your Sacred Calling

9. The Piffle Lecture A fun blog to read about another young wife and mother.

No longer will I eat just any ol’ granola bar; no, I want a Luna bar (which, by the way, contains no dairy, no wheat, and is made from 70% organic ingredients.) No longer will I eagerly reach for deli-sliced ham or turkey. Instead, I proudly reach for Hormel’s Natural Choice lunch meat, which contains no preservatives or artificial ingredients.

When I search for recipes online, no longer do I first turn to my formerly beloved allrecipes.com; instead, I turn to the more dignified epicurious.com. So, if you come over for macaroni and cheese, please do not expect “Baked Macaroni and Cheese III”, as you will be having “Macaroni and Cheese with Prosciutto and Taleggio”. And for a “quick & easy” meal, expect something like “Roasted Chicken Breast with Garbanzo Beans, Tomatoes and Paprika”.

Don’t expect something like a grilled cheese sandwich; I might be insulted.

Even my chocolate and coffee habits are changing. The thought of a Hershey bar does nothing for me. Kroger brand coffee makes my heart sink. However, the idea of Ghirardelli’s Intense Dark chocolate and an organic blend of dark coffee…mmmm!

Of course, the journey to the kingdom of Food Snob-dom is not complete (I still have some chili-cheese Fritos hiding in my desk drawer). But it has begun.

I Dream A Sweet Dream

I dream of a plain in Africa. Singing voices from working tribes are carried on the wind. A drum beats in the distance. The warm air sweeps around me in a wild land.

I dream of a town in India. Children running, barefoot, naked, free. Spices float in the air; strong, sweet scents fill my nostrils and lungs.

I dream of a road in Mexico. Dusty air all around me. Dogs barking, people walking slow, talking. Bright colors flashing.

I dream of a hill in Ireland. Green, rolling in front of me as far as I can see. A gray sky, a rain, a redemptive rain falling softly all around me.

I dream of a place in Italy. Smells of the ocean, the catch of the day. People talking to one another, shouting, laughing. A quiet, busy, productive home.

I dream of a market in Greece.  A housewife walking home with arms full of groceries. A cheerful dining room, steaming vegetables, fresh salads, new milk and cheese, old wine.

I dream of a home. People laughing, talking. Pans sizzling and pots bubbling. Children running and screen doors slamming. Joy and love fill the air in this place. It is my own.

Every dream I dream is sweet, whether near or far, be it here or there, for a content heart can be had in any place.

What Women Want

I am blown away by this article, The Cost of Delaying Marriage.  In all of my reading, I have not heard someone put these thoughts together so well. No, it’s not a perfect article, nor are all sides of the issue covered, but finally someone has been able to vocalize the hidden thoughts lurking in the minds of today’s women–whether they know it or not. I know I am one such woman.

The Camera

I have a picture in my mind of people walking around and taking pictures. They are recording the world with these pictures; in doing so, they are forming their own thoughts and views of the world. When they come to record beauty, they place a different lens on the camera. It is a lens that muddles the picture of beauty. There is more than one lens, I am sure, but this particular lens is called barrenness.

This lens begins to shape the way people think about beauty as the pictures are taken. They take a picture of a woman. The camera sees a firm body with no fault. It sees shining hair, bright teeth and an immaculate smile. The woman is lithe and strong. The people call her beautiful and desire her.

This is a stunning picture, no doubt. This woman is lovely, but a camera with this lens captures only what is on the surface and can penetrate no deeper. It does not see that she is alone in the start nakedness of a fruitless land.

The camera turns and snaps the shot of another woman. She is not old- her age is close to that of the other woman- but she has children at her feet. There are other people all around her, too, as if some unseen force draws them to her.

But the camera does not see this. The camera sees her soft body and scoffs. It sees the lines on her face and calls them ugly. It sees the hair coarsening on her head with threads of gray and calls her old. They call her ugly and undesirable.

What they would see, if they would only take away the lens, is that this woman is soft from the love surrounding her. Some of the lines on her face are from laughter, for she is a woman of joy. Some of the lines on her face are from tears, when her heart has ached for those she loves. The hair on her head is a sign of her growing wisdom. Her character is not barren; it is a fertile land. Her home and heart are full.

But they do not know. For they see through the lens and they desire to see no more.

Is it any wonder that our society defines beauty under the lens of barrenness? –Stacy McDonald

If my readers have read anything that I’ve written, they know (in part) my stance on feminism. I’ll admit that a good portion of my writing has been directed to people who have thought little about the issue and who probably do not view things from a Biblical worldview. I also freely admit I have much to learn on the issue. However, in this post by the Baylys, something far more serious than simple feminism is brought to light.

The issue of evangelical feminism has been rising rapidly in the past several years (I’m not sure exactly what time-frame, for it most likely began in my own feminist days when I paid little attention to such things). The Baylys and their friend David Talcott have argued the matter far more thoroughly and intelligently than I ever could, so I refer my readers to their blog in this matter.

I will say, however, that I do believe the issue of evangelical feminism to be far worse than the feminists who do not claim to be believers. These women, of all people, should be able to see and know the glory that lies in womanhood, submission and honor in such. They have stooped to claim that the word of God would never ask them to be submissive to any man, but that they are instead equals in every way. They have, to my extreme sadness, bought into the lie of feminism and modified it so that it is “Christian” in name. In doing so, they seek to destroy the parallel of Christ and the church, and begin to make a world that has no Head and no Lord.

I think it’s time to start studying again.

Over the years, I have done quite a bit of packing. I’ve packed for short trips, long trips, overnight trips, international trips, moving trips–you name it, I’ve probably packed for it. I have also discovered that there is a sort of pattern in which I pack. I actually wrote this essay a couple of years ago, and have modified it slightly. I believe the original title was something like “The 4 Stages of Packing and Paranoia”.

Stage One: This stage begins about a month before the departure date. This stage is by far the most rational and consists of thoughts such as, “Huh. I’m leaving a month. I’d better start getting the things I need.” Nothing to it, really.

Stage Two: Stage two begins one or two weeks before departure. I lug my suitcases out of the closet or basement or wherever it has been placed since my last trip. I mentally figure out how much stuff I can fit in each suitcase and what should be placed in which suitcase (and in what order things should be placed).

For example, this time, all of my personal stuff is going in one suitcase and all of my family’s Christmas presents and stuff is going in another suitcase (with maybe a few pairs of my shoes if I can’t squeeze them in my personal suitcase). Suitcase layout is a difficult mental task! My pants are first, followed by my skirts and dresses, followed by my shirts and pajamas.

I also begin going to the store to get the last few things I need. Again, everything is done in a completely rational manner.

Stage Three: 2-3 days before leaving. I start seriously packing (there are already piles of things on my floor that are part of “non-serious packing” ventures). At this point, packing is not a big deal, because I still figure I have “plenty” of time. So far, I only have the things I really need, plus a few extra sweaters, an extra pair of shoes, an extra dress and and extra pajama pants (just in case). I’m very careful not to pack too much, because I never use half of what I pack anyway and my suitcase is always ridiculously full. (My arm muscle comes from lugging a suitcase around the airport two or three times a year; I am a pro at maneuvering a suitcase through a crowd of people walking like turtles.)Currently, my suitcase zips without me sitting on top of it and wrestling it shut.

The day before I leave is also punctuated with me running to the computer to make sure my plane is still running, what terminal I’m supposed to be at, which gate it leaves from, exactly what minute I need to leave and then checking again to make sure nothing has changed. I’m only slightly nervous at this point.

Stage Four: departure date (and the night before). No rational thought or action whatsoever.

This is when I panic. And get queasy.

I start wondering if maybe I really do want that shirt, or those shoes, and I know I’m going to want to read those other three books, and I probably will use that lotion I haven’t used in 6 months. So I start randomly throwing things into my suitcase, because I don’t want to forget something and be stuck without it for three whole weeks. For some reason at this point my suitcase won’t close anymore, even though everything fit perfectly yesterday. I shove one more pair of socks and some more lip gloss and bobby pins into the little flap on my suitcase, weigh the thing to make sure I’m not over (even though it’s already too late and I have to leave), bump and bonk the thing down the stairs and outside and into the car.

I’ll be worrying about what I packed all the way to the airport until I get distracted by finding my terminal and gate and writing my address on those silly little tags before I get my ticket and going through security and sitting and waiting for my plane while checking every thirty seconds to see if they’re boarding my plane and then my row. I’ll be fine once I’m in my seat. Really.

And you know what? I always forget something even though I never use half of what I bring.


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