Well said.

I wish I knew

I’m so confused and I don’t know how to believe. Why do we get to pick and choose what should be literal and what should only be realized through cultural context?

The Bible says women cannot have leadership over men. The Bible says wives submit to husbands. Bible also says Christians submit to each other. Bible also says there is neither male nor female, all are one in Christ. The Bible promotes equality and illustrates female leadership in churches and society and family. Why are these few verses taken literally, while the others have explanations? Why not the other way around? If a woman is not allowed leadership over a man, why is it okay for her to be a teacher or a CEO, but not a pastor? Is the excuse that she only can’t have leadership in the church? So does that mean that we are to live separate lives? The rules we abide by in church, we don’t have to abide by in the world? What about in the New Testament when women were church leaders? What about the women who financially supported Jesus’ ministry?

Women have been shown to be the backbone and the muscle of how religion is practiced. The Catholic Church remains adamant that the priesthood is not for women, yet the lack of male clergy forces female laity to conduct services and take care of all the day to day activities of the church in local settings. But to receive the ordination is never to happen. I do not believe God allowed for this exclusion.

As for roles in the home, I agree that men and women have separate responsibilities and innate abilities the other doesn’t have. I still don’t see the connection of the wife’s subordination to the husband always having final say. If he’s a Christian, why does he not also practice the command of Christians (referring to both male and female) to submit to each other? Shouldn’t it be 100% both ways? Then why does the submission issue even have to matter? Besides, if the wife stays home all day and basically runs it while the husband is out working, why is she not the “head of the household?” I’m so confused.

Why is it a big deal whether or not a woman wants to work? If a woman chooses what she wants to do, why does anyone else get a say in it? Why can’t I make my decision to stay home all day or to stay away from home all day and have everyone else not care? It’s none of your business.

Should I be addressing these issues because I’m simply not happy with them? Would God ordain things that make us feel oppressed? I certainly think so. But I don’t think that ends this issue. Why is it a problem for me to question? It’s not like I’ve been researching this for 40 years and still digging. It’s just that for the first time, I don’t want to accept something because somebody told me it was so.

I don’t believe that either gender is by design stronger, smarter, more spiritually gifted, better, weaker or more susceptible to frailty than the other. I believe the Bible needs to be reread, researched, and realized again.

I’m at a place where I’m unsure of where I stand on an issue, and I think God likes my questions, welcomes my questions, loves that I use the brain he gave me instead of being shaped my anyone who desires to do so. I know he can handle my questions. I hope you can to. For there will be more to come.

Every child is an artist.

The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up. - Picasso

Lately there have been quite a few thoughts when it comes to art and storytelling. I'm reading about this guy who published a book about his life, and it made a lot of money, and people wanted to make a movie out of it, and they wanted him to write the screenplay, and what I'm reading now is a book about him writing a screenplay for the movie based on the book based on his life.

And there has been a lot of talk of writer's block (whatever that is I don't believe it exists but that's another topic) and how to deal with it. There is a discussion that involves the idea of the artist living vs. creating. If the artist tells the story, he has no time to live in it. If he lives in it, he has no time to tell the story. So what are we to do? Which is more important? Someone has to tell these stories.

But isn't it also possible that, while we are gifted in that we can speak for those with no words, it is ultimately up to an individual whether or not he would like us to speak for him? Wouldn't our time be better served if we could teach people how to tell their own stories? And if people knew how to tell their own stories, wouldn't it be much easier for all of us to tell our own stories as we live them?

Storytelling is special. It is what makes us uniquely human. It is, I believe, part of being in God's image. Being able to tell a story. Being able to live a story. But it is all too easy to think we are better than others and we are serving a better purpose in the world by locking ourselves in our rooms and "making art."

One possible interpretation of Tennyson's "Lady of Shalott" is that he felt a distance from society and could not relate to them. Thus, the Lady is cursed to stay in her room weaving constantly and can only view society from its reflection in her mirror. It's that thought of, "they just don't understand"

But isn't it our job to make them understand? It is not art if it is not an attempt to help the world understand something better or at least grapple with something complicated. No more excuses of "we're just too different" or " they won't get it."

But this book. It makes me think a lot about my story. It makes me aware that I am a character. And I have a plot.

I'm very definitely a woman, and I enjoy it.

Don't worry, she said, I still dream.
I want to know what it is to act like a woman. I feel like my conservative Christian environment along with my liberal, modern society has it all wrong. I believe they both have elements of truth to their views on women, but I feel like all those are not enough. I find myself confused at how I'm supposed to be the very thing I am. I have all the lady parts, so why is acting like a woman not the most natural and easiest thing in the world for me? I don't believe that either of these views have the most accurate biblical ideas about femininity, and I would like to know what that is.

It is a simple answer that all answers are based on. My life's understandings will come only when I have placed my Bible at the core of my learning. Truth and femininity will meet in a beautiful embrace that will feel natural, unforced, and unexplainable. I will find my place in Heaven's kingdom as a woman and as a woman named Rebekah. So I've decided to reread two books that I've had on my bookshelf for the past 5 or 6 years. Maybe they'll make better sense to me now than they did when I was 15.

I was gratified to be able to answer promptly. I said I don't know. - Mark Twain

What's the opposite of reminiscent? Because that's the feeling I got today as I browsed through wedding photography online and created a spot on my computer for wedding ideas. Except it couldn't be reminiscent because it is not a thing of the past for me, but the future - hopefully. So what's the word for reminiscent when it's a future happening?

My sister asked me what I was doing today, and I told her. She asked if I had found the groom yet. I said it's on my to do list. No need for jokes, I get it. But that is what I said. I would post what I found, but I'm afraid one of the photographers will happen upon my blog and sue me. And I don't want anyone to steal my ideas. And yes, I get the irony of my last statement, too. So... just curious.

My life is Jello. Sitting and waiting in the bowl. Patiently to gel

It's a haiku.

You know when you're at a weird point in your life when things could go amazingly well or oh-no-oh-gosh badly,if everything happened exactly the way you wanted it to, then you would be on a smooth path, or if things didn't go the way you wanted them to, then your life would suck, and you're sitting on the sidelines of such happenings that you have no control over trying to make it all go the way it's supposed to even though you know that it's not doing anything to influence the happenings?

Just curious.

I'm waiting to sign a lease for the first time ever. I'm waiting on hours for a new experimental-ish job. I'm waiting for acceptance into a summer course that I hopefully will pass. I'm waiting to see if my tires will last. And I'm waiting. But the last thing I want to do is be passive. Waiting, by definition, is a passive verb, but I don't want to be so just because that is what I find myself doing a lot. At the end of my life, I want to feel the ache of spent muscles in my legs instead of a broken back from the load of meaningless crap I sat and collected while others traveled by.

Are you happy? Someone should tell your face.

There was a volcanic eruption in Iceland?

I want to talk about my pet peeves.

One is the current popular hair part for women. Not that part in itself. I am glad we've moved away from the butt parts. But sometimes your part goes so far on the other side that it's literally on the side of your head. Again, not a bad thing in itself. Unless you have really long hair in which case you feel the need to walk with your head sideways because if you don't, then your hair will get in your face. And no one wants hair in their faces. But please, how do you see? How do you keep from running into things? Is it that hard to pull your hair back or put your "bangs" in a clip? I know you have long hair so that people can see how pretty it is, but believe me, when you walk with your head sideways, no one's looking at your hair.

Second, people who can't park. Do you think the lines are there so you can center your car over them? And yes, I am talking to you who go to my church. Yes, you. And the other half of Columbus' resident drivers. I know you own the road, you've established that, but no one said anything about letting you have the parking lot, so BACK OFF and let me park without having to be intimidated by your sucky skills trying to take over my space. My car may not be that big, but I can still cause a sizable dent in yours. I have witnesses.

Third, girls who come to the cafeteria and sit in the booth right behind me to talk about your guy problems. I don't want to hear about how he keeps texting you and hanging out with you but won't ask you out. I don't want to hear about how he was TOTALLY flirting with that other girl from chorale and how you're heartbroken because he's now dating her. I don't care and I really just want to eat my french toast sticks in peace.

Fourth, loud people.

Fifth, messy people. Did your mama raise you right? Or did she do everything for you? You're a big boy/girl now, you should have become well acquainted with the real world in which you will not have people following you around and washing your dishes and taking out the trash. You're going to have to learn to pick up your own pieces. I can only do that for so long.

Also, I have urticaria, and I'm on steroids.

I miss you, my farewell friend

I logged into Myspace this morning, which is something I haven't done in a long time. I found on my profile a picture collage that I forgot was there. As I stared at each one that went by, I found myself once again missing something: my past, or more specifically, my senior year into my freshman year. And then I'm wowed when I remember that I'm a junior. And even that title is about to run out with only 19 days of school left.

I saw the smiles of myself and all those around me. I seemed happy then. Content. Now, I certainly didn't feel that way at the time. If I were to stare long enough I would remember that I was sick in that picture. I was worrying about a test in that one. And in that one I was very mad at my sister. If I stared long enough to remember the circumstances. But most of the time, all I see is happy. And most of the time, that's all I remember.

The thing is, I used to always do this. Look back. Look back and miss. The natural answer is, of course, "well time goes by fast, better soak it all up, live and love in the present, don't think ahead too much, don't miss what's in front of you." Yes, yes, all true. But I used to always do this. And I haven't in a long time. I haven't in a long time really contemplated and pondered my past and the people I knew and what I gained at that time and why it's important to me now. Am I moving too fast? I can argue that I'm not. I have thoroughly enjoyed every age and season of my life so far, and I think the fact that I have such fond and vivid memories of those ages proves it. But why is there still that feeling of loss?

I know that people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime, but is the ache of missing those people and times supposed to be there? Is that how we're supposed to remember them? Is that ache the proof we're left with to show us that it really did happen and we really did know them? I always wonder. I wonder if when I get to heaven all these questions will be answered. That would be nice.

Questions are good. I fully support them. But I really just want to soak up the sun in my skin and the laughter in my ears and the flowers in my nose and the blue sky in my eyes, and coffee on my tongue. I want to absorb you, all my friends, and let you love me. Freedom. No hiding.

and so i watched helplessly as a world fell apart

Why do some people, wonderful people, people with the best of life's intentions, people with the sweetest souls, people with innocent longings, people with wholesome lifestyles, why do some people who so desperately want a baby get denied that blessing as if they didn't deserve it or weren't good enough?

Why so some people, young people, people with wild intentions, people with careless souls, people with selfish longings, people with questionable lifestyles, why do some people who have a chance at that blessing throw it away like it's a piece of food on their plate they didn't feel like eating?

I never appreciated the argument, "It's her body, it's her choice, she can do what she wants." That may be true, but in my opinion, this has never been a women's right issue, but one of human rights. And I have never met anyone who did it that doesn't regret it. I cannot imagine it when all I've ever wanted most of all was my own kids. And I would even take this one. I would take nine months of humiliation. I would take an unfinished degree. I would take a life I didn't expect. If I could. If that meant this one would be saved. If that were possible. I would. Right now.

But no. We don't think of that. We think of ourselves. "I'm too scared to tell my mom." Thinking of yourself and your horrible backbone. "I don't want the whole school to know." Thinking of yourself and your cowardice. "I don't want to go through the pain." Right. Because waiting four months requiring major surgery to murder someone by repulsive methods risking future breast and cervical cancer, the ability to have children later on, constant bleeding later on, constant psychological and emotional destress, lifelong regret, lifelong what-ifs will be so much less painlful.

Life is sad, y'all. Not everything has a beginning, a middle, and a nicely tied up end. Sometimes, stuff just happens. And if it works out, great. If not. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ?