First, I’d like to say thank you, for the kindest, most heartfelt encouragement.  You are truly a gift and I am amazed at how blessed a woman can be by her faraway friends.   Today, I am so honored to have Emily Wierenga here guest posting.  If you haven’t read Emily, you’re in for a treat.  She’s launching her new book, which she co-wrote with Dena Cabrera, called Mom in the Mirror: Body Image, Beauty, and Life After Pregnancy. I’ve so enjoyed reading it and know you will, too!  Emily is a gifted writer and I’m so blessed to know her.  Welcome, Emily!

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I was eating key-lime pie and commenting on how good she looked, on her new shade of hair, and I mentioned that she’d lost weight, that she looked slimmer, and she glowed. The way mothers do when they’re told they’re beautiful, even as her teenage daughter walked by, her other three children milling around the buffet at our family reunion.

And she told me she was losing weight the healthy way, and I said that was good. She said she was still eating carbs and proteins and everything in moderation, and it all sounded positive. But she looked longingly at my pie.

And then I said, “But you’re not losing any more, are you? I mean, you look perfect.”

And she glanced down at her blue striped shirt and her blue jeans with disgust. “Oh yes,” she said. “I’m losing more. I want to go back to the old me.”

The old me. The girl that had no stretch marks, that had thinner hips and bigger boobs. The girl that didn’t have crow’s feet and could pull off skinny jeans.

The girl who longed for stretch marks because they would mean she was fertile. The girl who longed for a man who loved her enough to make babies with her. The girl who dreamt of being pregnant, of feeling the life inside her, of nourishing that life at her chest even as it sucked away hers.

We forget about the beauty of the sacrifice. Sometimes I think it’s like the stomach we have left over, after giving birth. The stomach that sticks around, and it’s empty and loose and floppy, and we feel that way too. We forget about the beautiful, miraculous role which this stomach played. About the way it stretched taut around human life for nine months. About the home it made for heaven to come down and touch earth in the form of lips and eyes and limbs and heart.

We forget about the miracle, in the face of the mess.

And sure, we’re messy. We’re mothers. But there is a beauty in that mess.

And I set down my pie (just for a second) and I took this woman by her shoulders, and I looked into her eyes, and I said, Honey, you don’t need to lose anymore. This is the NEW YOU. Claim your NEW BODY. We have been REBORN through the fetus that slid red and screaming from our womb, and we need to take pride in the us of TODAY.

Mothers, unite. Let’s stop lamenting who we are, and mourning the loss of what we used to be. We used to be lonely. Now we have a family. We used to be ignorant of love. Now it tugs on us all hours of the day and night. We used to be untouched. Now we crave some form of privacy. We used to dream of pregnancy. Now our bodies are emblems of that sacred experience.

We are LIFE GIVERS. Say goodbye to the old, and hello to the new. Throw away those skinny jeans, and purchase a new wardrobe, because life is too short not to eat key-lime pie.
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I’m giving away a hard-cover copy of my new book today, Mom in the Mirror: Body Image, Beauty and Life After Pregnancy, co-authored by Dr. Dena Cabrera, and foreword by supermodel Emme.
Here’s an excerpt from the book:
Giving birth produces life in more than one sense. It’s the baby powder, milky-breathed spirit found in the softest limbs you’ve ever felt, and it’s the respect a man feels for his wife as he watches her give up her body for another.
And it’s the deep-rooted soul satisfying feeling of knowing you were born for more than the mirror. That you were born to see the face of God in your child, and to know, you yourself are a miracle.

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I want you to have this book.

Tell me ONE thing that you love about yourself, and you’ll be entered into the drawing!

Otherwise, you can order it through the book’s website, here: www.mominthemirrorbook.com.

Emily Wierenga is a mom to two beautiful boys, wife to a handsome math teacher, and author of Chasing Silhouettes: How to Help a Loved One Battling an Eating Disorder (www.chasingsilhouettes.com) and Mom in the Mirror: Body Image, Beauty and Life After Pregnancy (www.mominthemirrorbook.com). To learn more, please visitwww.emilywierenga.com.

via Mark D. Sikes

I pinned this room over the weekend and can’t stop thinking about it.  It’s so bold and decisive.  The owner of this room doesn’t seem to be plagued by a desire to blend in, to follow the crowd.  This room makes a statement, like it or not.  After this post, I find myself in a strange place.  The overwhelming majority of you like the bright, yellow walls and the crazy, abstract painting of my words here.  But some of you don’t.  A few of you unsubscribed but what struck me most were the brave dissenters who decided to stay around, though they don’t always agree with me. You are teaching me so much.  I worked two hours on a post this morning—about nothing more than Southern women and their distinctiveness.  It was mostly funny and self-deprecating, but after my computer crashed and I lost most of it, I wasn’t sure it was worth resurrecting. I am hamstrung, both by my desire to please and inspire,  and by my commitment  to write things that matter.   And because some women who read this blog aren’t Southern, I wondered if my words would offend or divide or sound parochial and too old-fashioned.  Oh, the humanity.

On a lighter note, I’m toying with the idea of painting my downstairs living room bright yellow, or some other bold color.

The real question I wrestle with is this:  Do I have the grace to be who I am  and the tenderness to be what you need?  And when those are in conflict, do I have the courage to stay and keep painting?

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“Pessimism is not in being tired of evil but in being tired of good. Despair does not lie in being weary of suffering, but in being weary of joy. It is when for some reason or other good things in a society no longer work that the society begins to decline; when its food does not feed, when its cures do not cure, when its blessings refuse to bless.”   G.K. Chesterton

I took my beloved firstborn (a wonderful musician in his own right) to see the Avett Brothers last night. Andrew joined us so it was just like old times.  I knew the words to almost every song but I sat mostly quiet and still, leaning in,  trying to really hear, trying to take in the gift, down deep.  I’ve learned from writing here in my own little corner of the world, that it’s no small thing when someone lays bear their heart for you. That book or poem or song that they offer the world  as a gift has likely been costly for them.  It’s a gift I’m learning not to take for granted.

What I loved about seeing them live is that they leave the show exhausted.  They’re not holding back. They’re playing like this is the only show.  And yet, I also sensed a playful detachment, from the work.  They didn’t seem worried about how the audience was receiving the music.  They are true to themselves and write music that only they can write and hope to find a few kindred spirits. It dawned on me  last night that maybe not everybody likes the Brothers.  But the people who love them really love them.   Their music wasn’t polished but it was perfectly raw and gritty.   They’re not trying to make music with universal appeal, they’re trying to make music that’s true to who they are.  OH, the freedom in that kind of artistry.

I went to the concert with a certain partiality to Scott but I left with a newfound love for Seth.  I’ve always loved this song and in fact, I made my book club listen to the lyrics a few years ago.  I’m THAT kind of friend in real life, terribly passionate and sure that you want to study the lyrics of a Brothers’ song just like I do.

This was my favorite song of the night, performed by Seth, with just his guitar. It was magical.

So, here’s your weekend homework:  listen and study.  And if you’re really eager, read Orthodoxy, too.

You’ll see, in both, that Love has waited, so patient and kind, carrying with her “the good things we know.”

And the question, is, if the good things no longer work, is it just that our hearts have grown cold?

Hate reads the letter and throws it away.
“No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I’ll see you or I won’t, whatever.”

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies,
and also when she comes down.

Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets.
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
With a serious look on his face.

Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow.
To trust. To hope. To care.

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
Of the strongest stuff you can drink.

Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.
As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.
But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,
Cause he might never see her again.

Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.
He screams o’er the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.

Love has been waiting, patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,
That the one that she cares for, who’s out of his mind,
Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung down, eyes to the floor.
He says “Love, I’m sorry”, and she says, “What for?
I’m yours and that’s it, Whatever.
I should not have been gone for so long.
I’m yours and that’s it, forever.”

You’re mine and that’s it, forever.

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Salvation Song

“And if you take of my soul, you can still leave it whole

By the pieces of your own you leave behind.”

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Okay, last one.  They opened with my favorite song, my anthem.  The song that made me fall in love the brothers and their music.

Head Full of Doubt

“when nothing is old, deserved, or expected.

and your life doesn’t change by the man that’s elected

if you’re loved by someone, you’re never rejected

decide what to be and go be it.”

“there’s a darkness upon us that’s flooded in light

and I’m frightened by those who don’t see it.”

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Also?  I knew we were in for a treat when, “You Ain’t Woman Enough to Take My Man,”  by Loretta Lynn came screeching over the speakers about ten minutes before the concert.

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Okay, I lied. Here’s the last one. Taylor, singing a song he wrote based on Psalm 42.

All that is noble and good, but I have other things to confess.

Shaun Groves may have bitten off more than he can chew.  He’s challenged me to a tournament of champions in Scrabble, to be held in the neutral territory of Nicaragua.   I have an  unhealthy history in competitive sports and my obsession with words makes me very possibly your worst nightmare when it comes to Scrabble.   I warm up with a boxing bag and 3 mile run to the Rocky soundtrack. I’m not afraid.  I give it my all.   I study the dictionary and pray for divine revelation.  I may get beat but I won’t go down without a fight.  And when I realized that Shaun and Becky are fanatical Scrabble players, I couldn’t help but start some smack talk. I would really hate to beat a Texan but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.  Nothing like serious emails about traveling to 3rd world countries followed by this:

Me:

I’m not trying to say I’m the queen of Scrabble or anything but what I’m trying to say is— I’ve had some memorable wins.

 Shaun:

Well now…I’m the reigning Scrabble champ in my house so maybe a tournament of champions needs to happen in Nicaragua ; )

Shaun:

Me:

Me:

Shaun:

Thank You Sponsors! from Compassion International on Vimeo.

I’m linking my homemade honey wheat bread recipe up with Ruth’s Thrifty Thursday series.   Add homemade bread to this weekend’s list!!

If  you’ve never read Orthodoxy, by G.K. Chesterton, you should.  I’m sure I read it four times before I began to understand it and see the genius of it.  It’s worth the effort, I promise.  I wasn’t gonna post today but after I read this section, I had to share it.  His thoughts on the beautiful paradox of the Christian Church: (If you’re like me, you’ll have to read it more than once!)

It is exactly this which explains what is so inexplicable to all the modern critics of Christianity.  I mean the monstrous wars about small points of theology, the earthquakes of emotion about a gesture or a word.  It was only a matter of an inch; but an inch is everything when you are balancing.  The Church could not afford to swerve a hair’s breadth on some things if she was to continue her great and daring experiment of the irregular equilibrium.  Once let an idea become less powerful and some other idea would become too powerful.  It was no flock of sheep the Christian shepherd was leading, but a herd of bulls and tigers, of terrible ideals and devouring doctrines, each one of them strong enough to turn to a false religion and lay waste the world. Remember that the Church went in specifically for dangerous ideas; she was a lion tamer. The idea of birth through the Holy Spirit, of the death of a divine being, of the forgiveness of sins, or the fulfillment of prophecies, are ideas which, any one can see, need but a touch to turn them into something blasphemous or ferocious. If a small mistake were made in doctrine, huge blunders might be made in human happiness.  A sentence phrased wrong about the nature of the symbolism might have broken all the best statues in Europe.  A slip in the definitions might stop all the dances;  might wither all the Christmas trees or break all the Easter eggs.  Doctrines had to be defined within strict limits, even in order that man might enjoy general human liberties.  The Church had to be careful, if only that the world might be careless.

This is the thrilling romance of Orthodoxy.  People have fallen into a foolish habit of speaking of orthodoxy as something heavy, humdrum, and safe.  There was never anything so perilous or so exciting as orthodoxy.  It was sanity;  and to be sane is more dramatic than to be mad.  It was the equilibrium of a man behind madly rushing horses, seeming to stoop this way and to sway that, yet in every attitude having the grace of a statuary and the accuracy of arithmetic.  The Church in its early days went fierce and fast as any warhorse; yet it is utterly unhistoric to say she went merely mad along one idea, like a vulgar fanaticism. She swerved to the left and right , so exactly to avoid enormous obstacles.  She left on one hand the huge bulk of Arianism, buttressed by all the worldly powers to make Christianity too worldly. The next instant she was swerving to avoid an orientalism, which would have made it too unworldly.  The orthodox church never took the tame course or accepted the conventions; the orthodox church was never respectable.  It would have been easier to have accepted the earthly power of the Arians.  It would have been easy to fall into the bottomless pit of predestination.  It is easy to be a madman;  it is easy to be a heretic.  It is always easy to let the age have its head; the difficult thing is to keep one’s own.  It is always easy to be a modernist; as it is easy to be a snob.  To have fallen into any of those traps of error and exaggeration which fashion after fashion and sect after sect set along the historic path of Christendom—that would indeed have been simple.  It is always simple to fall; there are an infinity of angles at which one falls, only one at which one stands.  To have fallen into any one of those fads from Gnosticism to Christian Science would have been obvious and tame.  But to have avoided them all have been one whirling adventure; and in my vision the heavenly chariot flies thundering through the ages, the dull heresies sprawling and prostrate, the wild truth reeling, but erect.

This is a repost from last Mother’s Day but it’s been an emotional weekend and I needed to hear her words again today.  Telling our stories is hard and I’m thankful for all the courageous women in my life who have been brave enough to speak, even when “your hands are shaking and your faith is broken.”

You are my heroes.

I can’t remember the exact circumstances in which she said it but I’ve spent a lifetime trying to grow into it.
Thank you, Momma, for your tireless example of what it means to give yourself away to others.
And to all my strong and brave momma friends—-the sun (Son) always shines where you are too.
Thank you for living in the light. You are like warm sunshine in a dark, cold world.
Hope you had a wonderful day celebrating all the women who have mothered and nurtured you.
Keep sharing your heart.  Say what you need to say.

We are all better off for your story.

I appreciate how so many of you have joined in this very important conversation. I would ask kindly that you read the post in its entirety before commenting. My words have been misconstrued in some cases to say things that I did not say. Where I have felt misunderstood, I have added or reworded a few things to clarify them. I welcome honest disagreement and dialogue but please be kind and respectful of others.  This essay has been in my drafts for four weeks. I have prayed over it, researched, read, wrote,  rewrote, deleted, agonized, soul-searched, etc, ad nauseum.  I let it simmer in my heart a long time before I shared it because words on a page have power and I want to tread lightly and with fear and trembling, especially when dealing with the hearts of my sisters. I love you all and am thankful to share life with you, even the messy parts.

Early last year, I started writing a book called Why I’m Not a Feminist—a book I’ve since completely abandoned— about women and their place in the postmodern world and church.  I read voraciously about the vocation of woman, mother, and wife. I listened to countless podcasts from biblical scholars on the topic. I read at least 20 books on the subject.  I thought that my perspective might lend something valuable to the discussion.

Here’s why.  I was raised by strong women, went on to join the ranks of the male-dominated world by becoming a medical doctor, and then totally abandoned all that after a life changing epiphany that had me yearning to be home.  I began homeschooling my girls, taught myself to cook, took to the domestic arts like nobody’s business, and fully embraced the often ridiculed ‘traditional’ role of wife and mother.  My decision affected a lot of people.  It changed everything about the way I had lived my life up to that point. If I’m honest—it changed everything about everything.  But something that had always been off-kilter in my heart, slowly slid into place.

 I had come home, in every perfect sense of the word.

I realize now that homecoming is a process mostly of the heart and it is often fraught with pain.  My homecoming brought me home, literally, for a time, but sometimes, homecoming means we have to go to work to help feed our families or maybe it means we start a new company or launch a new blog or a build a well in Uganda.  Sometimes, it means we must come to terms with loss, death, infertility, illness, and heartbreak of every kind.  Homecoming looks different for everyone, but at its essence, it’s that point in your life when you find your real, true self—when you accept your vocation in life and settle into who you were made to be.  I read The Odyssey last year and learned a lot of things about homecoming;  namely, that it will break your heart.  Odysseus came home and all hell broke loose.  He had to fight a hard battle to take his life back.  Not the mention the years he spent as a captive on the island of the sorceress, Circe, who finally let him leave to find his wife and son. My ten years of wandering were finally over too and maybe the sorceress that held me captive was feminism, with her lies of how I could have it all,  how I was the same as a man, and how I should be free from the constraints of living the traditional role of mother and wife. It took me a while to make peace with my demons—to realize that the work I was doing every day was valuable and eternal.  Some days, I still fight to see the joy but I don’t feel conflicted about my role anymore.  I looked the “s” word square in the face and didn’t have any angst.  I fully embraced the beauty of what I was made to do.   If nothing else, all my reading and soul-searching and contemplation had finally  left me comfortable in my own skin.  C.S. Lewis was right,

“Your real, new self (which is Christ’s and also yours, and yours just because it is His) will not come as long as you are looking for it. It will come when you are looking for Him.The principle runs through all life from top to bottom. Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Lose your life and you will save it. Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favourite wishes every day and death of your whole body in the end. Submit with every fibre of your being, and you will find eternal life. Keep back nothing. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.”

I stopped trying so hard to grab for my own part.  I’m finally learning what it means to lay down my life for others.  The paradox is—in this surrender, I have found my sweet spot.  The intimacy of this prolonged togetherness with my family has exposed every frail part of me and has left me completely undone—which is precisely the place Christ can finally do His work of remaking me.  In the end, all the things I thought I was giving up were only obstacles to the real work He needed to do in my heart. Those words ring in my head, ”Nothing that you have not given away will really be yours.”

Which brings me back to feminism.  It bothers me.  Aren’t we just grabbing for our own part?  Aren’t we missing the greater story? Aren’t we seeing the fleck in someone else’s eye while we walk around with logs in our own? Those are the questions that keep me awake at night.

I abandoned the writing project I mentioned above because the idea of womanhood seemed somehow settled in my mind. I hadn’t even really thought of it much, until about a month ago, when I discovered a genre of bloggers I hadn’t read before that call themselves Christian feminists.  The old wound was resurrected.  These women are smart and articulate and have powerful influence over men and women.  It’s all the rage in our postmodern culture to be progressive, tolerant, and politically correct.  To our modern ears, it almost sounds archaic not to agree with the feminist viewpoint.  I wish for all the world I could get on board.  Their arguments for egalitarianism seem so logical and measured.  But after spending countless hours reading and researching and soul-searching, I’ve come to this conclusion:  I believe this movement in Christianity is dangerous and subversive.  I believe it has long range implications that we can’t even fathom.  I wonder if it may, at its essence, be incompatible with orthodox faith—which asks us all to lay down our weapons.  I believe it compromises the very Gospel of Christ and for these reasons and for the instruction and education of my three daughters, I have labored to articulate my heart on this issue.  I loathe controversy so I post this out of love and duty and thankfulness, for the honor of being a woman in an often angry, postmodern, and gender neutral world.  (You can read part 1 of this series here.)

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Marriage is a living confession of who Christ is and who we are in Him.  Like we are the objects of God’s love, so He creates Eve, to be the object of Adam’s love. There was an order to the creation of man and woman.  Everywhere in scripture, God is setting things in an order.  The father is the head of the home, the mother is the head of the children, Christ is the head of the church, the pastor is the head of flock, the teacher is the head of the student.  We are made to live in this community together, each submitting to the other in love and sacrifice.  Christ came to redeem this order, not to do away with it.  And though He was given all authority in heaven, how did He choose to use this headship, this authority  or hierarchy He had established?  He gave Himself over into death for His beloved.  He yielded, He submitted, He loved, even when that love required His very life.  And if Christ uses marriage as a sign of His salvation covenant to us, think of what that means for our marriages?

What is that we, as the bride of Christ,  bring to the table, to this covenant of marriage with Christ?  Sin, death, brokenness, rebellion, hurt, anger.

What does Christ do in this relationship?  Everything.

He does everything to restore us.  He loves us and woos us and sacrifices Himself for us.  And then He gives us fathers and brothers and husbands to stand in His stead and  love us with His love. 

The marriage covenant is a confession of our faith.  Sacrificial love is the cornerstone.  In the podcast, The Gospel and marriage, Dr. Shadday says,

“The institution of marriage is the only thing that survived the fall.  It’s the only thing we bring with us out of the garden of Eden.  What God gave us in marriage was this incredible reflection of who He is and who we are in Him.  And, He gave us His love which enables us to live in that relationship….If we lose the institution of marriage, we lose an intricate, important visual means of confessing our faith in the Gospel.  What we seek to preserve is a reflection of the marriage covenant of salvation.  This is a living confession of who we are and who Jesus is, by the way we love each other.  When he creates marriage, He has in mind how He will save the world.”

But the men in our lives are the sons of Adam and they have let us down.  Maybe you’re like me and the men in your life have often not been trustworthy.  Maybe like me, you’ve  at times been neglected and abused and used and forgotten.  The sin that took the very life of Christ is still killing us today.  Things are not as they should be.  We want love and respect and joy and we often find heartache and loneliness and disregard.  I know.  I, too, have known the anguish of men without chests. But in retaliation, have we waged war in the wrong place? Have we tried to take from the culture what can only be bestowed on us rightly in Christ?  Lewis says of men, in his essay on Priestesses,

We men may often make very bad priests. That is because we are insufficiently masculine. It is no cure to call in those who are not masculine at all. A given man may make a very bad husband; you cannot mend matters by trying to reverse the roles. He may make a bad male partner in a dance. The cure for that is that men should more diligently attend dancing classes; not that the ballroom should henceforward ignore distinctions of sex and treat all dancers as neuter.

Our rallying cry has been equality, as if we want to be interchangeable with men.  We have watched and even cheered as the veil has been torn asunder, the veil that hides the mysteries of man and woman and their union together with God.  It is all being stripped away in rebellion against gender roles and stereotypes.  But the cry of every woman’s heart to be loved will never be answered by equal rights.  We’ll have our part and then we’ll wonder why we’re still haunted with the old ache from the garden of Eden.  Eve seized her own fragmented part, grasping and clutching for shreds of more and then was ashamed and hid herself.  But that Seed—that would strike the head of the Serpent, is the fruit of her womb, her very womanhood.  She was truly saved in childbearing, by the Savior of all mankind, who forgave her rebellion and her selfishness and restored her to her rightful place as the mother of all the living. (I Tim. 2:15)

We have always wanted what we do not need.  God has given us everything in Christ, and yet in our broken, sinful condition, we want the forbidden fruit and we always will.

So, how do we live with each other in a way that honors the Spirit of Christ?

We live in repentance.  We stop trying to get our own way.  We surrender.  We live in the tremendous freedom given us in the Gospel, recognizing that any boundaries placed there by God are there to protect us.  We live our lives in service of our neighbor—whether that neighbor is our husband, our children, the unborn, the orphan, the widow, or the feminists that I don’t happen to agree with. Whether we work or not, homeschool or not, have children or not, we live with our hearts turned toward home, with hands open to receive from our Father the goodness of His care. At last, we as women teach humanity what it means to receive.  We say with the mother of Jesus, “Let it be to me as you have said.”

We submit ourselves fully to Christ, not  because we’re women, but because we’re His.

If we’re fighting for ‘equality’, to be the same as a man, then we’ve set our sights way too low.  Maybe as Lewis says, our desires are not too strong, but too weak:

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

This longing that we have—to be seen, to be known, to be loved—will not be answered by egalitarianism.  It will not be fulfilled by a high powered job or by a husband who does half of the housework or by a church that will cave in and let us preach. We are settling for cheap substitutes and they will never fill the emptiness that threatens to shatter us.

Christ has made us all to live surrendered, in communion—with Him, with our spouse, with our children, in a posture of receiving the good gifts He gives, whatever they may be. We submit, like Christ submitted to the Father, and like husbands submit to Christ.  We are in good company when we give ourselves over in life and in death for someone else. The God of the universe, who had all the authority of Heaven to have His way, gave up His rights, His divine power, His very life, for the benefit and salvation of mankind.

It’s that kind of love—self-giving, self-sacrificing— that will change the world.  And as women, this is a trail we can blaze.

One hundred years of feminism has helped to usher in a world that C.S. Lewis prophetically predicted in his book, The Abolition of Man.  If giving women the right to vote is salutary, then let us progress logically until women are emancipated from all that constrains them.  But every step is not the same as the one before.  And the right to vote is not the same as the right to take human life or the right to abdicate our responsibilities to our children or the right to have whatever we want.  Sometimes the next step, the logical progression, leads right  off a cliff.  And just because our culture has made something easy and normative doesn’t mean it’s good for us, or good for the body of Christ.  Feminism has told us the ultimate lie.  You can be like God.  It’s the same lie from the garden and it will always lead to despair.  Like Esau, we have sold our birthright for a bowl of porridge.  It turns out that feminism has not asked for too much, but too little.

We’ve settled for a pittance when Christ offers us “the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.”

Ultimately, Christ offers us Himself, as Savior—forgiving us, loving  us, validating us in way that culture and man can never do.

Rest in Him. Let Him love you— for He has made you the crown of His creation.

Let His grace and mercy leave you tender and may you nurture the next generation in His perfect redemption, until He takes His bride home.

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 Post-Edit::

Just a few clarifications:

This yielding and surrender that I speak of will look very different in every person’s life.  I believe we are given so much freedom in the Gospel as to how we live out our various vocations.  My surrender meant actually leaving my job and coming home for a time.  But yours may mean just the opposite.  The question we are asking is, “Who is my neighbor and how can I serve him/her?”  There are a million different ways to answer that question that honors Christ.  I’m giving my story but it’s not meant to be your story.  It’s meant to encourage  and challenge us to think of our vocations in light of the cross, not in light of the culture.  It’s not meant to say that you should quit your job to come home and knit dishcloths but it is meant to say that if that’s how you choose to serve your family, then bless you for it.  The words of Christ are impossible to live out, which is why we trust in His perfect submission to the Father.  He is our atonement and we trust in His mercy to redeem us.

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Some of the books and posts I’ve read, along with a few great podcasts on the subject of women in church and culture:

Husbands and Wives, by Dr. David Shadday

Priestesses in the Church?  by C.S. Lewis (many thanks to Margitta!) (this one is a must read)

The Vocation of Mother,  Pastor Peter Bender

Order in Church, podcast with Pastor Bill Cwirla of Hacienda Heights Lutheran Church (I highly recommend!)

The Order of Creation, podcast with Dr. David Adams, professor of Old Testament

Feminist Theology, podcast by Dr. Roland Ziegler

The Eternal Woman, by Gertrude Von Le Fort

Evangelical Feminism, podcast with Doug Wilson

When Women Assume the Preaching Office, by Dr. David Scaer   (scroll down to the 3rd podcast)

Deconstructing Liberal Tolerance, by Dr. Frank Beckwith

Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Faith in Community, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (a must read about how we relate to each other in Christ)

A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband “Master”
by Rachel Held Evans  (Evans is an Evangelical Feminist, an incredible writer, and has a huge blog following. I often disagree with her conclusions but I appreciate her scholarship and her dedication to her craft.  Her book has stirred up controversy among conservatives that feel she has a flippant disregard for the Scriptures.   In the book, she embarks on a year-long mission to live out every scriptural reference to women.  Her goal seems to be to prove the absurdity of living in a traditional, Biblical female role.)

A Review of Evan’s book, by Trillia Newbell, on the Desiring God website

The Lost Art of Servanthood (a letter to my feminist sisters), blog post written by Emily Wieranga, that has now received over 500 comments and set off somewhat of an internet fire storm among Christian Feminists.

Video blog Critique of Emily’s blog post,  by Kristen Howerton and Elizabeth Esther (both who called themselves Christian Feminists)

The Flipside of Feminism: What Conservative Women Know — and Men Can’t Say, by Suzanne Venker  (a manifesto of sorts to liberate women from the pervasive influence of feminism)

The Feminization of American Culture, by Ann Douglas, (a very heady book written by a Harvard professor with some startling insights into modern feminism)

Sarah Bessey’s blog and book coming out soon, called Jesus Feminist.  Bessey, like Evans, is a gifted writer and another bright, articulate Christian feminist.

 God, Gender, and the Pastoral Office

Is Feminism a Heresy?  by Donna Steichen, Crisis Magazine

Jesus and the Feminists, podcast

The Arguments and Outcomes of the Ordination of Women, podcast by Dr. John Pless
The Privilege of Being a Woman, by Alice Von Hildebrand
Man and Woman: A Divine Invention, Alice Von Hildebrand

I like to call these Grannie washcloths.  Kinda like Grannie’s Fudge but without the chocolate.  They are so darn cute and useful and easy to make.  I’ve made 4 this week already and this is the perfect little project in which to learn to knit.  They make THE perfect little handmade gift and you’ll love the texture of them as dishcloths or as facial cloths.  I’ve been knitting them for years and giving them as gifts with bars of soap or with a little kitchen basket of goodies.  It’s the perfect gift for guests, or friends, or your favorite relatives.  If you’ve never knit before, these videos and instructions will walk you through every step.  If you’re an expert knitter, consider making a couple and sending them to me so I can take them on my trip with Compassion to Nicaragua in June.  I think these will be the perfect little gifts to take  for the girls that we meet there.  For the older girls, I’ll include a bar of handmade soap and for the little girls, these will make perfect little baby blankets for tiny baby dolls.  Also, the time spent knitting these is the perfect chance to pray over the kids that we’ll be visiting.

If you’ve never knit before, let me just sing the praises of this long lost art. It’s so relaxing!  And yet, you are doing something productive with your hands.  My mother in law was kind and patient enough to teach the girls and me how to knit several years ago and I am so thankful.  We like to knit while we listen to books on tape. (Homeschooling at its finest!) When we lost our house to fire, I mourned the loss of the sweater I had been knitting for Caiti as she prepared to leave home.  Knitting that sweater was like therapy to me and gave me plenty of time to ponder the joys and heartache of motherhood. Do yourself a favor and learn to knit!  This project is easy enough that once you get the hang of it, you really don’t have to think.  You can carry it with you every you go and knit while you wait for kids at their various activities.  I like to knit at night before bed or when Stevie and I are watching American Pickers.

So,  knit with me, why don’t ya!!  I think you’ll  love it.

Supplies

Size 8, 9, or 10 knitting needles (I prefer bamboo)
Clover Takumi 13-Inch Single point, Size 9

Cotton yarn (Usually called Sugar and Cream and it comes in a variety of colors)
Lily Sugar’n Cream Yarn, Potpourri

Instructions

Here are the official knitting instructions.  If this all looks like greek to you, never fear.  I’ve made a video of each step to make it easy to learn and follow along.  The video took 47 years to upload so even if you don’t want to learn to knit, watch the video and laugh at my Southern twang, so at least I’ll feel like those years of my life weren’t wasted!

Cast on 4 sts.

Row 1: Knit one row.

Row 2: K2, YO, knit to the end of the row.

Repeat row 2 until there are 44 sts

Next row: K1, K2tog, YO, K2tog, knit to the end of the row.

Continue decreasing until 4 sts left. Cast off.

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K1—knit one stitch

K2tog—knit two together

YO—yarn over

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Do you knit or crochet or stitch? I was visiting a friend who had a handmade crocheted dishcloth and now I’m obsessed with trying that, too.

Tell me all about your handicrafts!  Maybe someday I’ll even learn tatting, although it looks pretty tough to me!

I’m linking up with Ruth’s Thrifty Thursday series!

Visit my other home/DIY projects here!

If you’re new here, don’t forget to visit my about page, which features some of the favorite posts of lifeingrace!

Welcome to our first {ditto} DIY challenge!

Once a month, beginning today, nine very different bloggers are attempting to recreate in our own homes a project or design element inspired by a haute couture design selected by Darlene Weir of Fieldstone Hill Design. (For more details on what {ditto}DIY is all about, check out this post!}

Ruth @ Living Well Spending Less
Cindy @ Skip to My Lou
Jen @ Balancing Beauty & Bedlam
Edie @ Life in Grace
Rachel @ Surviving the Stores
Karin @ Trophy Mom Diaries
Lauren @ I am THAT Lady
Kelly @ View Along The Way
Melissa @ The Inspired Room

Remember that beginning next month (on Monday, June 3rd) we are inviting you ALL to join the {ditto} DIY challenge! Be sure to visit Darlene to catch a peek of NEXT month’s {ditto} DIY challenge so that you ALL can join the fun! (Hint: We’ll be going for the GOLD!)

In case you’ve forgotten, this was our first inspiration photograph:

{A chic painted tray and vanity vignette, from the home of nina bergsten, photography by marcus lawett.}

The {ditto} DIY Challenge:

Create your own painted tray and vanity vignette.

Here is my first {ditto}DIY project:

Oh, how  I love this little collection of color!

So, here’s how this vignette came together for me.

I’ve been wanting to add a tray to the striped bathroom for awhile.  This room may have knocked the workroom out of favorite room status but I was thinking that it needed a tray of some kind to corral a pretty collection of things.  Then, it dawned on me that maybe I just love this room so much because David is in here? I’ve been suspecting that I’m partial to any room where David is located because I’ve really missed him in the kitchen.  What?  You find that odd?  You think I’m off my rocker?  That’s not news, good people.  That’s a well-established fact.  But still.  Humor me.  Wouldn’t you be just a little attached to David, once you got over the shock that a large bust of a Biblical character was privy to your bathroom situations?

Long story even more painful?  I want a David in every room.

There, I said it.

The good news is?  At this point, I  have two Davids.  (Myquillin sent me one right after the fire because she gets me and because friends don’t let friends live in a world where busts of David do not exist.)  So, I moved big David back to the kitchen and spray painted little David hot pink. I don’t know why.  I just did it and it set off a firestorm of creative sparks in my head—which eventually led to little David joining Aphrodite in the bathroom. Match made in heaven, if you ask me.

 I wanted a tray with a mirrored or reflective surface so that the glory of  this unlikely pair could really shine.  I didn’t have a tray (that I wanted to paint) so I bought a cheap black lacquer tray at TJ Maxx and used the antique looking glass spray paint to add some glam to the surface.  (The paint is pricey but I used my Hobby Lobby 40% off coupon and got it for about $7.)

Bye-bye butterflies.

Hello, mirrored beauty.  And to be fair, this “looking-glass” spray paint really looks more metallic than mirror-ish but I like the effect and it glams up an otherwise okay tray.

Do you have any idea how much this simple little project makes me happy?  You don’t, do you?  Listen.  It’s the kind of happy that keeps on giving every. single. time. you have to potty.  It makes a trip to the bathroom more like a field trip to a cool museum.  Or to the carnival, only without cotton candy and deep fried oreos.

I’ve come to the conclusion that the smallest, most insignificant spaces are a great place for high design.   As soon as you get tired of working on it, you’re done.

Speaking of design, I’m working on something brand new for the room over the garage.  Follow along on my Pinterest boards, but don’t tell Darlene, because this project may or may not involve some changes in the girls’ room.  {It seems almost blasphemous.}

Also, head over to her place to see the inspiration photo for next month, where you are invited and encouraged to play along with the fun and intriguing challenge of using gilding in a project.

On Monday, June 3rd, we are inviting you ALL to join the {ditto} DIY challenge! Be sure to check out everyone else’s projects and to visit Darlene’s site for a peek at next month’s challenge along with some expert design tips on incorporating painted tray vignettes into your home.

Sources for my favorite room in the house:

Paint colors—Sherwin Williams Sea Salt and Urban Bronze

Antique Federal Mirror—Antique store, Abingdon, VA

Bust of Aphrodite—Pottery Barn

Anthropologie-esqu spoon flower vase—gift from Shannon (tutorial included!)

Floral Art Print—Lulie Wallace (almost all my artwork comes from One King’s Lane)

Whitman: Poems (Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets)

Fruits & Passion Fruits & Passion Cucina Purifying Hand Wash – Coriander and Olive Oil

Planter—Ross
BERGAMOT TOBACCO DIFFUSER ~~ Archipelago Botanicals Aromatherapy Home Fragrance Signature Series All Natural Premium Scented Oil Diffuser W/ Deluxe Gift Box

(best scent in the free world and lasts FOREVER)

Keats: Poems (Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets)

My question for you is this.  What  do you keep in  your bathroom for reading material?  Inquiring busts of David want to know.

I’m so excited to tell you about two wonderful women—Jen Schmidt, from Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, and Jenny Martin,  from Southern Savers—who are hosting an awesome conference in Asheville, North Carolina, called The Becoming Conference.  The conference is centered around intentional living and will be held at the Ridgecrest Conference Center, August 9th and 10th.  I’m so honored to be speaking in a session on Hospitality, with my good friend, Ruth.  We’ll be sharing about the Heart of Hospitality and then showing some fun, practical ways to invite people into your heart and home.

“Becoming 2013 is a weekend designed to encourage and inspire women to live intentionally by becoming more creative, purposeful, and frugal. As women, many of us desire to be more intentional with our time and financial resources; more intentional with our family and homes, but aren’t sure how to make that happen.

As we gather from all walks of life, we will tackle some of those day to day issues that typically seem mundane. Our desire is that you will leave, not only refreshed, but encouraged, empowered, and motivated with the practical and tangible ideas you have received. Hopefully, by tackling the mundane, they will now have a sense of magic.

If it comes to saving money, re-purposing, or creating, we want to cover it and the best part is that we are committing to making this affordable to all. If you gather a few of your friends to share the hotel room, the cost is under $100 per person which covers three meals, the conference, hotel room and lots of extra goodies. We also are offering four hands on, pre-conference workshops including Trash to Treasure, “Bring your own Furniture” Painting, Photography 101 Photo Walk and Full Coupon Savings Seminar.”

The tickets for this conference go on sale May 7th at 9am and apparently sell out fast, even though the venue is large and the conference usually draws 600+ women.

You can find out all the details regarding the conference and registration at their website.  I’d love to meet you in Asheville!!

(They update their facebook page with announcements about the event, so make sure follow them there.)