tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65891272130748746152024-11-01T02:51:29.810-04:00Promoting value, respect, equality, conversation, and Love among and for women and girls around the world.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger229125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-58965269175444406812018-01-18T17:50:00.001-05:002018-01-18T17:50:14.378-05:00

A partial address regarding the #metoo movement but mostly an address regarding the Aziz Ansari articles posted just about everywhere right about now, sourced from this article, about a woman named "Grace": AP: The Washington Examiner It's important to teach women and girls to speak up. To say NO. To say what they want. To say YES enthusiastically when that is what they mean. The

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-52264558225653906592017-11-27T20:05:00.002-05:002017-11-27T20:14:49.043-05:00

I haven't blogged in months.  I haven't blogged here in...  I guess you'd call it years. What's that mean? I don't really know how to talk about it. I've been going through enormous changes. I've had thoughts and feelings and life altering conclusions surrounding marriage and relationship and capitalism and Christianity that I will have to take some time to process even

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-27181007944679554392016-07-26T14:32:00.000-04:002017-11-27T20:15:54.126-05:00

There is this lie that we hear as mothers. People tell us that we have the most important job in the world. That's not something I'm disputing.  But they also tell us something else. That we should invest ourselves completely in teaching our children to be better people, and that they will rise up and be activists and change the world, and then we will have done our good for

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-18474411331599117742016-05-19T15:56:00.001-04:002016-05-19T16:00:10.677-04:00

I have spent a lot of my life working really hard to be "pretty". I have tried to buy clothes that are "flattering".  I have thought about how the "style" might "work for me".  I have tried to make my hair make sense in a world where wavy hair with fifty thousand cow-licks doesn't really make any sense. I have struggled over favorite colors, perfumes, deodorants, shaving or not

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-8573559268099953002016-05-19T15:55:00.002-04:002016-05-19T15:55:56.840-04:00

You know - it's been a long time since I wrote here. Seems to be the mantra of the on-again, off-again blogger, eh? I know that there are people who followed this sucker back when I was trying hard to put something out into the blogosphere weekly.  There was a time I tried for daily but that was so unrealistic even I laughed at myself. I recently found out that the title "Redefined Juliet

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-84786014080989201512015-03-26T11:44:00.002-04:002015-03-26T11:44:45.254-04:00

Today the butterflies emerged from their chrysalises. My parents sent them to the kids for Easter as tiny caterpillars just a couple of weeks ago. We've been watching them go through all of the stages of metamorphosis. It's been an interesting process because, while I've known all about the process since I was a little girl, I didn't understand it until I saw it all happen before my

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-67630172747468987242014-10-08T15:33:00.001-04:002014-10-08T15:33:45.333-04:00

My daughter chose to wear a navy blue thermal shirt with white stars all over it and a black skirt with a similar design. I know this doesn't match. But she looks "like outer space"... and outer space is pretty awesome.  She is also sporting chocolate around her mouth.  I'm not sure what this is from. None of that really matters. Our family is going through a lot right now. My

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-64773824731606566032014-10-07T01:01:00.000-04:002014-10-07T01:01:04.411-04:00

This weekend I went out by myself. I realize that I do this very little.  Hardly ever, in fact.  Going out by myself is something that I have honestly never done a ton.  As a child, I always went out with my parents. As a teenager, I went out with my friends. In college I went out more alone than I ever had before, but it was still most often with a friend or roommate or

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-28632800394137101602014-09-27T22:57:00.000-04:002014-09-27T23:05:07.252-04:00

Okay.  I admit it. It might be a long time before I get around to finishing that Beattitudes series.  Truth is, I might never finish it.  That's because I feel like, for now, I've said what I needed to say on the subject. Maybe sometime in the future I'll need to say something more. For now... there are other things more pressing, and I'm going to let it rest. I realize that

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-44234897267521377512014-08-23T16:11:00.002-04:002014-08-23T16:13:44.568-04:00

I know. I know. I owe you a bajillion (or like 4) more posts on the Beattitudes. I know. I've also been in hiatus for about a bajillion months. I know. My life has been changing at a crazy fast pace, and unfortunately, I've been too busy and too wrapped up in my new life and my truly unleashed brain to share it with my larger community. But today there is a little something that I need

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-75634266343145462872014-04-19T18:49:00.002-04:002014-04-19T18:52:22.508-04:00

We take a break from our regularly scheduled Beatitudes exploration to bring you this: A father invited many honored guests to dinner one night and asked his daughter to set the table. He left the guest list with her and went out to finish his day's work. The daughter began to set the table but then mislaid the guest list. Panicking, she was unsure about what to do.  She could not

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-37608705545238661062014-04-07T12:29:00.000-04:002014-04-07T13:41:14.193-04:00

You can start at the beginning of this series here.  It's been awhile since I last wrote.  I've been busy.  This blog took a little more leg work than average. I conducted interviews with several people - Christian and non-Christian - about this verse: Matthew 5:4: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." It's one I struggle with more than others. Not

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-86428366259381675002014-03-23T13:13:00.004-04:002014-03-23T13:13:50.381-04:00

You can start at the beginning of this series here. You can read about peacemakers here.  I had a little more trouble choosing today's topic. Nothing has been rolling around in my head on any "Beatitude" in particular. The two that stuck out during my prayer time today were this one "Blessed are the pure in heart..." and "Blessed are those who mourn..." We'll save mourning for tomorrow,

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-52038996462001758052014-03-22T12:24:00.000-04:002014-03-22T12:32:30.527-04:00

If you missed the beginning of this blog series, go here. It's Day 2 of the Beatitudes Journey. Yesterday we talked about meekness, Dorothy Gale, Aslan, and what it means to be "meek, but not tame". Today I'm going with peacemakers. I don't have any method to this madness. I just pray and then read over Matthew 5:3 - 10 again and go with the one that feels right. Maybe that's divine

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-52719082710834611462014-03-21T12:50:00.001-04:002014-03-21T12:53:46.571-04:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, specifically about Jesus and The Bible.  I've been pondering the problems of translation and the thousands of years that have passed culturally between us and the Words of Christ.  I've also been reading Rob Bell's series on The Bible (you can find it here) and I've decided to invite you to come with me on a bit of a series study focusing on

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-53456626861992543522014-02-09T17:56:00.002-05:002014-02-10T12:28:44.685-05:00

A while back I was talking to one of my friends in her twenties. We were walking along an alley in the city and there was a moment of comfortable silence.  A pause in our philosophical musings and conversational chatter.  Then she stared at the pavement longingly and sighed, "I can't wait until I'm thirty." I stopped walking and stared at her, "Why?"  She looked up, a little

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-25263084369758261182013-12-28T11:08:00.001-05:002013-12-28T12:00:46.664-05:00

I don't remember who I need to credit with my learning the actual meaning of the Golden Rule, besides Jesus. It sort of came to me slowly, like a warm light in the middle of a dark wood. Throughout my teenage years, I had this notecard with turquoise block letters taped to my mirror that says: JOY. It was an acronym that was to remind me: Jesus first, Others second, Yourself last.  I

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-80060092616064777492013-11-13T09:04:00.001-05:002013-11-13T09:20:16.189-05:00

A friend of mine recently posted this blog by Matt Walsh. I usually really enjoy his stuff. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry, he is an excellent writer and one that I generally agree with while he is able to put into words things I have not always been able to. Today, however, I had to write a response because I want people to understand where he gets it wrong. A few months ago, I would

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-43793869804161895142013-10-18T06:00:00.000-04:002013-10-18T08:27:42.067-04:00

Valarie sent me this contribution to The Mirror Project on Wednesday this week.   "At 51 I am redefining myself and my own 'beauty'." I am beautiful:  strong, loving, kind.

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-714476405852615262013-10-16T09:32:00.001-04:002013-10-16T11:52:08.079-04:00

I'm writing to address this article from the Daily Mail.  And I am angry. In the article, the problem with "sexting", which the article defines roughly as sending sexual pictures via cell phone, is addressed. The biggest issue, according to the article, is that young girls are sending boys nude and sexually explicit photos of themselves at the boys' request.  These photos are then

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-44438894495256963212013-09-04T16:25:00.000-04:002013-09-04T18:54:34.546-04:00

So this blog is a response to this - which is viral amongst my Christian friends and many of my non-Christian friends who are mothers of boys.  First of all, this mom is trying to lookout for the moral welfare of her boys.  If you haven't read the blog, it talks about how they go through their boys' Facebook friends on a semi-regular basis around the kitchen table and delete the

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-63444241714828714712013-08-08T20:08:00.000-04:002013-08-08T20:08:48.728-04:00

My mom is a coffee drinker. She has been this way since I have known her.  I imagine she was not always interested in coffee. I imagine I am not guiltless when it comes to her reasons for needing it to wake up in the morning - I especially see this connection since now that my brother and I are out of the house she has mostly switched to decaf...  Anyway - I don't have coffee in my

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-91947728518643610492013-07-13T21:25:00.000-04:002013-07-13T21:25:25.598-04:00

Last night was my night off. I'm a full-time mom of two spirited unschoolers and sometimes my job is downright exhausting, so my husband gives me the right to a night off once in awhile. It's always a little guilt-ridden and a little gleeful all at once.  Last night I went to Barnes and Noble and spent far too much money on stuff for me and stuff for the kids.  I stayed until the

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-86804558098076800952013-02-21T13:36:00.000-05:002013-02-21T13:36:03.258-05:00

Chipped tooth in the glass I stare at the former white More wabi-sabi.

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6589127213074874615.post-71641048434519896572013-02-13T11:20:00.001-05:002013-02-13T11:55:32.382-05:00

In memory of Bob Hoke.  As many of you know, my dad is a pastor in the United Methodist Church.  He's been in the ministry longer than I've been alive.  Yesterday, he had the honor of assisting in the funeral services for Bob Hoke, a community stalwart and hard-working farmer who attended my dad's first charge as senior pastor.  I wanted to share the story my dad shared at

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1