Election Day

Today’s the day. The culmination of everything we've endured the last year and a half. 

I tend to be reflective on days like these. I think. I reminisce. I pray. I hope. I remember being young and always being interested in the political process. I always looked forward to being old enough to vote. I look forward to participating in the process every year. 

These moments stir something in me. It’s significant. What we do today matters. 

I can’t say why voting matters so deeply to me. Maybe because it evokes the pride I have in being an American. People have started saying recently that this country was never great. How sad. This country has been great. It IS great. It will be great in the future. This country was a beacon of hope in the world. People came here for freedom. People came here because anything was possible. There was hope in America. Yes, I understand the issues. I know we’re not perfect. I know we’ve made terrible choices. But don’t tell me this country isn’t great. 

Don’t waste your vote today. Don’t fall prey to the idea that no vote is better than voting for someone you don’t agree with. Pray. Then go out there and vote biblically. It’s the very best we can do. 

Vote because you’re a citizen of this nation. Vote because it’s your responsibility to participate in this process. Vote because people have died defending your right to. Vote because your voice matters. Vote because you have the freedom to do so. Vote because you can make a difference. Vote because it’s a honor to make your voice heard. Just VOTE. 

And lastly. Don’t be ugly today. Tomorrow we’ll all wake up and there will be a new president for our nation. And we all still have to live with one another. 

So no matter who you vote for, remember we’re still in this together. 

A New Feminism

I read an article recently about five celebrity men who are "self-proclaimed feminists" and very proud of it, apparently.

The idea of that is nice. A sound sentiment, to be sure.

But in this day and age, I think the idea of feminism is both redundant and ineffective.

Now, let's be clear. I am a woman. A strong, brutally honest, independent and opinionated woman at that. I've been called intimidating and bossy. Aggressive. Harsh. Cold. Unfeeling. A robot. The list goes on. Don't get me wrong, I'm not offended. Well. Unfeeling is a little hurtful. That one actually isn't true. 
But I want to laugh when women are offended about being called bossy. Fine, I'm bossy. When you're the best you can be bossy. Until then, I'll be bossy. ;)

But I digress. The point is, I AM a woman.

I think modern feminism has ruined us in a way. Feminism has created a world where woman think they're better than men. And it’s very subtle, because no one would ever say it outright. But think about it- it's everywhere. TV shows, movies and commercials. More often than not men are portrayed as silly, ignorant, immature, bumbling fools. They're shown as the clueless father, and only the mother can relate to her children. In every argument between husbands and wives, the man is wrong, the woman is right.

It's embarrassing actually. I'm embarrassed by the portrayal of men in the entertainment world. I’m embarrassed to think that we perpetuate an idea that women are better than men and then call it feminism. And if you know me at all, you know how I feel about extremism. Feminism has created an extreme. Woman rules all, and men are our subjects to control and demean as we see fit. I think it’s somehow to make up for the years when women were lesser than. It apparently doesn’t matter that those days are over, we have to make the oppressive men pay! 

Feminism began because a time once existed in which women were truly not equal to men. We couldn’t own property, or vote. We weren’t taken seriously without a husband, or a man to vouch for us.

It does make me angry to think that there was a time when the world viewed woman as less important or valuable than men. It makes me angry to think that places exist in the world where this is still true. It’s disgusting to me.

As a woman, I have to be honest. I don’t NEED feminism. And here’s why: Simply by the fact that I am a living, breathing person, I AM EQUAL. A man has no more inherent value than I do. I don’t need feminism to tell me that I’m valuable, or that I’m equal to a man. I am equal because I’m a person- the same way that any man is a person. I could also point out that even the Apostle Paul informed us that in Jesus, male or female doesn’t matter, because we’re all one in Christ (Galatians 3:26-29). No one is excluded. 

So forgive me, I’m not impressed by your self-proclaimed feminism. Every single person on the face of this earth should be a “feminist.” 

And yes, I’m aware of the gender wage-gap argument. I could point out that studies* have been done to show that when woman are paid less in the professional world it’s usually because they’ve chosen a field or specialty that isn’t as highly paying as other fields. Not because a woman automatically gets paid less. I could also point out that if companies could get away with paying women less based on gender alone, no company would ever hire men. Why pay more when you can pay less on something as arbitrary as gender? It’s just simple dollars and cents.

I'm also aware of the company line that says "feminism is about equality!" That's great. However. The vast majority of "feminism" that is portrayed in the world doesn't support that line. Most of the time, feminism comes across as degrading and ugly. It screams equality while it's actions tear down anyone who stands in it's way. It doesn't make sense. 

I’ve even recently heard the argument that people want to vote for a particular presidential candidate because she’s a woman and it’s “historical.” I would like to point out that voting for a woman simply because she’s a woman is actually the very antithesis of feminism, but that’s probably none of my business. 

I absolutely reject the idea that anything should be handed to me because I’m woman. And you know what, I’ll gladly work harder than the dude next to me, because I want to prove that I deserve a job because I’m the BEST, not because I’m a woman. If I get turned down, that’s ok. I’ll work harder, be better and in the end, they’ll wish they’d hired me. But that’s my own tenacity talking now. In all honesty, most of the time, I think a lot of women are very sore losers. Women don’t want to admit that a man might be better at something than they are, or have better experience or expertise.  

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure there are people out there who possess a prejudice against women. Most of the time, it’s probably unintentional, or sub-conscious. Based on how they were raised perhaps. I have no doubt that it exists. I don’t think it rules the world. 

Don't misunderstand me. I'm FOR women. I like strong women. I identify with strong women. I enjoy working with strong women. I love seeing women succeed. But not at the expense of men. Sorry. That's not a feminism I want to be a part of. 

I think we need a new kind of feminism. A feminism that doesn’t need to degrade men. A feminism that doesn’t need to rule all. A feminism that knows and generously acknowledges that we are ALL equal and important, simply because we are living, breathing human beings. A feminism whose actions match their words. A feminism that is willing to earn the right to be recognized because we’re the best, not because we’re women. A feminism that is strong and proud, because women are awesome. A feminism that respects and honors men, because they’re awesome too. 

Bottom line: I don't want to live in a world where Man is king and I don't want to live in a world where Woman is king. I want to live in a world (and this is probably some very wide-eyed idealism on my part) where the right people are in the right places for the right reasons. And things like gender or race aren't factors, because it simply doesn't matter.
But that's just me. 

*Prager University: https://youtu.be/1oqyrflOQFc

Life & Choice

I read this book recently. Timely, in light of our current political state. 

I would encourage you to read it for yourself. It’s graphic. It’s honest. It’s vulnerable. A real first-person account of working in the world of Planned Parenthood. In all honesty, it’s startling and eye-opening. But worth the read. 

I’ve been thinking about abortion quite a lot recently. Maybe it’s the current climate. Maybe it’s just getting older, and considering how precious life is. Maybe because I don’t recall the pro-life/pro-choice debate ever being so hotly contested in my lifetime. 

Please, don’t misunderstand. This isn’t about democratic v. republican ideology. This is about life and death. This isn’t about condemnation. Honestly, I think the issue of abortion is far more spiritual than it is political. 

But we’ve really convinced ourselves of the value, the need, the importance of abortion. 

Don’t you think it’s funny that the primary verbiage we use is “Women’s Choice” and not abortion? Interesting, isn’t it. Is it possible we don't want to own up to what that really means? Just a thought. 

We’ve conditioned ourselves to really believe that the first priority is Women’s Choice. Not life. 

Let’s be honest. It’s utterly ridiculous to say that a baby (“fetus”) isn’t a baby from conception on. Consider the logic of that for a moment. How can something that is "not a baby", magically become a baby at some point? I don't believe a form of logic exists wherein that makes sense. 

I’m bothered by the tone and attitude with which we discuss this issue. Maybe I could take it better if we could be honest about what this is. Abortion IS murder. It’s not pretty, but there it is. It’s not a righteous cause. Let’s be honest and discuss why we’re ok with murdering innocent babies in the name of women’s lib. 

The most recent estimates* I can find show that nearly 60 MILLION babies have been aborted since the approval of Roe v. Wade in 1973. That number staggers me. It guts me. I can’t fathom it. 60 MILLION. 

Consider for a moment how many people are missing from the world that should be here. Husbands and wives, sons and daughters. Friends, cousins, co-workers. These are PEOPLE we’re talking about. 

Because- make no mistake, they are people. We can make ourselves feel good by saying it’s about women’s rights. We can expunge ourselves of any responsibility by saying “it’s a fetus, not a baby.” But those are just words, and frankly, they’re untrue. 

It IS a baby. And it’s devastating.  

We could talk about the 7 characteristics that are generally used to determine life in any organism. I could tell you that growth is one of the chief characteristics. Just so we’re clear- a heartbeat is not one of the 7 characteristics. But again, so we’re clear, even a “fetus” is growing. From conception on, growth is happening. 

For example. A tree is living organism. It grows, yet it doesn’t have a heartbeat. But we KNOW that a tree is living thing. Interesting, don’t you think? 

We could talk about how life is so much more than 9 months in a womb, or the decades following. We could talk about how life is eternal. How, as Psalm 139 says, God knit us together in our mother's womb and wrote every day of our lives before we ever took a breath. Life is precious, and eternal.

But I digress. 

Please take a moment, and really consider how serious the issue of abortion is. For me, this is paramount. This is the issue I can’t see past. And believe me, there are lots of other issues. But this is the one that keeps me up at night. And spiritually speaking, I think this is the issue that will speak for us in eternity. 

Forgive me if you feel that I’m attacking your right to choose. That’s not my intention. And the truth is, you matter. I respect you and your voice, even if your belief differs from mine. You and I both got to live to express our opinions and beliefs. 60 million others didn’t. 

Simply put, life is precious. It’s irreplaceable. There are no duplicates in people. Every single life is significant and immeasurably valuable. And I value life more than choice.

Sources:

*http://www.nrlc.org/uploads/factsheets/FS01AbortionintheUS.pdf

http://www.abbyjohnson.org (UnPlanned by Abby Johnson)

More resources:

http://www.numberofabortions.com

https://www.hillaryclinton.com/briefing/factsheets/2016/01/22/lifelong-record-roe-anniversary/

The Countdown

Yesterday was my birthday. I'm 29. 29 years old.
That number could scare me, I suppose. It means the decade of my 20's is almost over. Maybe it's intimidating because your 20's are your first full decade as an adult. You get to figure things out, all on your own. You get to do adult things and make the adult choices. No one looking over your shoulder telling you to do something different.
So you get comfortable in your 20's. They're a familiar place, a comfort place. You know your 20's. They're like an old friend.
So your 30's seem scary. Uncharted water. Places you've never been.

Now don't get me wrong. My 20's have been awesome. I met my husband, I got married in my 20's. I moved to Tucson. I've been to Brazil, to Europe. I've gotten to do incredible things. I've met incredible people. My 20's have been amazing. But it's like the book is closing, and a new one is opening.

And I refuse to be intimidated. I think my 30's are a beginning. A step into real life. Or, realer life, maybe. It reminds me of how I felt New Year's Eve, 2007. I knew 2008 was the year that was different. Every year prior I had been able to predict how the coming year would go. Nothing would change, it would all just be...the same. And it was. Until New Year's Eve 2007. I had nothing for 2008. Except that it was different. I knew I would meet my husband that year. And I did. It was just different than all the years past.

And that's how I feel about 30. Everything is gonna change. 29 is like the breath before the plunge. So now, I'm just getting ready. Things are gonna fall into place.
Another reason I love the Lord. He has this incredible way of bringing the right things at the right time. And the right things at the right time is chemical. It's reactive, it's cataclysmic. It's unstoppable.
And I really believe that's what my 30's are going to be. It's going to change everything. And I can't wait. It's only getting better.

So here's to the countdown.

September 11

It’s hard to believe it’s been 15 years. I still remember where I was. I was 13. Turning 14 in a week. I was woken up that morning to the startling news. Something had happened to one of the WTC towers in New York City. An explosion maybe? A bomb? A terrorist attack? No one knew. We sat in front of the tv and watched, desperate for news. Desperate for anything to clarify what was happening. I remember watching as a second plane came flying seemingly out of nowhere and collide explosively with the second tower. I remember the news anchor’s shock as they tried to maintain their composure on national television. 

I remember sitting in confused silence in our living room. I remember everyone trying to make sense of what was happening, trying to explain it or find a answer. 

I remember watching as you could see the people inside the tower, leaning out of windows. I remember the horror I felt as all of the sudden we realized that people were jumping. 

I remember the understanding that hit me when another explosion was reported at the Pentagon. I remember understanding that something evil was happening. 15 years later I’m still not confident we know all the answers. And I won’t waste time on speculation.

I remember being glued to the tv. Just wanting any news on what was happening. I remembered thinking about all the first responders that were rushing to the scene. Firemen, paramedics, police, random bystanders who knew something needed to be done. I remember swallowing my fear as I thought about what they were running into. 

I remember watching in shock as the first tower collapsed. All I could think about was the people. How many people were in the building? How many people couldn't get out? What would happen to the people in the streets? Would they be able to get away? Would other buildings fall as a result? I remember being mad that so many people couldn’t get out. I don’t know why I was mad, but it made me angry. 

I remember I couldn't think, as I watched that tower collapse. I couldn't get a hold on what was happening. I wanted to understand, to make it make sense, but it was all happening too fast. Everything seemed out of reach. There was no rational thought to be grasped. 

I remember desperately hoping that more people could get out of the other tower. I remember silently pleading that for some unknowable reason, the second tower wouldn’t collapse. I remember the shock when it did. 

Forgive me for being so morbid, but I remember thinking about the carnage. You see, I'd read the story of the Oklahoma City bombing. I was only 8 when it happened and didn't know much about it at the time. But I read the story when I was older because I wanted to know. I remember the accounts of the paramedics finding the fingers of toddlers in the rubble. It made me sick. Who could do that to children? But I couldn't imagine the carnage the first responders would find this time. I remember how sad it made me. How could they ever recover from what they would see that day?

I remember hearing the stories of the people on the planes. Calling loved ones, understanding their fate. I remember hearing the story of the heroes that didn’t allow the final plane to get to it’s destination. 

I remember sitting and listening to our president address the nation that night. I remember the sorrow on his face. I remember how many people hated him, but no one cared that day. I remember the words of courage he spoke to us. I remember that I was proud of him, because I couldn’t imagine having to lead our country that day. I remember that my heart was proud to be an American. 

I remember being angry that my country, in which I had always felt safe, was compromised. I remember laying in bed at night for months after and being afraid every time I heard a jet overhead. A childish fear, to be sure, but real nonetheless. I remember being afraid that every day I would wake up and hear about another attack. I remember watching every jet I saw just to make sure it was going where it was supposed to. As if me watching it somehow would make it so. I remember calculating what important landmarks and government facilities were nearby, just in case. 

I remember how people looked at each other differently. I remember how there was an unspoken brotherhood, a camaraderie; we were all in this together. Strangers, and yet, familiar at the same time. People just wanted to be kind to one another. I remember how first responders were national heroes. My, how times have changed. 

15 years later I still feel the sorrow at the horrendous loss of life. I can’t look back at the videos of that day. I can’t watch the horror of it all over again. 

15 years later. Fifteen years. 

I remember. I just remember. 

And I’ll never forget. 

The Tree

There was a girl who lived up in a tree
and when they asked her why
she smiled softly to herself
and said "because up here I can see."

In a town called Reality
where nothing ever changed
and it's people, Disappointment,
could only stay the same

They'd stopped it long ago
the curiosity of dreams
mindless, they carried on
stuck forever in routine

Now this girl was a Dreamer
different from all the rest
and so they didn't like her
for she wouldn't acquiesce

So she carried on alone
and much to her dismay
it wasn't time to leave
but she had to get away

So she found a tall, tall tree
with a view for miles wide
and there she dreamed of bigger things
and from Disappointment she could hide

And so there she stayed, up in that tree
and when they asked her why
she smiled softly to herself
and said "because up here I can see."

The Rules

I'm just trying to keep it all straight. There’s a lot of rules. Life is full of them, spoken and silent. Cultural norms and expectations. We like formulas because they create logical patterns. 

So we grow up in these patterns and live in them because it’s “normal.” Or because it’s “just what people do.” 

But there’s another side to the rules. The side where you realize that you’re meant to do something outside of the box of cultural norm and expectation and then you spend half your life trying to convince yourself of it and half your life trying to make it happen because the rules we’re entrenched in are surprisingly rigid. Even though we like to say that “anyone can do anything.” What we really mean is that “anyone can do anything as long as it’s logical and fits our description of normal.” 

So what happens then, to those who break the rules? I don’t know. But I’m about to find out. 

I grew up in a very specific family (nothing wrong with that, btw). My family is full of these incredibly organized, administratively gifted people. They carry planners, and live by them. They keep intense calendars and schedules and everything must fit within the planner. They’re incredible people. Most of them work in offices, in very important administrative roles, or executive roles. And it all makes perfect sense. 

So I grew up with an innate sense of that being normal. And I grew up with this idea that I must be that way too. No one told me to be that way, it’s just what everyone did. So I guess I assumed that that must be what I’m good at too. And so I lived my adult life working in administrative roles. Every job I’ve had, that’s what I did. 

Until my last administrative job. I was 25 when I realized that I’m not good at administrative work. Not even a little bit. Not only am I not good at it, but I loathe it. I don’t enjoy details. Actually I hate being hassled over details. I’m a big picture person and I KNOW that the big picture will work. Please don’t ask me to explain the details because I hate it and often see it as a waste of my time. Explaining the details makes me hate the whole idea. 

Guess what? Administrative work IS details. Details are essential to administrative work. Details are what will make or break something. In a nutshell- I am TERRIBLE at administrative work. I can do it, sure. But I chalk that up to my work ethic, not my giftings. I will always work hard. But it took me until I was 25 to realize I was working really hard at a job that I hated and wasn’t good at. 

I can’t believe that’s just how it’s supposed to be. I won’t believe that. Because I look around at the people I respect and they not only are good at their jobs, but genuinely LOVE their jobs. So, it must be possible to have a job that you are both good at and that you LOVE. 

So it started me on this journey. Trying to figure out what in the world I am good at. What I am passionate about. I’m embarrassed to say it took me 25 years to understand that creativity isn’t simply something I enjoy but it’s what I’m good at. I am a creative person. Which is a little annoying, to be honest. 

There is a stigma on creative people that creativity is nice but it’s impractical. Some people are successful as creative types, but it’s rare. And it doesn’t make any sense to pursue it. You HAVE to do the practical thing because it makes sense. 

So I try to make sense of that thought process. So you’re saying that I have to start out successful in order to validate my creativity? Ok, well, it doesn’t work like that. What if Robin Williams had never pursued acting? What if Bono had never decided to be in a band? Think of all the CREATIVE things we wouldn’t have in the world, if the creative people weren’t creative. 

I can’t be creative if it’s only contingent on success. Being creative is WHO I am. It’s as normal to me as being organized is to an administrative type. 

The point of all this, is that we HAVE to make room for creative people to be creative. I know, I know. It’s impractical. It's risky. There’s no guarantees of success or security. Well, let us determine our own success and security. Please stop putting us in boxes and demanding us to be like everyone else. Cause I lived a life where I wasn’t creative in my job and I hated it. I never stopped writing stories, and songs. I never stopped imagining all the things I wanted to do. I never stopped being creative. Because creativity is in my DNA. It’s who I am. 

And when you ask creative people to stop being creative because it doesn’t fit a box you need it to, it’s like asking us to stop breathing. Forgive the dramatics here, but it’s like dying slowly. We picture ourselves laying awake at night every day for the rest of our lives, regretting all the things we didn’t create and imagining all the things we could’ve done. 

Help us come out of our shell. Help us break “the rules.” Help us be creative. Believe in us. Believe that we can create something that matters and something that makes a difference. Give us a chance. Don’t relegate us to living someone else’s life. Don’t relegate us to sleepless nights filled with “could’ves.” 

The world is changing. I believe it needs creative people. I think the church needs creative people. Creativity allows us to express something that is in our hearts. And somehow, when we express something in our heart it often touches someone else’s heart. Interestingly, I think if you look at God's example of creativity I think you'll see that His heart was exposed in his creation. We expose our heart in our creativity. And when we love Jesus, I think we expose HIS heart in our creativity. It's a weighty thing. And we need it. Creativity matters. We need the creative people to be creative.