I fail at Philippians 2:3

Oh, yes. I have a blog, that I never wanted to turn into only a baby update center. Woops.

I really wanted to write more--I did. Stories, ideas, arguments--they would all flood my mind. But then I'd fall asleep, or find an assignment, or just forget. There were other posts, too. Sad posts, heavy posts, introspective posts. One of those escaped the draft folder and is somewhere in the archives. If you can find it, read it, and determine just exactly what I'm talking about, then delicious imaginary cookies for you.

And ramble et al.

However,  most posts never were written. But this year is bringing so much change to my life--a  baby, a degree, some temporary heartache--it's all bringing the fulfillment of so many of my obsessive goals.

I've worked really hard to graduate debt free. Really hard. So hard that I talk far too much about it. I use it in job interviews, and talk about it in "class introductions". It's an absurdly important part of my life. This is not to say that I regret sharing my experiences or writing "how tos" because I truly think it's important for young people to know that there is another way. Rather, though, I'm glad this period of life is coming to an end. I'm thankful that I can focus intensely on something else. My education isn't ending--I still want a teaching credential and grad school looks so enticing. But I'll take it slower. The cost is lower and, while I'll be frugal and pay with cash, the intensity will be funneled elsewhere. I hope.

Intensity and goals: mountains, duh. Plus, picture of Mt. Shasta, which is a shout out to northern California. 

The problem is: I like being that girl. The one who does so much and causes others to look...slow. I have a problem with glorifying being busy. It's a form of type A personality, a need to do so much. It's a form of ego--I can do this much. It's a form of that cardinal sin: pride--look how much I can do.

It starts innocently enough, but then it grows into something more sinister. Ironically, the thing most people people probably most I'm prideful about (debt free degrees) is the thing that I'm probably least prideful about. Proud of it? Naturally. Prideful, in that Biblical sin way? Not really. It's been a hard, exhausting road. The current climate makes it seem impossible. I only began the journey because I had to. And I finished it because I was too obstinate to quit.

No, it's weird things like being too busy with work and school to do much else. It's difficulties like having my husband  gone for a painfully long time this year. It's trying so hard to not be pregnant and hinder the day's work at my job that I come home sick and out of breath. Yet deep down, I'm proud of those things. It's absurd, really.

I'm driven by ego, by the desire to be more than mediocre, to stand out, but I still avoid perfection (because perfectionists annoy me). I don't regret working hard and going to school. I don't regret doing my job well, even when my body was screaming. (Well, kinda. Ouch.) I don't regret gearing myself up mentally for an emotionally arduous year. (Although, if this year would go by quickly, then muchos gracias from the depths of my heart.)

However, for 2014 I'm going to focus intently on--

Stopping the idolization of busyness, of hardship, of trials. 
 I won't stop working, struggling, and thanking God for pulling me through. But I'm going to work on minding my ego (before it smacks me in the face) and relishing the beautiful parts of life, too.
I don't want to change my personality. I like being busy. I like working hard. I like finding difficult goals. But I want to find a balance along the way. But I'm supposed to find peace from God in the busyness. Solace in Him in hardship. I'm supposed to find His love and grace amid the trials. Instead, I too often just dig deeper and find another root of stubborn ambition to propel me forward. I'm a rather obtuse learner, it would seem.
Because, when I focus on the moment--like the fact that the 36 week gestated baby inside of me is poking me continuously--instead of how I'll achieve less this year than I wanted to--I'm happier. (Note to self: dear, stop with the dash marks. You're scaring everyone.) I'm at peace. And I'm thankful.

For others who are driven by ego and ambition, how do you balance goals with pride? How do you find the medium between narcissism and consciously teaching others?



Ahem, Susie... (Philippians 2:3) Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves.

The Poor in Middle Class America

Confession: the ol' green eyed monster hits me sometimes, and I found myself incredibly jealous.
One of my biggest weak points?

Middle class kids.

 I work at Starbucks, so I see dozens of tweens and teens coming in with their parents' dollars to buy themselves frappucinos soaked in caramel. Worse, sometimes it's upperclassmen or even college students (the horrors) who recklessly spend their parents' cash.

And I get jealous.

Oh, I hide under the guise of haughtiness, and secretly mocked their unrealistic lives. But a part of me yearns for that level of freedom, for the ability to simply ask mom or dad for cash to spend on...Starbucks.

That was not my reality. At thirteen, I spent a month convincing my dad to give me the $5.00 needed for a church function. At sixteen, I had to borrow money from my brother (who at twelve cleaned out goat pens for a local rancher) so that I could go see a movie with my friend.
At seventeen, my prayer was that my mother could afford to buy meat. (A kind soul ended up donating half a pig after the 4H auction.)  At eighteen, I couldn't afford to pay for both food and tuition my first semester of college--even after taking the first semester off to just work.

There was never extra cash tossed my way.

And that's fine--nay--wonderful. I'm incredibly blessed to have not been fed a steady diet of cash my whole life, to have learned how to work hard, trust in the Lord, and accept the kindness of others.

But sometimes the general oblivious about the poor in middle class American frustrates me.


A friend posted a question of facebook--is it better to give to the local "poor", or those truly destitute far away.

My  immediate thoughts?  "Umm, duh. The poor here FIRST." 

But that's because I've lived it and I'm biased. 

Caveat: I love, love, love, love that people give to poor in other countries and regions. I think that is exactly what Christians (and all people) are called to do. I just want to highlight the less glorious and noble act of giving to the poor next store. 


It is incredibly difficult to be poor in middle class America. To be invited to the same events, work in the same spaces, laugh at the same jokes, but exist in a whole different realm as one peers. It's awkward to be the one who can't afford the $5.00 fee, or a (private) school lunch--private school lunches are for those with money-opposite of public schools--. It's painful to be scolded for wearing the wrong clothes, when those hand-me-downs are all you could find.  It's humiliating to listen to trips about Disneyland, Starbucks dates, or cars for 16 year olds, when you're trying to find the funds to feed your family.

No, the cash-poor in middle class American don't live in slums, or have starved faces. They're your neighbors, that family in your church, the lady who dropped out of yoga class. They're all around you.

The poor are in Africa and next store. The poor will always be with you and everywhere. 

I remember the hard days, and even now, I marvel at those who cannot fathom not being able to buy groceries, much less make a house payment.  And, I feel more than a twinge of jealousy at them, too.

Yet I'm thankful for the privilege of having less, for the ability to give with intention, and for all the blessings that have been bestowed on me.

I want to be the mom who opens her home, fridge, and car to those children from homes with less cash. I want to emulate the actions of the wonderful people who bought my siblings and I lunch, or the teacher who bought me medicine when I was very sick. I want to give with intention to those who need it. I want to love my children and those needy children around them--instead of spoiling my children by handing them cash for no apparent purpose. I want to be like those amazing people who have blessed me--and bless others.

I will seek out the poor in middle class America. Will you?

Homeschooling: the Realities

Let's talk about homeschooling.

A few weeks ago I found this article 18 Reasons why Doctors and Lawyers Homeschool and shared it to facebook. I was delighted to see articulate article by erudite source that talked about the method of homeschooling, itself,  rather than just the ideology of most homeschoolers. It's really NOT just for the jean jumper brigade any more. It's becoming what it should be: a purist, hybrid, modern approach to education. Homeschooling gives parents another option for raising, growing, and bettering their children. And that's a wonderful thing.
It's that part of homeschooling that causes me to want to homeschool some (if not all) of my children for a while.

However, this article, like every other pro homeschooling article, works so hard to eradicate the myths and legends about homeschooling that it paints a too glossy picture. Reality is never glossy, never perfect, never seamless, and certainly never easy.

Reality is that a child whose parents are not proactive about involving him in sports, extra-curricular activites, clubs,  Sunday School, Awana, co/op, or other social settings will crave social interaction. Parents have to actively seek out ways to place their children in settings with children their own age--and other people. It is not nearly the issue that opponents construe it as, but neither should the thought be ignored, as so many advocates claim. Homeschooled kids can and do become lonely. Children need more than siblings, book characters, and imaginary friends.

Don't do that ;)

Reality is that just because a classroom with 35 children and one teacher is, indeed, an inefficient mode of education, pulling a child out of that classroom and into the home environment is not automatically a better option. Yes, I said it. The mere act of  saying "we're homeschooling--fa-di-dah, public school system!" does not automatically create better education options for a child. Homeschooling takes research, commitment, time, and intensive work.  Homeschool parents have to truly understand not just their children, but their children's educational needs. They have to learn about curriculum, become aware of what their children are learning, and admit when a method is failing. So many homeschool parents pull their children out of public schools because they feel their children's education is not individualized, and rightly so. Unfortunately, many of those same parents saddle their children with a homeschooling method that is not right or healthy for the child. Homeschooling gives you the option of research and customization: embrace it.


Reality is that homeschooling is a lot like marriage--in that, you think it will absolve your flaws, but instead it highlights them. As a parent, your patience, resolve, and skill will be tried daily. As a student, your weaknesses will be elucidated. I am still horrible at motivating myself to actually do my homework. When I was homeschooled and had no teacher to actually grade my work, I did the homework I wanted to do and ignored the other stuff. (We used Abeka video, so I was blessed to be able to be ahead of my peers academically with minimal paperwork, although high school was a somewhat tetchy.)

Reality is that homeschooling is much, much harder than sending your child to school. Homeschooling puts the weight of your child's education and mind on your shoulders. If a child is doing badly or struggling, it cannot be blamed on that teacher or  the principal. However, because it is up to you, you can find the solution.

Reality is that some days you will hate homeschooling, and so will your children. Some days you will fail, and doubt yourself. But, there will be the days that it will be beautiful, idyllic, an almost utopia in your dining room.


Reality (and this is especially important for the ideology of homeschooling) is that you might stop homeschooling. Homeschooling may cease to be the best option for your, or for one particular child. Sending your child back to school does not make you a failure as a mother, homeschooler, or person. In fact, in many cases, it is the best option for the child, and that makes you a better mother (or father). Too often homeschoolers who "convert" to different education systems are looked on with pity or scorn. They're seen as going over to "the dark side" and their former fellow homeschoolers watch eagerly, waiting for any signs of their children's moral demise. That, dear people, is horrible.

Reality is that homeschooling is a viable option that is shunned by many people who would benefit from embracing it. It is also an option that is fiercely clung to by some who need to let go. It is an option. It is not a form of worship, nor must it become the sole pedagogical style of any family.

Reality is that I was home schooled. There were days I loved it, and days I hated it. (I mostly hated it through high school.) I'm thankful for the education I received while homeschooling, but mostly for the time I spent with my family--specifically with my father. Because I was homeschooled (and he was self employed), I spent far more hours of the day with him than I would have otherwise. But, there are also a few weaker areas in my school education, that might not have existed had I not been homeschooled. (Or they might have. I doubt I ever was destined to be a physicist.)  However...one of my favorite benefits of homeschooling is that I've never been even remotely afraid of finals--at all.

Note: My mom is actually in full agreement about the imperfect state of my homeschool high school education. It was a busy season for my family, and being the oldest, certain things fell by the wayside. However, due to my experience, and vocalization of that experience, my homeschooled-through-high school siblings have had amazing, brilliant educations --designed by my mom-- and are thriving. Lesson? Listen and partner with  your older children. We can help you.  :)

I love the idea of homeschooling--its versatility, its growing popularity, its purist style of education. I'm also keenly aware of my ability to fail, my weaknesses, and every tendency that could work against me should I choose to home school my children.

Homeschooling is a fantastic option for parents. Many of the negative connotations about homeschooling are outdated or false. Just beware of naive professions of full faith and idealization.

Susie was a homeschooled kid until she was sixteen. She graduated from a "brick & mortar" Christian school and is now paying her way to a B.A. degree. She still hates homework and loves finals with equal passion. 

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Marrying Young: We Got the Debate Wrong

When I was five, I wanted to get married at fifteen. At fifteen, I wanted to get married at twenty five. At twenty five, I'll have been married for three years.

The when to get married debate is an ideological one that divides people sharply, and in truth, it's a stupid one. The age a person gets married shouldn't be determined by a formula, or a life plan, or by anything aside from God's prompting of two people. 

In the secular world today, singleness is promoted as a way to assure people's advancements in careers and to provide a healthy bedrock foundation for a marriage...down the road.

"Early marriage"--anything younger than twenty five--is seen as a choice made by the religious right, or for those who do it because they have to, like for military members. 

Living a healthy, God-serving, vibrant, single life is not an idea promoted by either the religious or the secular. (Granted, in the secular it would be others-serving.) Singleness is seen by the some as a bog to escape, and by others as the promoter of a successful career. 

However, recently, women have been encouraged not to "hold off" on marriage for too long, for fear of the dreaded plague of infertility. Ergo, women are told to hurry up, marry, and have a baby or two before time is too late. Marriage is just a path to babies. 

Sadly, none of these worldviews attest to the awesomeness and truth of what marriage is. It's a partnership. It's having someone else to run into battle with, to live with, to love, and serve God. Mark Regenerus of the Washington Post wrote an elucidating article on the strengths, rewards, and joys of early marriage. He writes of many of the ideas that I have come to believe, and I love this article. 

However, unlike Regenerus, the idea of my friends and peers holding off marriage until later does not bother me. Many people do not find their soul mate until later in life, and the constant pressure to find someone by a certain date adds to the misconception of what marriage is. I know that marrying at twenty one was the best decision for me and Stephen, and I will delve into that further. But, I also know that it would be a horrible decision for many other people. I do not believe two people who are ready for marriage should wait for years just to attain an age, financial status, or to fulfill their parents' goals. However, neither do I believe that people who are not mentally and emotionally prepared for marriage should be guilted into it, or rush into it for fear of not meeting a certain deadline. 

It's not your parents' decision when you get married.

 It's not society's decision.

 It's not the economy's decision.

 It's God's decision; one that you verbalize. 

I like to say that we split our parents' preferences in the middle.

My mom thought it would have been fine (and wonderful) if we had gotten married earlier.

Stephen's parents thought we shouldn't get married for several more years. 

We listened to their thoughts, and then gently told them it was our decision. 

And I am so thankful to be married now! Regenerus claims that "Marriage actually works best as a formative institution, not an institution you enter once you're fully formed. We learn marriage, just as we learn language, and to the teachable some lessons come easier in life. 'Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth' Tennyson added in his poems of springtime and love" (1). For Stephen and I, this has been the case and the results have been beautiful.

Being married to Stephen has been the most wonderful of growing experiences. It has taught me to be more selfless and taught to be more dependent on Christ. We have grown together as a young couple as we develop mutual goals and plans. Our personalities are being shaped so that we better understand and communicate with one another. Our characters are being formed, but because we are married they are being formed to complement one another.

On a practical level, being married has been incredibly advantageous for us. We share a small apartment, utility bills, cars, grocery bills, and save a great deal of time, gas, and money not traveling to see one another. We are able to better focus on the tasks at hand because we are not constantly pining to be with each other because being married has added stability to our relationship. 

Stephen is in the Air Force, so the bulk of our living expenses come from his job. I can go to school full time and pay my tuition from my wages, and not worry about having to pay for housing. Eventually, we'll switch roles so that Stephen can complete his education. Gazing into the abyss of the 21st century future is far less terrifying when there's a person holding your hand, promising to work alongside you as you strive to provide for yourselves and your future family. 

I am so thankful I was given the opportunity to marry "too young" and begin my adult life linked by love and law to my best friend. Marriage has been the most rewarding experience spiritually, mentally, emotionally, financially  and physically. Our marriage has not kept either of us from pursuing our dreams, rather, it has encouraged us and made those possible. 

But I am not happy and growing because I married at twenty one. I am happy and growing because I married the right man on God's timing. And that, is the true solution to the when to get married debate. 

~Susie

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1. Mark Regenerus. Washington Post. "Freedom to Marry Young". April 2009.

Found here

Faith: Six Years Later

February 5, 2013 will be the sixth anniversary of Daddy moving from Earth to Heaven. I'm posting this today because I need to be reminded today, and because I just can't wait to share this. 


I've started and not finished so many blog posts about the six year anniversary of Daddy's death.

I thought about the idea of mourning turning into joy...

Phrased a few ill-written paragraphs about grief as a lifelong journey...

I still have a Prayers of the Widow project looming in my mental "to do" folder...

But today, I found my theme, my subject, my tale.

 
Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). 

Faith has always been the story God wanted me to tell, for my family to live. Faith will be the central theme of that book I've sworn for years I'd write. Faith is the reason to live. 

Faith is trusting God to hold me through that first year after my dad's death when sobs wracked my body, mind, and heart.

Faith was believing God would provide food for our table...every day, month, and year.

Faith was trusting IN God's provision, NOT any particular person. It is easy to blur the lines between trusting in God, Himself, and trusting in the people  He uses as His instruments. 

Faith is not bemoaning a lack of hours at work, but striving to earn and find more hours, and trusting God to provide when a bank account fails.

Faith is not relying on  any person's kindness, but being thankful for that kindness and knowing that it is God who provides for that person, who in turn, gives. 

Faith is  knowing that no recession, president, job, or change in fiscal status can keep God from providing for those He loves.

Faith is clinging to Jehovah Jireh, trusting him when life changes dramatically. When terror strikes and you fear for your family.

Faith is rejoicing in the blessing of work, of being thankful for the kindness of others, of acknowledging the sovereignty of God.

Faith is continuously trusting in God, day after day, month after month, and year after year.

Faith is trusting God for six years, and never ceasing to trust Him, even when dire circumstances reoccur. 

Faith is holding to the promise, the promise of Jehovah Jireh, His love, His omnipotence. 

Faith is the most frightening, most humbling, most absurd to the human mind experience a person will ever encounter.

Faith is a lifelong struggle.

Faith is a lifelong journey.

Faith is a lifelong reward.

On the six year mark of my father's departure from Earth to Heaven, please pray for my family.

Pray for God's provision this year.

Pray for continued emotional and physical growth.

But pray most fervently for our faith to strengthen and grow, for without it, we are nothing. 

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Where you go I'll go

One of my all time favorite series is the classic Little House on the Prairie (I also adore the television version of it, even if it completely digresses from the books.) I've read all the books multiple times, and one of the most pivotal moments in the series for me as a young girl, was when Laura and Almanzo are talking about their wedding--prairie fashion.  It's a rather unromantic and practical conversation, but during it Almanzo assures Laura that he asked the minster to not include "obey" in Laura's vows. Just a little strike for equality right there.
That line started my obsession with wedding vows (I think I was born with an obsession with weddings) and I've always been fascinated with the vows couples choose.

Stephen and I chose to use the standard "church vows" because I've always loved the rhythm and tradition in those vows. It was fun learning that there are two sets of vows: the "I dos" and "I wills" and it was absolutely exhilarating to repeat them after the pastor, while gazing into each other's eyes.  There's something so reassuring about saying the vows that thousands of couples have said before you. Not to mention, I love the rigidity and honesty found in those vows. "In sickness and in health...'til death do us part." It leaves no room for vapid romanticism fizzling into annoyance and then an angry divorce five years later. There's no "I love you so much and you are my world", just "I am your life partner, and you're stuck with me" but in a nice way. ;)  It's romance in the purest sense of the world.

You should laugh a lot during your wedding ceremony to make up for the fact that you bawled on the way down the aisle. Plus, getting married is fun, and you can't have fun without laughing. 

I love the cross over us. So symbolic. So right. So perfect.

If I could get married again (to Stephen, of course)I would add on to the vows. It would not be feathery sentiments from my love-addled brain, but words crafted in loyalty, love, honor and written in that book that is the greatest of all.

Where you go, I'll go,

and

where you stay, I"ll stay. 

Your people will be my people

and

Your God will be my God

Ruth actually says this to Naomi in Ruth 1:16, when Naomi is planning on leaving Moab and going home. This passage is always trumpeted as a tribute to Ruth's faith, and as it is the words of a daughter (in law) to a mother (in law) it's not in the Christian canon of wedding verses. 

I'd forgotten about this verse, until I caught myself telling my husband this whenever we discussed the future. Uprooting one's self from family, friends, a hometown is hard, painful work. Following one's spouse to the ends of the earth can be exhausting and trying and requires the greatest love and loyalty. So does staying with one's spouse in a uncomfortable location. My parents moved around the country several times every year for the first four years of their marriage. By the time they finally settled, they had three kids. My maternal grandmother held down the home front, in whatever country or state the Army sent them, while my Grandpa served as an Army Chaplain, all while raising five children. As an airman's wife, I have to be prepared to move, settle, or be content to stay anywhere the Air Force wills.

Where you go, I'll go. Where you stay, I'll stay. 

The second promise, the one where Ruth claims Naomi's people is also one that young brides (and grooms) should take to heart. Like I've mentioned many, many times, I have a huge family. Not just siblings, but cousins, aunts, and uncles and a litany of assorted relatives. I really don't need more.
But when I married Stephen, I took on his family, too. It became my family. And he took on mine.  It can be challenging, and sometimes we've both felt like a visitor in a foreign land. Seriously, why is everyone laughing? It's worth it, though.

Someone recently asked my seven year old brother how many brothers he had, and he instantly replied four--which is the number he has including Stephen.

Your people will be my people.

The third promise, I believe, can give direction and union to a marriage and to a family.

Your God will be my God.

There are some in the Christian world who write and speak great tomes on the importance of male headship in everything. Unfortunately, this has lead to the idea that the husband is in charge of the wife's spiritual well being. Or, if a woman is unmarried, it is her father. I believe that this idea goes against the Bible and everything that Christianity is: The worship of the one Triune God by a personal, vibrant relationship with one's Heavenly Father, a soul saved by the sacrifice of the Son, and a person walking in the light and listening to the prompting of the Holy Spirit. My soul isn't less of a soul because it is female in desperate need of male headship. 
However, while I believe explicitly and passionately in the independence and personal aspect of our faith, I also believe just as passionately that it is important for man and wife to be unified in this manner. In faith, in denomination, in theological viewpoints. If Stephen and I are unified in our religious beliefs, then our children have a better chance of growing in a healthy Christian environment,  of learning to love Jesus and not the law, of wanting to go to church every Sunday.

"Your God will be my God."

When my sisters, cousins, and friends get married,  I will definitely be waving this verse under their noses. ;)

On an unrelated, super vain, yet very newlywed note...our thank you cards came in! I'm too much a non-conformist and generally far too stubborn to write thank you notes to a guest list of nearly five hundred people.

So this was my adorable, trendy solution. Huge thank you to my amazing, talented husband for designing this whole thing.

Of course I'm going to give you the Instagram version

You can't see it here, but there's an "SM" watermark, just like on our invitation

(follow me on instagram! i'm susa_mau)

This way I don't have to write hundreds upon hundreds of thank yous, which I admit, I would give up on before I finished. And people get a cute Susie+Stephen picture with a thank you note that's styled after the theme of our wedding invitations. 

Oh, and it's crooked because it's propped against my legs because our kitchen table is now the gaming desk.

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Mold, Mormons, and Marriage

My favorite Mormon newlywed blog has died the death of a busy blogger. Love the Grows was a fun, newsy, well-written bit by a young Mormon wifey and I loved it. (She's the trendy, hard-working, motivated kind--not the polgymist kind.)It satisfied my nosiness curiosity about Mormon religion that I developed after reading a book too many, and more importantly, gave insight and anecdotes about being a young (really young--like me) married lady,  and balancing housecleaning with homework, and newlywed adventures.
After reading LtG and the litany of sweet newlywed blogs that accompanied her site, I felt the copycat urge welling inside me. But Love the Grows was such a too beautiful of a blog for me to even attempt to re-format, solidify my own bloggy thoughts, and commit to creating one of those adorable newlywed blogs.

Until now.
Since my life revolves around Starbucks, schoolwork, and living and loving life with my husband, I'm dreamin' and plannin' on doing a life as a newlywed post once a week, or fortnight, or whenever...I'm not that organized. ;) I changed the name and I LOVE it, and I'm working on changing the design beyond my feeble nothing-beyond-the-template abilities. Thankfully, I have my own graphic designer/brainy airman--that I'm pretty sure is in love with me--to do all that fun stuff for me.

Why should the Mormon girls have all the fun?!

In loving memory of my favorite newlywed blog...

How I got in a fight with mold and accidently killed a colony of ants

I'm blessed to be the oldest of eight kids, and as big sister I've had a lifetime of experience in housekeeping, baby catching, and playing laundrywoman. So, as my wedding neared, I felt no qualms about my new role as woman of the house. Aside from cooking of course, but I love my George Forman grill and my sweet husband is a master at culinary concoction.

And then I got married and realized...

I didn't have my sisters anymore.

No longer could I join forces with my sisters (and often times brothers) and spend a solid 45 minutes transforming a lived in home to a neat, tidy nest. Many hands make light work is never truer when there's ten hands to do the working. The first few weeks after we moved into our wee apartment, I had my husband home on leave, so he would help me tackle dishes, boxes of wedding presents, and we would make our bed together with our glorious married people comforter. Why ARE married comforters so pretty?

But then hubby went off to work and I was left alone in an empty apartment that was well-equipped with Netflix. I missed my siblings so fiercely those first few weeks. Where were my youngest siblings to go scrub the bathrooms, on my orders! My just-younger sister and brothers to do the other chores I didn't relish? And where oh where was my mother's (comparatively) spacious kitchen to dance in as I tossed dishes in the dishwasher and the stove to scrub oatmeal off of? While I love our apartment, I'm fond of calling our kitchen a closet-kitchen, for if the dishwasher is open, there's only room for once person...and I definitely cannot dance in it.  I reluctantly did minimal cleaning and housekeeping and wondered what it would be like to have sister wives--kidding ;)

Thankfully, our poorly ventilated windows pushed me towards drastic action.
Our bathroom decided to play the greenhouse and grow that fungus that offends mothers and housekeepers everywhere: mildew. Ewwww.

I ignored it for a while, hoping it would just go away. (Or that my military-trained husband would clean it. (Hehe.) Of course, as my husband said, the law of entropy was applied and it just worsened. Double ewwww.

Finally, I took my mom and mom-in-law's advice and applied a bleach cleaner, an old toothbrush, and a scrubby with a handle and showed that offensive fungus who truly was the lady of the house.

After nearly fainting.... because I closed the door..

And ruining hubby's old t-shirt that I had requisitioned...

And killing an ant colony that I didn't know existed...

My beautiful soft blue, sage green, and chocolate bathroom was clean. Spic and span. Mary Poppins' white glove clean!

How I relished my  beautiful bathroom! And the resulting text from my hubby when he saw the bathroom? I found such pride in my gleaming bathroom.

A few days later, I saw some nefarious dark spots around a fixture in our bathroom. Annoyance, and more than a bit of anger made me fixate on that spot.

In that moment, I felt what  generations of mothers, housewives, career women, and every woman in between has felt--no matter what her philosophical suppositions about gender roles: a well-scrubbed bathroom is a thing of beauty, joy, and pride. Mildew is my new enemy.

Why yes, I'm an obsessive Instagram-er.

(Follow me at susa_mau)

 No, my bathroom curtain isn't that wrinkled still. 

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The Christian Version of "Political Correctness"

The Christian Version of "Political Correctness"

This blog post is about the Christian version of PC, which really isn't political at all. It should be called Christian Correctness.

Everyone has a different definition of what "Political Correctness" actually is, but that definition seems simple when compared to the definition of Christian Correctness. What is actually the right way to live your life? What rules to make? Should there even be rules?

If you've gone to a Christian school (elementary, high school, college), pretty much attended anything besides a seeker-friendly church, or talked to at two least Bible-believing, practicing Christians, you have no doubt experienced  some form (however slight) Christian Correctness.
The common terms for the ideas I'm about to address are grace and legalism. Because everyone has an opinion on these, and there are far too many negative connotations about both words, I'm sticking to my terms. Besides, they're more modern, and ergo, applicable (in my opinion).

We are all guilty of some of Christian Correctness. I know that I definitely use it as a defense mechanism, and it is so very wrong, but so very easy.

Note: this is not to demean those who attend seeker-friendly churches, or the churches themselves. I attended California Baptist University (CBU), the school that produced Rick Warren, author of "The Purpose Driven Life", which is pretty seeker. However, as the name implies, these church lend themselves more to the  original identity of the congregants, rather than have the congregants conform to a given set of rules.

That being said...

My dad was a Baptist-bred kid who went to Mennonite schools in elementary, the infamous Bob Jones Academy (more on that later) in high school, all while attending a slew of different churches, including Presby and Southern Baptist ones. I should also add that he spent time in the Southeast.

He might have been a cowboy boot wearin', seatbelt abhorring, self-employed, homeschooling father, half redneck, half classy, logger rebel but his daughters wore skirts/dresses to church. (And every other formal function there was.) Ever Sunday. It was never debated, questioned, or challenged. And of course, the hemlines covered our knees.

Daddy wasn't a pretentious man bent on meaningless rules. He grew up in a world rife with Christian Correctness to an almost nauseating extent, and despised it. I know that his "skirts past the knee every Sunday" rule wasn't one of hypocrisy, or correctness. He believed his daughters looked more beautiful, feminine, and modest in such attire. I can say this without a taint of worry about the veracity of my claim because neither of my parents ever lectured me about the evils of wearing different clothing, or demeaned/preached about those who didn't follow Daddy's (comparatively) strict standards.

I was around eleven when I asked Daddy if wearing mini skirts was a sin. He pondered  my question and answered me slowly. He told me that wearing them wasn't a sin, but that wearing them can (sometimes) lead to things, which  can lead to things, which can lead to things that are sin. His reply was not one of reeking of brimstone style predictions, or anything of the sort. I remember his reply so vividly because of the complete lack of judgement or lecture, simply a father's wish for his daughters.

The difference between personal/family principles and Christian Correctness is the judgement factor.
Daddy had a certain dress code--for lack of a better term--for his children, but he didn't  look down upon, or turn us against, those who didn't follow that code. It was a personal value.

As I mentioned a few paragraphs ago, Daddy attended the infamous Bob Jones Academy, a school with stellar academics and a dress/behavior code belonging to a century far, far away. The school's dress and behavior code was (and still is, although slowly changing for the better) strict enough to cause [me] mental and emotional stress. Not only were the students required to abide by the rules of the institution, but those rules were held to be a Biblical standard. Those who disobeyed or questioned those rules were subjected to harsh punishments, and many, many sermons were/have been/hopefully will not be/ delivered on the subject of not following those (ridiculous) rules.

This is not to be a rant about Bob Jones. I went there for a semester in high school, and still have fond memories of my friends there, and still am reaping the benefits of the excellent education. 

I am only using the school as an example  of Christian Correctness.

I don't believe rules equate to CC, not at all. At CBU, students were apt to complain about the dress code, which was the loosely enforced "shorts +skirts must reach the fingertips, and no visible undergarments" rule. Comparatively, Bob Jones enacted rule in 2007 that stated that we girls weren't allowed to wear lace edged tank tops as they could be likened to a certain form of undergarment. I don't know if that is still a rule (I pray not) but that was a real and enforced one when I was there.

Rules are necessary for every institution, be it family or school. I know that wearing skirts and dresses to church every Sunday helped instill a feminine spirit and appreciation for dressing appropriately for church in the areas of modesty and formality. However, being chastised by a stern matron for an errant trim of lace, or sighting of a knee cap did not instill anything but rebellion in me.

Other ideas of Christian Correctness vs. Personal Principle

Halloween, an especially applicable one since October 31st is just a few weeks away. This post was actually inspired by a text I sent my mom about how much I actually love the day. Candy, costumes, and pumpkins?! How much more fun can you get? The term Halloween doesn't bother me, personally. I made up my own definition of candy, costumes, kids, pumpkins, and pizza (family tradition). I think trick or treating is so much fun, and I love that I have little siblings so I can still partake in the fun, way after my childhood.

But I know that the very term "halloween" sends shivers down the spines of many Christians. They are understandable shivers. Halloween has nefarious beginnings, and many good mommies have debated whether or not to allow their children to partake in the festivities. Thank goodness that it's harvest time and Reformation Day was kind enough to fall on the same (?) day or day after. I can never remember.
I, for one, have always dressed my siblings up as ballerinas, firefighters, spies, news reporters, cowboys, gypsies..,.the list is endless, and refrained from saying "Happy Halloween" to those who might not like the term.
However, to those who insist on saying "we we don't let our children trick or treat" in a patronizing tone, I extend to you a secret eye roll and wish you a happy whatever you choose to celebrate. But only those who use  a patronizing tone; nice people get a genuine smile and no eye roll.

I actually initiated a spontaneous "reformation daying" expedition at Bob Jones on October 31st, as the word "halloween" was verboten, but I needed a reason to wear a tiara and ask for free candy. :) It was a blast and everyone thought it was hilarious. 

A more dated one is dancing...

I think a few people suspected me of a deadly dose of CC when I had a wedding sans a dance party. Or any dancing for that matter. While that used to be a barometer for how good/godly/christian/churchy a wedding was, it definitely is not anymore. I would like to *laughingly* assure everyone that my reasons for having such an archaic-styled wedding was not because I disapprove of dancing--not in the least. My reasons were those of respect, respect for my father and his preferences, respect for those dear to me who would have been uncomfortable, respect of my whiteness+homeschooledness in the realm of dancing, and the fact that I just didn't care about it.  So fear not, I don't judge those with dancing at weddings. In fact I dance at them...in the dark, or when I know very few people there..because of the whiteness issue ;)

My ultimate point in this rambling epistle is this: values and personal principles are precious things. I have friends and relatives who choose to dress differently, listen to different music, watch different movies,  and eat according to different dietary principles than I do because of their differing principles and I love  and respect them for it. I've never quite fit into any specific "circle" because I radiate a strange mishmash of traditional and modern ideas. Although annoying, I tend to think this is a strength and a sign that I'm not "of Apollo or Paul" but just one Christian trying to find and follow the straight and narrow.

To prove my point about not having a niche...I'm a former homeschooled kid with seven younger siblings, who wears shorts and has a mild addiction to country music, knows every word to LMFAO's "I'm Sexy And I Know It" but didn't have dancing at her wedding-- where she DID wear a strapless wedding dress. 
 If you know of a niche for me, please let me know. ;)

Having more conservative dress or music standards does not make one guilty of Christian Correctness, not at all. As Christians, we are given freedom choose--according to our conscience--many, many different ways of living. It is only when consistently we begin to pass heavy judgement (because, um, we all judge in some ways) on others,  that we begin to enforce the man-made idea of Christian Correctness.

It IS wrong to ignore the commandments and principles set forth in the Bible. Finding and building personal principles for one's self and family should be a prayerful, conscience-searching process. I find myself constantly comparing my childhood's principles to my current ones, and deciding how to refine them. It would be so much easier to simply draw up a rulebook for Christian Correctness and follow it. It would. That's not how my faith works, though.

I know I'm not the only person who struggles with balancing tradition, modernity, and the truth of the Bible in her life. It's pretty much an axiom of the Christian walk. What are other ways "you" or people struggle with maintaining the balance? Opinions on dress codes and seeker-friendly churches? Comments and discussions welcome, requested, and hoped for!

Truth: More Complex Than Fiction

I have a penchant for writing, but I loathe writing fiction. Correction, I can't write fiction. Ergo, my feelings for fiction are analogous to my feelings towards algebra and geometry... I greatly admire those with capabilities that enable them to write fiction and solve complex problems, but I rather despise the practices myself.

That being said, I don't write fiction. On Monday, July 19th, I received a voicemail that reminded me of something I wrote. That something was a 500 word blurb for a life insurance company. It briefly told the story of struggle, pain, and financial worry--my family's story.

Evidently the story 8 kids, a determined widow, a bittersweet 16th birthday, an infant, a four year old's tears,and their tenacious spirit struck a cord in the hearts of the review committee. I won a scholarship, rather, they bought my story off of me--for a $5,000 scholarship.

Hurray, right? Well, writing the essay was easy (after I bawled my eyes out as I ripped open the scars of that time) but convincing my the scholarship committee to let me be a wise 19 year old, and hold the scholarship for NEXT year will be harder.

I'd be afraid, I would, but my God is greater than petty rules. I would greatly appreciate everyone's prayers in this. :)

I couldn't help feeling a bit Anne Shirley-esque,for my dear story was being exchanged for cold, hard cash. Granted, it is a scholarship, but the insurance company is going to use my essay (and picture) to show parents the pain of not buying life insurance. (It's a brilliant idea to use real stories, I think.)

For a few hour, I excitedly thought I would be able to return to CBU this year. And yes, the money lined up perfectly. But, college is supposed to be the first stage of adulthood, and the money of adulthood is more than college tuition. It would be wiser for me to stay home for another year and work, and that is what I'm planning on doing--prayerfully.

As I had decided that, I went to Butte Community College's orientation today. I loathe orientations. The giddy, hyped up staff, that tries to convince potential students that college is a gay,delightful season, which just a bit o' nasty homework in the mix irks me greatly. I dislike labeling myself as a college student because of the collegiate persona.

Currently I'm writing a paper on God's immutability, something that is extremely precious to me--especially as I've dealt with quite a few painful changes. This theology class I have been taking has opened my eyes to the God I serve. It is refreshing and comforting to be reminded that God will never change, but He has such a brilliant and varied nature. It is a sharp contrast to the ever-changing, pitiful human world.

This week has shown me in sharp clarity how much God cares for the widow and orphan. IN fact,that will be one of the dominate motifs in my paper. Winning that scholarship--having my story broadcasted--felt like a hug, as if my Heavenly father knew I was missing having a dad to hug me now and then.

My family's story is a sad one, indeed. I cited Joanna's response to Daddy's death in my essay--"my Daddy's dead" is a sentence no 3 year old four days short of her birthday should ever utter, but our story is also a beautiful one. It is one that tells the tale of God's love for the widow and orphan, His immutability, and ability to work through my 19 year old ramblings and an enterprising life insurance company to send me off to college. The past few days have been a poignant reminder of how my life is to bring glory to God, and I see His glory manifested through His blessings in my life.

Sadly enough, I wasn't able to speak of God in my essay. But though I wrote about how we lacked physical life insurance, I can joyfully exclaim now that we had the peace of knowing that Daddy had spiritual life insurance. My God's provision for my family, and the salvation He offers, far supersedes any life insurance policy.