Maybe it's because I watched Knocked Up with my roommates this afternoon, which Kirstin described as "the best birth control ever." Or perhaps I'm having a John Mayer-esque quarter life crisis. I think I've just about made the full transition into a Los Angelina. This city is getting to me. Bad.
It's the reason I keep looking at my sister's picture on my desk and imagining myself in Nashville. The reason I've taken to journaling more, trying to sort through emotions that I wouldn't brave on the blogosphere. And it just might have something to do with the panicky, sick-to-my-stomach feeling I got this afternoon as I was driving to hang out with some friends. This morning I got into a conversation with a friend I hadn't hung out with in a while in which he asked if there were any new developments in the boy arena. I threw out my usual one-liners and slightly pointed verbal quips. I've always got some story when it comes to guy drama...I like to think that it "somehow miraculously follows me" but the truth is that I probably drag that stuff around by the hair like a caveman's woman. Actually, now that I think about it, I communicate my feelings on the subject with quite the cave-like articulation as well. It doesn't help that I rarely can identify my own emotions anyway, since they change about as often as my hair color. But I digress...
So I'm driving along thinking about my earlier conversation when I actually start to feel physically ill at the thought of trying to date anymore. It's just soo much work--trying to convince them to like you, and having to figure out how they work and what their buttons are so you don't accidentally push one...rearranging your schedule and losing touch with your friends. Ew. All for someone who I will probably be bored with after a month, tops. What is the point?
As I'm explaining this to my roommate later, she gave me this puzzled look. "But don't you want a relationship?" she asks. I guess I don't. She continues, "it's not supposed to be so much work. I guess you just really haven't found the right person yet." I reply with a hearty, "thanks, Mom." Quite after-school special of her, but she's probably not too far from the mark. Moms are usually right after all, so I swallow hard and do my best to appreciate the advice.
My brain won't stop working.
It's this LA thing that I keep getting hung up on. I mean--as days go by, I morph little by little into the stereotype, single city-girl. I'm still a little too Christian to be ok with working the bar scene and rocking the one-night-stands. Which only means that I'm caught in this absurdly awkward limbo between my pro-marriage, pro-baby old-self and the metropolitan socialite I fear is my future. Each day I'm here I become less and less maternal, more of a work-a-holic...less interested in having a man, and more self-sustaining and self-sufficient. On the whole, most would consider it an improvement. I am much more functional in this environment now that I've adopted its values.
And that's why I keep entertaining the thought of getting out. I kind of want to leave. Because if I don't like who I am becoming here, then maybe I need to get back to my roots...in a new place. Somewhere that would appreciate the little girl I must have lost along the 10 freeway on the drive out here three years ago. I kind of miss her.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
If you must, skip the intro.
Probably my favorite God-book aside from the Bible is Windows of the Soul by Ken Gire (and no, it has nothing to do with dating) because it talks about how God knows us intimately. Gire asserts that when we train ourselves to look for Him, we find God trying to speak to us through many different facets of life...like poetry, stories, art, dreams, even movies. He doesn't necessarily mean that we look to all things in our lives as "signs" telling us this or that, but that when we view this life in light of Christ, we see that God desires to speak to us, to reveal Himself through creation. I can't seem to put it quite so articulately, but some bizarre events last night reminded me of one of my favorite chapters in the book and sent me into a fit of silly grinning when I realized that God used a good friend of mine to speak personally into my life. I'll let Ken explain first...
"God spoke to [people in the Bible] then and speaks to us now in the language most familiar to us. I'm not talking about our native language...[but] about the language of our heart. And not the human heart in general, but each individual heart, with its own intensely personal images...for each of us over a lifetime has compiled our own dictionary of emotionally rich vocabulary...
"Skim through the pages of your past and you'll find a few of your own. Maybe one of them is teh cuddly feel of grandma's quilt. Or the familiar smell of a lumpy teddy bear. Your mother in the kitchen baking cookies, maybe. Or a tree house...All these images are words from the language of your heart."
Then speaking of a rough time in his past, Gire explains, "[God] had spoken to His children in times past, and we heard echoes of His voice in the Scriptures, but [my wife and I] longed to hear Him speaking not to Moses or to David but to us, directly, personally, intimately."
Gire was skeptical when his wife called one day describing a dream she had the night before about being asked to dance before a crowd of strangers. Not sure whether to claim the event as God speaking or as his wife's mere sub-conscious ramblings, he eventually comes to this conclusion:
"[God] paged through my wife's dog-eared dictionary of childhood memories, picked out an image that was dear to her, and one night bent down and whispered it in her ear. That image touched her in places where words alone couldn't reach. And with that touch, brought healing...
"Do you see the ways of God revealed in the way He speaks? He didn't require Judy to go to seminary and learn Hebrew, the language through which He first spoke to His people. Instead, He learned hers. He learned the language of her heart, which He had been studying since she was a girl. And it's a different language...than He uses when speaking to you and to me. Can you see how incredible that is?
"...He picks images that are as indigenous to our world as...crayons are to the world of a kindergartner. The images may be so personal as to mean little, if anything, to anyone else. But they mean everything to us. He searches our heart for just the right image...That is how well He knows us. And how much He loves us."
I hope through my cutting and pasting, some of these words shine through. Sometimes I read stuff like this and I think that maybe if I were just more articulate...if I could just somehow bottle the emotions coursing through me--to share even a glimpse of God's goodness in my own life would convince the whole world that Christ is King.
How to explain without giving away the precious secrets of the inter-workings of my heart...
But that's just it--God knows those inter-workings better than I do! Before I lose you, let me explain. So last night I had a really bizarre conversation with this guy who asked some very pointed questions and made some even more intensive assertions that made my conversation with that guy in the thrift store a while back seem like a walk in the park. An entertaining chat, nonetheless, that will make for great campfire conversation for years to come, but it was the dialog that took place directly following that received the most attention when I journaled and prayed about the whole thing later. Still this morning, I am elated to think about how God used the second conversation to encourage me so intimately. The last several weeks have been quite the tough time of transition, and lately I've felt really disconnected not only from God but also from the people around me. In times like this, I feel like my prayers are going nowhere. I talk to God, all the while thinking that if I were Him, I wouldn't bother with me either. Like Ken and his wife, I too longed to hear God speak to me in a way that was meant for my ears...for my heart. I know that Scripture is truth, and when it comes to dealing with different problems, my church upbringing has taught me all the "right" answers for each one.
So I think through God's promises in the Bible like so many mantras, but the words just sound empty in my head...until God uses the voice of probably the one person in my life from whom they would mean the most.
He tells me I'm beautiful. He reminds me that I can trust Him.
And in that moment, God makes it all ok again.
"God spoke to [people in the Bible] then and speaks to us now in the language most familiar to us. I'm not talking about our native language...[but] about the language of our heart. And not the human heart in general, but each individual heart, with its own intensely personal images...for each of us over a lifetime has compiled our own dictionary of emotionally rich vocabulary...
"Skim through the pages of your past and you'll find a few of your own. Maybe one of them is teh cuddly feel of grandma's quilt. Or the familiar smell of a lumpy teddy bear. Your mother in the kitchen baking cookies, maybe. Or a tree house...All these images are words from the language of your heart."
Then speaking of a rough time in his past, Gire explains, "[God] had spoken to His children in times past, and we heard echoes of His voice in the Scriptures, but [my wife and I] longed to hear Him speaking not to Moses or to David but to us, directly, personally, intimately."
Gire was skeptical when his wife called one day describing a dream she had the night before about being asked to dance before a crowd of strangers. Not sure whether to claim the event as God speaking or as his wife's mere sub-conscious ramblings, he eventually comes to this conclusion:
"[God] paged through my wife's dog-eared dictionary of childhood memories, picked out an image that was dear to her, and one night bent down and whispered it in her ear. That image touched her in places where words alone couldn't reach. And with that touch, brought healing...
"Do you see the ways of God revealed in the way He speaks? He didn't require Judy to go to seminary and learn Hebrew, the language through which He first spoke to His people. Instead, He learned hers. He learned the language of her heart, which He had been studying since she was a girl. And it's a different language...than He uses when speaking to you and to me. Can you see how incredible that is?
"...He picks images that are as indigenous to our world as...crayons are to the world of a kindergartner. The images may be so personal as to mean little, if anything, to anyone else. But they mean everything to us. He searches our heart for just the right image...That is how well He knows us. And how much He loves us."
I hope through my cutting and pasting, some of these words shine through. Sometimes I read stuff like this and I think that maybe if I were just more articulate...if I could just somehow bottle the emotions coursing through me--to share even a glimpse of God's goodness in my own life would convince the whole world that Christ is King.
***
Of course, I won't ever have enough of those right words to say because it's not really up to me. But what I do hope to share (and I hope you'll forgive the long intro into this), is that God has so personally loved me. I am amazed at how someone as blessed as I am could ever go through periods of sadness. How dare I? Because moments like last night remind me that God listens to my prayers.How to explain without giving away the precious secrets of the inter-workings of my heart...
But that's just it--God knows those inter-workings better than I do! Before I lose you, let me explain. So last night I had a really bizarre conversation with this guy who asked some very pointed questions and made some even more intensive assertions that made my conversation with that guy in the thrift store a while back seem like a walk in the park. An entertaining chat, nonetheless, that will make for great campfire conversation for years to come, but it was the dialog that took place directly following that received the most attention when I journaled and prayed about the whole thing later. Still this morning, I am elated to think about how God used the second conversation to encourage me so intimately. The last several weeks have been quite the tough time of transition, and lately I've felt really disconnected not only from God but also from the people around me. In times like this, I feel like my prayers are going nowhere. I talk to God, all the while thinking that if I were Him, I wouldn't bother with me either. Like Ken and his wife, I too longed to hear God speak to me in a way that was meant for my ears...for my heart. I know that Scripture is truth, and when it comes to dealing with different problems, my church upbringing has taught me all the "right" answers for each one.
So I think through God's promises in the Bible like so many mantras, but the words just sound empty in my head...until God uses the voice of probably the one person in my life from whom they would mean the most.
He tells me I'm beautiful. He reminds me that I can trust Him.
And in that moment, God makes it all ok again.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Student Philosophy on the Welfare System
I hate filling out tax forms because they are one of the few things in life that remind me I can't make it on my own. I like to think that I'm quite the adult and can maturely handle anything life throws at me. Times like this, I call my dad.
Which would be great...if he'd only pick up the phone.
Trying Mom isn't the best idea because she responds with a lot of "well...maybe you should..."
As I'm complaining about this to one of my students, she rattles off with, "You're paying for people that has too much children!"
Ha!
Which would be great...if he'd only pick up the phone.
Trying Mom isn't the best idea because she responds with a lot of "well...maybe you should..."
As I'm complaining about this to one of my students, she rattles off with, "You're paying for people that has too much children!"
Ha!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The "About Me" Section
Some nights are just "On" kind of nights--like when everything that comes out of my mouth is witty and fabulous. My comebacks are strong, and my joke delivery is flawless. Perhaps it has something to do with having just the right crew put together. Like our friend, Dave. Someone mentioned once that the best thing about telling stories to Dave is that he is generous with his laughter, so you always feel funny when you talk to Dave. It's great to be around a group of people who all get each other's humor.
Tonight was funny like that...a lot of fun. Though not a natural blonde, I tend to get a little giggly when I am excited. With the right people, I am comfortable enough to heartily laugh at things that amuse me without feeling judged and awkward.
Somehow in the course of the festivities, I mentioned offhand, "I hate America." A simple enough sentence, but it got quite the dramatic response: "But Meredith, aren't you from Texas?"
Haha. We all laugh. If Dave had been there, he'd have laughed the hardest. Because everyone knows that I am a Texas stereotype: a few parts Hick and a generous helping of Southern Belle, I'm born to be a homemaker, ride horses, praise Jesus, and love my country.
As I drove home, I realized that there are a lot of things like this that people have mis-assumed about me. But I can't actually fault them because I'm the one promoting the stereotype. It's like I've assumed a certain "place" among my friends. As the official Old-School-Texas One, I have to make certain jokes and argue along certain lines because that's the part I play in this drama. I roll with it. Any time there's a chance to throw in a "...and that's why we should all have babies" line, I'm all over it. Done and done.
The problem is, as I change and grow, I'm starting to reevaluate for myself what I really feel and believe about these things. The one-liners are funny enough in conversation, so I keep throwing them out there. But all the while, I'm cheating my friends of the opportunity to actually know me. Maybe I'm belittling them by suggesting that they don't understand that much of my joking is a facade, but when I take an honest look at these issues myself, I can't even tell what's true about me anymore.
For instance, I've always been a huge proponent of marriage and family, but lately I don't even like kids. I find myself being really judgmental when I see a family with an unruly child...even a darling and curious child...pulling a Samantha and wondering why those little brats are even allowed in public at all. At the very least, they should be seen and not heard. Plus, in this body-obsessed culture of LA, the thought of actually going through child birth myself is an additional stress. If I'm not happy with my body now, how in the world am I going to deal with loose skin and stretch marks?? Yuck! Then, I have to give up my entire social life because no one else has kids. What about all those play dates I imagined with my girlfriends and their children? In my College Station future, we were all going to have kids at the same time, be stay-at-home-moms, and visit each other daily to let our kids play, so we could play too. But that won't happen in LA.
And now it hits me, it's not the Southernisms that I've decided to repudiate--it's the thought of trying to fit them into my new life here. I've finally acclimated enough to LA to realize that all those old dreams would be nightmares here. Like dating and marriage--it's not that I'm anti-marriage or relationships, but I'm definitely not impressed with the version of them that I see here. I'm not especially interested in dating the LA way. Maybe I should clarify this for my non-native readers. Now, I don't want to start making assumptions, so mind you this is purely based on my own experiences, but there seem to be only a few options here:
1) Go for the super-Christian. This type may or may not actually love Jesus, but he sure is good at playing the church game. There are a couple of sub-species of this type--the hard-core right wing crazy and the laissez fare Sunday-smiler. Neither is really ideal because the first would beat down even me with a Bible and out-rule-follow me till he's blue in the face. Then the more chill type is also a little too willing to let things slide, enough so that I end up slip-sliding down a slope I never meant to get started on.
2) Play the LA game. This means you keep on doing what you do, being a fabulous and "contended" single. Then, when things get lonely, you call up your back-pocket boy toy for that much needed attention. It's a fairly shoddy way to go about things, but it prevents the complications of a relationship. You don't have to give up any of your own ambitions, and when he stops meeting your needs, you move on. Functional. But it kind of makes me sick to my stomach.
With an either/or like this, it's easy to understand when I say I'm over the dating thing. I would be all for dating and marriage in my Texas way of doing it, but if it has to look like this, I'm just not interested. Oh, the stories I could tell of all the bad dates I've been on in the last three years! Being single is definitely not so bad. If I wanted to be married half as badly as I joke about, I'd have compromised and done it already, but it's just not worth it to pursue the kind of relationships that I've been offered. Maybe one day something more on par with what I'm looking for will come around...then I can go back to being my stereotype, and everyone will be comfortable knowing I am who they pinned me to be. For now, though, it's hard to fake the heart-flutters that are supposed to come with young love, so I just keep out of the way.
I still don't know if I should make a point to stop with the misleading jokes. They really are amusing to me. Any anyone who really takes the time to know me will discover that I've got a lot more depth than that. Laugh on.
****
And as a side note, Justine deserves props for that last song because she "allegedly" played it for me first...
Tonight was funny like that...a lot of fun. Though not a natural blonde, I tend to get a little giggly when I am excited. With the right people, I am comfortable enough to heartily laugh at things that amuse me without feeling judged and awkward.
Somehow in the course of the festivities, I mentioned offhand, "I hate America." A simple enough sentence, but it got quite the dramatic response: "But Meredith, aren't you from Texas?"
Haha. We all laugh. If Dave had been there, he'd have laughed the hardest. Because everyone knows that I am a Texas stereotype: a few parts Hick and a generous helping of Southern Belle, I'm born to be a homemaker, ride horses, praise Jesus, and love my country.
As I drove home, I realized that there are a lot of things like this that people have mis-assumed about me. But I can't actually fault them because I'm the one promoting the stereotype. It's like I've assumed a certain "place" among my friends. As the official Old-School-Texas One, I have to make certain jokes and argue along certain lines because that's the part I play in this drama. I roll with it. Any time there's a chance to throw in a "...and that's why we should all have babies" line, I'm all over it. Done and done.
The problem is, as I change and grow, I'm starting to reevaluate for myself what I really feel and believe about these things. The one-liners are funny enough in conversation, so I keep throwing them out there. But all the while, I'm cheating my friends of the opportunity to actually know me. Maybe I'm belittling them by suggesting that they don't understand that much of my joking is a facade, but when I take an honest look at these issues myself, I can't even tell what's true about me anymore.
For instance, I've always been a huge proponent of marriage and family, but lately I don't even like kids. I find myself being really judgmental when I see a family with an unruly child...even a darling and curious child...pulling a Samantha and wondering why those little brats are even allowed in public at all. At the very least, they should be seen and not heard. Plus, in this body-obsessed culture of LA, the thought of actually going through child birth myself is an additional stress. If I'm not happy with my body now, how in the world am I going to deal with loose skin and stretch marks?? Yuck! Then, I have to give up my entire social life because no one else has kids. What about all those play dates I imagined with my girlfriends and their children? In my College Station future, we were all going to have kids at the same time, be stay-at-home-moms, and visit each other daily to let our kids play, so we could play too. But that won't happen in LA.
And now it hits me, it's not the Southernisms that I've decided to repudiate--it's the thought of trying to fit them into my new life here. I've finally acclimated enough to LA to realize that all those old dreams would be nightmares here. Like dating and marriage--it's not that I'm anti-marriage or relationships, but I'm definitely not impressed with the version of them that I see here. I'm not especially interested in dating the LA way. Maybe I should clarify this for my non-native readers. Now, I don't want to start making assumptions, so mind you this is purely based on my own experiences, but there seem to be only a few options here:
1) Go for the super-Christian. This type may or may not actually love Jesus, but he sure is good at playing the church game. There are a couple of sub-species of this type--the hard-core right wing crazy and the laissez fare Sunday-smiler. Neither is really ideal because the first would beat down even me with a Bible and out-rule-follow me till he's blue in the face. Then the more chill type is also a little too willing to let things slide, enough so that I end up slip-sliding down a slope I never meant to get started on.
2) Play the LA game. This means you keep on doing what you do, being a fabulous and "contended" single. Then, when things get lonely, you call up your back-pocket boy toy for that much needed attention. It's a fairly shoddy way to go about things, but it prevents the complications of a relationship. You don't have to give up any of your own ambitions, and when he stops meeting your needs, you move on. Functional. But it kind of makes me sick to my stomach.
With an either/or like this, it's easy to understand when I say I'm over the dating thing. I would be all for dating and marriage in my Texas way of doing it, but if it has to look like this, I'm just not interested. Oh, the stories I could tell of all the bad dates I've been on in the last three years! Being single is definitely not so bad. If I wanted to be married half as badly as I joke about, I'd have compromised and done it already, but it's just not worth it to pursue the kind of relationships that I've been offered. Maybe one day something more on par with what I'm looking for will come around...then I can go back to being my stereotype, and everyone will be comfortable knowing I am who they pinned me to be. For now, though, it's hard to fake the heart-flutters that are supposed to come with young love, so I just keep out of the way.
I still don't know if I should make a point to stop with the misleading jokes. They really are amusing to me. Any anyone who really takes the time to know me will discover that I've got a lot more depth than that. Laugh on.
****
And as a side note, Justine deserves props for that last song because she "allegedly" played it for me first...
Monday, September 10, 2007
Logo introduces me to the best music.
I really don't want to be one of those people who uses encoded away messages on AIM ("plunging into the deep end" or "putting the pieces back together") or changes my profile/theme song on myspace (Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend"?). I also hope that I spend more time musing thoughts of my own on this blog rather than citing others.
But every once in a while, as a writer, you come across something that touches some hidden place so deeply inside that it makes you wonder if the artist didn't channel you when they wrote it. Sometimes it's just a short stanza, chorus, or hook. The best songs...those are the ones that fit all the way.
On my computer and in various journals around my room here and in Texas are one liners or concepts that I'd like to one day form into whole poems or songs. I am brilliant in small doses (so I think anyway), but really haven't taken the time to develop the craft into anything worth putting "out there." Thus, I must give a hearty hats-off when I cross paths with a bit of writing that resonates like emotional plagiarism. Without any further adieu, I present, "Love Song" by Sara Barneilles:
But every once in a while, as a writer, you come across something that touches some hidden place so deeply inside that it makes you wonder if the artist didn't channel you when they wrote it. Sometimes it's just a short stanza, chorus, or hook. The best songs...those are the ones that fit all the way.
On my computer and in various journals around my room here and in Texas are one liners or concepts that I'd like to one day form into whole poems or songs. I am brilliant in small doses (so I think anyway), but really haven't taken the time to develop the craft into anything worth putting "out there." Thus, I must give a hearty hats-off when I cross paths with a bit of writing that resonates like emotional plagiarism. Without any further adieu, I present, "Love Song" by Sara Barneilles:
Head under water
and they tell me to breathe easy for a while
the breathing gets harder, even I know that
you made room for me but it's too soon to see
if I'm happy in your hands
I'm unusually hard to hold on to
Blank stares at blank pages
no easy way to say this
you mean well, but you make this hard on me
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
reason to write you a love song today
I learned the hard way
that they all say things you want to hear
and my heavy heart sinks deep down under you
and your twisted words,
your help just hurts
you are not what I thought you were
hello to high and dry
Convinced me to please you
made me think that I need this too
I'm trying to let you hear me as I am
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I"m not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
if all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
reason to write you a love song today
Promise me that you'll leave the light on
to help me see with daylight, my guide, gone
'cause I believe there's a way you can love me
because I say
I won't write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or breaking me
is that why you wanted a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
if your heart is nowhere in it
I don't want it for a minute
Babe, I'll walk the seven seas when I believe that
there's a reason to
write you a love song today
and they tell me to breathe easy for a while
the breathing gets harder, even I know that
you made room for me but it's too soon to see
if I'm happy in your hands
I'm unusually hard to hold on to
Blank stares at blank pages
no easy way to say this
you mean well, but you make this hard on me
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
reason to write you a love song today
I learned the hard way
that they all say things you want to hear
and my heavy heart sinks deep down under you
and your twisted words,
your help just hurts
you are not what I thought you were
hello to high and dry
Convinced me to please you
made me think that I need this too
I'm trying to let you hear me as I am
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I"m not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
if all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
reason to write you a love song today
Promise me that you'll leave the light on
to help me see with daylight, my guide, gone
'cause I believe there's a way you can love me
because I say
I won't write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or breaking me
is that why you wanted a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
if your heart is nowhere in it
I don't want it for a minute
Babe, I'll walk the seven seas when I believe that
there's a reason to
write you a love song today
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Concrete Detail.
Nahrin turned me on to this blog post...I'd like to write some about it, but not especially in the blogging, musing mood the last few days. In case you don't want to read the whole schpeal, here's the best snippet.
"We spend so much energy and time trying to "solve" the singleness problem. And it is right for us to examine ourselves in this matter and to mend what is amiss, and it is right for for pastors to exhort their single congregants to pursue marriage when and where doing so is God-glorifying; but for the most part, we single women can seek and pray for marriage without obsessing on the issue. Let’s get on with life already!"
Stay tuned for eventual commentary. Or maybe I get on with life and don't bother.
"We spend so much energy and time trying to "solve" the singleness problem. And it is right for us to examine ourselves in this matter and to mend what is amiss, and it is right for for pastors to exhort their single congregants to pursue marriage when and where doing so is God-glorifying; but for the most part, we single women can seek and pray for marriage without obsessing on the issue. Let’s get on with life already!"
Stay tuned for eventual commentary. Or maybe I get on with life and don't bother.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)