Cut from the same cloth

In times of economic crisis, I take solace in simple things, like my browsing through some of my favorite cookbooks. Food has that inherint ability to comfort, even if your just reading about it. Especially when you stumble upon an old gem like the Holy Trinity Parish cookbook compliled by the good women of Luxemburg, Iowa.

This spiral-bound compilation is one that survived the many moves that eventually brought me to Alabama. And in it, is a treasure of honest, farm-house recipes that no nothing of cornbread or okra. What you will find sandwhiched between the hand-drawn Smurf dividers (those little blue guys were all the rage when this book hit the presses) are clues to a time gone by, when LaCreme gave Cool Whip a serious run for their money, Jello was the miracle dessert, and women still had the grit to prepare steaming pots of sauerkraut they would tend to for weeks before they were ready to be stored for the year, pork blood sausage, and my personal favorite: Tripe. The first ingredient: two pig heads. The first sentence in the directions: Cook heads until done. You are thinking--how creepy. I'm thinking, wow...what a woman.

I'd like to think I'm cut from the same cloth. Able to prepare a meal for my family no matter what the pantry presents. These ladies didn't bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan. Many of them; however, did kill the bacon and eventually manage to get the thing into the pan. They came from a time when housemaking was still considered honorable, even desirable. I long for that. If we had never been fed the lies that motherhood was a bore compared to the exciting world of corporate manuevering, I like to think I could be proud of who I am--a mommy and a wife. But I grew up listening to songs like "My Mom's a Feminist"--no joke. My mom actually brought me back a vinyl 45 featuring this song from a NOW rally she attended in the organization's heydey. I thought stay-at-home moms were repressed and unfulfilled. I wish I would have known some of the ladies who wrote the cookbook that I now consider my recipe bible.

They were not ashamed of the thread-bare aprons they wore day in and day out or their work-worn hands. Their recipes speak volumes about their confidence in the kitchen. They assume that those reading their recipes will know the difference between a dash and a pinch, how to use a cookie press without providing detailed instructions, and that you just ought to know how many apples you'll need to can 7-quart jars. Could they even imagine a time, when most of their treasured knowledge would be lost or buried under by years and years of disuse?

I like to think that perhaps the economic depression sure to come will help return homemaking to its rightful place--an honored and terribly neccessary profession.

Sinner vs. Saint

When I want to post, I can never seem to get within ten feet of my computer. And when I do have a spare moment, usually late at night when the mess mice are fast asleep in their messy little beds in their even messier rooms , I've forgotten what I wanted to say. Or, I can't seem to lasso in the words.

None-the-less, I feel compelled to try. The other day, as I was mindlessly driving down the road to pick up my mom for school (she helps me three days a week), I was having a grand ol' time beating myself up. Yes, I know. We're not supposed to do that. I know all my titles--new creation, the daughter of the King, a beautiful and spotless bride and so on. With a resume' like that, I should be gliding on the clouds. But, if the truth be known, I've never been fond of the Stuart Smaley approach to life. For those of you who have never been defiled by Saturday Night Live, he's this incredibly dorky guy who stares into a hand mirror while reciting the mantra, "I'm smart enough, I'm good enough, and darnit, people like me." I've heard Bible teachers say, you can't live the abundant, overflowing Christian life without embracing your "idenity" as a child of God. That may all be true. But, when push comes to shove, and the harsh morning light has exposed my already compounding pile of daily sins, claiming that "I am a friend of Jesus" is about as helpful as an umbrella in a hurricane.

What I need, and what I got the other day, was a good dose of who He is and how worthless I am without Him. You see, apart from His restraining Holy Spirit, I become a raving lunatic when one of my children so much as drops a pencil. Apart from His daily dose of life-sustaining grace, I would curse the very children he entrusted to me. If He did not pray for me, I would disinigrate. If He did not convict my wandering soul moment by moment, I would surely walk away. If His Spirit did not direct me, whispering gently to turn to the left or to the right, I would be hopelessly lost. If He did not intercede for me, the Devil would have me. If He did not die for me, and if I could not claim His precious blood upon my worthless, filthy soul I would be destroyed daily and eternally. No, my success as a Christian has little to do with who I think I am, but everything to do with who He is.

I just need to remind myself that His strength is perfected in my weakness. When I struggle, I must cry out to Him to deliver me. When I want to punch the WalMart clerk in the kisser, I must pray that His love take over. When I want to berate my children for leaving their stinking, festering socks on the kitchen table for the ten thousandth time, I must pray that His infinite patience be manifested in me. When I venture into the projects to teach a weekly Bible study, I must pray that His words replace my stumbling, useless ones.

Some say we should replace the old adage that "we are sinners saved by grace" with the more self esteem friendly saying that "we are now saints who were saved by grace." Call me a fuddy duddy, but I still prefer the first because I know me. You see, I know I'm still a sinner in desperate need of daily deliverence from myself and there is no amount of sweet talkin' in the world that could take the place of that.

Lighter Fare

I teach a writing class. I know that may strike some of youas ironic considering that I misspelled "daughter" in the very first thing you see when you visit my blog-THE TITLE!! But, as I tell my students, content is far more important than mechanics.

Now as I was saying, I teach this wonderful little writing class attended by incredibly eager young people destined, I'm sure, to win the Pulitzer Prize for Literature. All sarcasim aside, they are a sharp bunch of kids and they keep me on my toes or fingertips, as the case may be.

There first graded writing assignment was to describe a place. To prove to them, that I was fighting the word battle right alongside them, I wrote a little preview piece for them. I hoped it would inspire. But, I also wanted to connect with them. Expose a little so that they might see me for who I am, a real person who happens to adore words and wants to pass that love onto the next generation before the media swallows them whole.

So here it is...a little glimpse into the childhood of a little girl from Iowa who loved nothing more than to snuggle up to her hair bonnet-clad grandmother on a a frigid winter night.

Waking to the smoky aroma of frying bacon, I snuggle deeper in the crisp-clean sheets, blown dry by a brisk Iowa wind. Early morning light filters through the metal blinds casting horizontal shafts of light on the cold cream bottles and costume jewelry strewn haphazardly on the antique dresser across the room. I hear the nasally voice of the radio announcer as he begins to recite the day’s obituaries, a daily highlight in this small-town household.
Turning onto my back, I struggle to untangle the flannel nightgown that had tightened around my legs in the night. The kindly faces of Mary and Joseph whom I had recited my goodnight prayers to just a few hours before look down on me as if to say, “Wake up child, it’s a brand new day.” Reluctantly, I drag myself out of the safety of Grandma’s bed, wincing as my bare feet touch the icy linoleum floor. Drawn by the promise of crispy bacon and toast slathered in margarine, I stumble groggily into the kitchen.

Until next time...

The Mystique of the work-at-home mom.

Heavens! This is the third time I've tried to get this one out. Everytime I start someone interrupts me and since I am a technological moron and can't figure out how to retrieve my saved drafts, I keep having to start over. Maybe, it's just God's way of saying those other ones stunk.

I think we're all a little bit stuck on Sarah Palin right now. The fact that her name and mine sound an awful lot alike may have something to do with my obsession with her as well. But, her nominantion as VP, has sure stirred up a hornet's nest annd I for one, am buzzing along with all the rest.

One thing, which I commented on, maybe a little vehemently in my last post that Sarah has brought to the forefront is the issue of whether or not a woman should work outside of the home. As a believer in the inerrant and unchangable Word of God and as a devoted stay-at-home mommy, the answer is no mothers shouldn't work outside of their home. They are as Paul writes to be, "keepers at home" and as the created order ordains, "submissive to their husbands." Boo, hiss...I can hear that mouthy little feminist in me fume. But God's word trumps all, even her.

The sobering truth is that what "ought to be" isn't always "what is." Remmber we live in a fallen world where a growing number of mothers must work because they have been abandoned by godless, self-centered men who have fogotten their place in the created order--as protectors and providers. What do we say to them? Starve? Go on welfare? Turn to the church? The last option is the ideal. It is exactly as James commanded when he declared that, "this is pure and undefiled religion. To visit orphans and widows in their distress." But, the church building like the rest of the world, is crumbling and this uncomfortable command is rarely considered. I know several women in this very position, who believe with all their heart that their place is in the home. Some have moved in with other families to lighten the load so they can continue to homeschool. Others work before or after school starts to put supper on the table. Are these women disobedient? They are after all not keeping it all in the home, as some would suggest they do.

And what of this idea that it is okay to work as long as it is done within the comfortable confines of the home? That is afterall, what many in the "stay at home camp" promote. For once, I feel as though I actually have enough personal experience in this area, to actually have something insightful to say. For the first five years I homeschooled my oldest son, I worked out of my home as a freelance writer. I tried to pass myself off as a true Proverbs 31 chick, able to keep my home and maintain a fulfilling career. Secretly, I knew that wasn't the case at all. I couln't keep up my home and whenever I had a deadline, school work came to a screeching halt. Everyone knew the universal symbol for "shush" when mom was interviewing someone on the phone, ofte while taking notes on a napkin while driving down the road. And woe to he that interupteth mom while she was trying to pound out a particularily stubborn story. A child could loose a limb in that sort of climate. Eventually the Lord put an end to what clearly had become a great sin in my life. I hope to share more about that later, but I digress.

Now, I'm sure some women who work out of their home do it with far more grace, than I ever could. But, I don't care whether you're writing a book, stuffing envelopes, making homemade cookie mixes, or raising poison tree frogs for their antivenom there will come a time when your "home-based job" will keep you from your responsibilities as a wife and mother. And if you're anything like me, it will get in the way a lot, a whole lot. Looking back, my family would have been much better off if I had left my comfy little house for a few hours a day and gone to work!

I was a hypocrite, self-righteously looking down on friends who either didn't have it together enough to pursue a career from the comfort of their own couch or those who selfishly put their little ones in daycare or the public school system so they could pursue a career. It took me long time to figure out that it isn't just women who work outside the home who want to have their cake and eat it too, those who work from the home also have quite a sweet tooth.

Inner feminist vs. Stay-at-home Mommy

The blogosphere is afire with McCain's out-of-the-blue VP pick and has left many, including my confused self wondering if, a woman should indeed take on such a position. When I first heard that he had picked Sarah Palin, my inner feminist rejoiced. The sound of shattering glass could be heard far and wide as the proverbial glass ceiling recieved it's final blow.

But then, the mommy in me silenced the feminist choir by asking the oh-so, un-PC question, does she really belong in the White House? What about her family? Doesn't the Bible clearly state that a woman's priority is God first, husband second, children third, and everything else fourth, fifth, sixth and so on?

A brief foray into the world of homeschooling bloggers revealed that homeschoolers really are a judgemental lot. Why wouldn't we be? It takes a pretty opinionated person to think that they can actually educate their child, children, or small army apart from the benevolent beast known as the public school system. By nature, we hold strong opinions, which we often feel must and should be brought to the attention of anyone who happens to be passing by or in this case, blogging along.

What I found actually shocked me, and trust me it's hard to shock a mother of four boys. There is a segment of homeschoolers/Evangelical leaders who think that women should never work outside the home, that women should be silent in the church, and yikes--that they shouldn't even vote. Down inner-feminist, down! Of course, they think Palin should fold up her fancy duds and go back to her Alaskan homestead where she belongs. They dismiss Deborah (the prophetess and Judge of Old Testament fame) as nothing more than a consequece of man's refusal to accept his God-given mandate to rule righteously. That may be so. But the Scripture leaves no doubt that God used her and lots of other folks who may not be in the center of His will or even saved to carry out His plans. Why would we expect God to do anything less with this woman?

Aside from her anantomy, she is ideally suited for the job. Pro-life to the enth degree, she put her money where her mouth was not once but twice. How easily could a woman of her stature and connections quietly gotten rid of her down syndrome baby or her 17-year-old's unexpected pregnancy? I do not pretend to know Palin's inner thoughts, but I'm guessing it never even crossed her mind. And yes, I'm sure she employs quite a payroll of nannies and housekeepers, but she obviously loves and values children since she kept popping 'em out. Her plans to lasso in our out-of-conrtol foreign oil spending are balanced and sane and she seems to have a knack for cleaning house.

The same camp concludes that it would be wrong to vote for the McCain/Palin ticket because they represent the "lesser of the two evils." So, their suggestion is to not vote at all or vote for the third party candiate whose name escapes me (and the rest of America, I'm sure). This would translate into a nicely packaged vote for Mr. Obama- the most liberal, pro-abortion, socialist I ever did see. Call it pragmatism, but it's clear that if we allow Obama to take over our beloved nation, homeschooling, capitalism, free-speech, religious freedom, quality health care, and our very right to govern our own homes will become a faded memory. No...the feminist nor the stay-at-home mommy in me could stand for that. And thankfully, I have a husband who is on board with the whole Nineteenth Ammendment thing.

Sarah Palin, V.P.vs. Sarah Pavlik, H.M.

Just a few letters seperate me, an Alabama housewife, and the future VP of the United States (hopefully). How similar are we? Let's compare.

Sarah Palin--possible Vice President of the free world
Sarah Pavlik--present Vice President of a rowdy bunch who will some day help lead the free world?
Sarah Palin--mother of five
Sarah Pavlik mother of four, but mine are all boys so that really counts as eight
Sarah Palin--former beauty queen
Sarah Pavlik--I know how to apply eyeliner
Sarah Palin--Graduated with a Bachelor's Degree in Journalism
Sarah Pavlik--me too
Sarah Palin--Cleaned up the corruption in the Alaskan legislature
Sarah Pavlik--cleaned up two poopy diapers, three toilets, five loads of laundry, and one potty mouth with a bar of Ivory soap all in one 24 hour period
Sarah Palin--Pro-life
Sarah Pavlik--ALL THE WAY. Love those babies. Love 'em!
Sarah Palin--hires professional nannies to care for her brood
Sarah Pavlik--hires mom to help homeshool brood
Sarah Palin--hunts with husband
Sarah Pavlik--hunts for husband (he's always missing when the baby needs a bath!)
Sarah Palin--some like it cold
Sarah Pavlik--I like it hot (we're talking geography here)
Sarah Palin--excellent public speaker
Sarah Pavlik--I spoke to an Awana group once
Sarah Palin--ultra-fahsionable
Sarah Pavlik--I make sure my shoes always match (eachother).
Sarah Palin--featured in Vogue Magazine
Sarah Pavlik--I danced the Vogue once (long, long time ago when Madonna acted her age)
Sarah Palin--bounce back body after baby
Sarah Pavlik--bouncy body after baby

Quite uncanny how similar the two "Sarah's" are isn't it?