Category: Read (page 1 of 6)

In Ross Dress for Less, where it’s blessedly cool in this lovely heatwave, there were a lot of teen girls shopping with their mamas.

Ross is the best for clothes, right after Goodwill, and I will fight you if you say otherwise.

So one girl was wearing cutoffs cut off to THERE, you know where, like yes, you could actually see the area where her legs became cheeks.

Ok, it’s noticeable, not gonna lie. I certainly noticed. As did likely everyone in line behind her. She’s with her mama.

But then, directly in front of me, there are two preteen girls in oversized shirts and jeans with THEIR mom, and this mom is hissing at them,

“Look at that girl, she should be ashamed. All the men are looking at her SEXUALLY. Her mother should cry herself to sleep at night. Don’t even look at her. Just look away. Don’t EVER be that girl. I am so embarrassed for her.”

Look, look, LOOK, mama bears of teen girls. I get that we want them to be okay with who they are and that they should never feel the need to flaunt body parts around.

I get it, I really do.

But all of us who grew up in the modesty and purity culture knows it did a helleva lot of harm.

I regret dying on the Mountain of Two Piece Bathing Suits when my girls were teens.

I wish I hadn’t made a deal out of spaghetti strap tanks when it didn’t need to a be a deal at all.

I’m relieved I was old enough when the ol’ leggings/yoga pants versus “real” pants debacle came around, and simply rolled my eyes (and put my leggings back on).

We shouldn’t teach girls that their bodies are seductive weapons, capable only of ruining boy’s innocent hearts with a wayward bra strap, or gawd forbid, the occasional belly button.

But teaching them to despise their fellow sisters, by shaming them, and modeling hate, might just be worse.

Modest is NOT hottest. Kindess is.

Next: Dear Suddenly Homeschooling Mama (An Open Letter)

One of my favorite characters and stories from the Bible is Elijah.

He’s a sassy boy, who takes naps and needs constant reminders from God to just eat something already and knock it off with the theatricals.

He also likes to hide from God, like a toddler playing hide and go seek by closing their eyes while being in plain sight, and God calmly goes to find him (and brings snacks for low blood sugar because He’s a good dad).

And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks, but the Lord was not in the wind.

After the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.

And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. and after the fire the sound of a low whisper.

And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out. And behold, there came a voice to him and said, “What are you doing here?”

1 Kings 19:11-13

… Which, when you think about it, is a funny question because God is a sassy boy too.

It’s very hard to hear the whisper in the busy day to day life; sometimes the traffic is too loud or the music is playing or my own grumbles get in the way. Sometimes I don’t like the question the whisper asks.

Like, “What are you even doing here, kid?” I get disgruntled and defensive. Ummm, hiding, what do you think? Go away.

My conversations with God tend to be real and raw; either that or sleepy and wandering-off-like-a-sheep.

I don’t pray in front of people anymore. I used to, but it was always a performance thing, trying to say eloquent phrases that would bring tears of joy to any listeners, when if fact I mostly want to say things like,

“Hey, thanks for the groceries today. I hope you’re having a nice day up there,”

or

“I really appreciate the fact you made me chubby AND frizzy-haired. That was super cool of You.”

*pauses for my sting to sink in*

“That was sarcasm, God.”

*pauses*

“Sorry.”

Sometimes my prayers run to the effect of “Would a leeetle smiting kill you?” when someone I intensely dislike seems to be having a real good life.

I wonder if God sees me dialing up the old rotary and sighs and turns to an angel and says, “Could you take this one? I can’t EVEN with her today.”

Luckily though, He doesn’t.

A talk with God.

A. Me

God: I want you to take a nap today.

Me: I don’t nap.

God: Remember where it says I MAKE you lie down in green pastures? Yeah. You need some time out.

Me: Really, I’m good. Also, I’m not tired! *stamps foot for emphasis*

God: TAKE A NAP.

Me: BUT I’M NOT TIRED! *yawns but covers it with a cough*

God, muttering: Well, you’re making ME tired.

Me, crossing my arms: Hey! I have things to do! Like, important stuff, You wouldn’t understand. I don’t have time to lie down in stupid pastures!

God: I DON’T CARE IF YOU SLEEP BUT YOU’RE GOING TO LIE DOWN SO HELP ME.

Me (stomps off to green pastures and slams invisible door): You’re mean!

God: Relax, woman. Things will look better later, I promise. *Turns to angel: They’re a lot of work, but they’re so cute when they’re sleeping.*

B. God

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;

you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

~ Psalm 23

So, I hate laundry. I don’t wanna do it anymore.

It never ends, and that’s depressing. I mean, I like the dumping in the washer part just fine, and the soap part, but then I’m way over it and I just want to sit around and bemoan Lady Mary and Matthew for a while.

Maybe Pinterest something.

But not the folding. Not the putting away. Ugh.

I’ve been thinking.

When my kids are grown and move out (I’m down to only one ankle-biter at the moment and since he’s much taller than I am, he’s more of a forehead biter) I’m going to visit them.

A lot.

Probably for 2-3 weeks at a time.

The hubs and I already decided we are all about RV living, and we are totally here for some eccentric senior citizen behavior.

Finding the perfect Christmas (or birthday, Mother’s Day, Valentine’s, anniversary… you get the drift) gift for the woman in your life can be a daunting task.

But let me tell you this: You’ll never go wrong with some sweetly pampering gifts for her.

Are you stumped on how to style long, wavy hair?

Well then. Today is a new day for you.

You know you need it: a slang dictionary for all of those curly hair words and terms you hear thrown around.

What the heck is plopping? What kind of weird contraption is a diffuser? What in the name of all that is holy guacamole do pineapples have to do with anything?

Don’t fret, my lovelies. I’ve got you. Like the curl version of the urban dictionary, here is a curly hair glossary for all those crazy terms and words.

Cue theme music.

You need to know how to style men’s curly hair. And you want it quick, simple, and cheap.

Here’s how.

It’s weird but it’s true: Most people love to be scared.

As a little girl I crawled under my blankets at night to read Nancy Drew by the light of a dimming flashlight.

As a teen I discovered the gothic thrills that books like Jane Eyre, Jamaica Inn, and Mary Stewart titles could give me.

And now, as a grown up bookworm, I eat up thrillers like they’re going out of style (thankfully, they’re not).

In fact, if I do pick up the occasional chic lit, family drama, or self-help book, I end up bored and whispering,

Mama needs a good murder…

My family is leery of me, but what else is new?