Desire

I was unable to keep my eyes open any longer last night so I finished the last ten pages of That Hideous Strength this morning before getting up. What a delicious book. I can't believe I waited to read the final book in the trilogy 6 years after the first two.

The book awakened in my soul a longing for Heaven. The dreams of childhood fantasy. A wild desire for my own child to read, love, and appreciate the stories which open another world of thought, living, adventure and understanding. A world where good and evil are clearly seen and dealt with. A world of betrayal and courage. A world which appeals to our innate sense of kindness, duty and chivalry. But most importantly, stories which direct, cultivate and prepare us for life everlasting.

I will never forget the impact At the Back of the North Wind (by George MacDonald), The Chronicles of Narnia (C.S. Lewis), Lilith (MacDonald), Adventures is Wonderland (Lewis Carroll), The Phantom Tollbooth (Norton Juster), The Princess and the Goblin (MacDonald), A Christmas Carol (Dickens), Just So Stories (Kipling), The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson-Burnett), The Hobbit (Tolkien), Egyptian and Greek myth and others had on me.

Children think in images and as a parent we can supply what those images will be - whether it's the world of television and computer games or books and games which inspire the imagination to cleave to and grow. Not that any film or television will immediately doom your child to a murky swamp and insipid lack of creativity, but alone, I don't believe it can have the same or as good an effect as hearing stories from their parents or reading themselves.

Though I blush to think of them now, I filled much of my childhood by attempting to write my own stories filled with secret vaults and doors, good people and bad people, just and unjust. Often I had a little brother or sister as audience with the promise that they would take their nap if I told them one more story.

In the meantime, I desire never to grow too old for these stories myself and to fill my bookshelf at toddler level with all of them.

Growing Pains

"You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in You." Isaiah 26:3

It is amazing to me how much the child growing inside has taught and tested me physically and spiritually. It has been a frustrating process to learn that pregnancy exhaustion is like no other and when body and baby demand rest it is near impossible to fight it. One of the hardest things to accept is my complete inability to accomplish a fourth of the things I would like to. It makes me feel lazy, useless, and petty. John has been absolutely incredible in regards to this - never chafing me for what I do not accomplish and understanding the fact that I am sick and tired far better than I.

Mr Drysdale, John's nickname for baby, has taken a recent delight in making me starving and light-headed and demanding nutrition to a feeling of either throwing up or passing out when I do eat. In the meantime constant punches, kicks, and somersaults ensue. I love feeling him move, but the rate at which he keeps it up is amazing. It's probably a warning that he or she is going to be crawling at 3 months and walking by 9 or 10.

With pregnancy also comes a bodily reaction of loose joints....I think I've gotten my full measure.

It is:
-why I dropped my father-in-law's fishing pole into the lake.
-why the olive oil jar shattered on the floor of the grocery store
-why my kitchen floor was splattered in yogurt
-why coffee granules went everywhere but in the filter (times 3)
-why it is treacherous to eat without a bib

Then there is this realization that I do in fact have hormones and am capable of reacting to fatigue in the most extreme and ridiculous girly ways. It was one of those things I swore would not interfere with my life.

Hitting the 3rd trimester over the weekend and Mr Drysdale deciding to go on another growing spurt made me even more aware of how it's suddenly a little harder to bend over, or move quickly, or roll over. Occasionally, the idea of removing your stomach for just a few hours so you can move around properly, sounds rather tempting.

But through all of these many and extreme life changes, I remember who gives me strength and purpose in this world. Right now that purpose seems to mostly be growing this baby and remembering to listen to the whispers of the Holy Spirit.

"God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself, because it is not there. There is no such thing." -C.S.L.

In Defense of Men

We women have been on the rampage for our rights in this country for well over a century now. 163 years to be exact since we demanded and attained our right to be treated equally with men. In the name of Equality we accomplished a lot to prove our individuality and ability. Already 118 years since the women of Colorado became the first in the nation to vote legally.

I enjoy the right to vote as much as anyone but I'm afraid the movement lost its motivation to gain equality long ago. We are no longer proving we're "equal to men" but have veered dangerously off that course to an ideal greater than that.

As a Christian, I have never doubted my "equality to men". Why should I? God created us equally, yes, but that has nothing to do with the roles of men and women. How ridiculous and impossible it is for men and women to try and be the same. It can't and won't work. I no longer see women trying to attain equality with men, no, they want to be above men, and worst of all, above any and all authority.

We're so consumed with this goal that somehow it makes perfect sense that we should have control over everything that touches our lives....especially when it comes to pregnancy. It's our body, end of argument. We have a right to do what we wish in this area as well. No matter that the child growing inside us could not and would not be there if half of the chromosomes which formed her were not from a man.

My question is this, why do women have unlimited rights? Why and how does she have total say over how this child will affect its father?

I am a woman and I am pregnant. Legally I have 3 options.

1.) Parent the baby. In which occurrence I can force, if need be, the father to pay child support. In this case, he will legally be recognized as the father and has parental rights.

2.) Make an adoption plan. In which case, under ND law all effort must be made to contact the father and he has every right to either give or deny permission for an adoption. Parental rights totally recognized.

3.) Abort the baby. In which case, not being a minor, I need absolutely nobody's permission. I don't even have to tell its father. He has, to be precise, no parental rights.

Why is it harder to make an adoption plan, where my child could be received and loved by a family, than to kill it? Why am I the sole arbiter of life or death of another human being? And who says when this time of being an arbitrator should end? If I kill my child in utero, I am simply doing what was best for me and my life. If I kill my child when she is 3 months or 3 years, I am a murderer and will be sentenced even if I have the exact same reasoning for my actions in both cases.

It appears that women have replaced God and His authority with themselves. We no longer recognize life as a gift and something to nurture and treasure, but as something we may give or take at will. We need to step down and realize what we have done to ourselves and our men, but most importantly, how we have put God in a box so we can attempt to live our lives free of consequence.

Men need to be just that and take initiative. They were created to take care of and defend women. Not because women are helpless but because women have a different role to fulfill. When we strip men of their ability to protect (yes, this includes their child in utero) a whole slough of problems begin to ferment.

I am frustrated with laws that are inconsistent. Laws which recognize a father in every instance except when it comes to the option of death.

The other day a friend asked me what made me passionate about pro-life. I found the question startling because I'd been muddling about the same thing of late. I was intrigued enough to pose the same question to my mom and husband to see if they had a cut and dry answer....for all of us it seems it was not one experience but a culmination of discussions and realizations which led us to recognize what happens when we accept abortion as a reasonable "answer" to the world's problems. The problems which are culture is experiencing begin long before a girl finds out she pregnant. Unwanted pregnancies are not the problem, the conundrum is how we got there and why we're dealing with the question.

The following is a gist of how I answered my friend:

"It's so funny that you asked about why I am pro-life because I've been thinking about it myself a lot lately. It surprises me in some ways that I am as passionate about it as I am because I have never had any personal experience with it nor did I know anyone who had had an abortion before I got involved.

Part of it is my impulsive nature. When I do something, I'm either involved 100% or not at all. When I did TKD I went religiously every week and did not become involved in other things so that I could concentrate fully on it. I have always been "pro-life" in a certain sense I guess, morally I would have always argued for life.

In 2009 when I went to a camp and actually learned something about the topic and also how I could become involved; I threw myself on top of the opportunity. I felt fulfilled in a certain sense, like I'd been looking to do something of this nature for a long time but didn't know how to find it. God just opened one door after another.

I'm not an angry pro-lifer but what angered me was the injustice of abortion, the amount of lies which are told regarding it, and how many people are hurt because of it. Everything about abortion is so anti-American and to know it happens every single day in this country really troubled me. I honestly believe that most people who side with abortion are not doing so because they are horrible people who like to kill babies but because they really do not understand what abortion involves nor the consequences that surround it from society and families but especially how it affects women.

I believe that how one views the issue of life shapes their view on how they perceive everything else. When I saw how rock-solid John was about being Pro-life and how it affected all of his thinking...well...it kinda made me fall in love with him quite hopelessly."

So yes, I am passionate about being pro-life and I am willing to do what I am able to bring an end to abortion and educate others on why it matters. Quite simply it is a matter of Life or Death. Not just the life and death of precious human life, but of our culture, society and our nation.

Confessions of a Catastrophic Cook

I have loved cooking since as long as I can remember. Not just cooking but everything: planning, thinking of, and modifying recipes, thinking up entire meal weeks, and baking as well. For the past year or two my own diet forced me to exclude gluten and dairy but I have continued to love cooking for the people I love. I depend a lot on my nose and hope between that and my brain I don't end up too off when it comes to taste for many things.

When I have an inkling to make something it won't leave my head until I do. So this afternoon while working at the shop with John I began to wonder what to make for dinner. Home-made pizza like my mama makes immediately seized my brain and I simply knew I had to make that for dinner or John would have to go hungry because I didn't feel I could make anything else.

I have never made pizza entirely by myself - that is one meal my mom has always made herself every Saturday night. On my drive home I began to wonder how I was going to get past the first obstacle, Mum has always had her bread machine mix and rise her pizza dough. I don't have a bread machine. Hum. I called up home and my dad solved the problem and said I should just attempt to put it together by hand like "grandma's rolls".

I did just that, the dough felt really good even though I dared to half the recipe which isn't always the smartest thing to do when dealing with bread. I had the pizza stone in the oven but, alas, no cornmeal. Cornmeal is used on the stone so the pizza slides on and off easily. Another call to mum and we finally decided yeast might work. I decided it didn't have a choice.

Next, I realized I didn't have a pizza paddle to first make the pizza on and then transfer to the oven. Oh well. An upside-down cookie sheet would have to do.

Assembled, my first pizza did look rather dashing. Sauce, mushrooms, mozzarella, colby, pepperoni, parmesan. My heart twitched as I thought about transferring it to the oven. I began to lift it with a spatula but it ended with a heart-wrenching job of gradually pushing and pulling it off and messing up the whole top. Feeling like tears for no good reason I fixed it up as much as possible hating that I had started the project.

Ugh. Why do I get these stupid ideas in my head?

When John walked in I explained, "Well, I made you pizza for dinner but you can laugh at it when comes out because it looks horrible."

A minute later I pulled it out. John breathed, "Mmm, that looks great."

I examined and disagreed.

But

He said it tasted good, really good. He didn't even let it cool down but burned his mouth several times just because he wanted to eat it so much. He continued eating until half of it was gone. I kinda like my overly appreciative husband.

I prefer to have things look and taste good....but when you only have one option, I guess taste is better than look.

Nevertheless

No more pizza until I have a pizza board and cornmeal.

Stand up. Speak out.

Taking classes from a secular college with some extremely secularly-minded teachers has led me to some interesting conversations, at many times frustrated me to distraction, and more often spurred me to say and write my opinion and beliefs in my assignments. It's led me to find creative ways to find out how to make them a necessary part my of speech or paper and the fact that my teacher must read it is always fun. I don't mean it in a bad way and I don't do it without purpose. But after sitting day after day in class being stuffed with not information, but crappy opinion, my piston occasionally busts.

Martin Luther King Jr. once said, "Our lives begin to end on the day that we become silent about things that matter.” I believe that this is true. But I also know how very easy it is to be smothered by secularism. To think that your voice doesn't matter. It really is so easy to go to class, take a few notes, and like a machine, produce information and papers made up of your teacher's opinions or the social norm. But in this, you will become a puppet, void of life.

As Christians we are commanded to live out our faith. I'm not saying the solution is always speaking aloud. Sometimes it's an action - a demonstration or prayer. It certainly is not always something in our comfort zone. But if we refuse to stand up for what we believe, for truth, for justice....as Mr King stated...our lives begin to end.

I have this English teacher who is obsessed with feminism. Give her any story and she will point out the most obsolete sentence as an indication that the male in the story is a raving or creeping misogynist. It gets old. I would like to say, "No matter how much you stomp on that overflowing garbage - no more will fit, lady." I have challenged a lot of her opinions in class especially when they seem to drift entirely off the story's course. We rarely come to an agreement.

My speech teacher, who would actually be a perfect definition for my English teacher of a misogynist, grates on me in an entirely different manner. But Monday's class was something different - I was actually incensed with anger.

My speech teacher was sorting out different kinds of speech outlines we can use and told two stories which I found absolutely false. The first story was about bible-boy and non-bible-boy and his summing point was that the bible says ALL killing is wrong. He was basing his claim off of the 10 Commandments and God commanding us not to murder - God ordered his chosen people to "kill" numerous times throughout scripture. The speech teacher also has a hard time with absolutes, like, one concept being right and one concept being wrong. He usually finds a way for them both to be right. Stupid. Then Mr Speech Teacher went into a story about Doctor Kevorkian and pitying the fact that he was imprisoned merely for helping terminal patients to die a noble death. Now, this is completely inaccurate information. Doctor Kevorkian is a creep who was dubbed "Dr. Death" because he didn't "help" terminally ill patients but people who were very much alive. In need of psychological help? Most assuredly. About to die? Certainly not from natural causes.

So as I sat in the front of class watching these words spill out from Mr Speech Teacher's mouth I felt a feeling of such absolute anger sweep over me. I told myself, I am not hearing what I think I am hearing. I turned around, which is rather awkward to stare at everyone else in the room for no apparent reason, to see what effect this information was doing to them. No one raised a hand. No one said anything. I was flabbergasted. I felt I had to say something to refute. I found myself speechless...and feeling very hot and red all over. Class was instantly dismissed. I felt like a description from a book.

For the next two hours, every time I thought about that class, I flushed again. I knew I had to say something.

Today I had my moment. I went to class and frantically tried to think and pray about how to really approach this. God placed the opportunity right in my hand. My teacher actually mentioned the bible-boy/non-bible-boy story and so I raised my hand..."actually," I said a bit shyly, "the bible isn't actually..." and I simply pointed out the error. Mr Teacher brushed it off that it wasn't material to his point. Oh well. At least the earth didn't open up and swallow me for saying so. Then he brought up the other story - Again, I raised and said, "Um, well, I have something to say about this one too." Mr Teacher sighed and allowed me to go on. I pointed out a brief fact about Doctor Kevorkian - the class chuckled - we had a short disagreement and Mr Teacher ended with, "well I supposed we could check the facts later." Like facts don't matter or something. Weird.

Stand up for what you believe. Sometimes it may not feel like you're making a difference but you never know whose heart or mind you might impress. Do I always speak up when I should? Definitely not. But each time you do so, it will become easier. Speaking in public terrifies me. I build it up in my head. With my imagination, you'd think we have persecution and executions occurring for speaking up. We don't. You can do it.

What Gets Me

I am sick of seeing softly pink-hued garbage bags, coffee mugs, stickers, shirts, flags, hats, backpacks, gloves, scarves, picture frames and pencils. I know who makes them, and I know they promote a lie. My problem is Susan G. Komen and her foundation built on exploitation. I do not lack compassion or concern for breast cancer patients. My complaint is not with them. My complaint is with Susan G. Komen and many doctors and industries obtaining money and making it look like they really care enough to help people. They have a huge audience because...breast cancer is the leading cancer in women, and also because breast cancer is the leading cancer in women. What I mean by that is, yes, it has a audience just because of the sheer number of breast cancer patients but also simply BECAUSE it is women suffering. It seems to be one of those untouchable topics, especially for men, and is a campaign endorsed by the feminists.

Susan G Komen's slogan is, Race for the Cure. Really? I guess maybe that's true. She is trying to find a cure...A cure that gets around the enormous link abortion and contraceptives have to breast cancer. Have you ever wondered why in the world suddenly everyone knows someone who has had breast cancer? Why did this epidemic emerge from seemingly no where? Well...believe it or not it has risen with the increase in abortion and the use of contraceptives especially before the first child.

I refuse to give to an organization which promotes killing the innocent. Between 2003 – 2008 Susan G. Komen gave over $3 million to Planned Parenthood, the leading provider of abortion in the United States. Does it really make any sense to give money to an organization who will in turn give it to another that not only ends the life of millions of babies, but in doing so is raising the risk of the very thing we are trying to prevent? SGK is all about preventatives and being aware...why don't they prevent abortion? Why don't they tell women about the effects abortion will have and how much higher their risks of breast cancer will be as result?

The truth is, they have an agenda. They really want to provide a way for people to live exactly as they wish without consequence. But this utopia cannot be formed. It breaks all that God has set in order for us. Since the beginning of time sin has been punished. Lucifer sinned and fell from heaven. Eve was deceived as well as Adam and the gate to the beautiful garden was forever fastened. The consequences of sin are for our betterment – and in the end, it is for God's plan and design for us and His glory. God created us the way we are for a reason and when we act against that design we destroy ourselves.

Countless companies are helping sponsor SGK - so before you give your money to them, please consider whose till it will really end up in.

http://www.wnd.com/index.php?pageId=134729

http://www.abortionbreastcancer.com/

http://www.bdfund.org/breastcancer.asp

http://ww5.komen.org/ResearchGrants/CommunitybasedGrants.html