No tears.

He did not cry when he left the only home he had known.

He chose instead to gaze,

Knowing

Wherever he was going was where

He was meant to be.

Voices,

Familiar and foreign,

Merged finally with faces --

A welcoming bass,

A friendly treble.

No tears,

She did not cry when her work was finished.

Too exhausted for fear,

Too excited for worry.

Her heart belonged how in another,

Tiny,

Hand,

Close as a whisper,

Precious as a jewel.

No tears.

They did not cry

When finally the beautiful, beloved stranger

Was placed in her arms.

Centuries of shared history

Displayed in a tiny face,

Fractures of the future and the past

Held together with threads of wisdom and hope

And so much Love

That there was left no room

For tears.

-2011

I'm no poet, by any means, but this kind of forced itself on me on my way to work, and fell out once I sat down with pen to paper. And anyway, I've been so negligent of his blog I'm fully aware most won't read it, anyway. <3

So, earlier the week I brought up the topic of difficult passages in the Bible, and got a bunch of awesome responses. Ampbreia in particular brought up a particularly problematic issue in the book of Ephesians:

"Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything." - Eph 5:22-24

Yikes. I hear ya, Ampbreia. This single passage has definitely been abused a lot to keep women "in a woman's place" -- five steps behind, heads down, voices soft, brains uneducated, minds closed. But I don't think that it was Paul's intent that it be used this way. In fact, I'm certain of it. Because he follows it up with this:

"Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.” This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband." - Eph 5:25-33

I've known a lot of women, good, Christian women who love God and follow Christ, who have kept themselves locked into loveless, soulless, abusive marriages because they feel it's their duty to submit to their husbands. But it's pretty clear that that's not God's model for marriage. I would say that God's model is for the husband to submit to his wife just as much as the opposite. Because love is submission. Love is sacrifice and giving yourself up for the other. Paul said for husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church -- what did Christ do if not submit Himself as a holy sacrifice?

So why does Paul say for wives to submit, while he tells husbands to love? This is just my opinion, but I think it's because marriage is a duet; when there are two, there is no majority rules. I think it's because we all know there are times when husbands and wives will disagree and a compromise can't be reached. One person's vote will need to be the overriding one. Why would it fall to the husband exclusively, then? Again, just my opinion, but, as an NCO, I think it's because the husband is almost always the one who is responsible for the running of his house. He's the social face of the family, just as I'm the face of my work group when I go in front of my superiors. And he's the one who will stand in front of God and face judgment for how he treated his wife.

And I think that's why Paul also said, in his letter to the Galatians, "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." (3:28) I don't think he meant for his admonishment to the Ephesians to be taken to mean that women are inferior to men (or that slaves are inferior to their earthly masters, for that matter.) That's a value judgment we've placed upon it. Taking the work as a whole, Paul enthusiastically gushes about the women in his life -- writing about them with more frequency than he writes about his male counterparts. He even mentions a married woman (Phoebe) as a deacon in Cenchreae.

Here's what I've picked up, being a woman and a wife and a mother and a person who wants to follow Christ, even when I screw it up -- there is a ton of room when it comes to submission. I work, outside the home, in what is almost universally regarded as a "male" field (the military). In fact, I'm the wage-earner for our household. My husband, Addison, is at home with our son during the day. And I do not think this contradicts the Biblical mandate to be a submissive wife, because my husband has also chosen to obey his mandate to be a loving husband. He understands my needs and wants and desires and doesn't try to hold me back out of pride or anger or fear. If my employment was detrimental to our marriage, we would discuss it and, ultimately, I would submit to him, because I know he would hear me out first, and would make a decision with my best interests at heart. That's what marriage is all about.

Because, see, there's a difference between permission and consent. Consent says that anything not explicitly allowed is forbidden. Permission says anything not explicitly forbidden is allowed. I think Christ is all about permission -- and husbands are to be, as well. I think that's why the Bible says there is freedom in Christ -- I think that's what pretty much the entirety of Romans is all about. It was for freedom that we have been set free from the RULE of law. Husbands are to set the ground rules, out of love -- and then let their wives lead lives that will bring them closer to God and others. Because if husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church, then we can look right back at Galatians: "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free." (5:1) Christ didn't loose us from sin only to tangle us up again in rules and regulations and restrictions. He set us free so that we could pursue and love Him freely. So are husbands to love their wives.

And I think, Ampbreia, that that was the point. Because when you get right down to it, husbands and wives are to treat each other the same way we treat everyone we meet: With Love, and reverence, and submission, and forgiveness, and mercy, and grace, but always love first. And no, it's not simple. I think that's what Paul meant when he called it a profound mystery. I'm still figuring it out, myself. All I know is that Christ didn't set me free from the Law of the Word only to have me bound up again in the laws of men, or a man. And if it's true for me, it must be true for every wife, because God loves us all. So I hope I've given some perspective to it -- or at least gotten a ball rolling.

Much Love.

I thought I'd keep my thoughts and musings simple for today. Nothing too weighty.

• I've been thinking a lot about Christianity in modernity. Roughly 75% of Americans identify themselves as Christian, yet our society is plagued by conditions which are decidedly not examples of Pentecostal living. While I don't expect any society to be "perfect" and to perfectly exhibit the ideals they profess, it would seem to me that such a large majority of Christians would show SOME difference between itself and other societies. But I think that most people who identify themselves as Christians fall into the category I define as "believing non-Christians;" people who believe in the basic tenants of Theism, but reject the ultimate authority of Jesus as Lord of their lives. I was even shocked to find that many self-identified "Christians" don't believe that Christ raised from the dead! 
  
  While I understand the mentality behind believing that Christianity is merely living in a way similar to Christ (and see this as a worthy goal in life), by reducing Christianity to "I believe that a God exists, and that Jesus was a good person who practiced a worthwhile way of life which I seek to emulate," you're reducing Christianity from a unique spiritual claim (that our sinfulness is negated by the adopted righteousness of Christ) to nothing different from Sikhism or Islam or Judaism or Buddhism or Hinduism or any other religion which claims that certain acts and works will bring you up from base mortality to salvation.
  
  
• I've also been thinking a lot about what it means to love your neighbor. A lot of Christians act like it means nothing more than "be nice to everyone." And "nice" is certainly a pleasant way to be. You make a lot of easy friends with "nice." But it seems to me that the Golden Rule is to treat others as we wish to be treated. Call me crazy, but I want people to call me out when I make an untrue statement. I want people who will challenge my beliefs and help me towards right epistemology. I want people who will love me unconditionally, even while condemning my false beliefs and bad attitudes. I want brothers and sisters who are mighty Movers in the Holy Spirit who will guide me and love me with Holy passion. And so that's what I try to offer to others. Even when it doesn't feel particularly "nice." Chemotherapy isn't nice, but it's sometimes necessary.
  
  
  
• And I think that goes right into our understanding of the Bible. I hear all the time from liberal Christians that we can't fully understand the Bible, and so it's okay to reject he parts of it that seem to not make sense, or to reject its authority altogether and simply "go with what feels right," as though a living communion with the Holy Spirit negates any possibility of accepting Biblical authority on its face. It's a bit like archaic Catholics claiming that there's no need to read the Bible so long as you listen to the Pope.
  
  But it seems to me that both arguments are really one and the same. No, I don't think human minds can fully grasp the meaning and complexity and nuances of the Bible. There are lots of things in the Bible I struggle with. But what I do think is that if you're indwelt with He Who inspired the authors, you have a kind of "backstage pass" to the show.
  
  Does that mean I think that all Christians are going to get the same impression of what the Bible says, and that understanding of Biblical principles is some kind of litmus test for Christianity? God forbid! No, I don't believe that's true at all. I do believe the Holy Spirit reveals to one what He may withhold from another. That doesn't make either one false, or either's religion or relationship more or less sincere. But I simply can't see rejecting the Bible, in whole or in part, simply because some things are hard to understand, or uncomfortable.
  
  
•  Someone brought up, the other day, the fear of Hell. I understand the fear of Hell. It's crippling. But I think that deception has gone a long way in this world to confuse us as to what the real horror of Hell is. Because I don't think people are afraid of the pain associated with Hell. See, I don't think we really have a concept of the kind of pain John of Patmos and Dante Alighieri describe. Mortal pain is always temporal; we know that, no matter how much we may suffer, it will eventually end. Either we'll get better, or we'll die. Either way, the kind of pain associated with Hell is clearly not physical. I just don't think we can really understand it.
  
  I think the fear we have regarding Hell is more horrifying than mere fear of pain. It's fear of being Cast Out, forever. It's fear of finally seeing the Promised Land, and being shut out from it. It's fear of finally hearing our Father's voice, and hearing it say, Depart from me, I know ye not. It's the fear of God saying to us, "Thy will be done." I think that, in and of itself, is pretty soul-destroying. (Read The Great Divorce; really. It's amazing.)

Anyway. That's all I've got. I'm off to pack; back up to the city for a hockey game, time to see if the latest changes are good enough to make us Cup contenders.

Much love to you all. Always and forever.

Oh, also, Addison, wanna get divorced? ;) I love you, honey. (No, I'm not serious, guys, no one freak out.)

Most of you probably didn't notice. But I still felt bad at leaving for a week without saying anything.

I don't think I'm really ready to explain why I left. I needed a break, yes, but I'm not ready to say why. So instead, I'll just give an analogy.

When I moved to California, I had a really hard time adjusting. I was depressed, anxious, exhausted, overwhelmed and sullen. I didn't do housework; I could barely bring myself to shower. So, the house fell apart. It was horrible. I dreaded the unannounced visitors and deliveries. Thankfully, I found out that much of this was due to hormonal imbalance. Went off the pill, and things got a little better.

Then we moved to Texas. We purged a lot of "stuff." Mental and physical. I loved Texas. I was happy, I was satisfied, I was energetic and content. So, the house was tidy and comfortable and relaxed. Even the closets were organized. And it was good.

Now, we're here in Virginia. And things have been hard. Harder than I wanted to admit. When we moved here, and got settled in, I thought, So long as the living areas were tidy and looked neat, the closets and the garage and attic could wait. And that worked, for a while. But over time, "stuff" has leaked out. Back into our living areas and our life. And I've been trying to beat it back in a very superficial way. But it's caught up with me. Addison, very generously, told me I'm good at doing what needs to be done. Unfortunately, I usually have to wait till my back is against the wall before I realize what needs to happen.

And so, here I am. Trying to clean. Physically and emotionally and mentally and spiritually. Not just tidying anymore, but finding the "stuff" that needs to get chucked.

I can't say I'm looking forward to it. But I do look forward to the results. A nice, clean, orderly house in which I can feel comfortable, free and myself again.

I survived another football season, and didn't strangle anyone.

Now to enjoy a spring and summer of freedom before the madness starts right back up again.

Sorry guys. The one's kind of long. Feel free to say "TL;DR" if you want. But, I need to write it.

When Addison and I married, and, well, for several years after, we were "That Couple." You know the type. The ones who seem like God created just one soul, split it in two, and sent the halves out into the world so they could rediscover each other in the proper time. There wasn't a single person who didn't see our marriage as inevitable, nor a single person who would have said we would struggle one day to even want to be in the same room as each other.

Lots of events took place in those early years. Most significant of them was Addy's discharged from the Air Force, and my subsequent decision to turn "I might some day join the military" into "I'm joining the Navy." In hind sight, I should have waited. We should have given each other time to heal, time even to recognize the wounds we'd -- he'd -- suffered. But you know what they say about hind sight.

I remember, distinctly, one evening a few weeks before I went off to basic training. He and I were discussing our future and what my enlisting would mean for us. I'm from a military family; I know what can happen to people when they join, for better and for worse. And so, I asked him what he would do if he found that military service changed me in such a way to make me someone he might not like anymore. His reply was that he "would probably get a divorce." I know he meant it in jest -- after all, we were That Couple, divorce was out of the question. But it stuck with me nonetheless. It echoed in my head the day I took my Oath of Enlistment. I could not shake the fear that I might sacrifice my family for my country.

And so, I graduated from boot camp. I went to school. Addy and I were not living together at that point, but near. And I had my first taste of Navy life. Rather, the underbelly of Navy life. And it did change me. I went from being someone who wanted only to be a loving and loyal wife, to someone who wanted to be "free" and unattached. I began to use Addison as my back-up, rather than my foundation. And I began to seek out the attention of other men. As a moderately attractive female on a military training base, it wasn't exactly difficult to be noticed. I figured, "He doesn't like the person I've become; he's going to want to divorce me, anyway. I may as well enjoy myself now." Yes, I know how irrational it is. Now. At the time, I thought he was going to leave, so I may as well be the first to break free. We are both convinced that the only thing that kept us together -- the only glue that could possibly have reconstructed that perfect glass sphere -- were the two pink lines we saw late on a Friday night. People say children can't save a troubled marriage; Liam saved ours, and probably my life.

I'm very fortunate that I didn't do anything with other men. But the point is that wanting to changed my heart just as surely as if I actually had. It changed everything about me. And it changed Addy, too. I heard him pray for our marriage for the first time, before or since. And it changed our marriage. And a lot of the time, we're not That Couple anymore. We're trying very hard to be again, but it's an uphill battle. We struggle every day to be generous and forgiving and gentle and loving and merciful with each other. Some days we struggle just to be civil. And some days we fail miserably.

But I'm learning to be grateful for everything we've been through. Because I've learned lessons from it I could never have learned any other way.

The most important is to be gentle with others, and humble. Because I know, now, how easy it is to make a bad decision seem like a good one. I get that we're all mostly doing the best we know how, even when we're being self-destructive and foolish.

And I've learned what it actually is to be repentant. Because for the first time, I really truly, know I am. I feel like I totally get Mercy, insofar as a human being is capable of comprehending it.

I'm at a point, now, where I can see that I can't blame him for making me doubt his love for me and commitment to our marriage. I can only blame my own doubt and fear and insecurity and anxiety, and my own inability to communicate them. And I'm learning from it. I'm learning that the proper response to fear is clarity and communication. For me, this usually means outbursts of anger. But some communication is better than none at all. The surface is, at least, scratched.

I know that I've lost a lot, and that God's forgiveness won't automatically absolve the reality of what Addison and I have gone through. But we both want to get there, and we're both willing to deal with the precursors in the mean time. Not just for Liam, but for Us. And even if the marriage we have now is the marriage we have till one of us is dead, we both know it's still better than a life without each other -- each without his other half. And I share all of this with you, only so that I can assure you that I mean it when I say this:

If, for any reason, you feel like you have shame in your background that you need to give voice to and shine a light on, you will always have at least one person who will tell you, "What you have done was wrong. Some may not forgive you for it. But I will not let it come between you, and my love for you.

And there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

I'm beginning to get the impression that I may be coming off as all sunshine and lightness and yoga sparkles and twinkle lights. Let me just be clear right now: I do not crap rainbows. I'm just as short-tempered, angry, bitter, exhausted, and selfish as everyone else. I have my particular struggles and weaknesses and triggers. For instance:

Traffic. Specifically, bad drivers. I have several Bob Marley CDs in my car because I have found that, no matter what is going on, Bob Marley is the ONLY thing that can keep me calm in bad traffic. Seriously, try being upset when you're listening to 3 Little Birds. It's not possible. Regardless, if you want to see me at my most aggressive and least patient, cut me off in traffic.

Liam. Don't get me wrong. Liam is probably my greatest source of joy on this temporal plane. He literally amazes me every single day. But, Lordy, does he piss me off sometimes. Like the time he went on a streak of peeing on the floor every. single. time. I changed his diaper. Not daddy. Not Nana or Memere. Just me. Or when he tortures the poor, elderly cats despite the several admonishments not to. Or when he just will not go to sleep even though Mommy has made it very evident that she CAN. NOT. TAKE IT. ANY MORE, and work is in less than an hour. I love the kid, but nothing quite brings on the rage like a cranky baby.

Addison. This is a tough one, because he rarely ever actually does anything wrong. But after a day of being needed and needed and needed, to then be needed by him all over again just makes my little carrot top explode. This is probably my least proud, most hated, most shameful moment of the day, when I have not even the gumption in me to offer my own husband the affection I know he wants and needs. And it makes me absolutely furious because aren't I supposed to be the cloth-diapering, baby-wearing, full-time-working super momma who's everything to everyone? What happened to the endless reservoir of energy I'm supposed to have?

I snap, and snarl, and say things I regret. But I'm learning that it's I who need to change. For me, it means submitting to the Lordship of Jesus and my Maker, which, according to my Bible, basically means letting God help me to stop being a jerk, so that I can help represent Him down here. Maybe for you it means therapy, or friends, or yoga, or meditation. Whatever it is, demons only survive in the dark. Anyone who drops out because you've shone the light on yours, probably needs help finding his own light, and the courage (or desperation -- I'm not so sure they're not often the same thing) to shine it. I think we lead by example. So, here's my light, for better or worse.

So freaking sick. Wondering what else can go wrong.

First, it was the incredibly painful cyst. Then my wisdom teeth surgery failing and needing repair. Now THAT'S infected, and I'm back on antibiotics that, despite my not being allergic, are making my entire torso break out in a rash.

Then this morning, woke up at 2AM with The Trifecta, fever, chills, and body aches, and had to drive myself to medical, occasionally pulling over to throw up on the side of the road. I'm losing weight from not being able to eat real food ever since my wisdom teeth surgery.

What else, God? I know I prayed for brokenness, but this wasn't what I had in mind.

I'm taking suggestions for Verse of the Week; anyone have any good ones?

There's a little child drowning in a pond
And you would have me throw a blanket on
The surface of the water
Even though she was your daughter
To watch just how helplessly she dies
For the sake of how it looks
'Cause it's like you read in books
It's a symbol of the way you see this life

And if a Savior came upon a tray of gold
You'd insist that he had already been sold
Even though you knew he hadn't
You're afraid to trade the bad in
For a good that you don't know
Like a certain generation
In a proud and headstrong nation
Who expects her god to dance whenever she plays the fife

And if you want to talk in terms of the survival of the fittest
Take a look at the soul's auction house, and whose the highest bid is
You understand the fear of man, but you forgot about the fear of God
And to the bloody ransom
That makes an ugly soul turn handsome
You give a condescending nod

There's a sense of desperation in your touch
And you say out loud you hate it very much
But you're addicted to your sadness
'Cause it creates a touch of madness
The kind you like inside your veins

Oh, why are you so hardened?
You know you could be pardoned
I guess you just will not let go of the reigns

And the lexicon of death is all you know
You feel suffocated in the falling snow
'Cause you missed the beauty there
In the quiet, holy air
And start looking for a desert you could know
Your eyes too closed to see
The secret ministry
Of the frost upon the window of your heart

Oh, why are you so hardened?
You know you could be pardoned
And then you would not feel so all alone

You're not alone

(Don Chafer, '95)