Entering the Next Chapter

Motherhood I am a white woman with three daughters.  What do I have to teach them?  I have to teach them to love God. I have to teach them to respect authority. I have to teach them to love themselves. I have to teach them to be kind. I have to teach them to work hard.  I am a white woman with three black daughters. What do I have to teach them?  I have to teach them to love God. I have to teach them to respect authority, because if they don't they can become victims. I have to teach them to love themselves, even when people judge them.  I have to teach them to be kind, even when someone makes ignorant remarks to them. I have to teach them to work hard, harder than others to get the same pay and respect. I also have to teach them how to not live in fear, even when so much injustice is happening to people who look like them.  I am...  I am heartbroken. Heart broken when I see the footage of people being treated so wrong by the...

Junior Year 2002-2003: Senora Boulanger’s very presence in the classroom demands attention. She is exuberant. Her energy and love for the Spanish language and culture intrigue me and make me wish I had that kind of passion for learning. She makes learning fun and exciting, but for some reason I can’t retain the information. The only thing she seems to love more than the language and culture is teaching. She is always willing to take her time to speak to her students about class or even their lives. It is my junior year that Senora Boulanger forever changes my life. Walking up to a teacher’s desk usually evokes fear and anxiety. As I step closer I feel as if the walls are closing in on me. But with senora Boulanger it is never like that. She has the room where we all go to during homeroom and talk to her. One time when I am speaking to her I mention that I can’t really read or comprehend. Finding the words is difficult because I don’t really understand why I am so stupid. A ...

As I lay in bed waiting to fall asleep, I play my favorite game on the phone. In all my efforts to pass the level I end up killing all of my lives. I have to decide whether to wait ten minutes to gain a new life or to turn off the phone and just go to bed. I know that there is no way I will be able to sleep if I don't beat the level for once and for all, so I decide to wait it out. I begin looking through the phone to find something that will keep me busy until I get a new life. I go and look at the beautiful pictures of my family. Pictures that truly grasp all the love my family brings me. Then something reaches into my chest, wraps it's fist around my heart, and stop it with a deep pain. I suddenly forget how to breathe and become light headed. The picture is of a naked woman's large breasts. My head is filled with so many thoughts that I am unable to collect them all. What the hell? Not again. I thought we were doing so well. What is wrong with me? Why does he hav...

Last night I cried myself to sleep. I allowed myself to feel defeated. I allowed myself to be defined by my inabilities instead of my abilities.  Flash back to earlier in the day....  The house is quieter than most days. Only the gentle patter of one child's footsteps could be heard. As Charlie played quietly I decided that it was the perfect time to work on school work. I cleaned off the table and stacked my books neatly in the upper left corner. My colored pens sat neatly on top of my purple spiral bound notebook. My computer set up on the classes website with a tab open to the e-textbook. I felt prepared and empowered to get work done.  I spent the next several hours reading the chapter and taking notes in different colors to help me understand the material better. General information written in blue ink, vocabulary words in purple ink, and notes from the teacher's video links in pink ink. When Charlie would run into the room to get attention, I pulled her up on ...

Before I tell you why I long to be a submissive wife, let me start with a little background about me and my view of submission. My view point has changed drastically over the years and I am sure that it will continue to be tweaked and changed until my last breaths. It is also something that I struggle with greatly day to day even hour to hour. A little about me... I am strong willed, very strong willed at times. Growing up I was even more so. As a child I remember my constant interest in fighting for justice and for whatever cause I picked up at that time. I remember my Papa teaching me about recycling and then I became obsessed with collecting information on it and telling everyone around me what they were doing wrong. If I thought a teacher was wrong I would try to form sit ins in my classroom to defend my rights. I took a couple years of auto mechanics class, just so I would never be in need of assistance from anyone (especially a man). If I liked a boy I would often declare it ...

With Earth Day coming up in just a little over a week, it got me thinking about recycling. Merriam-Webster defines recycle as, "to make something new from (something that has been used before)." God recycles.  God has taken something old, broken, and used, and turned it into something new... me.  I am a Recycled Christian.  When accepting Christ, the Son of God, we are made into a new creation. 2 Corinthians 5:17 "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!"  What wonderful news for us. We are no longer bound to our old destructive broken sinful selves. God has taken us and remolded us.  I often like to say that I am barely even a reflection of my old self. Yes, I still have the same bright red hair and the same smile but other than my physical appearance I am in no way the same person I was even ten years ago.  Ten years ago to this day I was a lost and immature girl. I lashed out and hurt my...

I don't fit in the box you place me in. For a long time I placed myself in the very same boxes and even in other boxes, but I have broken out of them. I don't fit in the box you place me in. I am not just a statistic or a generalized definition of any of my characteristics or quirks. I don't fit in the box you place me in. The boxes are beginning to feel to constrictive and sometimes they even cause me pain. I don't fit in the box you place me in. This last weekend I saw the boxes my husband gets placed into. His response made me so proud. When we were at the bank signing up for a joint savings account the woman helping us was very kind. She applauded our parenting and the good behavior of our three daughters, at the same time she was shocked that we were married. We have the same last name, are at the same address, have our three children with us, and had wedding rings on. She asked us our marriage status, which would be general protocol. Her completely shock...