Why We Need To Teach Girls To Be Brave

Why We Need To Teach Girls To Be Brave

We live in a world where girls are usually taught ones of two things: they’re “just” pretty, or they’re absolutely equal to men and should do the exact same things. The first was an unfortunate development of self-esteem movements, and the second is the ugly mission of feminism. I don’t agree with either.

Girls should be taught that they are beautiful. It’s important. God has created them to be beautiful and He finds joy in their recognition of His work. But let’s face this logically. Girls aren’t equal to men. We aren’t as strong, we aren’t built to do hard labor, and many of us find little, if any, joy in the work of a man. We’re made differently. Wonderfully, but differently.

But where does this leave us when it comes to bravery? Many girls are taught to be the damsel in distress, waiting for the man of their dreams to save them from the dragon. I don’t buy that. I’m not that kind of person. I also don’t buy into the fact that the girl needs to slay the dragon. There must be an in-between.

There is. God calls girls to His beauty, and also to His bravery. He calls them to be intercessors, prophets, healers, worship leaders, teachers of the Word, the list goes on. And His gifts are best manifested in us when we step into those callings in bravery. Continue Reading

“You Make Tortillas?!?!”

You Make Tortillas?!?!

Y’all, I’m white. And I’m not talking ethnicity. I mean, that’s true too. But down to my core, I’m white. As white as the day is long. I still say things like “fo rizzle” and “crack-a-lackin.” Nothing about me is on point, on fleek, or on anything else. I love Friends, I can’t jump, and I’ve competed in an ultimate frisbee competition. I am white.

So when I say things like, “Yeah, we had tacos for dinner last night. I made tortillas and…blah blah blah,” the response is always the same:

“YOU MAKE TORTILLAS?!?!”

Yes. I’m white. Yes. I make tortillas. Yes. They’re delicious. Continue Reading

Smoke Alarms and Store-Bought Pizza: Our Weekend

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Smoke Alarms and Store Bought Pizza: Our Weekend

As of the beginning of this writing, it is 10:30 AM on Monday morning and the laundry is completely finished. I am unstoppable. BRING IT ON, MONDAY!

Mondays are hard, aren’t they? Just waking up; it’s almost painful. It was for us this morning. Especially after I had a dream that my husband moved to Florida without me (RUDE). But my 24-year Monday survival rate is 100% so far, so I think I’m doing pretty good.

Let me tell you about our weekend. Friday night, we ate dinner, waited a couple of hours, then ran. (The Texas death heat forces us to run late in the evening, much to my dismay.) It was one of those runs where you literally want to die. We got home and decided to watch a movie (Bourne Legacy, so good!). All that to say, we ended up going to bed really late (we’re old souls that are in bed before 9:30 every night). So we’re laying there, and my husband had already fallen asleep. I was drifting off to sleep, when suddenly …

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!

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“Honey, Can You Fix My Jeans?”

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Y’all, I’m good at a lot of things: cooking, photography, eating tacos. I mean, I rock them. (Humility, maybe not so much.) One thing I’m not good at: SEWING.

My grandma, who is still an incredible seamstress, taught me a basic hand stitch when I was probably about seven years old. I thought I was going to revolutionize the world of sewing (I was a big dreamer). I don’t ever recall actually sewing anything, other than a few stitches here or there, but I thought I was awesome.

Fast forward 17 years, and here I am. Married. Wifing (it’s a thing). My husband was working with a friend of ours last week and came home with a nice rip in  his jeans. Not a big hole, just an L-shaped rip on the front of the thigh. But these are his work jeans, and he likes them, so …

“Honey, can you fix my jeans?” Continue Reading

Why I Chose Homemaking Over My Dream Job

As a child, I dreamed. As a teen, I planned. And as a young adult, I completed years of college, all to achieve my dream job. I became a teacher. I earned my Bachelor’s degree in elementary education, and then I went a step farther and earned my Master’s in Instructional Technology. It was exactly what I had always dreamed of, but after 2 years in the profession, I quit to become a homemaker. As crazy as it seems, it was the perfect decision. Let me explain to you why I chose homemaking over my dream job.

Why I Chose Homemaking Over My Dream Job

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