Visit Orthodox Church – down the rabbit hole 0
I started attending a local Orthodox Christian mission station in September 2011, but my journey to orthodoxy started long before then. I suppose the threads of it go back through my entire life, but I can only share the ones with you that I know about now.
When my friend Andrea suggested I visit the local orthodox church, I resisted. She might have thought that I was resisting because I didn’t believe the teachings were true. That’s not why.
I was resisting because I was scared to death of ritual and formality. I was resisting because I had a feeling that the teachings were true, even the ones I didn’t know about yet, and even though I didn’t understand some of the ones I had heard about. I was resisting because I was raised to believe that Mary shouldn’t get all that attention, and that praying to anyone other than Jesus would result in damnation, or at the very least, recrimination.
I was resisting because I didn’t want to drag three young children to church by myself (I wasn’t sure my husband would want to go, and I wasn’t going to “volunteer” him to go). I was resisting because I had a lot on my plate, and I really didn’t need anything new to do or to learn, and I had a feeling that orthodoxy was a whole new world, and that if I started to look into it, I would fall down the rabbit hole and never return. Now, I have a feeling that I was right.
Had a dream about church 0
The other night, I had my first dream about becoming orthodox. Everyone around me was objecting in one way or another to the idea of me becoming an Orthodox Christian. Some were insisting that it would be bad for the kids. It amazed me in the dream, that anyone I know would try to control my religious beliefs, and I was even more appalled at the tactics they were using. The waking me laughs at it, but my dreaming self was fighting it. Now, in the waking world, I don’t think anyone in my life objects to it (and it wouldn’t deter me if they did). I would basically ignore anyone who objects to our entry into the Orthodox community.
In Spanish class in high school, the teacher said that if we started dreaming in Spanish – or about it – we would know that we were really getting into it, and learning. Dreaming about something is a sign that it’s seeping into our subconscious, that our subconscious has gotten the message that it’s important to us. Since then, I have used that (starting to dream about something that’s going on in my life) as a signpost. So I guess I can say that the Orthodox Church is important to me and I’m really getting into it, and learning.
Yesterday, a new friend who has been an Orthodox Christian for a while now said, “It kind of takes over your life, doesn’t it?” Indeed it does, and I think that’s the way it should be. Christianity isn’t like sticking Jesus onto the edge of our life somewhere and saying, “We’re Christians now.” It changes the entire nature of our lives, which is as it should be.
We continue to have different people in the neighborhood invite us to their churches, and we keep telling them we’re attending Christ The King Mission Station in Omaha. They say okay, but the next time we see them, they invite us again, just like the previous conversations never happened. It’s good that they’re reaching out and inviting people. The way the conversations repeat like that, though – it’s almost like an episode of The Twilight Zone.
Ritual abuse made me afraid of liturgical worship 2
I was a victim of satanic ritual abuse. I can’t say who did it, partly because I was very young – just a toddler /preschooler – and the memories are fuzzy. The ritual abuse stopped when I was about three years old, and with the way they did things, it made it hard to know who was who, anyway.
I also can’t say because my family of origin has threatened to sue me if I publish anything about any of my abuse. I can say what I remember, because that’s not saying that they did anything – it’s just what I remember happening to me.
The members of the satanic cult where I lived were trying to fracture my mind and turn me into a multiple personality. My guess is they wanted to be able to send me on missions later, but I don’t know for sure. It damaged me in plenty of ways, but for whatever reason, it didn’t work as they’d hoped. I didn’t develop those distinct separate personalities. When I was three, my mother left her friends when her family moved. That abuse ended and was replaced by other kinds of abuse.
The details of the abuse aren’t important here – the point is that I was a victim of ritual abuse when I was a tiny thing, and it, along with the other kinds of abuse I suffered later, affected me in many, many ways. Decades later, I’m still finding out ways it has affected me.
Effects of abuse
The most notable effect of the ritual abuse was that I was afraid of any kind of ritual, and anything formal or traditional. Robes, candlesticks, gold, fancy knives, tablecloths… People in that kind of robe, especially men in that kind of robe, have always triggered panic in me. I also had a love-hate relationship with candles for a long time.
My whole life, I couldn’t stand to be around a table that had a tablecloth, candles, silver set, anything like that – much less eat at it. Traditions of any kind scared me. Anything that seemed formal was frightening. When I asked friends why their families did things a certain way, and they answered, “It’s tradition,” I would start to hyperventilate. As you can see, that was all a huge barrier to my journey to orthodoxy.
When I was young, a child who lived near my mother and stepfather invited me to attend mass with her when I was visiting my mother and stepfather’s house (I lived with my grandmother, who was trying to shield me from physical and sexual abuse). Amazingly enough, my mother said I could go.
I tensed up as soon as I entered the church, because I saw candelabras and gold chalices as I walked in through the back of the church. My entire body went numb, but I made myself keep walking. I got as far as the pews. I panicked in the aisle and ran. When my mother asked me why I was back so soon, the only thing I could say was, “I was scared. It was awful and I was so scared.” She lightly said, “Yeah, those people scare me, too.” But the knowing smile and the look on her face said she knew it was an effect from the ritual abuse. I wouldn’t set foot into a formal church for more than two decades after that.
When I was young, I got into the occult, too, but it didn’t scare me, because it wasn’t what my mom had been involved with (I thought it was completely different), and because I was the one in control of all of the practices (so I thought, anyway). I had learned that not being the one in control meant harm and panic, and I came to the conclusion that the inverse must also be true – that being the one in control meant being safe. You and I can laugh at that now, because we know it’s not true – life just isn’t that simple, but little kids don’t know things like that. I was two or three years old when I decided that must be true about life.
Liturgical service
I attended a liturgical service once in college. I wasn’t able to pay attention to the liturgy at all, because my heart was racing the whole time. I knew the church was full of great people – most of them already my friends – and I probably could have learned a lot there, but I couldn’t stand it. I left as soon as I politely could, and I never went back.
As an adult, I attended churches that were informal, and sweated through any services that had a sacrament like a baptism or communion. I was glad that at most of the churches I attended, communion was just a monthly or quarterly event. I could avoid it part of the time. It wasn’t the communion itself, it was the waiting, the anticipation. That’s what made me tense.
Even my wedding had to be informal, and even then, I was hyperventilating the whole time. I couldn’t wait to get out of that dress and into informal clothes.
I would explain it all by saying that I was down-to-earth, raised to be informal, taught that formality was nothing but snobbery, things like that. All of those things were true, but as you know now, there was more to it than that. People usually took it at face value, though.
They didn’t say that they thought there was more to it than that, that maybe I had been a victim of ritual abuse when I was a baby, or that I was petrified of authority figures because I was abused my whole life. Everyone knew I was abused in several ways because it was obvious, but it wasn’t until college that someone knew the signs of ritual abuse and indicated that they suspected I had been a victim of it.
Orthodox Church: come and see.
A couple of years ago, when a friend suggested I attend an Orthodox church and she said it’s liturgical worship, I said something like, “No way. I can’t stand liturgical services.” I finally had to tell her the reason why. I believed that anything formal or ritualistic (that I was not controlling) was simply out of the question.
She kept repeating the suggestion here and there over time, and I finally agreed to go. I thought I’d need ten sessions of therapy, a couple of Valium and a sprinkle of miracle just to get through a liturgical service, but I agreed to go as many times as I could get there during the month of September.
Not only did I not need those things to get through my first service at Christ the King Orthodox Church - not only did I not feel panicky – but I was actually calm, and serene, and comfortable there from the moment I walked in the door. I felt the Spirit and it soothed me. I only felt the normal level of anticipation that comes with doing something new.
I was curious about what they were doing, and wondered about the reason why they did it, but was not tense. I felt okay even though I was not at all in control of what was happening. I felt safe. The ritual and formality did not frighten me a bit. That alone told me that it was God’s doing. That alone.
Spiritual warfare 4
Just after it was really starting to look like Orthodoxy was for us, one Saturday was particularly nasty. I guess I would say it held a spiritual attack for us. I don’t like saying that something is a spiritual attack, because I think too many people use that as an excuse for too many things. But sometimes, it’s possible that it is.
C.S. Lewis wrote about spiritual warfare in his book, The Screwtape Letters, and in it, not all of the work of the demons involved full-on, easily-identifiable attacks. Most of them were subtle and sneaky, because they didn’t want to be discovered lest their work be in vain. Pitting family members against each other was one tactic, and that’s exactly what was going on at my house that day.
The kids fought a TON amongst themselves, and they also argued with me. It got to be so much, and so intense, that around dinnertime, I finally said, “What the heck is going on here?” and that’s when it occurred to me: an attack of Satan might be what’s going on here.
Once it was addressed, it was like the air went out of the balloon – the tensions just deflated. It was somewhat gradual at first, but as we were on our way to Vespers service, and singing praise songs, the atmosphere changed quickly. Up until those last few minutes before our arrival, though, whew… man, oh, man, was it awful.
Since then, we’ve been doing Vespers every night, and have added Matins in the mornings, and it has helped a lot. Whenever any of us start noticing the tensions rising, we simply start singing praise songs or parts of the liturgy, regardless of what time of day it is. Worshiping together brings us together and dispels any negativity. It’s better than a family counseling session. 
Journey into the world of Orthodox Christianity 2
Orthodox Christian worship is different from what I’ve experienced before. I’m not sure what is going on inside the human brain during it – I would love to see a functional MRI taken during the liturgical worship service. It is different. It feels different. I’m sure what’s going on in the brain is different, too. Now, wouldn’t THAT be a grant-worthy research project? Studying the differences in brains that are worshiping in Protestant style – or even in different Protestant styles, and in Orthodox liturgical style. Would the images show us things? I just got an image of the shape of a cross showing up right there in the middle of the brain.
Difference between Protestant and Orthodox experience
One of the days that the adults stood around talking after lunch at church while the children played, we were discussing the difference between the Protestant religious experience and experiencing Orthodoxy. I explained that for me, coming to orthodoxy after experience in Protestantism is like eating a bowl of plain rice every day of your life, and then seeing and entering into and enjoying a huge feast of different foods – the flavor explosion is amazing.
It’s also like spending your time painting in shades of weak gray watercolor – you can see the shapes, there is *something* there, and you can get the picture, for the most part. That’s Protestant worship – you see the shapes, you get most of the picture. But when you come into Orthodoxy, it’s like being handed a box of bright oil pastels or paints. Looking at a watercolor painting of heaven that was done in gray… versus looking at one that was done in brilliant oil colors. Is there some truth in Protestantism? Sure. Do they – any of them, or all of them collectively – have the whole picture? After experiencing just a taste of Orthodoxy, I say no.
Orthodox Christian worship
God showed Moses what worship in heaven looks like, when He gave him the Ten Commandments and the Mosaic laws. Moses brought that to the people of Israel, and it continued through the generations to Jesus, who continued it with the early church. The early church was the Orthodox Church, who continued the religious traditions to this day. So, worshiping in this way is like standing in heaven, worshiping God with the saints and the apostles and the angels. It’s no wonder this is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
I will take that over contemporary praise songs on an overhead projector any day. I will also take the attitude I find in the Orthodox Church – one of humility and acceptance of people just as they are, one of teaching by quiet example – over the one we found in every Protestant church we ever attended, which was one of friendliness to begin with, but then soon after, judging (poorly, I might add) and shunning anyone who didn’t fit their mold. I rarely EVER saw anyone try to address issues (whether it be sin or just differences of opinion) in a loving way. It was usually with anger, if at all. Most of the time, it was just an instant outcasting, with no explanation, no chance to improve, no chance to heal the relationship. That is no way to be. That’s not what my Bible says.
The Orthodox Christian Church seems to fit what my Bible says we should be. This is a community. Not a pseudocommunity, but true community like M. Scott Peck talks about in his book, The Different Drum. This is doing it the right way, which is what the word “orthodox” means. Yes, I do believe I’m home.
Character development in kids – they do hear us. 3
About a week or so ago, a neighborhood mom came to the door and said that my son had hit her daughter with his toy sword. She expected him to be punished for it. I thanked her for letting me know. Whether or not he hit her with the sword, I don’t know. It’s quite likely he did, and I know that more than one adult in his life has talked to him about violent play, especially with girls. He knew better. After I shut the front door, I prayed for wisdom, because I didn’t want to have difficulties with anyone, much less neighbors.
I told him to take the toy to the woman, and offer it to her as a peace offering, let her do whatever she wants with it. He obeyed, knowing that he might not ever see that toy sword again. I was proud of him for doing that. It also melted that woman’s anger, and she told him that he could come back and get it some other day, that she would keep it for him until then.
Today, on the way home from the store, he saw that that family was home, and asked if he could go get his sword back now. I said sure, and he came back holding out a dollar bill. My husband and I asked him about it, and he explained that one of the boys had broken it, and the mother gave my son that dollar to replace it.
The right thing
I let him know that he had the choice to keep that money, or to take it back to her. He gave me a bit of a quizzical look and I explained that he didn’t have to keep that money if he didn’t think it was the right thing to do. Just because someone offers or gives us money, that doesn’t mean it’s always right to accept it. There are times when the right thing to do is to turn down the offer.
We asked him to think about that toy sword, and what happened to the other parts of the armor set… and he immediately understood what we were getting at – he said they broke the first day, so of course that sword couldn’t be expected to last very long, either. It would have broken by now no matter which child had been playing with it. So I told him that he had the choice about what to do: keep the money, that he did have the right to keep, or return it and explain why.
We proceeded to unload the car and he wandered around the yard, holding that dollar bill in his hands and looking at it. This was going to be a moment of truth – would he do the “okay” thing and keep the money, or would he do the generous thing and give it back to her?
When I took a load of groceries into the house, I could see him through a window, and saw that he was walking swiftly, making his way to that woman’s house, to return the dollar bill. My heart soared at the sight. When he got home, he had this lopsided grin on his face, and I was walking on air.
Proud of him
My husband and I both told him how proud of him we were. After we were finished unloading the car, I took my son’s head in my hands and looked him square in the face and told him that he had had the right to keep that money, and most people probably would have kept it without a second thought, but just because we have the right to do something, that doesn’t always mean that doing it is the right thing to do. I told him that he made the choice to be reasonable, and to be forgiving and generous, and that I was so proud of him for making that choice.
He said he was glad he did it, too. It felt good to tell her, “It’s okay.” I told him that either choice would have been acceptable, but I think he made the best choice. I also said that that’s our goal as his parents: that he will make the right choice, every single time.
Sometimes as parents, we wonder if our kids are hearing a word we say – if all those lessons we teach, and stories we tell are being heard. We try hard to set a good example,but we wonder if anything we do or say makes any difference in our kids’ lives. Are we getting through to them?
Then, there are moments like this afternoon, when it is clear that yes, they are hearing us; yes, it is getting through to them. We are making a difference, and moments like that make it all worthwhile.
Catechumen 0
Sunday we officially became catechumens.It didn’t take very long, but it was long enough that our youngest child, a preschooler, tried to climb the altar rail, and wiggled from one side of the family to the other and back before I could safely corral him in the midst of us. It is hard for a little guy to stand still while his whole family is catechized and he gets to go last each step of the way.
Some people don’t understand why there is a process involved in joining the Orthodox Church. It’s another example of a difference between protestant and orthodox ways of doing things. Most of them don’t understand the need for a formal act – a ceremony – to make it official, much less understand that chrismation is a sacrament, so a person can’t just join the church overnight. Of those that say, okay, I can see why they make it official, they still don’t understand why it takes so long to become a member.
“Why can’t you just walk in and join? That’s the way everyone else does it.” Well, not exactly, but even if all of the other churches did that, it doesn’t mean it’s the right way to do things. I’m not a full member yet, and frankly, I’m not ready to be one. I’m not saying I don’t want to be one, I’m saying I don’t know enough yet. I’m not spiritually mature enough yet to be a full member of the Orthodox Church. The church is wise to make sure people know what they’re doing, and to make sure they’re ready before allowing them to be full members.
So for about the next year, we’re catechumens.
A bad idea? Not if it’s from God. 0
Does God tell us to do things that are “bad?” Things that end up being painful, costing us money, or time, or effort, where our efforts don’t appear to do any good?
If we’re talking about “bad” by the world’s standards, then yes. Yes, I believe that God does often call us to do things that might seem like a bad idea, if you’re looking at it the way the world does. If it’s going to be a struggle, or if it’s not going to “work,” if we’re not going to see good results, and right away, too, then people will say it’s a bad idea. But is it?
I once read a story of an old man who would plant tree seeds, and sometimes his grandchildren would go with him. One day they were talking about it as he planted seeds, and the children realized that their grandfather was planting trees that he would not live to see. He would never enjoy their shade, or anything else they might produce. They asked him why he went to the trouble to plant trees that would never do him any good, and he basically told them that he was okay with the fact that he would never see those trees grow to maturity, because he knew that future generations would benefit from those trees.
Worth it
Are we willing to plant the seeds of trees that we might not ever see grow and produce fruit? Are we willing to put in the effort, even though it will not do us any good? Even if the homeless person does not want a fresh start, even if the immature middle-aged person refuses to grow up and be responsible, even if the rambunctious child we know moves away and doesn’t seem to have listened to a thing we’ve said…
Maybe it will “sink in” one day and they’ll grow. Maybe it will happen, maybe not. I know that there have been many times that I’ve learned something, and looked back to realize that other people had tried to get me to learn that very thing before. Not just one person saying some thing one time, but other people, at different times. How many times did I have to hear it before I listened? If my estranged mother ever comes across this blog, she will agree with me on this: I can be stubborn, and not only that, but dense about some things. Sometimes it takes repeated thwackings upside the head to get through to me (figuratively speaking).
People who teach, coach, counsel, or otherwise work with children, teenagers, and adults know that it often takes repeated lessons to learn something. It’s a long-term investment, and most of the pros know it. There are the “aha” moments that make it all worthwhile, but there are also many times that we don’t see results right away, or at all.
If God says to do this, but we will never get to see it “work,” are we okay with that? Will we still obey? What about when it’s painful for us to do? Not just lacking in gratification for us, but downright painful?
Romans 8:28 tells us that all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose. Sometimes, in the moment, that is hard for us to see. How could it be good, when it hurts so much?
Spiritual growth
Surgery can be good, but it’s usually painful. Dental work is the same way. No one wants to go through the pain of an operation, but we do it when it’s needed, because we believe that in the end, when all is said and done, we will be better off for having undergone the procedure. Does it hurt? Yes. Is it bad? No, it’s actually good for us.
So why is it that we’re so unwilling to undergo spiritual/psychological “surgeries?” Why is it when something is painful, we pull back from it? Most people around us will encourage us to put a stop to anything that is painful, automatically assuming that if it hurts, it is a bad idea.
Growing is not easy. Sometimes obeying God means people will steal from us, take advantage of us, disrespect us, and mistreat us. It’s not a bad thing, though, if the Holy Spirit tells us to do it. There will be good things that come from it. There will be growth. So go to the doctor when you’re sick, and let them treat you, even if the treatment is painful. It’s the only way to get the infection out and get well. Just as we’d follow the instructions of the medical doctor for a physical problem, so we should also follow the instructions of our spiritual “doctors” for a problem relating to our spiritual or psychological maturity.
I don’t mean to imply that I’ve arrived where this is concerned (or where anything is concerned). I’m still learning to hold still while God cuts out the bad parts, and still learning to trust His hands as He stretches me in ways that don’t feel good at all. May we all be willing to undergo the treatment that will help us in the long run, even when it hurts.
Spiritual healing process 0
I’m undergoing some spiritual surgery right now, trying to excise one habit of thought with which I was raised – the belief that children should not take much of their mother’s time, that the mother should shoo them away and do whatever it is that she wants to do, and the children should be independent enough to fend for themselves.
In the case of my mother, it was to read romance novels, smoke cigarettes, drink alcohol, watch TV and never leave the couch. In my case, it’s to work at home to earn enough money to have a decent standard of living, to put a bit of a cushion between us and homelessness.
Vastly different motives behind it, yes. She wanted to play and do things that (in the opinion of many) weren’t worth doing, and that were harmful; I want to work and do things that (in the opinion of many) are worth doing, and that are helpful. I don’t take that way of thinking to nearly the level my mother did, either, but in a sense, that doesn’t matter. If I’m not careful, my children still could get the same message that I did: that the item of the moment is more important than they are. When stated that way, of course I’d say that they are more important than any given work task. But my actions don’t always say that.
Selfish gene
Giving up the things I want to do is not easy. Many people would tell me I have every right to do what I want to do, and let the kids learn to be independent. It is painful to give up my life and my desires – especially because I can see results from my work efforts, but not always from the time I invest in the children. Most people would have me pull away from that, because it hurts.
I want to stay selfish. I want to enjoy what’s left of my life. Is that such a bad thing? Most would say no. They’d say I have every right to control my time and to enjoy my life. The first 90% of it has been awful – pure torture for part of it, in fact – so why shouldn’t I get to take a break and do what I want to do for a change? Isn’t that only fair, considering all I’ve been through in my life?
God’s way
Well, apparently that’s not the way God looks at it. So my choice is, do I obey – do I say, “Thy will be done” and submit, and eventually join Him in heaven, or does God say to me, “Thy will be done” and hand me over to the torment of hell?
Does it really come down to that? Ultimately, I think it does. Is that “fair?” Is it “right?” Not by human standards. But it’s His ballgame. He gets to make the rules. Do I like it that God gets to make the rules, or that He gets to decide what’s going to happen, and we just have to live with it? Sometimes I do, especially if I’m the one being vindicated, or if His rules keep those I love safe. Sometimes it’s okay, as long as I’m not the one on the business end of His shepherd’s staff. Sometimes, no.
Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes I am immature about it. Sometimes I stomp my foot like a child. Sometimes I beat my fists against God’s chest, scream and cry that it’s not fair and that I’m afraid He won’t give me what I need (most of the time that really means “what I want”). I know and admit these things. But I’m not backing away from Him, so at least there’s that.
What is orthodoxy?
God will keep working on me as long as I let Him. He won’t force himself on me. I have to participate in my spiritual healing. One way I do that is to consciously allow the Lord to shape me, to trust that He knows what He’s doing and will do the best thing for my spiritual growth. Another way is to stay in the Word and to continue doing Matins and Vespers daily, and let my heart be steeped in His truths. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, in other words, choosing to believe that He knows what He’s doing. From what I understand so far, this is orthodoxy: praxis – the practice of living it out day by day, learning as we go.
Sometimes I go both willingly and “kicking and screaming” at the same time. I imagine that God gets a chuckle out of that, patient and understanding (yet firm) parent that He is. I try to be obedient, after my spiritual hissy fit – and even during it. My hope is that some day soon, I’ll be past the need to throw the fit in the first place, and just obey immediately, with the right attitude from the very start. That would be a big step toward spiritual growth.
Changing perspective 0
Today I spent about eight hours redirecting the kids to get back on task, and they never really accomplished anything – just got in trouble over and over again for hours on end. Then after I got them to bed, I spent two hours making noticeable progress on a piece of work for a client. Which do you think felt more fulfilling? Which was a better use of my time? Depends on what “better” means, right?
If “better” means more effective, then the time and effort I put into the work I did for my client was better than the time and effort I put into my children, because it yielded visible results.
If “better” means more fulfilling to me, then the client work wins hands down. Experiencing success, with just a short time put in sure feels a lot better than beating your head against multiple brick walls for hours on end.
Ditto if “better” means it earns money or it has to potential to bring future business. If “better” means more important where eternity is concerned, though, well, I don’t think today did any good where that’s concerned, so I don’t know, but ordinarily I would say that the time spent training the children is more important where eternity is concerned.
I’m starting to come to believe that how the kids fare eternally outweighs having enough money (I know “enough” means different things to different people – I’m talking about my definition of “enough” and it may be different than yours). And as soon as I think “out loud” that the children’s eternal state ultimately is more important than whether or not we have enough, thoughts rise up in me, objecting loudly. These thoughts go something like this:
How could anything I do for my kids have any effect, anyway? Their personalities and thus their destinies are pretty much set in stone anyway, and even if they could be shaped, it would take an enormous amount of effort to produce even a slight change. Would it be worth it? How could the benefit of any given thing I could do for them outweigh the importance of our survival (truly: bringing about our comfort)?
Then there’s the thought that it doesn’t matter: whatever I sacrifice for them won’t do any good, it will just be wasted time and energy, and lost money and opportunity, so why not aim for something where I can be effective? Why be wasteful when I could be a good steward?
I know that you can see the absurdity in all of that; what I hope is that you can also see the reasoning in it. Similar to the “Lord, help my unbelief” prayer, I’ve been praying for the perspective shift I need to be able to want to spend the rest of my life pouring all of my time and resources into little trees that I will never see produce fruit. To do that, I need to be able to see into eternity, where there is no need or desire for anything that we need now. I’m too short-sighted and selfish for that.
The typical American feminist ideas influenced me as I was growing up, plus I had the added influence of the disdain that all of the women in my family had toward men – men were alcoholics and deadbeats who could only be depended upon to molest your children and cheat on you, never to provide for the family financially or by way of leadership. The women were the leaders in my clan. Add to that my mother’s hatred for her children. Much as I tried to counteract my mother’s influence, and much as I tried to accept a biblical role… I didn’t want to want to spend my life doting on my children or slaving away for them. I felt that I’d sooner die – that’s how strongly I felt about it. My mother spent no more than a few minutes each day doing anything for the family, and it was always begrudgingly, as far as I recall. I was willing to spend a few hours each day, but that was it. To be willing to sacrifice my whole day for that, for the rest of my life, joyfully? No way.
At first I didn’t want that perspective shift – that ability to see into eternity so I would want to pour myself into my family and home, and forget about having any kind of a life outside of them; I didn’t even want to want it. Now,I still don’t want it (most of the time), but I want to want it (most of the time). What is the next stage, and how long will it take before I get there?