Apparently a great deal of my readers are avidly pro-life, which comes as no surprise to me.

So on my last post I received a lot of comments reading, simply put: Abortion is murder.

Let’s imagine that tomorrow Abortion becomes illegal. What, then, would be the penalty to the doctor who performs the abortion and the mother who requests one? Shall they be given a life sentence? A manslaughter charge of ten years? Negligent homicide (which hardly seems appropriate, as it’s not negligence), a misdemeanor charge? If it is truly murder, a mere fine seems insufficient.

What do you think?

I am stranded somewhere between being pro-choice and pro-life. This is a tenuous position to be in, but there I am.

I had two unplanned pregnancies that ended in the light of my life and the breath in my prayers being born. The first pregnancy showed my husband being laid off from his job a little bit in, us having to scramble to find somewhere to live and some way to support ourselves. I won’t go into extreme detail as this is not a personal blog, but suffice it to say that we were strapped for cash, living hand to mouth, and bad off. Very bad off. The second pregnancy we were still in a transitory position when it came to housing. The husband was again without consistent work. Things were still hand to mouth (and still are). So when I see a statistic that says that over 90% of women who had abortions ascribed failure to provide for a child/pay for a pregnancy as their primary reason to abort, I sympathize.

It is terrifying to bring a child into this world, even more so when one asks “where is my next meal coming from” and “how much are diapers again?” Now add into that the physical and emotional rigors of childbearing, instability in intimate relationships- and what do you have? A cocktail for disaster. Any time I am asked I will be frank about the physical symptoms of pregnancy, the strain it puts on the father of the child as well as the mother, the fact that labor and delivery while not the end of the world are not easy. There is an insurmountable psychological impact to pregnancy and childbirth that MUST be observed.

That is why any time I hear someone say, “why can’t the woman just put the baby up for adoption” I cringe. Not to mention that women who are not Caucasian will have a harder time getting parents for their child, and women who have done drugs or drank alcohol before they were aware they were pregnant will also have a harder time finding a family for their child. Ask a poor black woman with no intimate family to afford her who innocently drank alcohol a few times before realizing she was pregnant to just “have the baby and give it up.” Have it? With whom footing the bills? And to whom shall she give it? The overburdened foster system? What if the baby has permanent defects from the alcohol? She’s got no way to know.

When I found out I was pregnant with my son my first thought was, “dear God just undo this.” I was in no emotional or economic shape to give birth to and take care of a child. I had no way to know if we’d have insurance to pay for my care, and we were still in the process of paying off our uninsured delivery of our first child. Have another baby? In my state? With the state of jobs in our area? With no home to live in? With no money to buy healthy food to eat?

There was no way that I would abort. I knew from the second I suspected a pregnancy that I loved this child- but part of the reason I DIDN’T want my child was my love for him. I didn’t want him brought into the kind of life we were struggling through.

And that is why I am pro-choice. Because unless YOU, YOU YOURSELF are willing to take a woman’s child into your own home and raise it yourself, you’ve no right to make that decision for her. Is the unborn child a real life, imbued with soul and breath? That is another thing to be argued about. But consider embryos that implant into a woman’s fallopian tubes. Those are aborted without a second thought, because there is no hope of them being viable. If the woman carries them past the first trimester she will die of internal bleeding. What about the amount of miscarriages that happen? Were all of those sacred life? And if so, why would God allow a God-fearing couple who desperately wants that child to endure such pain?

These are questions we MUST ask ourselves if we enter into the abortion debate. But the greatest question of all we must ask is whom shall we love? The unborn, or the struggling mother? Whom must we embrace? The unreachable, or she who stands outside our door? Whom must we pray for in whispers and moans? Those who are with Father God, or those who must remain on this planet, within our reach?

Ask yourself that. And ask yourself if you were with her, at her side, holding her hand, wiping her tears, and she simply could not bear the thought of bringing her child into this world of pain and distress- would you still judge?

Or would you land with me, somewhere in the gray land between choice and life, choosing to embrace the life that we can see and touch and bear with.

Everyone ends up in arguments.  Every personal relationship has it’s moments of extreme tension.  How we confront them and the way in which we cope afterwards says a lot about who we are, our maturity, and our ability to maintain intimacy overtime.  So how to approach conflict?  Here are a few things I’ve learned in six years of marriage:

1. Tell the person who hurt you that you are hurt.  The assumption that offense is known and acknowledged is a dangerous one.  No matter how intimate the relationship, your spouse, family and friends are not mind readers.  If there is pain, allow it to be exposed.  Be frank.  That is when healing is possible.
2. Acknowledge wrongdoing. If you bring up thing (A) and your spouse brings up thing (B) that you did to hurt them, stop.  Breathe.  Apologize.  A true and heartfelt apology will open the door for your own hurts to be dealt with and healed.  What is more important, that you immediately achieve recognition of your own pain, or that intimacy can continue?  Be willing to be wrong, and you will find your spouse (or friends, or family) willing to admit their wrongs to you, as well.
3. Deal with the fact that you only control yourself. You can’t force humbleness, you can’t evoke change, you can’t create better intimacy by requesting it from others.  The only one you can birth those things in is yourself.  If the most important thing is the continued relationship, you will have to make sacrifices.  If the only thing that matters is your own perceived needs…  You may just go on needing, forever.
4. Always use a soft tone. You may be angry.  You may be red-in-the-face screaming angry.  You may be throwing the chairs up against the wall angry.  But if you approach the conflict that way, you immediately put everyone else on the defensive.  Use a soft tone and a gentle touch.  “Demonstrations” of anger don’t have to be loud and rude.  Softly saying, “I am angry.  I cannot deal with (this) or (that) and I need you to hear me.” will allow for the conversation to grow.
5. Use personal language- don’t say “you did this, you did that, you hurt me.”  Say, “I was hurt when this or that happened.”  “I had a bad reaction to your words.”  “You may not have meant to hurt me by saying this or that, but I was hurt.”  Do not immediately place blame.  Speak sincerely about yourself and your feelings and needs, and allow an opportunity for the offending party to take blame.
6. Don’t bring in a third party- don’t immediately bring other people into your personal problems.  It may be tempting to call your mother before broaching a subject with your spouse, but if you do and then say, “mom said this about what you did” expect the fight to continue.  If you must call someone else for emotional support, leave them out of the discussion.  Your problems with your spouse or family should remain between you and the people involved.
7. Learn how to calm yourself down.  The heat of anger can be dangerous.  Figure out what calms you down, be it breathing slowly or cleaning or fishing or yardwork or painting or handling your Wii (gaming system, for the uninitiated), and if you feel yourself losing control- go do that thing-  BUT-  never just walk out on a conversation.  Tell your spouse (or friend, or family) what you are doing.  Say, “I really want to have this conversation, but if we keep talking right now I will say things to hurt you that we will both regret and be unable to unsay.  Is it okay if I take a few hours to do (this) or (that) and we can talk after?”  If you want to sweeten the deal, you could even say, “here, take this twenty and go see a movie or get dinner while I calm down.”  That way you both feel taken care of, and the discussion can take place over calmer waters.

So, this weekend, have a happy relationship!

Labels make my head hurt, and thus I rarely use them on myself.  But I realize that it can at times be confusing for people reading my blog to get a clear read on who I am.  There are times where people state feeling confused by what appear to be contradictory views, or times when an assumption is made that I clearly am (A) when in truth I’m closer to (B).

So I will try to clear the waters.  Perhaps I’ll only muddle them.

In any case, I’ll try to be clear.

I am an Anabaptist Christian.  My parents were Mennonite, my grandparents a mixture of Mennonite and Amish and my family tree, tracing back, goes straight to the Anabaptist Reformation.  I am proud and jealous of my heritage and wouldn’t have anyone take it from me.  It does still apply to who I am- not just in doctrinal beliefs but in lifestyle.  While I as a person don’t dress the way conservative Mennonite women do, I still home cook meals, I stay at home with my kids, I keep a tidy house and my husband and I live very small and simply.  This is who I am.

I am politically Liberal, which may seem like a contradiction to the above.  Is it, really?  I don’t think so.  While I would caution Christians to live a lifestyle of holiness and righteousness (because of who I am religiously) I also believe that Freedom is the greatest gift of America, and I jealously guard that as well.  We are all afforded civil rights, and the government becoming overly involved in legislating personal behaviors is a dangerous and horrifying prospect.  I believe that women should be afforded choice, that gay people should be able to marry, and that industry should be regulated. Why do I believe these things?  Because while I may have a personal theology and morality that dictates my life and my choice, not everyone shares it, and those who don’t believe as I do should still be given autonomy so long as no one is hurt.  Laws are about protection and preservation- not morality.

I also believe that without the commons (those things that belong to everyone- police, fire departments, roads, security) society falls apart.  The taxes we pay are what make this great country possible.  I think that government has failed us, by and large, by not maintaining that which needs to be maintained and harboring false priorities.  Which is why I’m an independent voter- because neither party has been fully responsible or taken responsibility for their failings.  Both parties are guilty of back room politics and finger pointing and trying to shift blame, and neither can win my full affection.

So that is that.

No, I’m not talking about fantasy in a sci-fi/fantasy sense- I’m talking sex.

Is it wrong to fantasize?  Many women will admit to fantasies of being held, talked to, emotionally stimulated in some way.  They will admit that sometimes they dream about people they’ve met in passing.  Not necessarily always in a strictly sexual sense, sometimes it’s just about companionship.

But if we are Christian a question remains: is it sin?

Psychologically speaking fantasy is a “safe” way in which to engage in behaviors deemed “unsafe” in reality.  One knows one would pay a price for arguing with one’s mother, so one fantasizes.  One knows one isn’t ever going to date Edward Norton, so one fantasizes.  Fantasy can also be an exercise for certain things one is unsure of- and in this sense women have much more active fantasy lives then men.  Women tend to fantasize about the course of the day, how to interact with a boss, what to make for dinner.  Women tend to think about these things to a much greater extent than men.  It’s not a wonder we’re often seen as a “mystery” seeing as we spend such a large amount of time in our heads.  (And yes- I realize this is a gross generalization.  Some men operate this way and some women simply don’t.)

Yet, the question remains:  when it comes to sex, is it a sin?

Ask yourself a few questions:

1. Do you ever replace real interaction, necessary interaction, with fantasy? Are there times where you know you need to discuss something, and yet you don’t?  Where the anger/disatisfaction/desire you are feeling causes a rift in your relationship, and yet you continue to exorcise it with fantasy instead of interaction?
2. Do you find yourself unattracted to your mate and only stimulated by fantasy?  This is a major problem- and in this way fantasy can be as dangerous as pornography.
3. Does your fantasy life take you out of your daily life to the point that it’s an obstruction? You know the kids staring out of the window instead of listening in class?  Is this you in your job?  Your marriage?

Do you throw yourself into romance novels?  Soap operas?  Do you find yourself hurting and longing for something that you only achieve in fantasy?  While in small doses an argument can be made for the safeness and even health of fantasy, there’s a time when you need to embrace and appreciate reality.

Not to mention communication, communication, communication- perhaps if you tell your spouse that you fantasize about being spoken to in a certain way, held in a certain way, approached in a certain way, you’ll find that his eager to behave this way himself and fulfill you.

But- is it sin?  In Matthew 5:28 Jesus says, “But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”  Where is your heart?  Is it with your spouse, your life?  Or have you given it to something unattainable, something that is only in your head?

Luke 10: 38-42

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.  She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said.  But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

This passage is usually related in a single context.  That is, a call to stop being distracted by the things of house and home (or work) and take time to sit at Jesus’ feet.  It can be a confusing teaching, because Jesus isn’t really here with us and his feet aren’t right there- so what should be do?  Well, we are told, pay attention to teachings, read your Bible, fellowship with the believers instead of worrying about what to have for dinner.

As a woman I’ve always been irritated by this- especially when I was living in Mexico and the men would regularly nag their wives for being “Marthas” when they were trying to get the food out.  It felt to me like disrespect, because the women have their own way of fellowshipping and serving God and they did it by serving their men.

The truth is, Marthas- in one sense- are necessary.  We need people who think about things like what we’ll eat and if the table will be clean.  So what, exactly, was Martha’s problem?

Let’s take a closer look at what Jesus said.  “You worry about many things, but one thing is needed.”

Doesn’t it seem like he really is trying to help her?  He’s acknowledging the frustration and pain she’s feeling, he’s inviting her to join in the fellowship.  He’s not coarsely reprimanding her and saying that Mary is better, he’s simply saying that Mary chose something better by allowing herself to be ministered to.  Martha’s problem is the hardness of her heart.

Think about it more.  Martha invited Jesus and the disciples into her home.  She took upon herself the burden of meeting their needs.  She did not have to make that choice.  Why did she do it?  Did she want to hear the teachings, or did she want the status that (in that society) came from being a hostess?  Was she seeking some sort of fulfilment?  And if so, did she feel that her sister was somehow harming her by not helping her to put on the kind of show she wanted?

Perhaps Martha’s problem was selfishness, and that is why Jesus responded that Mary’s good choice would not be taken from her.  He wouldn’t allow Martha selfishness.

In any case, I don’t think that Martha’s problem was wanting everyone to have food.  No, Martha’s problem was somewhere in her heart.

How many women whose eyes will touch this post have benefitted, in some way, from Women’s Suffrage?  How many prize their right to vote, enjoy wearing blue jeans, are enamored of the fact that they can stay home with their babies or choose to continue careers or never have babies at all if they don’t want to?  How many feel stronger as a result of their rights?  Feel validated and taken care of by their country?

Every woman, I would hope.  Because the rights we all recieve as humans in a free society are one of God’s greatest gifts.  God gave us free will, and in America God’s gift of free will has been translated into free enterprise and civil rights.

Yet…  How many women reading this blog post also mourn the rigidity of marriage laws?  How many have a sister or a friend who loves another woman?  How many are women who themselves are in love with a person of the same gender?

My word of caution to all women who enjoy equity under the law is to not become complacent.  We, blessed as we are with our own rights, must not forsake the sisterhood.  Yes, there is a sisterhood.  There is shared knowledge and shared pain, there is shared desire and shared regret.  We are all one body as sisters under God and under the law.  We must stand together.  Even as Christians we must remember Christ’s call to love and not forsake the sisterhood of believers-

We are humanity.  We must muddle together through the dark of night and the quiet of unspoken bias.  Every woman who cherishes her rights under the law must turn to those who are not considered equal under laws elsewhere and those who are not considered equal here at home, and lift each other up.

I’ve decided to stop blogging as “Shush” on WordPress.

I’m also going to change this blog’s domain sometime in the next few days as well.

Just thought you all would like to know. 

I’m tired of attending church services on Sunday mornings.  This is something I’ve struggled with through my teen years and into my adult life.  The vast majority of sermons are a regurgitation of ideas I’ve already heard.  The bother of getting up and going and sitting and not doing all of the other things I’d rather do irritates me.  When I hear something that I flat out disagree with being preached from the pulpit I want to call out dissent.   I enjoy music and thus generally enjoy contemporary “worship” services, but there are several songs whose lyrics I can’t sing because I find them either disingenuous or based off of archaic principals that simply aren’t applicable today.

I often write little notes to my husband saying things like, “gag me buzzwords” or “again?  Really?  AGAIN?”

Which goes back to me banging an old drum.  Sunday mornings don’t aid in discipleship.  They are formatted for the ease of “new” believers and “seekers”.  They really hold little value for an older and committed member of the church.  The reason I go?  Because my friends do, my kids enjoy the children’s services, and it makes me feel like a part of a bigger whole.

I’m growing convinced that there needs to be a major change.  The community of believers needs to grow beyond Sunday services.  We need to minister to each other more fully.   We need to get out of the walls and into our larger communities, into the arts and entertainment and industry and life and involvement- beyond our own bubble of culture and out there.  In the real world.

The winds are changing for me.

I’m not sure what that means.

As some of you know, one of my other hobbies is writing fiction, mostly fantasy and sci-fi. Sometimes I write short treatments hoping to birth a larger work and they just end up filed away somewhere on my hard drive gathering dust. So now in an effort to force myself to take my own work more seriously, I’ll subject you guys to the other, odder, side of my creative bent. (note: This is MY work. Anyone steals it, expect my wrath. Borrowing with my permission can be negotiated. )

Mermaids.

Novella idea: Reverse of the common theme- a man falls madly in love with a mermaid and trades his legs in for fins.

Odd thought: How would mermaids reproduce? Would it be like seahorses? Or would they lay eggs like fish? Or would they be more like underwater mammals? In other words- just how human ARE they?

* * *

The first time he saw her was in the late evening. He was walking along the lava beds taking photographs when a flash in the sun caught his eye. There she was, head and shoulders out of the water, one pale hand brushing black-as-tar hair away from reddened cheeks. When she saw him she looked startled and immediately dropped out of sight.

This is a game, he thought, she’ll resurface in a little while, laughing, closer to me.

But she didn’t. He counted silently in his head, wondering how long she could hold her breath, and panic started to set in. Perhaps she’d been caught in the undertow. But how could he possibly swim out to her in time? More time was wasted counting his options.

Then she reappeared, farther out. Strangely large eyes peered at him, unblinking. Pink mouth pursed, pensive. Pale hand lifted out of the water and slowly every finger unclasped and clasped in turn. A slow wave.

Isaiah lifted his own hand and returned the gesture. He could see the confusion and fear in her eyes and it troubled him. “Hello?” He called out.

She winced, visibly, but returned his call with a timid “Aloha.” Her voice was far more musical than any other he had heard, deeper in tone and resonance. She blushed furiously and then was gone. This time she did not resurface, and oddly enough this time he did not panic. He saw a ship a little farther out, and some part of him assumed that was where she was going.

Another, deeper, part of him had registered the feathery gills on the side of her neck as she’d pulled back her hair, and the fact that her unblinking eyes had in fact blinked, with a third eyelid like a cat’s. This part of him accepted the fact that she simply disappeared with no haven in sight simply because it was used to accepting all of the irrational things that the rest of him didn’t want to deal with. This inner part of him was harmoniously tuned in to the inexplicable world living just beneath the skin of the one the Western world so empirically stated as the whole of existence. This inner Isaiah was about to permanently become the outer one, but he didn’t know it yet.

*And so ends the odd love story of Isaiah and Anala, as far as I’ve written. Part of me really likes it. A bigger part of me doesn’t want to engage in the necessary research to make Anala’s world more believable than Disney’s Ariel. Time will tell which part of me wins.