Semantics (Part 1)

I don't know when or if there will be a "part 2," though I have a feeling there will be.

I just can't bring myself to say that I'm "pro-life."  It's not that I in any way agree with abortion.  I don't.  In fact, I can't think of a single instance in which I could personally justify terminating the life of an unborn child unless the mother's life is in immediate danger, and even then I'm not okay with it, I just believe that it might be only slightly less of a tragedy if one of two deaths could be prevented.*

The problem lies not with the belief, nor the term itself.  My problem is that "Are you pro-life or pro-choice?" trivializes an enormously complicated issue down to a single-sentence answer.  For one thing, this question, regardless of who's asking it, is always a trick question, whether or not they intended it to be so.  "Pro-life" has all sorts of nasty connotations attached to it: you're anti-woman, you're a religious zealot, or worse, you're not actually pro-life.  Yes, I've heard the argument made that pro-lifers aren't actually pro-life; they're simply against abortion.  And the sad fact is, there is a tiny but far-too-loud minority who truly is all of those things, and they create an ugly cultural association with those of us who believe that all life is sacred and worth protecting.

Which leads me to my second point.

Creating a "culture of life" goes far deeper than the pro-life/pro-choice argument.  It goes deeper than legislation and bureaucracy.  Criminalizing abortion is like damming a flood after it's already destroyed the town.  We can't start with trying to convince a teenage girl to protect the new life holding court in her belly.  We need to go further back than that, to teaching our young daughters that their bodies are worth more than the first cute guy who's willing to buy them a drink.  We need to start setting the bar a little higher for moral standards for men and women.  We need mothers and sisters to set an example of Godly femininity, and we need fathers and brothers to demonstrate how women should be treated.  We don't need more grotesque pictures of aborted babies -- we need learned medical practitioners to tell the beautiful truth about what really happens during and after conception.

And what we really need (you'll notice I made this a separate point) is Christians willing to show Grace.  We need to stop standing outside abortion clinics, screaming hateful obscenities and waving morbid signs.  We need to stop labeling, stop browbeating, stop guilt-tripping, and especially stop condemning.  However tempted we might be to look down on these women, they are still our sisters and we must still pray for their salvation.** Look at it this way: when was the last time you saw an abortion protester offering to adopt one of those unwanted babies?  When was the last time any of us was willing to sit down with one of these women, hear their story, make them feel like they matter too?  Convince them with proper Christian love and prayer that their baby was not a burden but hope for the future?

Just saying, I think we could stand to re-think our strategy here.

For the record, I think "pro-humanity" has a nice ring to it.

*This does not come close to describing how not-okay I am with abortion, even in this scenario.  I don't know how common it is for pregnancy to threaten a woman's life, and I don't think I'm in a position to argue.  And I most certainly do not want to get into a debate about whose life is more important when that is the choice to be made.  That's a dangerous place to start making generalizations.


**I've said this before, I know.  But I think it bears repeating.  And repeating, and repeating, and repeating ad infinitum.

Hoo Boy!

Erm... pardon me while I brush some of this dust off...

It's been a long time, I know.  And boy, do I have a story to tell.  Here goes:

My request got to the very last step in the process... and got denied.  Yep, that's just how it goes sometimes.  My immediate higher-ups, including the Commanding Officer, tried to fight for it, but the Very Importants in their fancy offices decided that it was a no-go.  I could be angry about it if I wanted, I guess.  I could be angry at the Navy, angry at God, angry at anyone... but what good would it do me?  If I can't change the situation, then I can learn how to gracefully (and Grace-fully) deal with disappointment.  This is no one's fault, and with the right state of mind I will come out stronger.  I did, however, get an interesting offer at work, which leads me to a bit of a conundrum.  I now have two options:

1. I can spend the last three years of my contract in Augusta.  My financial situation being what it is, I still can't afford overnight daycare, so I'll probably still have to send the not-so-Little Lion Man up to Grandma and Grandpa's house every three months while I work the obligatory night shift.  I'll also see my husband for about 4 days every month.  The upside of this is that I won't ever deploy.
2. I can move to Baltimore in April of 2012 and spend a year learning a new language.  That's a year that I'll get to spend with my husband and the babe, with all weekends and most holidays off.  After that year is up, I'll spend the next THREE years deployed to North Africa for 3/4 of the year.  The upside of this is that I'll make a metric face-ton of money that can be saved up to give us a considerable financial cushion once I get out and get to do the mom thing.

So you see that I'm in a bit of a pickle -- three years in Georgia alone with the babe, or three years seasick?  I've already made my decision... sort of... so any prayers sent this way would be immensely appreciated.

I've also been seriously evaluating and re-evaluating (and re-evaluating, and so on and so forth) my faith -- in a good way! -- but that's a whole post in and of itself.  Which I promise will come sooner than two months from now.

God bless!

-- Birdie

Night Owl

During a meeting at work yesterday I found out that I'll be switching to the night shift a week after I get back from leave.  At first I was thrilled -- working the night shift means I don't have to get up early in the morning, I'll have more time to walk the dog (less chance of her going potty on the floor!), and I'll get to spend more time with the Little Lion Man.

...except... What am I supposed to do with him during the day, while I'm asleep?  I can't just leave him in his playpen unsupervised; that's not safe and besides, he won't stay quiet for more than an hour or two.  And I can't to send him to daycare for 20 hours a day; it's an extra $1000 a month that I don't have, and I would basically be visiting him at the babysitter's house while she kept him for almost 4 days straight.

I talked with my supervisor about it.  She was "sympathetic."

"You know, I'm a single mom too, and I make it work.  I had to have my mom move down here, and it stinks, but you do what you have to do.  You can't just blow off your responsibilities at work."

I am increasingly aware of the fact that as long as I am in the military, my family will always have to be my secondary priority.  There's no getting around this.  They have every legal right to expect me to dump my kid off with a stranger at a moment's notice so I can come to work.

In the end my mom offered to come down here to help out for a while.  She'll be here until the end of the month, at which point (hopefully) my co-location request will be approved and I'll move up to where my husband is stationed.  Unfortunately, there's no guarantee of that, and my mom can't stay here forever, so I had to make a painful decision: if the request hasn't been approved by the end of this month, Little Lion Man will have to go live with Grandma and Grandpa for a while.  In Wisconsin.  On the other side of the country.  It feels like being kicked in the chest by a large hoofed animal, but I know that all things considering it's the healthiest situation for him to be in.

In all likelihood I'll hear back pretty soon about the request and this will be a non-issue.  But until then, the only thing I can do is pray hard and do what I can not to worry about it.

Lost at Sea

I went to language school with Matt Bergman, and we were stationed together here in Georgia.  He was assigned to the USS Boxer in Aden Harbor, Yemen when he fell overboard.  After three days they had to give up the search and his parents were notified of his death.  He was only 21.

I didn't think this would be as painful as it is.  I knew Matt only in passing, but he was still a shipmate.  This is the third one we've lost in two years and regardless of the circumstances there's always going to be the thought eating at the back of your mind that you could have done something to protect him.  You should have done something to protect him.  He was one of ours.

Fair winds and following seas, shipmate.

Ushpizin -- The Visitors

I'm still working on my big honkin' blog testimonial, so in the meantime I have a movie recommendation for you.  The film is called Ushpizin, and it changed my life -- it played a part in my re-evaluation of faith and eventual return to God.

Ushpizin (the word is Aramaic for 'visitors') is, in a word, about faith.  But it's a lot more than that.  It's about love, family, friendship and redemption.  It was directed by Shuli Rand, who also plays the lead role alongside his wife Michal.  The movie takes place in Jerusalem, just before the holy week of Sukkot (you can learn more about it here).  Moshe Belanga, a Hassidic yeshiva student, and his wife Mali are praying desperately for a miracle -- they don't have the money to buy the goods necessary to celebrate Sukkot, much less pay their rent.  Their prayers are answered in the form of a generous financial gift and two mysterious visitors from Moshe's not-so-holy past.

I seriously cannot recommend this movie enough.  As it was filmed according to Halacha (laws within orthodox Judaism) I think it would be perfectly appropriate for all members of the family to watch.  The movie is in Hebrew with smatterings of Yiddish, but as long as you don't mind subtitles that shouldn't impede your viewing enjoyment.

Good Eats #3: Chili

I am working on a legit blog post, I promise.  It's just that it's kinda long, and kinda sensitive, and I'm not sure yet if I want to post it or write something happy instead.  So in the in-between time, here's another (sort of) homemade recipe.  I didn't add a picture because, let's face it, chili tastes a lot better than it looks.

Birdie's Durn-Tootin'-Good Chili

1 pound lean ground beef (97/3 if possible, but 96/4 works)
1/2-1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can corn
1 can diced green chilies (or jalapenos, if you're feeling brave)
1 can black beans
1 can seasoned chili beans

1. Brown the beef in a big pot.  Add salt & pepper.  The more health-conscious might drain the delicious, meaty beef juice, but I like to leave it in.
2. Stir in diced onions and cook until they're translucent.
3. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well.  (Note: be sure to rinse the goop off the black beans first. If you've cooked with black beans before, you know what I'm talking about.)
4. Season to taste*, cover, and simmer on low heat for at least 1 hour, stirring occasionally.
5. Enjoy!

*You can be pretty creative here.  I like to use a combination of yellow curry, cinnamon, smoked paprika and a healthy dose of hot sauce.

This is one of my go-to recipes because it's delicious, easy, and freezes beautifully.  It's also incredibly versatile.  Here's a few variations I've come up with:

• Cheesy macaroni & chili
• Chili-egg schmuffin (this is just chili & a scrambled egg on an open-faced English muffin.  You could just as easily use toast or a bagel; I just like saying 'schmuffin'.)
• Chili casserole - put some chili in a baking dish and top with biscuit or corn bread batter.  Bake according to the package directions, or until it's golden-brown on top.
• Frito pie - this is more of a once-in-a-while treat, but boy is it indulgent!  Crunch tortilla chips at the bottom of a baking dish, add chili and top with lots of cheese.  Bake until the cheese gets a little brown on top.

Bon apetit!

Good Eats #2: Mango Caprese Salad

This is a refreshing update on the classic Ensalata Caprese -- sliced mozzarella and tomatoes dressed with olive oil and herbs.  I recommend enjoying this with a loaf of crusty Italian or French bread and a small glass of chilled white wine.  (For those who don't imbibe alcohol, lemonade or a low-sugar fruit juice would also go nicely.)


Ingredients:
1 mango (peeled, stoned and sliced)
1 handful basil and/or mint leaves
1 fresh mozzarella, sliced
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

Directions:
1. Arrange salad and dress with balsamic vinaigrette.

A Day of Randoms: Why Skirts are Awesome

1. Twirling in pants just doesn't have the same effect.
2. My husband's face inexplicably brightens when I walk into the room.
3. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible to get a wedgie.
4. Built-in air conditioning.
5. Have you ever stepped on a jeans hem in bare feet?
6. Skirt + sitting Indian-style = automatic baby sling!
7. Why yes, I am perfectly prepared to go out for a nice dinner immediately after cleaning the house!
8. Elastic waists are far more forgiving on that little bit of post-baby poodge.
9. I can sit down without looking like a plumber.
10. They're just so darn pretty!

Praying for Casey Anthony

I admit that I didn't follow this story as closely as many others did.  It was on the news a lot while I was at work, but to be honest I tried to avoid watching most of it.  I have my own opinions on publicly airing trials, but that's not the subject of this entry.  To be honest, it's not really about the trial at all.  My entry today is about the way we have acted in response to the death of Caylee Anthony and the subsequent trial and acquittal of her mother.

I watched the last few minutes of the trial, as the jury's verdict was read.  My first knee-jerk reaction was, I think, the same as a majority of people.  What?!  That can't be right!  She's obviously guilty!  For a few minutes I was so upset that I actually felt ill.  That poor little girl will never get justice now.  A murderer has just walked free.  Eventually, though, I realized two uncomfortable things:


One, we don't actually know that she did it.  Yes, we heard witness testimonies and heard about the evidence.  Yes, we know about Ms. Anthony's history and lifestyle.  Yes, there are an overwhelming number of indications that Casey Anthony is guilty.  I myself believe she is guilty.  But the fact remains that only three people in the world actually know the full truth: Caylee Anthony, Casey Anthony, and God.

Two, if Casey Anthony really did commit this act, then as Christians it is not our job to condemn her.  I have seen and heard far too many comments from people taking solace - or worse, joy and satisfaction - in the fact that she will have to answer to God for what she did.  As Christians, it is our job to fervently pray for her.  Pray that she will change her ways and turn to God for guidance.  Pray that she will repent for her sins and beg Christ for forgiveness.

It is comforting to believe that we are morally superior to Casey Anthony.  Our own sins couldn't possibly be as grievous as hers.  "Sure, I helped spread that tiny rumor about so-and-so the other day, but at least I didn't kill someone!"  Unfortunately for us, it doesn't work that way.  On the final Day of Judgment, when we have to stand in front of God and answer for every last one of our sins, we will be no different from Casey Anthony.  Sin is sin is sin - which, conversely, means that Casey Anthony is not beyond redemption.  If at this very moment she cried out, "Forgive me, Father!" her soul would be washed clean.  And that is what we must pray for.

-- Birdie

Would You Go to Church in Cairo?

While I was in Monterey I met a young Egyptian man (I'll call him "Yusef") who, I discovered, was the son of one of the Arabic teachers at my language school.  It turns out Yusef and his family are Coptic Christians who came to America to escape religious persecution.

I've heard it said that Christianity is the most persecuted religion in the world.  For a long time I scoffed at that statement, because my basis for comparison is how American Christians are treated.  Religious persecution in America consists of protests, verbal confrontation, and anti-Biblical legislation.  I do not deny that these are all horrible things, but they seem a little trivial compared to the fact that Christians in, say, Egypt or Iraq are literally under constant threat of death for going to church.  Case in point: Yusef's sister, "Maryam," bears a scar on her head from having a brick thrown at her.  Her offense?  Walking to church with a Bible in her hand.

It's easy to say that we would worship Christ under any circumstances.  It makes us feel strong and devoted and holy.  I proudly claim that, yes, I would put my life in danger to preach the Gospel.  But would I, really?  Would I still proclaim my devotion to the Messiah with a gun pointed at my head -- or worse, my child?

Today I ask that we all take a few moments to evaluate our relationship with Jesus.  He gave his life for us; would we return the favor?

Where I've Been

For the last week I've been helping "Brian" (name changed) get settled in to the command here in Georgia.  This basically means that we run all over base in 98-degree weather (in uniform, no less!) trying to find people to get him checked in where he needs to be.  We've ended up with a lot of in-between time standing around and waiting to talk to people, so I've gotten to know quite a bit about him.  I've learned that he's a bright, funny kid who has had to grow up entirely too fast.  A twenty-year-old should not have to go to court to see his daughter, but that's the situation he's in right now.  I am saddened that he has to go through this, but even more I am bewildered and disgusted that anyone, much less a mother, would use a child as leverage to get what they want.  I will never understand that.

I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries by talking about him here, but I wanted to ask everyone to please pray for him - not just that his pain would be healed, but that he would feel God healing him.

All of this reminds me that as much as I complain about my situation, I am still unbelievably blessed.

Stream of Consciousness.

This is just a series of semi-disjointed thoughts while I muster up the energy to clean the kitchen.  I swear, every time I turn my back a pile of stinky dishes materializes out of a rift in the time-space continuum.

God doesn't "send" us to Hell.  We're already on our way there.  Because of Original Sin we are cut off from God -- we cut ourselves off from God -- and are damned the moment we are capable of rational decision-making.  God wants desperately to save us, but because of free will we have to choose to be saved.

If you think about it, life begins before conception.  A single cell is still a living thing.  Human life begins when that egg is fertilized.  It's kind of mind-blowing to think that God was already in the process of creating the next generation when we were born.

Submitting to my husband doesn't mean nodding stupidly and saying "yes dear" to everything he says.  In this context it means trusting that he will lead and care for our family's well-being.  Leadership does not equal a cushy position of absolute power.  In fact, it is just the opposite -- being the leader of a family means that a husband puts the needs of his family above his own because he is responsible for their very survival.  A wife might have to answer to her husband, but he has to answer to God.

It seems to me that 'liberation' has had the unintended consequence of objectifying women.  If I go out in a dress that barely covers my whats-her-business, get slobbering drunk, and flirt shamelessly with a complete stranger, I'm liberated.  If I stay home and clean house in the pretty skirt and blouse that my husband made a point of appreciating, I'm oppressed.  Um... what?

OK.  I'm really gonna get the kitchen clean tonight.  Really... hey look, a butterfly!


This might take a while.

<3 Birdie

Personal Security

I recently found out about this at work; on a pretty regular basis we get emails about how important it is for us to maintain our personal security and privacy.  This, however, is something that doesn't just affect government workers, so I think it's important that I pass it on to as many people as I can.

Spokeo is basically a search engine for people.  You can type in anyone's name, email address or phone number, and get an extensive list of some very personal information.  I looked up my own name and the search results included the name of my old apartment complex, the city I live in, my zip code, and specific information about my family.  None of this was information that I gave them, and that terrifies me.

I did find out in their "help" section that you can remove your profile from search results.  I think it's extremely important that everyone does this.

How do I remove my information from Spokeo’s search results?

While our search results show only publicly-accessible information gathered from hundreds of public sources, such as phone books, marketing surveys, business sites and more, we understand that you are concerned about the information shown our search results, and allow all users to opt out. You can do so by clicking on the Privacy link located at the bottom of the page which will take you here: http://www.spokeo.com/privacy

Removing Search Results

1. Locate the search result you want removed. For name search results, click on the listing you want removed.
2. Copy the URL from your browser’s address bar.
3. Go to http://www.spokeo.com/privacy
4. Paste the URL.
5. Provide your email address (required to complete the verification process).
6. Type in the Captcha Code exactly as you see it.
7. Check your Inbox for the confirmation email, and click on the link to complete removal process.

If you are encountering difficulties, please ensure that you read all of the instructions. Make sure the URL, Captcha Code and email address verification are correctly entered. Please check your SPAM folder for a message titled Spokeo Directory Removal Confirmation, in case it does not appear in your inbox.

Priorities

Something amazing happened today, and I just had to share it.

I was talking with a girl in my office, and she happened to ask how things were at home with Little Lion Man.  I intended to smile politely and say, "oh, things are going well."  But somehow that suddenly turned into several minutes of pouring out my sorrows to a woman who doesn't even know my first name.  She was nice enough about it, and offered some resources like the Chaplain and emotional health services on base, but finished it up with the usual:

"Well, I hate to say it, but you knew what you were getting yourself into."

I bit my tongue hard enough that I thought I'd draw blood and tried not to cry.  After a few moments of awkward silence, she left.  I figured that, aside from making a fool of myself, that was the end of the conversation.

About half an hour later, my Chief - the woman in charge of our group of sailors - came into our office.  She sat down and said someone had told her I was having a hard time, and would I like to talk.  To summarize:

"Well Chief, I come home from work, walk my dog, pick my son up from the babysitter, spend a few hours with him, put him to bed, and cry myself to sleep because I just can't take this anymore."  I started explaining that I understood I made a commitment and should have known what I was getting myself into, but she raised her hand and said...

"No.  Your number-one priority needs to be taking care of that sweet little boy, and we're going to make that happen."

It doesn't end there, though.  Later I got a call from my leading Petty Officer, and he said that if I just made a few minor adjustments to my request paperwork, he would make sure it got to the Executive Officer today.


Which means the C.O. could sign off on it this week.


Which means this nightmare might finally be over.


"Praise Jesus" is such an inadequate phrase.

Not Forgotten

I love to dance.  I adore dancing.  Unfortunately I am also about as lithe and graceful as a platypus.  My earthly body was designed for many wonderful things -- prancing a cross a dance floor is apparently not one of them.

But man, when I get to Heaven, me and Jesus are gonna boogie.

And this is what we're gonna dance to.

Just listen to this song and try to stay sitting down.  Just try. =^D

--Birdie

Sundays With Charlie

Since God came into my life I've been wanting desperately to go to church -- hear an inspired sermon, find a church family, and be able to spend some dedicated quality time with our Holy Father and Savior.  Unfortunately, I work on Sundays.  And it really stinks.

A friend of mine at work graciously invited me to a Saturday night service at her church, but... well, I shouldn't really say anything bad about her church, since it seems to be doing good things in her life, but it's a little on the warm-and-fuzzy spiritual-but-not-religious side for my liking.  Yes, it's wonderful to hear about how much God loves us, but I don't think you can truly preach salvation without forcing people to face some uncomfortable realities about themselves.  And while I think that one can go so far into religiosity as to forget the spiritual core, sometimes it seems like "spiritual but not religious" equates with "I believe in God as long as it doesn't require any serious moral fortitude."

So far my solution has been to look up audio sermons online.  Which kinda worked out for the best, because I ended up finding out about this guy:

He. Is. Amazing.  I can think of few times in my recent past - if any - in which I felt so edified, so uplifted, so convicted as I do while listening to the sermons of the incomparable Charles Haddon Spurgeon.

You can listen to recitations of some of his sermons here.  They're just readings of his original work, so it's not quite the same as the real thing, but the wonderful message is still there.  I hope you'll enjoy them as much as I have.

Canon in D... With a Twist

I cannot stop listening to this.

Permanent Ink

I have five tattoos.  Well, four and a half, technically; I never finished the last one.  I thought they were ever-so-clever when I got them.  I adored tattoos, and to be honest I still have a hard time seeing one and not thinking "oh man that is so awesome I want more ink!"

I am aware of what the Bible says about tattooing or scarification: "Do not cut your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves.  I am the LORD."  (Leviticus 19:27).  I immediately see two reasons why this is perfectly understandable:

1. God himself lovingly sculpted our bodies.  Do we really have a right to intentionally alter them?  In addition, regardless of any health precautions, tattooing always carries a risk of infection and diseases like Hepatitis B.
2. Tattoo parlors are, to be blunt, not the sort of venues a Christian should be in.  The culture surrounding body modification is generally... unseemly.  In fact, tattooing in America originally came from U.S. sailors returning from Japan, where tattoos were worn by members of the Yakuza -- a crime syndicate that would make Al Capone's mafia look like a bunch of teddy bears.

I think it's easy to see why God would take issue with this practice.  We are marring the bodies he created for us, and we are (at least visually) associating ourselves with an unsavory subculture.  I think, just as with any other personal decision, a Christian needs to prayerfully evaluate why he or she is choosing to do something so worldly while claiming to desire to be Christ-like in life.

Now here is my dilemma: what should I do with them?  I'm afraid that professional tattoo removal is out of the question, at least in the near future.  Laser tattoo removal is prohibitively expensive -- in my case, it would likely cost thousands of dollars -- and excruciatingly painful.  I've found an over-the-counter system which is essentially a microdermabrasion kit with the addition of some mysterious lotions, but it's still fairly expensive and I haven't found any indication that it's particularly effective.

Then again, perhaps I'd like to keep them around for a while.  Yes, these markings on my skin come from a period in my life in which, to be honest, I didn't like myself very much.  But now I can see them not as an anchor to my old ways but as a reminder that while ink might be permanent, my past doesn't have to be.  And praise Jesus for that.

Good Eats #1: Israeli Salad

I learned how to make this while I was in school learning Hebrew.  It's deceptively simple, so quality ingredients really shine in this.

Basic Ingredients:

• Tomato, seeds removed
• Cucumber, wax and seeds removed
• Olive oil
• Lemon juice (better if it's fresh-squeezed) 
• Salt (buy a sea salt grinder - it's only slightly more expensive than a regular salt shaker and the added texture and taste is incomparable)

I like to add:

• Fresh cilantro
• Green onion
• Za'atar (a delicious Middle Eastern spice blend; see below for instructions on how to make it)
• Aleppo pepper (ground chili pepper works too, but Aleppo has a nice smoky taste)

Instructions:

Chop all veggies and herbs into bite size pieces. I prefer to dice everything as finely as possible, but this is more a matter of personal taste.  Put all ingredients in the prettiest bowl you own; drizzle olive oil and lemon juice, and season with coarsely-ground salt.  Serve with flatbread (like matzo, pita or naan), sour cream or plain yogurt, and hummus.

Oh, and here's how to make za'atar:

• 1/4 cup sumac (paprika is a close approximation)
• 2 tbsp thyme
• 1 tbsp toasted sesame seeds
• 2 tbsp marjoram
• 2 tbsp oregano
• 1 tbsp coarse salt (you could leave this out if you're going for a low-sodium diet)

This can be stored in an airtight bag for 3-6 months.

Bon apetit!

--Birdie

Gratitude. Or, "I just washed these sheets!"

I am thankful that:

1. The monstrous gray spider that crawled across my husband's hand as he was folding laundry was just a wolf spider, and thus only gave him a major case of the hibbly-jibblies and not a nasty bite.
2. Maybelline decided to potty on the hard linoleum floor instead of my new carpet.
3. I can have clean, hot water whenever I want it and in any quantity.  Seriously, I am amazed daily by this.*
4. My mom secretly stocked my pantry with antiseptic packages of skim milk because she knows how difficult it is for me to get to the commissary, and that the gas station by my house doesn't carry skim milk.
5. Despite the fact that Little Lion Man regularly spits up all over every upholstered surface in my house, he is still fat and healthy and delightfully sweet-tempered.
6. The gas station by my house carries Bluebell ice cream.
7. While I don't like this new blog background, I *might* have gotten my comments section fixed.  You should check for me. ::hint, hint::

--Birdie

*Everybody should be able to have this.  Let's make that happen.

Conscientious Objector

The idea popped into my head today.  Though it's uncommon, the Navy can approve a request for discharge based on a sincere change in one's beliefs.  Correct me if I'm wrong here, but considering the fact that my service in the military goes against everything I believe, I think it applies my situation.  I talked with my husband, and he agreed that it would be a good idea to talk with the Chaplain to see what options might be available to me.  If it went through and got approved, I could be discharged several years earlier than my original contract dictates and I would finally be able to prioritize raising my son and taking care of my family and household.

BUT...
There's a 'but.'  There's always a 'but.'

I am also acutely aware that I did make a commitment.  I promised to defend my country and fulfill the duties assigned to me.  As a Christian, how can I go back on a promise just because it makes my life more difficult? Is it possible that this might be the place where God wants me to be?

My husband and I agreed that the only sensible thing to do in this situation, since it is something that seriously affects our lives and our family, is to spend a day fasting and praying for guidance.  Any advice is greatly appreciated and will be prayerfully considered, but I think this is a decision that ultimately needs to be left up to God.

Please pray for us.

--Birdie

Too Many Questions

I think too much.  It drives my husband crazy.

This is not to say that my husband is not an intelligent man (he is) but I suppose it might be a little jarring when in the middle of watching VeggieTales, I suddenly dive headfirst into a deep discussion about theological semantics.   Sometimes I wonder if I've got a few Berean genes in me somewhere -- I have an almost insatiable appetite for asking questions, and the ones that can be answered by simply opening a Bible just don't cut it for me.

Here's a perfect example:
Train of Thought #1: The Bible says that a woman is to submit to her husband.  My assumption is that this means she is to submit to his leadership and decision-making.  I guess this makes sense; if a husband is going out to work hard and bring home a livelihood for his family, then his wife should be a helpmeet to keep the household running smoothly and raise the next generation properly.  Seems pretty simple.

Train of Thought #2: But wait -- why, exactly, is a man biologically ordained to be in a position of leadership?  Why can't it be the other way around?  Why can't a husband stay home with the kids and housework while his wife goes out and has a career?  Even if a man is working only in order to provide for his family, he still has more options than his wife.  He, at least, can choose a vocation he enjoys.  That doesn't seem fair.


My dear husband, through no fault of his own, is of little help.  He's just as new to this as I am, and trying to assume a traditional Godly-husband-type role while figuring out his own convictions gets a little overwhelming for him.  Even more difficult is the fact that I have few other sources of discourse and advice -- my own mother (whom I adore) is a staunch feminist, and finding a tradition-adhering Bible-believing woman in my line of work is like finding a needle in a haystack.

You got advice?  I'll take it.

Hope Floats

According to Google Maps, it's about six hundred miles from Augusta, Georgia to Baltimore, Maryland.  That's a ten hour drive -- longer if you stop to go to the bathroom.

For the last year, this is what my marriage has had to contend with.

Since we both work in a relatively specialized job in the Navy, there are only a handful of places we can go -- and unfortunately, our jobs are just different enough that we ended up stuck where we are now.  So every weekend, my amazingly devoted husband spends half of his free time driving ten hours to my house in Georgia and the other half helping me take care of our infant son.  We get to see each other, total, about a week out of every month.  Needless to say that it puts a tremendous strain on our marriage (and for that matter, our sanity).  Sure, we can request to get stationed together, but that requires a lot of time and jumping through a lot of hoops, and in the end the needs of our family still have to be compatible with the needs of the Navy.

But I don't intend for this to turn into a rant about the problems I have with the military.  In fact, it's just the opposite.

A few days ago I was contacted at work by a sailor in Fort Meade (where my husband works).  She was interested in getting stationed in Fort Gordon (where I work), but there weren't any jobs currently open.  So she did a little investigating and found out that the Navy has the option of a duty swap -- simply put, it's an option for two equally-qualified sailors to trade jobs without all the fuss of creating new orders.  She had spoken with my husband a while back and heard of our situation, so might I be interested in looking into the possibility of trading duty stations with her?

It took a great deal of self-control (read: strenuous physical exertion) to maintain some semblance of military bearing and not start babbling like a giddy fool over the phone.

Yes, I managed calmly after several deep breaths, I would be very, very, VERY interested.

There were, of course, a few caveats: the request has to be submitted to our respective Commanding Officers for approval, and if they do get approved, it's not quite like a regular Permanent Change of Station in which time and expenses are reimbursed -- all traveling and moving expenses have to come out of our own pockets, and we will have to take personal leave to get to our new duty stations.

But all of that seems like only a minor inconvenience compared to the possibility that we could be living together as a family by the end of this year.

Please, please, please pray for us.

--Birdie

Prelude

I've never been very good at introductions, so I'll just jump in feet-first.

I'm 24 years old, turning 25 this year.  I grew up in Pittsburgh, moved to Milwaukee when I was 21, spent a year and a half in Monterey, California, and have lived in Augusta, Georgia since April of last year.  Aside from the Chernobyl-sized bugs*, I could happily spend the rest of my life here.  At the end of this month I will celebrate my first anniversary of being married to a devoted, kind, intelligent, and side-splittingly funny man who I met in California (even though he's from North Dakota).  I own and adore a little ginger pound-mutt named Maybelline (so named for the kohl around her lovely black eyes) and I am a mother to the most stunningly beautiful blue-eyed, flaxen-haired two-month-old boy in the known universe -- not that I'm biased or anything.  My dreams for the future include homeschooling and keeping a beautiful home for my family... which is something I never in a million years thought I would say.

See, the birth of my Little Lion Man somehow coincided with everything I had ever believed being turned completely upside down.  This obstinate feminist (who certainly didn't need a patriarchal God harshing her mellow, thankyouverymuch) suddenly developed a hardcore infatuation with the Holy Spirit -- and I went from socialist to conservative, God-mocking to God-fearing, feminist to feminine-ist.

Unfortunately, this all happened at a rather inconvenient time -- despite my desires to be a homemaker and child-raiser, I am also currently stuck in the middle of a six-year contract with the United States Navy and stationed about 550 miles away from my husband for the foreseeable future.  Needless to say that this has been a source of many tears, much prayer, and several bottles of extra-strength Tums.  But the great joyful irony is that the God who came in and turned my life upside-down is the same God who will help me put it right-side-up again.

And maybe, with His help, I'll keep this old ship afloat yet.

I hope you'll stick around.

-- Birdie

*Seriously.  I have never seen bugs this big in my life.  Last night there was a cockroach the size of a silver dollar in my living room -- I sprayed it with Raid and I'm pretty sure it turned around and laughed at me.