Most of my spare time for the past two months has been spent in preparation for and promotion of a Kickstarter campaign for Alzheimer Chronicles: The Invisible Poets. At this point, it will take some serious Divine intervention for the project to successfully fund. In fact, by the time I finish writing this blog, the campaign will have ended. Perhaps I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Probably not. Anyhow, that’s part of the reason I’m only on chapter two of Rachel Evan’s book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood.
A few years ago, I packed all but the most basic kitchen supplies into Rubbermaid containers and cardboard boxes. In fact, my husband and I packed up all but the most basic EVERYTHING supplies and stopped fighting the fight to keep our first and only home. After twelve years of faithfully paying our mortgage, the housing market crashed, and along with it, my husband’s brand new mortgage title company. Since we started the business on a home equity loan, we were in double trouble. Shortly after that, I lost my job as administrative assistant at a church for doing what I’m doing right now – blogging. But that’s another blog for another day. My point is that as I read chapter two, entitled, “November: Domesticity,” it brought back memories of what it’s like to do the domestic thing.
We’ve been staying in my mother-in-law’s little guest house while I’m finishing school. The housing market has improved enough that, after two years of odd jobs and some intense job-hunting, Tim was able to find a job in his area of expertise. I actually have a kitchen now, but it’s only got three small cabinets, the breakfast bar serves as counter space, and there are two small utensil drawers. I’ve got 2 fry pans and 2 pots. I’d like to see Rachel Evans try her domestic experiment in my house! In January, my mother-in-law will be moving, and we are going to buy “the big house” from her. I’ll have a kitchen again! Yay!
My favorite line in this chapter is:
This line pretty much sums up the whole chapter for me.
A few paragraphs up, I said, November: Domesticity, brought back memories of what it’s like to do the domestic thing. But that’s not the only memories this chapter brought back. I also remember what it’s like to be told you’ll go to hell if you do ________, or if you don’t ________ (fill in the blanks with your choice of millions of different religiously unorthodox ideas).
Rediscovery can be such a wonderful or horrible experience, depending on what it is you’re rediscovering. When I open my boxes in late January or early February, and I begin unpacking my domesticity, it will be cause for celebration. Perhaps, I will prepare a Martha Stewart feast. When I open A Year of Biblical Womanhood, and I begin unpacking old religious concepts like the one below, it becomes cause for mourning. I mourn for my sisters who are stuck in a system that is STILL HAVING THESE KINDS OF CONVERSATIONS or worse, refusing to ever have them.
It’s easy to think, my God, what planet do they live on? Don’t they know that You are the Passionate God for Desperate Housewives? The apostle Paul wrote, “I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love which Christ Jesus our Lord shows us. We can’t be separated by death or life, by angels or rulers, by anything in the present or anything in the future, by forces or powers in the world above or in the world below, or by anything else in creation.” But somehow, the people who supposedly KNOW God more than anyone else seem to think that all hell will break loose if women wiggle their way out from under the patriarchal thumb.
It’s easy to forget that people still think, believe, and teach stupidity in little church-worlds that only allow people to think, believe, and teach said stupidity so that people like Rachel Evans have to endure a shit-storm of even more stupidity for daring to question stupidity.
If God calls you to be Mrs. Domestic Goddess, then bake and sew and clean and dote on that man, by all means. If God calls you to do something else, then do it with a clear conscience, no matter what the suits-with-news-anchormen-hairdos say. God’s heart is not made of paper and ink. He is Spirit, in us, teaching us. It’s time to start listening to God. Pack that religious junk back into the box and put it by the curb, because even GoodWill doesn’t want it. It’s just a bad memory. Time to move on, ladies.