There are 1,257 words beyond this point. This blog will take the average adult reader approximately 4.5 minutes to read. You might be able to consider this something of a part 2 to “Unwanted” (and other lies I believe).
I have had a serious case of writers’ block for about two months now. Generally, when this happens, it’s because there is something I need to write that I’m not writing. It is called writers’ block for a reason—there is literally an obstacle, a blockage, in the outward flow of words. A few nights ago, I was confronted with my obstacle.
I do not want to write this. But I also know I will not be able to continue if I don’t. This blog feels scattered to me—I am not sorry. I am still scattered.
It’s been a while since I’ve done this, but before I begin, I want to invite you to shut up. Read. Sit with me in this. I don’t want your platitudes or condolences or comforts, no matter now well-meaning they may be. Sit with me—in silence—observe how your own soul identifies with mine—receive this. Trust that the Holy Spirit is a sufficient comforter for me—and for you. Continue reading
There are about 1,160 words beyond this point. This blog will take the average adult about four minutes to read.
“You’d be a really pretty girl if you just lost a few pounds.”
I’ve heard this countless times in my life. It happened most when I was a cashier at a grocery store. It happens from time to time when I’m just being overweight in public view. It still happens—and I’ve lost more than a few pounds, but am still certainly overweight. I wrote about this in more detail in The way we talk about overweightness needs to change. Continue reading
There are 1511 words beyond this point. This blog will take the average adult reader about 5.5 minutes to read.
Valentine’s Day passed not too long ago. Some people like to celebrate it for the day of love it’s supposed to be. Some people make snarky remarks about S.A.D. (Singles Awareness Day) that drip with cynicism and bitterness. (Some of my unholy strengths include cynicism and bitterness, too.) Some people skip Valentine’s Day, and go straight to half-priced-candy day on February 15.
And then, in Christendom, some people celebrate “Purity Day”. It was hugely popular when I was at Liberty University. An army of young (single) Christians would get together and wear white shirts to symbolize their commitment to purity before marriage. By “purity” I’m fairly certain they meant “no involvement with another person’s genitals” before marriage—or for those who’d already been involved with another person’s genitals, “no more involvement with another person’s genitals”.
This blog will take the average adult reader five minutes to read.
I am thirty-one.
For the entirety of my thirty-one years I have been woman. For the entirety of my thirty-one years, I have been going to Christian churches. For the entirety of my thirty-one years, I have been single.
This specific blog post is geared toward single Christian women—whether you fit those descriptors or not, you’re welcome here—but I’m going to be writing under the auspice that my primary audience is women who are single and are Christian. Please forgive my Christianese, at times—and if you choose to keep reading, and want any explanations/translations, please let me know.
This blog will take the average adult reader approximately four minutes to read.
A friend recently pointed out to me that, in all aspects of life, I am a data collector. I know I do this consciously as part of my job—and I know I do it as a bit of a hobby. I never realized until very recently that I do it non-stop in my head in my personal life. It is an adequate way to describe how I process much of the world around me, though.
I collect data by observing behaviors (intentional and otherwise), language, and my environment—I sort it into data sets—and then I draw conclusions. I can trace this behavior back to when I was about five years old—I’m sure people that knew me as a wee tot can trace it back even farther. It is how I process information. All of life, for me, is data collection and analysis.