home again

By Everly Pleasant | Published: May 19, 2013

view from home
I love the beach. I look forward to our week there all year long. We just got back yesterday after what seemed like a genuine road trip. As much as I love Galveston Island, I love coming home almost as much. Galveston is a gritty little piece of land, but it holds many of my happy memories. The week was spent just as a vacation should be spent—reading, relaxing, talking, playing in the sand. Despite some weather-related set-backs, we had a lovely time. The week practically zoomed.

I was so elated to be home, however, that I snapped a few pictures of my room with my phone. I love the view from my room. Leafy and bright. I love my curtains and my balcony and the sound of our birds.

IMG_0284My favorite blanket. The little paperweight-bird that tells me home is where my story begins, my typewriter, my bookcase. All reasons I love being in my own room (not to mention it being my own and slightly more private than the room I shared in our beach house.) Mostly I just love being where I’m comfortable. I love being home.

“After all,” Anne had said to Marilla once, “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.” -Anne of Avonlea

I think often of that scene from the 1994 Little Women in which Marmee is braiding Jo’s hair while Jo clutches the bedpost and bemoans her own lack of direction. She says she loves home, but can’t stand to stay. I feel that way sometimes. In the story, Jo moves off to New York to become a tutor while she writes. This works out splendidly for her. She meets her husband, gets published, they kiss under the umbrella etc. etc.

Though I have long compared myself to the iconic character of Jo March and measured my own life by “where I am” in hers, I doubt I’d have such luck in moving to New York and becoming a tutor, but I am most definitely in that chapter now. The hair-braiding, bed-clinging, “what am I supposed to do with myself?” asks the whiny writer chapter. The important thing to remember, however, is that I am not Jo March. I’m Everly Pleasant (or someone claiming to have such a name…)

Home is my most comfortable place. It’s my favorite place to please myself. That doesn’t mean it’s the best place for me. I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’d like to have a place of my own. Sometimes I wish I was engaged. Then at least I’d know what my ticket out of this chapter would be. Yet here I am, at Eyrie Park for another year. I was thirteen when I moved here. I’ve seen it change and I’ve seen things stay the same for a long, long time. I still think of the trees we’ve cut down. The picnic tree, the tree I planted and other trees that have sentimental meanings to me. I sometimes think I could never, ever leave this place. Other times I know I must someday go.

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I can’t imagine ever being so happy as I was growing up in this place, and that scares me. Just like I can’t imagine loving a husband as much as I love my family. I worry that I’ll leave and be unhappy and lonely. I worry that I’ll never leave and stop being content. I worry that I already have. And then I go on a week-long trip and I’m dying to be back in this room…

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I wish this was the kind of post that had some conclusion and tweet-able lines and pinterest-worthy images. I wish that this was something that would go viral and change lives, but I’m not having a life-changing day. I’m having a sitting at home, nothing splendid, string of pearls kind of day. I love home, I always will, but I’ve made my home in nine or ten different houses and apartments. I’ve made my home in a family of five and a family of a however-many-of-us-there-are-now. Rented houses, 3rd-world apartments, Victorian mansions, ranch houses, an RV, we’ve done it all and wound up at Eyrie Park, a place I’ll always treasure. But I can’t store up my treasure at Eyrie Park and I can’t get stuck thinking that all my happiness comes from these walls. I’ve got to love where I am, but I also have to have open hands.

And that’s really all I’ve been trying to say. I’m glad to be home. I’m glad I left so I could return. I’m glad we got our week in Galveston (pictures later, maybe?) I’m glad God has my future in His hands, even when I’m blind and lame and prone to worry. He has been very, very good.

everly

Posted in contentment, dreaming, family, l. m. montgomery, making home, quiet life, time | Leave a comment

tutorial for life

By Everly Pleasant | Published: May 2, 2013

My parents were out of town for an old friend’s wedding and I was taking the day off from the things I usually deem “important” and focusing on what is probably always most important. Hanging out with my family, giving them my attention, making sure everyone is comfy and safe and happy. I decided to take the kids to a yard sale where they were selling lemonade and books and other interesting items and then we came home and ate lunch before heading to the park. We had such a good time at the park. Our completely unpredictable Texas weather (no, it is not always hot) was ideal for sitting on a rubbery bench and reading while Willin and Jubilee played on the jungle gym and roller bladed along the pathway.

The jungle gym was never my favorite piece of playground equipment. I was definitely more of swingset type of girl. I was never very strong or very fast, but I was both on the swingset. The jungle gym wasn’t very entertaining to me, unless we could pretend it was something else entirely, and when I see a jungle gym at a distance that’s just crawling with kids who have their tennis shoes in each other’s faces, making it look like a ball of ants, I feel a little claustrophobic.

IMG_0178Watching Willin and Jubilee play on the jungle gym by themselves, I realized why so many children enjoy them. Willin gave it a good shot, but soon tired of dangling aimlessly from his appendages and went back to rollerblading. Jubilee, however, played on that jungle gym. She hung from her feet, from one leg, from one hand. She jumped from one end to the other, climbed up the straight poles like a monkey and slid down like a fire chief. She did the monkey bars forward and backward, jumped onto the high hang bar and did pull-ups. Aha! I thought. The jungle gym would’ve been much more fun had I been built like Gabby Douglas, here. 

Three cheers for Willin, however, who, though he is like myself when it comes to jungle gyms (learned how to do the monkey bars just before getting too tall to hang from them) he is quite good at rollerblading, something I never even really attempted to learn. He rolled around and Jubilee dangled and I made them both wear their helmets the entire time. A little black girl asked me if I was their teacher. Birdie snapped photos and we headed home in time to make dinner.

As I mentioned a couple of rabbit trails ago, my parents were out of town this day, so I decided to try a new recipe that I didn’t think they would like. A recipe, however, that I was pretty sure my little snaggle-toothed minions would gobble up. Meatloaf.

I had bought the ingredients the day before, so I simply pulled up the recipe on my laptop and set to work. The recipe was fairly easy seeming, but there was one thing that troubled me. There was only one picture.

Now I know this is very upperclass, snobbish, modern whiny-baby of me, but I like pictures with my recipes. I mean, quality photography. I want to know, not only what this dish should look like when I’m done, but preferably what it should look like every step of the way. I don’t trust plain old words when it comes to cooking. If you expect me to try a recipe, you better show me what I’m trying to do. In color.

Meatloaf isn’t known for looking appealing, but raw meatloaf is even worse. After I mixed all the ingredients together, I snapped this picture. Perhaps IMG_0180I just impulsively wanted this recipe to have one in-process photo taken of it before it was eaten. Perhaps I wanted to remember that a delicious meal always starts off looking pretty awful. As I kneaded the cold meat and chopped the onions and mixed in the eggs and obsessively checked the measurements, I thought about how tutorial-driven I am.

I want a tutorial for everything. I don’t always follow the directions, but, in moments of panic, I want to be able to blame the author of the instructions for anything that goes wrong. When I checked the meatloaf and found that it was very runny, I commented on the blog post wherein I had found the recipe and asked her what I had done wrong??? I ended up draining it several times and cooking it extra and serving it to munchkins who never knew the difference. They didn’t know that I had never made meatloaf and didn’t know if I myself would like it. They didn’t know that I thought it looked kind of gross and had poured juice out of the pan just moments before. All they knew is that it was meat (yum, right?) and that I was the cook. They trusted me. They ate the meatloaf. They told me I was “the best.”

I thought the meatloaf was pretty good. I wouldn’t want it every day, but it was a fun change. I like making new things for the kids that’s not on our usual, less-meaty menu. Recently, my amazingly talented chef sister lent me a few of her cookbooks. One of them has no pictures. But I’ve put a lot of sticky bookmarks in it and I’m hoping to try some of those recipes soon. The sticky bookmarks are marks of trust. Maybe this author actually knows what he’s doing. Maybe I can make something and take my own pictures.

Maybe it’s good, not to know sometimes, you know? Maybe it’s best if we don’t know that, before I get to be “the best,” I’m going to have a bowl of runny meatloaf and a decision to make.

everly

p.s. if you’re even thinking about making meatloaf, you need to watch this important video first.

Posted in eating, faith, family, happenings, learning, making home, moving forward, patience, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

do they care?

By Everly Pleasant | Published: April 17, 2013

I’m reading through her Facebook posts, her blog posts, her tweets. I’m seeing all of the things we agree on, all of the ways our theology aligns, all of the similarities. And yet, something is missing. Why in all of her caring does she not mention abortion? I can’t help but think it. Maybe she doesn’t believe abortion is wrong. Maybe she doesn’t care about it at all, about them. I bristle. I feel a little repulsed. At the maybes, at myself. It might not be like that at all, but if it is…it seems so contradictory. But then I remember that just a couple of short years ago, abortion wasn’t on my radar either. I knew so little about it and cared so little about what happened behind that iron gate just a few minutes from my house. I remember I hated driving past it in Driver’s Ed because it gave me a ghostly feeling, but see-not, care-not was a nice motto for a time.

As time passed, my conviction increased. I read a lot about abortion, the pro-life movement and talked to my friends at The Coalition For Life. It was a gradual but heavy change. The burden of abortion in my own community rolled onto my back like a great stone. I had to kneel in order to let it roll on, and I had to stay low in order to carry it. It’s a humbling thing to admit that you’ve been ignorant to blatant sin, that you’ve contributed to a blatant sin, while tweeting scripture from your upstairs bedroom.

The Internet has a funny way of swirling my mind in a billion directions. It’s a million books, a million menus, a million conversations all at once and sometimes I think I need to turn it all off and just go to sleep at a decent hour for once in my life. One thing the Internet has taught me is that there is every type of person imaginable and each one just as personal a person as the next. And they all have something to say and they all have thoughts and they’ve all come to conclusions and they’re all a little wrong and they’re all a little right and if I just listen, I’ll learn from all of them. But I can’t believe everything I hear and I can’t agree with everything I’m told, but I can listen and I can learn and I can kneel and change when I’m the wronger of the two wrongs.

And the other thing I do on the Internet-I judge people. Every day I fall into the sin of judgement while online.

She is cool because look at that picture she instagrammed of her garden. She’s so mellow and calm as she plants that asparagus, she must be at some great peace with the Lord.

She is stupid. She just tweeted about sports three times in a row. There’s so much more to life than sports. She’s just making a fool of herself. Who cares anyway? Not me.

He’s totally right. Everyone should recycle. If you don’t recycle, you don’t care about the environment. Don’t they know that God gave us the earth to steward and care for? Gee!

Oh, I thought I liked this person. Never. Mind. Their kids go to public school. Yuck. If you want the government polluting your children’s minds and molding them into factory workers for you, go back to Prussia. 

These thoughts are slightly exaggerated. Keyword: slightly.

Stopping for Conversation

Very quickly, I judge people like this and keep scrolling. I hardly notice that I’m doing it, I can click away so quickly. Sometimes someone says something that rubs me the wrong way and I keep mulling it over for a long time, but most of the time I just make my instant judgements and click away.

Yesterday as I was helping my mom cook dinner, I was thinking about how glad I was that we’ve started composting. I can’t imagine throwing away all of this good vegetation anymore. Our little pail is filled several times a day with banana peel, strawberry leaves, wilted lettuce, plate scraps. We take it out to our pile, toss it around and…viola! Compost! It’s so neat and so simple and makes me feel so good about myself. 

And we recycle! Glass, paper, plastic, styrofoam, cardboard-you name it. And we conserve water! We wash our dishes in a tub and dump the tub in the grass. We have a rain barrel! And speaking of the kitchen, we only eat fair-trade chocolate! And I make my own chocolate syrup out of fair-trade organic cocoa! We buy organic vegetables! We eat carrots from our neighbor’s garden! We grow our own peppers and tomatos! We wash our plastic bags and use them again! We’ve cut down on meat intake! We get our beef from a friend’s ranch! We don’t buy certain brands that support Planned Parenthood! We donate to ministries in Haiti! We sponsor kids through Compassion! We tithe! We read! We exercise! We  pray! We have family meals! We make our own laundry detergent! We use eco-friendly all-purpose cleaner! We write real letters! We take lots of photos! We don’t watch dirty movies! We listen to great music! We host friends at our house! We have volunteered in nearly every ministry at our church! We volunteer at a crises pregnancy center! We participate in fundraisers! We are un-judge-able!

Right? RIGHT?

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Yes, I do all of these things. But I also judge. I also hate. I also slip.

Did you see how many times I mentioned chocolate? Yeah, I eat a lot of that. I’m kind of an addict. And did you see where I mentioned carrots? That happens once a year. And did you see where I mentioned water conservation and homemade laundry detergent? That started this week.

It sounded good, didn’t it? It would’ve looked good on Instagram too. The truth is, even if I told you how often I neglect to write to my sponsor child or how often I buy the non-organic apples because they’re bigger and prettier than the organic ones or how I still get lattes at Starbucks even though their chocolate syrup is probably made by slave children in Africa, it wouldn’t matter. We would still judge each other and we’d still be far from the heart of the matter.

Ah-bingo. The heart. I can do a million “good things” and my heart can still be far from the Lord. Far from the people, even. I judge people who I think should care about the same things I do, yet I don’t even do those things many days! A couple of years ago I thought recycling was a scam, composting was gross and water conservation was just for drought seasons. I ate bukus of Hershey’s chocolate and knew nothing of their affiliation with slavery. I did whatever was convenient and normal and thought little of the toll it took around the world. I didn’t work out, even as much as I do now (which isn’t a lot!) You see, I could give you a perception of my life which would, honestly, make us look like the greatest family ever. You would read about me on my blog and on my Facebook page and be jealous, feel guilty about your own weaknesses and end up hating me for being the person you never could be. And there’s when you know that you’re being duped. If you cannot become that perfect person, neither can I.

I have to remember that I care about things for the first time. I care about things that God lays on my heart one-by-one. There are still issues, sin in my own heart and hurt around the world, that I’m ignorant to. I cannot judge people for not being exactly where I am on this journey. I cannot judge people for anything. I cannot even judge you for eating Twinkies. Heck-I used to be quite a fan of Ding-Dongs myself.

I love that scripture addressed all of this so long before I was even born. It doesn’t mention water conservation or Hershey’s or Planned Parenthood, but it does tell us to seek justice and love mercy and it does tell us that the kingdom of God is so much more than what we eat or what we drink or what we wear or how we talk. It’s about the heart. We are all clanging gongs if we don’t love. And to love can look different for you than it does for me. It can look differently for me tomorrow than it does today.

I love the good decisions we’ve made as a family. I love that we are becoming healthier and more eco-friendly. I love that we are involved in church. I love that we have a few good habits. But I know that there is just as much work left to be done as is already completed. I know that I cannot let anything, even good things, puff me up. I know that it’s not about these details at all. I try to focus on my similarities with others rather than our differences. I try to be encouraging in everyone’s little efforts to lead a full life. I try to focus on things of heaven, what is worthy of praise. It makes life simpler and happier and I have more friends than I did when I categorized everyone into “good” or “bad” boxes. Life has very few “yes or no” answers. We have to keep walking to find God’s next best thing for us. I hope I never hurt anyone over whether or not we’ve been convicted about the same thing. As the old Rolling Stones songs says, “he can’t be a man because he doesn’t smoke the same cigarettes as me.” I mean, we can be just like that, can’t we? Except we don’t smoke. That’s bad.

everly

Posted in learning, moving forward, sacred life, Uncategorized, wisdom | 6 Comments

just know you’re not alone

By Everly Pleasant | Published: April 12, 2013

If your life is a little messy, a little not-so-instagrammy, a little frazzled and mis-matched, I’d like to quote Phillip Phillips and say, “just know you’re not alone.”

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If you woke up thinking it was going to be cold but ended up being bathed in the loveliest shade of sunshine, if you tried a new recipe and ate burgers at the picnic table with your great big family, if your little sister picked up a worn-out tennis racket and started “playing” a song, and you thought about how great it is that we’ve made this place her home, then you’re not alone.

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If you spent your week not at all how you thought, splashing with a little beauty queen in her water games, staying home from class with a horrendous headache but finally finding time write back to the pen-pals who have been waiting since October, if you tried to plan a movie night and it broke off into two and they’re on their way over now, then you’re not alone.

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Are you having an interesting week? A week which makes you think that blogging will only make people think that you’re weird, that your life doesn’t make any sense? Join the club! And leave a comment. :)

everly

Posted in adoption, family, happenings, photography | 4 Comments

“just words”

By Everly Pleasant | Published: April 9, 2013

“And maybe those names don’t matter. Maybe they’re “just words”, but try telling that to me when I’m lying awake in bed at three o’clock in the morning wondering how I can feel so very alone in such a full house. Try telling that to anyone who has ever lived, for words are not “just” anything. They are sharp and tenacious and heavy.”

(read the whole post at Kindred Grace today.)

Posted in haiti, hardship, moving forward | Leave a comment

20-something with a life plan

By Everly Pleasant | Published: April 4, 2013

note: the scriptures in this post are my own paraphrases. Please interpret according to your own understanding of each verse.

After a couple rings, my sister picks up the phone. We joke around and act extremely sarcastic. It’s only been a night since we saw each other last and there isn’t much catching up to do. I tell her that I’m bored, but have a lot of stuff to do. She says she needs to clean the apartment. I tell her where everybody else is. Sam is at class. Mommy and Birdie are shopping. Daddy’s downstairs tinkering at something. Jubilee and Willin are tracing their maps. Joey’s at work. She tells me about her own schedule and when she’s hoping her husband gets his lunch break. I ask about a few random things and then the truth comes out. I want to talk to her because, I don’t know what to do with my life. 

“I think I’m having a…not even quarter life crises.”

Sabrina laughs over the phone.

“I mean, I just want some direction. Not a life plan, because I don’t think God gives people those, just a next step. What am I even doing this summer? Should I go to another conference? What should I be writing? Should I get another job? Keep working in the college ministry? And how long should I do that? If I were in school, I’d be going into my senior year. I don’t know…”

She gives me her advice, tells me it’s all going to work out. She knows that I’m frustrated and feel stuck sometimes, even if I’m “stuck in a good place.” I try not to let on that I’ve started crying, but the awkward, sniffily silence isn’t very elusive and, besides, when am I not crying? She probably saw it coming.

I sniff and keep saying “I know, I know” even though the theme of this conversation really is, “I don’t know.” She tells me that just because I don’t know, doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong. Just because I wanted to be married last year, wanted to be published the year before, and don’t have a fiancé or a book deal, doesn’t mean I’m a failure.

don't know what to do

We talk for about an hour. I thank her and apologize because I know her apartment is just as messy as it was when I called. I go about my day. Clean out the fridges. Play a simile game with Willin and Jubilee. Meet my small group for burgers. Go to prayer and worship night with the college ministry. Pick Sam up from church. Eat cake. All along I’m thinking, what is it with young people and our obsession with life plans?

Are we over-complicating things? Are we dramatizing our phase of life? Are we going about this the wrong way? Is the root of all of this panic actually a deep-seated selfishness or lack of trust?

I mean, think about it.

“What am I going to do with my life? What if I never amount to anything? What if I never reach my goals? What if I end up unmarried, unsuccessful, underpaid and other people look down on me?”

Oh, there are so many twisted veins coming from my heart! When will I learn that life isn’t about me and when I pretend it is, I always end up unhappy anyway?

You know what I think? I think that God does give us a life plan. It may not seem as customized as every single item in Pottery Barn catalogs, but that’s okay. We need less options, sometimes. More simplicity. I believe that if we go with this plan, God will customize our stories in great ways.

God tells us what to do in the Bible. I’m not talking just about about The Ten Commandments. I’m talking about what to “do with our lives.”

1. Show love and get to know God. (Hosea 6:6)

Who do I know/can I find who needs to see love lived out before their very eyes?

When was the last time I sat in silence, waiting to hear from God? When was the last time I set aside more than a few minutes to read scripture?

2. Give your body to God, not becoming like the people who don’t know God. Let the Spirit renew your mind and you’ll learn God’s will. (Romans 12:1-2)

This is a big one. Keep my body pure. Use it only to worship God. Let the spirit sanctify me, even if it’s painful. This way, I’ll be open to hearing from Him and gaining direction.

3. Take care of orphans, widows and people in distress. (James 1:27)

Take care of the physical needs of my fellow human beings. Don’t just focus on myself. Give my stuff away (time, money, energy, recourses, art.) As Mother Teresa said, we should see everyone as Jesus. That is the hungry Jesus. That is the sick Jesus. That is the lonely Jesus. Help them.

4. Mind your own business and find something to do…now. (1 Thessalonians 4:11)

Um, can you say “Facebook”? Don’t be a busy-body. There are more important things in life than status updates and gossip. Work with your hands (as the more accurate interpretation of this verse says.) Do something in the here and now, even if it seems menial. I’m willing to bet it’s not below you/me. Don’t know what your dream job is? Take another job in the mean time. You might end up dreaming about it. Don’t know what I want my first best-seller to be about? Write anyway. Write now, about how I don’t know what to write about. Do something constructive.

5. Get married if you really want to. (1 Corinthians 7:9)

Pretty self-explanatory. And I do want to. But it’s not the end of the world if I don’t. Even though I have little day-mares that people will think there is something wrong with me and shun me and tell their children not to walk past my house. I trust the apostle on this one. Life goes on and God has big plans for all da single ladies.

6. Stay alert, love each other earnestly and use your gifts. (1 Peter 4:7-11)

Keep up my (drum roll please!) spiritual disciplines. Don’t let myself fall out of love with God or into a sin pattern. Jesus is whipping the car around and coming back for us soon. “Above all else,” love each other earnestly (sincerely, fervently.) Don’t forget to use the gifts God’s given me. Find something I enjoy doing and do it “with all my strength” and to the glory of God.

…You see, it’s rather hard to whine about not having a life plan and to claim to follow God in the same breath. He may not have written the name of a college in the sky or revealed your future-spouse’s initials in your alphabet soup, but He has clearly given us instructions on how to live. Proverbs, 1 Peter, Ephesians and so many other books of the Bible are brimming with suggestion, instruction, advice and the promise of God’s faithfulness through every season.

There are so many other verses like the ones I mentioned, but they all connect into such a balanced life tapestry. You, like me, may still have no idea how you’ll be spending your summer as far as which job or school or endeavor it will hold, but we can rest in the knowledge that we do have a purpose in every season. Single or married. In school or out. Working here or there.

Those things are just the little, transient details in the grand scheme of things. Seize the day.

Posted in dreaming, faith, happenings, hope, joy, learning, moving forward, patience, quiet life, scripture, Uncategorized, wisdom, writing | 6 Comments

iphone pictures/thankfulness

By Everly Pleasant | Published: April 2, 2013




 

1,318. a “new” iphone that so kindly sends pictures directly to my computer

1,319. series 2 of Call The Midwife(!!!)

1,320. birthday season and all the joy that comes with it

1,321. another happy Easter

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1,322. “ain’t no mountain” duets with Sam after watching Remember the Titans

1,323. “It’s so great to know Jesus.” -Jubilee

1,324. home-made, fair-trade Easter chocolates

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1,325. opportunities to share my love of writing

1,326. letters from overseas

1,327. successful driving adventures!

1,328. wigwams in the backyard

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1,329. bluebonnets, blessed bluebonnets!

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1,330. a walk with Sabrina and Birdie and the pups on Easter Sunday

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What are YOU thankful for?

ev

Posted in counting blessings, photography | 1 Comment

Chatting it up with Emily Freeman!

By Everly Pleasant | Published: March 12, 2013

6878072364_1ee1dddbd7_mSo, today at Kindred Grace I’m calling Emily P. Freeman an “authoress” and that makes her pretty excited. And it makes me pretty excited too, because she’s authored two books and there’s another one on the way! Head on over there for a great interview, an amazing deal and the promise of a give-away!

Everly

Posted in art, guest, interviews, reading, writing | Leave a comment

“would”

By Everly Pleasant | Published: March 11, 2013

would wyeth

Don’t normally partake in poetry, don’t know much about how poetry is “supposed” to work, but these thoughts came out this-a-way, so enjoy..!

 

“would”

would

must be the strangest word in the English language

meaning nothing.

nothing that ever actually happens

something that could have

but did not.

would is regrets.

would is a dream.

would is not there

even when we wish for it.

not the kind of wood

you knock on

or build with

or chop and burn.

but the thing you wanted to happen

but was was built up

and chopped down

and burned.

I would have

but I didn’t.

I would

if only.

what would you do

if your woulds

became

coulds?

 

Posted in dreaming, moving forward, poetry, Uncategorized | 2 Comments

in defense of purity

By Everly Pleasant | Published: February 26, 2013

Several bloggers have recently tackled the issue of sexual purity. Though I completely respect their point of view and agree with what they had to say, I wanted to offer a response. This is a defense of virginity.

iryna merkulova, “red umbrella”

It was a Tuesday night and I was walking through the mist up to the arena. I had spent the day in a long, green and brown dress with quarter-length sleeves, which a neighbor had sent to us in a bag of used clothes. This particular neighbor sends high-quality hand-me-downs, so I wasn’t ashamed to step out in one of her old dresses…except maybe tonight. I had debated changing into jeans or anything more…normal. After all, this was the only night of the week I spent on campus, surrounded by hundreds of college students in a basketball court.

But why change at the end of day? If this had been fine for the past eight hours, it would be fine for a couple more. I trotted up the steps in my damp flats and through the heavy doors. The music was already starting, electric guitars whining and cymbals shivering and our talented lead vocalist belting out praise. I slipped in and sat somewhere out of the way. Maybe I was feeling slightly self-conscious about my attire. Soon, however, the seats around me filled up. The music came to a close and the ministry leader stepped on stage to speak. The topic was sexual purity.

Maybe dressing like an Amish girl was okay once in a while, but dressing like an Amish girl while we use such words as “lust”, “temptation”, “modesty” and “promiscuity”, is a bit uncomfortable. The skinny jeans and tiny shorts seemed to pulse around me. It was a good talk, and when he got to the part about forgiving yourself for your sexual sin and moving on, many girls were sniffing back the tears. I began to thank God that I wasn’t one of those sniffing. It wasn’t the Pharisee’s prayer of “thank you, God, that I am not a sinner like these” but a prayer of true gratitude, for I am not “pure” solely because of my own self-control.

I have made my share of mistakes and walked barefooted much too near the cobra’s nest, but I’ve been spared many falls, many bites. I sat in that auditorium as one of the few virgins at a Christian event of college-age students because, among other reasons, my parents have protected me. During that talk I went from feeling inferior to feeling blessed. I am blessed to have a different story. Blessed to have made it through my teen years without much regret. Blessed to have a mom and dad who watch out for me and guide me in the Lord. Blessed even to be naïve.

Losing your sexual purity isn’t the only sin and it isn’t any worse than the other things we do out of our flesh, but it does have great earthly consequences. My parents never taught me (as I am afraid some girls were taught) that my value was solely in my virginity and, losing this was the unforgivable sin. When we would hear of a friend or family member who was promiscuous or pregnant out of wedlock, their reaction was always sorrow, never anger. They taught me to value my body, to have dignity and to save sex for marriage, but they did not make and idol out of purity.

Sometimes, girls who come from Christian homes feel overly protected. I have felt this way many times. We have the church, the extended family and, most of all, our parents watching over us. Every decision is discussed. Maybe your boyfriends had to fill out questionnaires before taking you out. Maybe you signed a purity pledge or got a ring to symbolize your oath. Maybe you have to call every time you get to the grocery store and again when you’re on your way home (*cough cough* my parents!) This can be frustrating, especially as you get older, even if you know that it is done in love. However, I am thankful that I have, what some would call “overly protective parents” rather than no parental guidance at all. Living in a college town, I hear about a lot of stupid parents. Parents who think it is more important to be a friend than a mom or dad. Let’s remember what friends do at bars: encourage you to go further…preferably further than they themselves are willing to go! We hear about moms driving into town for twenty-first birthdays to party at the bars with their children. A good mom is someone who drags your wasted body into the hotel at two in the morning so you don’t get in a wreck, or get arrested or die choking on your own vomit, right?

Purity is something we are called to. It is a direction we are to walk in. It is a daily, personal lifestyle. We are going to be called to purity our entire Christian life. When you marry, sexual purity continues even though abstinence does not. It isn’t as if this is an issue only for teens and twenty-somethings and it’s not about someone trying to keep you from having fun. Sexual abstinence before marriage is a Biblical command. God only commands things that are important and for our own good. He set up this rule in order to protect something He thinks is amazing. His timing is always best. Always. No matter how much we may feel differently.

The talk was over and they were playing my favorite song on the keyboard, Be Thou My Vision. I lifted my skirts and scampered out of the arena among a flood of students. Outside I could see that rain had begun to pour. The girls rushed out into the storm to their cars. No one was prepared for the rain (do college students even carry umbrellas?) Boyfriends had nothing to shelter their girlfriends with. Everyone parted in the slippery parking lot. I pushed through the door prepared to do the same. Stepping out into the weather, I felt the rain stop over my head. There was my dad, holding a big umbrella above me. We smiled and walked to the car.

Posted in faith, family, modesty, patience, Uncategorized, wisdom | 4 Comments