Confessions of a Teen Bride

So I got married at 19 and in a few days I'll be married 5 years.

If I was going to do it all again, I would still get married at 19.  Maybe I'm still too young to be able to say that with any authority. But really, who is old enough to say that with any authority.  

When I was 18, I was going to be a history major. I was going to serve in the Peace Corps for a few years after college, earn a master's degree in library/archival science, and then work up to a job at a major museum, preferably the Smithsonian.

 In the realm of college freshman, I was pretty good at answering the where do you see yourself in 5 years question.

Then I got married. Which my husband now jokes is "when I killed all of your hopes and dreams." I didn't do Peace Corps. I didn't get a master's degree. And I'm not currently interning in D.C. My "5 years from Freshman year" reality is essentially unrecognizable.

But this isn't a tragedy. My life plans have always been informed by reality. So in my original 5 year plan, I made sure to come to a nice compromise doing what I was interested in but still avoid being on food-stamps for my entire life.

So once I was in a committed lifelong relationship with someone with a gift and desire to work in engineering/programming, "Okay", I thought. We're never going to be no-heat-in-the-winter broke. So what do I really want to do.

• I could be a novelist. 
• Or a farmer
• Or an assistant at a  Montessori school
• I could start a family whenever the heck I wanted and not have to worry about "lifetime earning loss" or building enough credibility in a field before I was confident that I could return if I left. 
• I could not go to grad school
• I could study whatever was interesting

I could actually form a 5 year plan based solely on who I wanted to be, not what I wanted to earn.

My serious regret is that it took me so long to accept this. So I've kind of biffed it.

Dressing up during my first semester as my Peace Corps dream.
I still want to do a service mission. But, I want actual skills first. Like carpentry or agriculture.
Preferably both. With some language skills thrown in. 

I've spent the last 5 years mostly wrapped up in what I could get paid to do part-time, not what I wanted to master with my time. (Part-time, because seriously who wants to work full-time?) And I couldn't stop fretting about being jobless because I didn't want to be beholden.

 "Beholden" ---the whole idea of being emotionally and financially dependent bothered me. I was a complete addict to my husband and I didn't like it.

So I kept trying to solve the problem. Okay, I don't want to be totally reliant on my husband. So I started looking for a job. And by that I mean "a profession" because it wasn't so much about being reliant on my husband for money, but respect. And...money is how most people quantify respect/admiration (there are no poor astronauts). So actually, yes, indirectly it was about the money.

I was worried about getting published, not just writing a novel. Or what it took to build a CSA, not just garden in my little 4x5 plot. Or build a blog people would be impressed by, not just one I wanted to write (haha...did I say that outloud? Let's just say there's a lot of behind-the-scenes projects that've never made it to "Publish"...and an embarrassing number that did. But that's a whole 'nother post.)

But after a million what-if-I conversations with anyone who would stand still long enough to have one, I asked the real question--what good is it to have a position or job-title to become less reliant on my spouse if staying unnoticed, unhired, failing, or getting laid off is more likely than getting divorced?

Well poops. Dependency is written into our nature. We crave social interaction thus we crave social approval. This is inescapable. We only get to choose which opinions matter most. And Adam is that for me.

So finally--finally--I've decided that it's actually good that I rely on my husband to manage my sorrows and to celebrate my victories. That it's a sign of a healthy relationship that if he died I would have to completely rework my life to reach a new normal.

I dunno, I've never been in anyone else's marriage, but isn't that the point of getting married? We exchanged a legal promise before witnesses and God Himself that essentially said "you can make 5, or 20, year plans based on the assumption that I'm not going anywhere."

And that is the hardest part of being a teen bride. Everyone has to sooner or later come to grips that marriage is a terrifying, liberating co-dependence, but everyone else does it with the illusion that they aren't quite as codependent as they are.

So yes, everything about being widowed or divorced would be devastating. But only a tiny part of that devastation would be the state of my finances, or even how much social cachet I have on my own. That's like saying it would be devastating if it never rained because there wouldn't be any clouds.

That isn't to say that I'd be happy if Adam was the only person on the planet who liked me. I'm just done, forever, worrying about whether I am the boring, financially-unproductive one in my marriage. So what if I am? That's not how my family sees me. People really are worth much more than their professions.

All the love,
Stephanie

P.S. Happy Anniversary Adam. You are the best spouse on the planet. I'd say for a million and a half reasons, but  if we took that literally that would be a reason for every second in the month of February. And if I only thought about all the reasons why you're awesome for a solid month, I'd die of thirst and sleep-deprivation. And that would be a pretty crappy anniversary present.

Besides. You and I both know that hyperboles are not your thing.  So just for you, just for today I'll be completely accurate. Adam, you're the best spouse on the planet for me, and for a number of reasons which is limited by the constraints of time. So realistically, somewhere around two-hundred. Even if that's boring.

I'll love you forever.

5 Lessons from It's a Wonderful Life

Hi Steph,

Every Christmas I'm reminded of the man of my dreams. His name is Mr. James Stewart and with just a few minor caveats, I'd marry him right now; that is, if he didn't have a wife, was not born 79 years before me, and was alive, I'd be introducing myself as Mrs. James Stewart (yes, I'd even take on that abhorrent, old-fashioned practice of taking my husband's first and last name just so I could brag about the man I was married to.)

My love for Jimmy Stewart first came about in our perennial watching of It's a Wonderful Life each Christmas. It is hands down my favorite movie--not just Christmas movie. It's my number one pick of any movie I've ever seen. The movie combines engaging, complex characters, witty and humorous (and quotable) dialogue, and a message full of heart that will stick with you.

Hey there, dreamboat

Below are five lessons to take from It's a Wonderful Life, but here's a fair warning, if you have never seen It's a Wonderful Life, stop right now before the whole movie is spoiled and go watch the movie!


1) Be passionate.
So I think the reason Jimmy Stewart is so attractive to me is because of his deep passion for life and learning and experiencing. I fall in love with him every time I watch the scene below. I swear if a man spoke to me with as much creative vocabulary and overuse of hyperbole, I would swoon on the spot. Though It's a Wonderful Life is sort of a story of George Bailey's dreams not coming true, I believe it is George's love of life that makes him the charismatic and compassionate character that he is. Lesson 1: dream big.

2. Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously.
If you're going to talk as grandiose as George Bailey does, you need to add to it a bit of levity. The scene below is one of my favorites. It reminds me that when you think you're really impressive stuff but then make a total fool of yourself, it's best to make fun of yourself and laugh with it.

3. Find Happiness in the Successes of Others.
As others have posited, Harry Bailey just might be the villain of It's a Wonderful Life. While George stays in Bedford Falls being responsible and caring for the whole town, Harry gets to live out all of George's adventures. What I love about George is his sincere love for others and his happiness for other's successes. Throughout the film, George is the proud older brother, bragging about Harry's accomplishments. George teaches us that life might not always go the way we want it too, but our attitude can make us happy in all circumstances.

4. We All Have Bad Days.

One reason I like It's a Wonderful Life is that it presents a relatable tragedy. What happens to George is definitely upsetting, but it isn't one of those arising from the ashes sort of stories. George's struggle seems very close to my struggles, unlike say the storyline of Schindler's List or Pursuit of Happyness. I watch those films and think, "Man, I would not be strong enough to endure the things these people went through, let alone be happy and compassionate through it." It's a Wonderful Life is a story of a man brought down again and again by not fulfilling his dreams. Sound familiar? I appreciate how the film respects this struggle as real and also allows viewers to recall all that they do have going for them.

5. Being Rich Doesn't Mean You're Wealthy.
George teaches us that the exhaustion of life is worth it if you are living to help others. In true Frank Capra fashion, Jimmy Stewart delivers a powerful message on the worth of doing good even at your own personal expense in the video below.

The video below is of one of the most famous scenes in the whole movie. I love this scene because of the reason that George asks to live again. (Did I mention I'm in love with Jimmy Stewart/George Bailey?)

Merry Christmas, Steph!

Amanda

Learning to See

One of my first drawings
It's a business card idea fro my future farm
"Queen of Spades"
Clever, right?

So I remember in 4th grade thinking I was bad at only two things: drawing and minute math.

All along I've assumed I was defective in hand control or coordination. That my art skills lagged because of my flubby fingers, or general awkwardness.

Nope. It wasn't my hand. It's my eyes.

It's weird that you could live so long on Earth and somehow be oblivious to something so fundamental as sight. But I'm serious. When I started learning how to draw I realized I've been moving through the world in a virtual reality of my own making.

And so is everybody else.

Because you draw what you see. And if you can't draw. It's because you can't see. Your brain hasn't learned to draw. Your hand is more or less ready to go.

It's a weird philosophical/physical phenomenon. In a very literal way, you assume you see things, but you don't actually see them. You only think the wheel is a circle. From this angle it's a pretty narrow oval actually. And you know you have five fingers, but sometimes you only see parts of three or four.  You only think the clouds are white.

Look, they actually have room for brains!

And this is why its valuable to learn new things. Because before I decided I was unhappy with drawing stick figures, I had no idea that artists had some kind of super x-ray vision, and, it was a superpower that could be taught...

The hand from Peter's statue in St. John Lateran's Basilica
I'm particularly proud of this one.

 ...gradually at least. I'm equal parts amazed at my progress and deeply embarrassed. On one hand, it's incredible how much better I've gotten in a just a few hours of practice. On the other, I'm probably on par with some 10 year olds. But comparison really is the thief of joy. So I decided to share a few of my sketches anyway.

via My Daily Six

I highly recommend Drawing from the Right Side of the Brain, if you're at all interested in psychology and would like to not completely embarrass yourself next time you play Pictionary. The first week doing her exercises I felt like the Grinch hugging Cindy Lou Who. Oh my heck, drawing can be taught!

Seriously, you can learn too.

-Stephanie

The Homemade Challenge and Five-Spice Cinnamon Roll Recipe

Confession: I've had the same 5 lb bag of flour for the entirety of 2014. But--Huzzah---I've finally emptied it and I have made serious headway on a second bag. Because the only way to master baking,  is to bake.

And it doesn't matter how long it takes, I can only make headway by starting today. Sounds like feel-good motivational poster. I know, so I'm going to do something about it. Remember that time I was all mopeypants--well, that's never happening again.

My husband's super-impressive grandmother has a goal to finish something everyday, and it's definitely working out for her. She's nearing 80 and could possibly be the most productive human being I have ever met. So for the rest of 2014 I commit to completing two projects with my hands everyday. (Because I'm not as awesome as Grandma Lydda--I can't commit to every day for the rest of my life, so I'll just commit to twice as much for a limited time).  And for food to count, it must be made from scratch as far as I am capable. So I won't be buying a grain mill or butter-churn, but making pasta with a bottle of Prego and box of spaghetti certainly will not make the cut.  

So far I've made chicken stock, yogurt, mayonnaise, bread, squeezed orange juice,  cinnamon rolls, steamed buns with red bean paste (long story), soft pretzels, and Irish stew. 

And no, I don't plan on making only edible things. But between the bovine-scale task of completing a knit blanket and a case of the munchies--I mostly did my doing in the kitchen this week. And surprisingly, the cinnamon rolls were hella fantastic (Can Mormons say hella? I dunno. Add it to the list.) This good fortune was probably beginner's luck. But just in case lightening strikes twice, here's the recipe I hacked together for the miraculously delicious cinnamon rolls I made. I decided on 5 Spice because I was wanting something a little more spiced but am currently out of love with Pumpkin Spice--It's like the cranberry juice of baked goods--and I saw the bottle sitting in the front of my spice cabinet. Happy coincidences.   

Five Spice Cinnamon Rolls

For the actual rolls, I used half of my bread dough from this recipe.  I just rolled them flat after the first rise (second rise, if you're counting the "sponge" step as the first). But I'm pretty sure any old white bread dough would do.  The magic is in the glaze and the filling.

This makes half the amount of a traditional cinnamon roll recipe, but these are especially rich, and there's only two adults in my house. Thus, halved. 

Filling:

1 stick (8 TB)  butter, extremely soft

1/4 cup brown sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

a scant 1/2 tsp of McCormick's Chinese Five Spice (McCormick's is only notable because it's more like

Chinese *four* spice since they exclude chiles and instead use two types of anise but don't worry--it tastes nothing like the abomination that is Good n' Plenty. If you're curious, the other spices are cloves, cardamon, and cinnamon)

1. Combine all filling ingredients well. Roll bread dough into flat rectangle, spread thickly with filling and roll up the long-side into tight tube.

2. Cut tube into even 1.5" wide pieces, setting aside the nobby end pieces,  and place swirl side up in a butter-greased 8x11 pan. Make sure to keep rolls evenly spaced. (I had a little extra room in my pan so I put in my slightly undersized ends from the dough tube in the corners so that the other rolls had something to rise up against. Plus, they still tasted good for all their odd looks.)

3. Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes.

Glaze:

4 Tbs Butter, melted

1 cup powdered sugar

1/2 tsp Five spice

4. While rolls are baking whisk together glaze. 

5. When you remove rolls from oven, drizzle immediately with glaze to cover tops of rolls completely. Let ooze around the pan for a bit while you wait for the cinnamon rolls to reach not-quite-center-of-the-sun hot before you cut into them. 

6. Smile as you chew. 

Punch Consumerism in the Kidneys

Consumerism is a cancer and the cure is more gratitude. 

This is easy for me to say. I'm quitting my job, and my husband is changing his-- it's easy to say we need to reign in the spending, because we don't really have another option. But as we prepare to move into cheaper housing and I've been giving away bags of unused things, I am so grateful for just how much I have. I mean there are mothers that cannot afford baby clothes, and I had boxes of clothes locked in my basement that no one was using. 

The strange thing is, that as I fill my car for the second time for the Salvation Army, I'm realizing that I'm not just more grateful for all the things I have. By giving away a tiny percentage of my excess, my life is just better. When you only own two pans, there's only ever two pans to wash. If there's only 10 toys in the living room, there's only ever 10 toys to put away. 

Suddenly I'm looking at my six loads of undone laundry thinking, "what if I only ever had three loads of laundry to do." 

Advertisers are geniuses. They are really good at their jobs, and their job is to convince you of a need you didn't know you had. An advertiser would look at my laundry pile and sell me a super efficient washing machine that can fit more clothes in the drum. But I could own less towels and clothes for free. I would have less loads of laundry to do; I would have less laundry to fold. Less messy piles. Less mental clutter. I would be free of the subtle guilt cringe I get every time I look at the laundry basket. And that is literally priceless.

This Christmas you will be sold gadgets and products that will reduce your stress and give you all your dreams. I recently saw an ad that by insinuation suggested that a voice-command computer would make you and your kids hang out together more, would make cooking at home easier, would help you connect more with your spouse---advertisers do not sell products, they sell an awesome life with that product in it.

Seriously. Play advertiser bingo this Christmas--family satisfaction, serenity, romance, laughter, adventure. Who knew kleenex boxes made your children feel so secure in your love. But seriously all of those emotions can be yours.....for free. Without buying a thing. That Echo commercial probably advertises features your smartphone already has, and you don't even use them. "Okay Google/Siri, set timer for 15 minutes" ---my phone does that but I still don't make homemade chocolate chip cookies. One, that saves me literally twenty seconds of effort over setting a timer by hand. Two, it's not for lack of a robot timer that I don't bake. I even have a robot dish cleaner, and I still don't bake. 

But it's not the cookies that make families tighter. It's spending more time reading library books, exploring trails at the park, packing a brown bag lunch to eat together down by the duck pond. Free memories are what make families, are what make lives. 

Buying stuff has never solved your problems. Or do you think that all the people leaving the Container Store with bags of merchandise will have a tidy closet six months from now. 

Be grateful for the stuff you have. Get rid of the stuff your not grateful for. Be skeptical of advertising. Do the things that make you happy, and acknowledge that "a lack of stuff" is never what keeps you from doing it. Too much stuff might actually be keeping you from it. So sorry consumerism you're not helping, you're hurting and I don't have room for you in my life anymore. 

Happy Thanksgiving-Independence Day

Stephanie

How to Be Insecure

Hey Steph,


I figure I have enough historical experience of being insecure that I could be an expert, so I'd like to share some tips on being insecure.

1) Walk and stand slouched over. It's important to develop your insecurity by making sure everyone else believes you aren't worth the time of day either. After mastering this tool, you will look about ten to fifteen pounds heavier than you are; this along with your insecurity is really attractive to men.

Drew Herron

2) Tell yourself again and again and again that you are meaningless. Your brain is a fascinating organ that can do a ton of things, but I've found it is best to use any spare moment your brain has available to tell yourself something really mean. If you master this tool, you won't even have to work at doing this. Your thoughts will naturally tell you all the things you are terrible at, and they will naturally spiral into meaner and meaner things. It's important that you believe them all. For the sake of your insecurity, they are all true. Don't you dare doubt them. Also, makes sure you are exacting; don't forget to notice those itty-bitty imperfections.

Helga Weber

3) Compare your weaknesses to others' strengths. This one is very useful. Whenever you're feeling confident, start comparing yourself to others, but make sure you focus on your weaknesses. It makes sense to compare your flat, fine hair to someone else's voluminous mane as does it make sense to compare your shy approach to someone else's gift of gab.
Expert tip: Grab a women's magazine. There are tons of "real" women in there to set as your ideal.

4) Use people's opinions and actions as proof of your value. This is where your basis for judging your value should come from. Don't get asked out on dates? There's proof that you are hideous to behold and unattractive. This is strong data that you can use at any moment to be insecure. Use it. No one ever asks you to do anything? It's true. You're obnoxious, and people can't stand to be around you. Any time you can use other people's opinions and actions as a means to reflect on you and how you should perceive yourself, do it--but only if it is opinions and actions that remind you how little you matter.

5) Focus on yourself at all times. This one is vital to your insecurity. Insecurity thrives by being the focus of everything you do. It's crazy how fast you'll feel valuable as you try to help other people and consider other people's needs. Don't risk being exposed to this source of confidence. Keep your thoughts inward. If you're having trouble finding ways to avoid noticing others, start at tip #1.

May you find greater insecurity in your future,

Amanda

Considering Henna?

 I think I have wanted red hair since I was 5. I figured twenty years was a long enough time to consider it. After looking around, I used henna to go ginger, and I don't regret it one little bit. However, there are a few things to consider first.

Pro #1: When the sun hits your hair, you look like a radiant fox goddess

I get comments about my hair all the time. And it's not because I do anything with it that I didn't before. Henna makes my hair shiny, thick, and it glows vaguely in bright light. I'm not even kidding.

Pro #2: Henna Gives you True Ginger Hair

Because Henna stains the keratin outside of the hair shaft, it keeps all the variations in color that occur naturally on your head. So unlike a typical box dye, you keep all the light and dark interplay that makes your hair look multi-dimensional and natural. (Which also means, if you have dark hair you're never getting to copper with henna alone).

I also feel the color pay-off of Henna is a lot closer to natural ginger hair than I could find in salon-dyes which tend to be on the bluer burgundy-Rihanna spectrum. (At least in the first applications. Henna does build up on itself which I'll get to later).   I can't tell you how many times people have told me "I wish I was born with red hair"--even ladies with dyed red hair. And people are always assuming my friend's ginger daughter is mine. I love that I can pass off as natural redhead with henna.

Pro #3/ Con #1: Doesn't fade

I have no idea how to take pictures of myself

Having had salon red highlights, I know that on my head the shelf-life of box red is about two weeks.
Three weeks if I can go longer between washes before the red loses it's luster.

If you prepare your Henna with an acidic liquid--it is super bright for the first three days post application, and then "oxidizes" out to a nice, rich auburn that then does not fade come high-water or frequent washes. But... you will also never be rid of it.

Since I like the nice glossy, thick feeling henna gives my hair, I had been doing mostly full-head applications instead of just the roots, but after four full-head applications I knew I had overdone it and the color was getting a bit too wine-y for my tastes. So I did a bleach-shampoo (WARNING*) which knocked out the offending purple tones. But, really made no impact on the depth of color, just it's shade. My roots where California blonde, but the henna was essentially untouched by the bleach. (Unfortuantely I don't have pictures of this event, because I wasn't even thinking about writing about it. Sorry)

So I know that going back to my natural hair color is going to be an awkward root-stripe adventure. But I guess it gives me an excuse to cut my hair into that pixie-cut. Which is another thing I've wanted to do to my hair for the last decade, but lacked adequate courage.

Because who wouldn't want hair
 like WhippyCakes

Pro#4/ Con #2: I Get To Take Relaxing Soaks in the Bath

The process of putting Henna on your hair is pretty messy. You are after all spreading a pound of high-dye-content mud all through your hair. But sitting around with saran wrap on your head while you watch a movie isn't so bad. Washing it out though takes a little work, and is best done "mermaid" style. Which means I've taken 6 baths in five months, which is 6 more baths than I have taken in the previous 15 years.

I feel so awkward.

But I only actually sit inside the second tub-full of water. Because the first tub-full looks like flood water within twenty seconds,opaque with silt and dye. Then I drain that and fill a new tub. The water is still not colorless, but at least it's clear orange, rather than straight up mud. No, it doesn't stain my skin. And it does make my feet soft but I don't know that that's due to the henna...since seriously, I have never taken a regular bath, that I remember anyways.

No matter how long you rinse your hair that first day the water will never run completely clear and you'll probably stain your towel. Just accept that.

Con #3: Makes your Roots look Grey

By nature I have perfectly lovely light ashy brown hair. But  my natural color looks pretty lifeless next to the glowiness of the henna. I can still get away with 6 weeks of growth before I touch-up though.

Roots look bad regardless of what hair color you use.  However, paired with Con #1, I'm not looking forward to the growing out process. Which, honestly, I'll probably start when I finish my stash of henna powder in my freezer. Not because I don't love the red, but I don't want to feel trapped dyeing my hair.

First I did ombre, then I did henna hoping to get ombre red. But that didn't pan out.
 I don't know what's up with the weird camera angles. My apologies

Some tips if you decide to make the henna plunge:

*WARNING: Never put bleach on hair that has been dyed with anything that you aren't totally sure was 100% henna. Indigo turns green with bleach. And often "henna hair dyes" sold at hippie grocery stores and the like are blended with metallic salts that will *burn* your hair if you mix them with bleach.

• I dyed my hair with Body Art Quality (BAQ) Henna. I got mine at Mehandi.com  and used the "Rajasthani Monsoon" vintage of 100% ground henna. Mixed only with hot water and crushed vitamin C. 
• 200 g of henna gets me a more than adequate full-head coverage on my super straight, medium thick, lower-back length hair 
• Put henna in using the "turban method" it is definitely the easiest way to get even coverage. But skip the color brush and just use your gloved hands
• Put lotion on your hands (under the *gloves*), knees, elbows, and feet before you start since the skin there absorbs the dye faster than everywhere else. That way you don't have to worry about cleaning up the inevitable splatter until you're all finished putting the henna in your hair. 
• I put some vaseline all around my ears too, just because they're really difficult to clean off with the saran wrap helmet if you don't slick up the skin first.  
• Everyone says "yogurt" consistency for your finished henna, but having used everything between "greek" "yoplait" and "kefir"  in my hair with mixed results. I think it's much clearer to say like a  "pureed soup, with a little flour to thicken it" type consistency. If that meant nothing to you, just go with yogurt. 
• Lemon-juice makes my hair static-y and angry. And vinegar smells like an abomination of pickled grass clippings. I mix my henna with hot water and 3 crushed up vitamin C pills per 100g and I've had no problem with fading.  
• I let the dye release for 6-ish hours before I put the henna in. And I leave the henna in my hair for only 2-3 hours, because like I said I don't like the ruby-color, and frankly, the henna is way too heavy to keep it piled on my head for longer than that .

Bottom-line: It's just hair. Do it. Live the dream. 

How To Believe in Jesus Part 1

How to Believe in Jesus. Step one, don't hate Jesus. 

I get that there's this sort of feedback-loop logic that says people that hate in the name of Jesus justify hating Jesus. Okay, whatever. But as a plea for greater civility, perhaps we ought to consider that most people are obnoxious regardless of nationality, education, religious affiliation or lack thereof. 

Aslan
 because he's literally the fictional Jesus

I mean there are a lot of annoying people in this world, and just statistically, 2 out of 7 of them are Christian, one was born in China, and almost all of them have brown eyes. Get what I'm getting at. 

I understand that it's possible that  Jesus is a mental construct. And you can't prove that the entire concept of religion isn't anything more than a millenias old coping mechanism we pass down to our children from one generation to another for the simple reason that that's what our parents did.

But on a personal level if in the moment of death, it is somehow made eminently clear to me that God does not exist, I would have no regrets that I lived my entire life as a Christian. 

Really.

Because even if God is a coping mechanism, what's the harm? What's the harm in having an extra nudge to stop and help jump that ratchet-looking car in the Target parking lot? Or having an obligation to get out of your yoga pants and serve once a week, even if it's with a baby on your hip? 

Where's the downside in a built-in justification to hold a potluck with people far outside your socioeconomic or generational circles? Or to feeling like you still fulfill a meaningful purpose even if illness or disease means the only service you're capable of, is sharing some of your thoughts on Jesus?

If there's even one more, tiny mental hurdle to cross before you cuss someone out or flirt with a married man or give up hope--isn't that a good thing? 

Right, in the name of this coping mechanism, yada-yada  crusades, reconquista, etc. etc. But no, not really. Religion has been used as propaganda since the beginning of human history, but that doesn't make it a motive. I mean, it's a little generous to the Medieval monarchs to say that Jesus was more important to them than the Silk Road. Keeping the faith and a mistress are pretty much always mutually exclusive, and keeping the latter wasn't all that rare. You can come to your own conclusions about the real role of religion in these conflicts, but I don't think the evidence is very convincing. 

Yes, you can be a judgey, back-stabing Christian, but I'd argue that the same people would probably make judgey, back-stabing Athiests.  I mean, isn't that the like the major Athiest credo: religion does not have a monopoly on morality. Thus religion cannot possibly corner the market on immorality. 

You can be a self-centered jerk with or without Jesus. At least with Jesus, I feel a little more guilty about it. Not a good enough reason to join a church, but to me, it's plenty good enough to stay there. And a good  place to start in the journey of becoming religious.  

I believe that there was a man who lived a good life. Who lived with unimpeachable integrity, and was kind or just to the perfect degree in every circumstance. And I believe that he can help me live a life like that. 

I haven't always felt like he was up to the task, but wishing that were true has never done me anything but good.

Step one in believing in Jesus is "well, it would be great if it were true." 

 

Wouldn't it?

-Stephanie

How "A Short Stay in Hell" Should Have Ended

So I read a book for my bookclub that filled me with so many thoughts that I wanted to explore them a bit more. In the quite likely evetn that you've never heard of A Short Stay in Hell by Steven Peck, here's my spoiler-free summary and review:

After death, a man is sentenced to a limited stay in hell before he can go to heaven. Of a multitude of hells, he is sent to a library filled with books of every possible combination of characters on a keyboard, and tasked to find the autobiography of his life among the near infinite number of nonsensical volumes. 

A lot of the goodreads reviews complain that at 100 pages it's hardly worth it's price tag. If you've spent more than $2 to see an entertaining, but ultimately superficial superhero movie sometime in the last decade, than Short Stay in Hell is definitely worth the $3 to $12 it takes to get hold of a copy. But I think what the reviewers were really getting at is that while Short Stay if very good for what is, it's incredibly disappointing for what it could have been but wasn't.  At 100 pages, it was too long (ironically) to just prove it's main premise--the vast and terrifying quantity of eternity-- but too short to explore the multitude of other themes it brushes against but never  delves in. 

It was a five-star book if you're looking for a fast, theologically-inspired horror story to keep you up at night. But by the time I reached the closing paragraph I felt so cheated of a much deeper storyline that ultimately I have no idea whether I liked it or not. A great book avoids preaching, but I felt this book avoided making a point at all.

Did someone say library of the damned? *my heart hurts*
Spoilers below

I think I felt cheated mostly because the author trespasses the law of Checkov's Gun. He loads three or four guns on the mantle in the first act and they remain unfired after the closing curtain.  Maybe it bothers me so much because as a religion-junkie I actually knew something of Zoroastrianism before I picked up the book. But why bother mentioning that Zoroastrianism is the "one true religion" over and over if it was just  for a "haha, suckers an obscure Mesopotamian religion is the right one" gag? And when a very short novel makes a point to explain the specifics of Mormon doctrine over several paragraphs, I assume it has plot significance beyond the moral dilemma of a cup of coffee.

I got to the end thinking "crap, eternity is a long time" but ultimately left me unchanged about how I view myself or others on this little blip that is mortality.

So here's how Short Stay in Hell should've ended:

In the opening pages we learn that a book on Zoroastrianism is on every floor (another red-herring, apparently). I understand that even that book would be infinitessimally difficult  to find, but one that's also many million times more likely to be found than a book that can only be found on one of the near-infinite number of floors.

So eventually our protagonist learns that Zoroastrinism is a dualistic religion. Good God and the Bad God are perfectly balanced in a cosmic tug-of-war for all eternity and so Zoroastrian Hell does not exist. Of course they are actually are confined to the library , but their Hell is a neutral rather than a negative place. Which they've known from the beginning. Elliot even says it, "I was stationed in the South Pacific in WWII--that was much more of a hell than this." So as Dire Dan's cult of torture made Hell much more Hellish, they discover they can also make from their neutral hell, a heaven.

Our Mormon main character thinks again on his mortal beliefs he previously explained about deification and the innate divinity of all mankind. He realizes that the people in the library, not the books, are the source of their mutual sanctification. Instead of the monotony he thinks is the reason why all the inhabitants of his hell are white Americans from the same period of time-- he realizes that the people most like him are the people most easily understood. The people easiest to work and empathize with.

Working together they could slowly become master sculptors, painters, singers, mathematicians, etc. as they teach each other the skills they learned and the books they read. And with an eternity to practice, everyone becomes a master (can we get pop-culture Dracula reference). If they can actually work together, they could becoming more and more God-like in their combined knowledge and practice. But I don't necessarily need a happy ending.

The food kiosks that they used to exploit to make bone weaponry, could provide seeds to germinate, pigments for paint, spices for scent, materials to carve and hew. And every Mormon guy knows who you work with, you love. What could be better than an eternity among the ones you've grown to love? But they can never get there. What at first seemed a far simpler task than finding the impossible book, is shown to be much more time consuming project. Charity is harder to fathom than eternity.

There's still the matter of free will. So to retain the same ending tone as the original: Eons pass, but factions reset their progress over and over in their attempts to make a heaven of hell. They can never get every one to catch the vision at the same time.

The book ends with our main character repeating the library rules to himself like a prayer.

"Rule #1: Please be kind. Treat others as you would like to be treated. Failure to do this will bring unhappiness and misery to you and your fellow citizens.

Rule #3: Nothing lasts forever. One day this will all just be a distant memory." 

An epilogue shows a progress report by Xandern on the citizens of the Library of Babel:

The inhabitants of Training Room #487 show no progress towards getting along with each other. I cannot recommend them for promotion to unrestricted eternities. They haven't been able to behave themselves even among their peer group of white, book-reading Americans.  

I am encouraged by some of their recent developments, although  I estimate the time until they pen their own autobiography, indicating that they see themselves as they are seen is twenty raised to the nine thousandth days away. 

I guess that's my Short Stay in Hell fan-fiction.
-Stephanie

Five Ways to Fall in Love . . . with Food

Hey Steph,I love food. It is not unusual for me to sit in front of a delicious plate of food and smile broadly with the words “This is my life! I get to eat this” running through my head. There are few things that compare with the delight of eating a slice of homemade bread hot from the oven or juicy peaches or gooey chocolate-chip-coconut cookies.

Stephanie Kilgast

My friends aren't surprised to hear about my love of food, for I admit this infatuation quite frequently. But this wasn't always the case. I used to think I wasn't skinny enough to say out loud that I loved food; if I ever did say it, I’d imagine the people around me thinking, “Yeah, we can tell by looking at you.”

And truthfully, I’m not sure I always loved food. I fell into the common trap of labeling all food either “good” or “bad,” and these labels made it really hard to truly enjoy food. If I was eating a “good” food, say, an apple or carrots, I would think, “I wish I was allowed to eat ice cream.” If I was eating a “bad” food, say, cookies or French fries, I would think, “You messed up again. You’re disgusting.” It’s hard to love food when eating either feels restrictive or guilt-inducing. 

I started to break free of these labels after taking a nutrition class. I was expecting the professor to second all these beliefs I had long held about good and bad foods. Instead, she taught that food is a beautiful gift we have been given to nourish our bodies and to bring enjoyment into our lives. She said that there was no such thing as good food or bad food. There was just food.

Since that class, I've slowly learned to love food, and it has been one of the greatest everyday joys in my life. Below are five ways for you to fall in love with food too:

      1)      Let go of the labels. What has been crazy to me about removing the “good” and “bad” labels from food is how many more foods I enjoy now. When salad was labeled “good” in my mind, I almost had an aversion to it because I felt like I had to eat it. Now, with the label removed, I really enjoy eating salad and sometimes choose it because I want to. Likewise, I have learned that I really don’t like most raw vegetables. They just don’t taste good to me. But whereas before I would have felt bad for not eating them or forced myself to eat them and not enjoy the experience, I just don’t eat them. No guilt because they aren't labeled “good” foods. Instead, I just eat cooked vegetables because those are delicious to me. (Seriously, go buy some heirloom tomatoes, onions, and squash at the farmer’s market—you can get cheap produce right before the market closes—and bake them in the oven. Divine!)

       2)      Listen to your body. Babies innately know how much to eat, and they stop when they’re full. Unfortunately, most of us become insensitive to how our bodies feel about what and how much we are eating. Ever-growing portion sizes at restaurants have increased our perception of a full meal. This, added to parenting proverbs like “finish the food on your plate,” makes it hard for us to learn to stop when we are actually full. As I've learned to listen to my stomach, I’ve found that I enjoy food so much more because I’m not stuffed or bloated when I am done eating. Also, I tend to eat fewer sweets because my stomach feels upset if I eat too much

Jamie McCaffrey

      3)      Learn about how your body works. Our bodies are amazing! Along with a plethora of other insights I gained in that nutrition class, I learned how our miraculous bodies use food to help us walk, breath, think, and live. As I've learned more about my body, I have gained motivation to provide healthy foods for it to work well. I feel a desire to eat fruits and vegetables rather than feel restricted to only fruits and vegetables.

       4)      Learn about where food comes from. Historically, we as a people once used most of our time to grow, raise, and harvest food. Now we spend much less of our time and our money on getting food, and I believe that has made us less thoughtful about eating. As I have learned more and more about the hard work that goes into producing my hamburger or the corn and peaches that I so adore, I have become more thoughtful about eating. I have slowed down and enjoyed the ritual of eating. I have felt a greater sense of gratitude for the food that is before me, which has made me enjoy my food much more than I used to.

       5)     Love yourself and then you’ll love your food. Food does not make you who you are, and your choices about food don’t need to define you. The truth is that part of learning to love food for me has been less about loving food and more about loving myself. As I have journeyed in accepting my body and valuing myself and all the complex facets of my being (not just my physical appearance), I have placed less value on what I look like. This has made my eating habits matter a great deal less. It has relinquished food from being a source of weight gain and ugliness. Now food is just one of many activities I enjoy.

One last thought before sending you on your way to loving food like a boss and gaining the sweet liberty of expressing your love of food freely: I found that learning to love food was a slow process. It has taken a great deal of mental retraining to remove the deeply ingrained habit of labeling foods. It was a test of persistence in actually changing the way I think, but eventually the labels disappeared (most of the time) from my thought process, and it has been so worth it.

Cheers, 

Amanda

Calories Are NOT Bad

I saw this from NPR’s Facebook account this morning:

“ Would you think twice about that 20-ounce soda if you were informed that it would take 5 miles of walking — or 50 minutes of running — to burn it off?”

With a link to it’s story, Reality Check: To Burn Off a Soda, You’ll Have to Run 50 Minutes  

There are many reasons this is idiotic reporting. Mostly because this is promoting anorexic thinking.

Source

Reality check: the average 30 year old woman burns 115 calories every waking hour, doing absolutely nothing.

Your body needs fuel. Food is not just something you eat to stop hunger pains, and then every morsel that passes through your mouth must be logged against how long it will take to run/walk/vomit off. Eating should not be an antagonistic activity. Striving to pass the smallest number of calories through your gut is not a goal, it's a disease.

Labeling Coke with a sticker that essentially reads “Warning: this food contains calories”--- is a horrible idea. Soda is not a bad choice because it contains 250 calories. Soda is a bad choice because those calories are unaccompanied by fiber, protein, vitamins, or fat. 

A coke and an avocado have roughly the same number of calories. That does not make the avocado junk food, nor should you pysch yourself up for a cardio workout every time you eat one. And while a rice cake may only have 35 calories, it is not a health food. Rice cakes provide nothing but simple sugars.

You can only eat so much in a day and your body requires certain amino acids, lipids, and other compounds that can only be obtained through eating. Soda contains none of those things. Thus you should usually spend your limited intake of food on those things that provide your body with necessary nutrients.  

I’d much prefer a sticker on Coke that reads: “Warning: these calories are purely for entertainment. NOT FOR MINDLESS CONSUMPTION”

*Steps down from soap box*
Stephanie

How a Japanese Internment Camp Reminded Me of Literary Theory

Hey Steph,

So I'm trying to check off the last few places in Utah that I've not been to. Not terribly far away from where I live is the Topaz Internment Camp, where over 8,000 Japanese Americans were imprisoned during World War II.

It was a sobering experience. There wasn't much left of the camp.

This is literally the only man-made part of the camp I saw.

The rest of the camp looked like this. 

As I walked around the dry landscape, I was reminded of a concept I learned back in my undergrad days as an English literature student. The concept relates to categories we have in perceiving the world: the Self and the Other. The Self references perceiving life through one's own experiences and perceptions. The Other references a group or concept outside of one's self; something alien or divergent from your experiences and perceptions. A running theme in literature is the Self learning to view the Other complexly and accepting the Other as part of the Self--that is, as similar to themselves.

For whatever reason, it seems that we humans have a long history with dealing with the Other poorly. The early Americans enslaved Black people because they were the Other. The Nazis imprisoned and killed the Jews for being the Other. Americans "relocated" Japanese Americans during World War II for being the Other.

And we still do it today. Far too many Americans fear all Muslims because Islamic extremists have terrorized Americans. There's far too much acidity in the words spoken by Democrats about Republicans. There's too much vilifying by Republicans of Democrats.

And we do this with individuals too. Someone hurts us, and our first response may be to focus in on this offense and remove the complexity of that person. She is thoughtless. He is a jerk. I would never say the things she said. I would never treat someone the way he treated me. Gone is a person that contains both good and bad attributes, leaving behind the Offender, the Other, someone without redeemable qualities.

Once we choose this lens of simplicity, it's hard to view people outside of that category that we have chosen for them. But I hope that we can choose to take a second look at those that hurt us, at those that scare us, at the Other, and reassess why people do what they do.

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known" (1 Cor. 13:12)

It's a challenge, but I hope we can put aside "childish things" and recognize that "for now we see through a glass, darkly." We cannot fully understand others. We don't see the inner workings of their hearts. We don't know their sorrows and pains. We don't know the reasoning behind their actions. I wonder if becoming "a man," as Paul wrote, has a bit to do with seeing the Self in the Other, even when the Other has attacked us or hurt us.  

Cheers,

Amanda Kae