We don’t like to think of ourselves as a country where sex slaves live behind walls in our town.

Much less appealing is the idea that we’re accomplices in the sexual slavery in the United States.

Since it’s National Child Abuse Prevention Month (between 500 million and 1.5 billion children are estimated to experience violence annually), since our local paper recently covered a sex assault charge perpetrated by a Christian school teacher and pastor (yes, even in our small “safe” town of Steamboat Springs) it is time to uncover what we can do to prevent sexual abuse.

We can all make major changes. If you don’t care for the reasons, you can skip to my nine steps at the end.

I read God in a Brothel: An Undercover Journey into Sex Trafficking and Rescue by Daniel Walker who worked four years as a undercover emancipator.

I learned.

Sexual slavery isn’t just a Thailand thing.

Jane is from Kansas, her mother was a prostitute and drug addict.  When Jane was six years old her mother’s pimp began molesting her and her sister.  Jane was raped by her mum’s pimp when she was seven. At thirteen he began selling her on the streets. At 13, she saw the huge demand for her services, regular customers paid $600-$700 a session for sex. Jane used the money to pay for rent and care for her younger sister.  When Jane’s younger sister was eight, Jane’s mother sold her to another pimp to fund her drug habit. Jane was fourteen at the time. She ran way to Phoenix and began work as a stripper.  She got pregnant and continued working the street her entire pregnancy.

Paraphrased from Daniel Walker’s God in a Brothel (IVP, 2011).

Is Jane a sex slave? Maybe not technically. But I’ve met girls who’ve faced lives like this. They’ve been invited by a friend to the camp where I’m speaking.  They come to speak to me from the shadows and weep until they are exhausted. Often they don’t know what to do, they’re in the foster system, or they’re corseted in a religiously abusive situation where they cannot breath a word about what they’ve experienced.

Consider Jeni who traveled to the United States from Seoul after being offered a well-paying sales job.  She arrived in the land of the free to discover the sale was of her body and her employers were sophisticated criminals.  Jeni was shuttled between Los Angeles and Las Vegas.  She began work at 10 am and worked until no more willing customers wanted her body.  She had no freedom of movement, she couldn’t even go on a date without requesting permission from her “employers.”

Paraphrased from Daniel Walker’s God in a Brothel (IVP, 2011).

Interview with Daniel Walker

Last week, I won a drawing to participate in a conference call to ask Daniel Walker some questions.

After a celebration jig, I prepared this question: What can Christians do practically in our churches to prevent sex trade in the USA?

What follows is my attempt to re-create Daniel Walker’s answer.

I don’t look to those who hold the keys of power in the state to change sex slavery. Never have governments said so much and done so little.

Suffragettes chaining themselves to 10 Downing Street, London" Photo credit: lebrecht.mediastorehouse.com/low.php?xp=media&xm=940491

Sunday School teachers, mothers, fathers, youth workers, Teach the story of Moses. Egypt is not simply a metaphor for God saving his people from sin, it’s a story of the God of Israel fighting against slavery.  Teach your children to stand up against injustice in the smallest forms.

Teach your youth to recognize evil. (Hunger Games is a great place to start)

They don’t have to fear the world, God gave them courage to step up for justice, to notice the smeared, the bullied and stand in the gap. Standing up against a bully is as much a part of discipleship as anything else.

Women’s groups in the United Kingdom chained themselves to the city halls to demand the vote.  Why aren’t women’s groups doing something?

(My heart beat faster when I heard this.  Women did do amazing things to get the vote. Women created an embarrassing ruckus and used their bodies and dignity to go on hunger strikes, to get attention and secure the right to vote to themselves. Why aren’t we doing more for our sisters? for children in this country?)

Men’s groups need to do more than go on wild adventures into the woods.

The United States has a history where groups in your church (Walker is a resident of New Zealand) established the Underground Railroad to rescue slaves. You didn’t wait for your government to save them. The people of the churches organized a movement.

My pen was smoking by the time he finished.

So what can you and I do about sex slavery?

1. Let’s start simple: lead a book club on Daniel Walker’s God in a Brothel. Use the discussion guide.
2. Teach the story of the God of Israel rescuing the slaves of Egypt. Yes, use Moses on a flannel graph. Share how God cares about injustice, redemption and rescue and wants us to fight for hope with his help.
3. Help the men in your life face their own objectification of young women. Why did thirteen year old Jane attract so many adult customers wanting sex?  Why are men sexually drawn to younger women/girls? The allure of girls for sexual partners is an idea grown from child pornography and media pressure that girls are sexually more appealing than women.  Men are taught to believe this. Hugo Schwyzer offers an appropriate critic on men who prefer girls to women “Can a Man Change his Sexual Attraction to Teens?“.  Read Schwyzer’s diagnosis, then consider inviting the men you love into a safe conversation about how media shapes their own desires for younger women.  Refuse to berate, express shock or disgust as they share. Douse their shame with compassion. For men to be fully human they must be safe to be vulnerable.
4. Think carefully about vacation trips (are you on Spring Break, think about it now) to any major metropolitan center (e.g. Los Angeles, Atlanta, New York, Las Vegas, etc). I’m not saying don’t go. Instead, consider how your presence can be part of breaking the cycle of poverty and greed that fuels the Adult Entertainment industry.  Consider how you can vacation AND partner with a national organization like Treasures who shows you how to adopt a strip club and change lives. Or accompany JC’s Girls in Las Vegas to offer another story. Don’t visit big cities without considering how you’re part of the solution to sex slavery.
5. Give money specifically to end sex slavery. Consider Compassion International, Hagar International or NVader, Walker’s organization created to educate local law enforcement on stopping sex slavery in their own backyards. Or if you’re interested in casualty prevention, give to Soulation where we offer counseling, one-on-one chatting, regular resources and safe places to ask questions about identity, sexuality and God.
6.  Invite someone who is not in your socio-economic circles into your home. This summer we’re inviting a young woman who is facing her parent’s divorce and struggling to make ends meet to be our intern in White Woods. We’re offering her a place to stay and she is watching our son. We need her help, she needs our family.
7. Offer yourself as a mentor to one high school student (talk with the youth pastor or counselor at your local church or school) invite yourself into their life by buying a meal and LISTENING. Give them your cell, learn to text better and let them educate you on their life. Discover how difficult it is today to be a young man or woman who wants truth, dignity and love. Battle alongside them.
8. Ask God to bring one person into your life that needs help to escape the cycle of poverty.  Read Shane Claiborne’s The Irresistible Revolution in preparation. This month our family has invited a young woman who’s lost her mother to alcoholism and is fighting to keep herself afloat to help us with childcare needs. She’s bright and about to head off to college, but she is not from the “typical” babysitter pool. She is helping us, we are helping her.
9. Talk to your spouse about what makes women valuable. Of course, I recommend you read Ruby Slippers: How the Soul of a Woman Brings Her Home and begin a small group to discuss further. I think what we think about the value of women in our churches and homes dictates the kind of men and women we raise, the kind of courage they will have when they face abuse of any kind.  How will your children respond when they meet a stripper, will they see them as a object, a project, or do they see a image-bearer? If this makes you surprised you need to download a free copy (yes free THIS WEEK!) of Coffee Shop Conversations: Making the Most of Spiritual Small Talk. Go, right now. Stop reading this already and get a copy of the way to have conversations with people different from you and STILL talk about the God you love.
10. Any more ideas?

p.s. I did not receive God in a Brothel for free, nor was I contacted to endorse Walker’s book.

p.p.s. Next week, writing on Sexual Pleasure, Pain and Fifty Shades of Grey.

I know men who proclaim in Sunday services words sharpened by a one-woman audience at home.  Pastors around the country, relying on the women in their lives to help them. Personally, I count it a good thing when a man relies on a woman. I’m toe-deep in a book on this The Resignation of Eve: What if Adam’s Rib is no longer Willing to be the Church’s Backbone (BarnaBooks, 2012)

Depending on who you are, you may need more encouragement to rely on a women. Or you might be a woman who needs encouragement to rely on a man.

We all open doors for each other.

In the first pages of Ruby Slippers I wrote,

This book is dedicated to the men who opened doors for me.

My grandfather who opened Grace.

My father who opened Truth.

My husband, Dale,

who propped both doors open

so we might run through them together.

Dale has been holding and propping doors for over ten years. He taught me to take myself seriously.

I tweeted this, my #FeministEureka moment this week “When my husband asked me to swap domesticity for starting a non-profit with him Soulation.org”

I used to labor, unsuccessfully, over cheap steaks and slow-cooking vegetables to serve him up a warm meal (because that’s what women do when they love their men, right?) when Dale wanted to take me out to eat so we could talk, so I wouldn’t be diluted with the Betty Draper pattern I’d bought.  Slowly my grip on my apron loosened and I went out and bought speaking clothes.

I learned to buy make-up and get my hair cut so I stood out for the right reasons.

Now I have some sweet little speaking outfits, and some realistic aprons (the kind you can wipe your hands on) because a man gave me more than half a chance.

Dale is a husband that backs up my ministry.

And I back our ministry, but not in the conventional sense. I garner more speaking engagements, more writing opportunities, and more blog readers. But I funnel them back into Soulation where Dale also speaks, writes and blogs.  Dale still insists on sharing the spotlight, even if he’s pushed into the shadows a bit more.  Last week he observed that, “RubySlippers is the jewel of the Soulation crown, *** readers a day.” There was no malice, no envy in his tone.

Made me realize what he’s given up in propping the door open.

This weekend, after a near death experience (crazy driver!) I felt a stirring of the Spirit. I prayed aloud and listened aloud (for more on this spiritual practice ask and I’ll blog about it). I sensed an idea from the heavens, rooted in the rood that drives us Jesus-followers forward.

I sensed God say,

“Give Dale a month, an entire month where you are Mom with a capital “M.” Give him the space to hammer out his next book, the memoir on spiritual abuse.  Prop open a door for him and let me take care of you and your career.”

Prop open a door for Dale.

I know there are women who propped open doors for greater men than my husband.

A triumvirate of females propped the ministry doors for Jesus of Nazareth. They opened the portals with the only collateral a woman had in those ancient Roman days. They used their inheritance to fund his wandering, miraculous, prophetic ways. These women funded the Son of God.

I wonder what Chuza, the manager of Herod’s household thought of it, his wife such a prominent donor in Jesus’ non-profit.

I wonder what Magdalene’s family thought, another cultish dark dream? to fund a homeless man who spoke so fearlessly. He’d probably wind up killed.

I wonder about Susanna.

But we have it in Luke, “Also some women, who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases: Mary (called Magdalene) from whom seven demons had come out; Johanna the wife of Chuza, the manager of Herod’s household; Susanna; and many others. These women were helping support him out of their means” (Luke 8:2-4)

I want to know about the many others.  A ragamuffin bunch, unclean by the Jewish God’s standards.  Healed of dirty things, vulnerable, worse for wear, probably loopy, still socially tainted . . . but powerful.

They put their money on the right guy.

These women’s 401ks and bonds were liquified into the coins that filled Judas’ purse, the green stuff that bought the Passover meal and food to fill the bellies of the crowd that surged into Peter’s home in Capernaum (Mark 2:1).

Photo credit: imperiumarts.com/roman.html

Rich ladies still run things.

I may not be rolling in millions, but I’m rich in organization and time management. I can manage my work and Finn for a month so Dale can rush through a door I wedge open.

8-5, Monday through Friday, can I do it? can I be Mother?

I actually believe I’ll enjoy it.

For one month.

Let’s see what this rich lady can do.

My parent’s celebrated their 34th wedding anniversary last weekend with a trip to Disneyland.  I got a text of my mother riding Space Mountain with my tall father beside her. They were smiling in glee.

Happy 34th Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

I feel their faithfulness to each other remains a diamond-gift to their four children.

When I got married over 10 years ago Dale and I rode a convertible Prowler (thanks, Dad) down Pacific Coast Highway, my veil whipping in the wind.  At one red light a van of guys yelled porno suggestions to us.

I had no idea what they were saying, Dale was a little more aware. At the next red light a rough, big dude on a Harley gurgled his beast past our car and then slowly backed to level next to me. I felt my heart go tight. What would he say?

He just stared through his dark lenses.

“Communication,” he roared.

Green light and he was gone.

We laughed and laughed in relief.

Growing up I saw how communication was practiced between my parents, seemed pretty darn smooth.

Later, I learned they did argue, but not in front of us.  Advice popular among my parents suggested not fighting in front of the kids as it disturbs their confidence that the marriage is safe.  Some disagree now, as Caryn Rivadeniera explains in Duke it Out for Them: Why Parents Need to See Their Parents Fight, I tend to agree with Rivadeniera. But regardless, we could all use some tips on fighting fairly  in public or private.

Some colleagues visited us in Steamboat last week, they shared about how one marital counselor told them, “The issue isn’t if you’re going to fight. All couples fight. I want to teach you how to fight fair.”

You can’t eliminate fighting from relationship, that is unless you want to erase yourself. But you can argue, fight, even quarrel while practicing all the fruit of God’s spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control Gal 5:22).

For all those wanting to argue better, a few fighting-fair rules.

The Basic Formula

You want to share something, change something, disagree.  Begin with this basic formula, “I feel A because of B” where A = feeling word and B = state of affairs as best you see them.

There are lots of ways to get this seemingly simple statement wrong. “A” must be an emotion, not “I feel like you’re stupid because you didn’t do this right” or “I feel like you’re annoying,” or “I feel like you’re an idiot.”  Feeling someone is an idiot is not an emotion.  Instead you can say, “I feel ignored because the counter has these crumbs on it.”  B must be something you state about the world and not transmogrify into an accusation, such as “I feel ignored because YOU didn’t clean the counter.”  Can you hear the blame?

Give it a whirl. What do you need to fight over? Approach with the basic formula, approach with a tone of revealing yourself not accusing them. If you’re unsure, try out a few in the comments and I’ll walk you through.

Some successful formulas I’ve used, “I feel disrespected (or bitter or embarrassed, or like a bird chirping on a twig all alone–metaphors are always fun) when I find I’m repeating the same sentence three times to you” not “I feel you’re ignoring me” or “I feel like you’re a jerk.”  You can say, “I feel ignored, dissatisfied, confused….” etc.

Photo credit: zastavki.com

Trouble-shooting

The phrase, “I feel blamed,” should be used often and liberally whenever the basic formula is flouted or manipulated.

It’s a good phrase to use anytime you’re really trying to fight fair.

Example:

J: “I feel like I’m doing all the work around here because you’re just sitting and reading the paper.”

D: “I feel blamed.”

J: “GRRRRRR! Okay, I feel very very very exhausted because you’re not doing anything.”

D: “I feel blamed.”

J: “I feel exhausted” at this point I was unable to get to “B”.

D: “I’m sorry you feel exhausted, what can I do?”

J: (spinning rolodex of possibilities) “Could you take Finn for a few hours?”

D: “I don’t think I can take him that long, I’m wiped, too.”

J: “Well, I have a post I have to write.  Could you give me some time to work on it?”

D: “How much time do you want?”

J: “Two hours.”

D: “I can give you one hour right now.”

J: “I’ll take it.”

Please note this is not a real conversation, okay, maybe it is.

Red Light

The Basic Formula works well IF you are working with someone who respects and loves you. Proverbs 25 talks about well-spoken words being greeted by the wise with warm eyes. The wise want to know your feelings, they’ll greet them as something beautiful (like apples in silver or a gold earrings on a lovely woman) if you can share without blaming.  Proverbs 26 talks about how a fool responds to rebuke; they cannot handle the truth.  You’ll know a fool by how they respond to your emotions.

The basic formula does not work with fools and therefore, should not be used.

I have, unhappily, been in relationships with fools. When I share, “I feel disrespected when you say I look fat” and the response is, “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” with a tone of challenge and annoyance.

Notice the red light, a train is coming down the bend. Stop. This person is immature, a fool, unable to handle honest sharing and emotions. You can say, “I’d like an apology.” But they may very well say, “Well, I didn’t say anything wrong, you are fat.” etc etc.

At this point you can take a mental post-it, write “fool” on it and stick it on their head (metaphorically, speaking). Remember this label.  You cannot trust this person with your feelings. Change the subject or leave the room.  That said, relationships require mutual love and respect for each other’s feelings and vulnerabilities (not just respect for the guy and love for the girl, Are Women Natural Lovers? for more).

Photo credit: gaildavisart.blogspot.com

Like apples of gold in settings of silver
Is a word spoken in right circumstances.

Proverbs 25:11

Green Light

If you work on the Basic Formula (and I mean work on it for YEARS), you’ll find a blossoming of safety in your home. You will be able to hold onto yourself and your feelings while others do not agree.  Your spouse’s refusal to do as you ask will not feel like a tactical loss. You will find you can state your feelings, feel heard and respected and still be disagreed with.  Disagreement is actually evidence that you are safe, that you are not punishing.  Ask yourself beforehand, “If he says no, what will I do?”

Dale and I parsed out chores today (a good Equally Shared Parenting exercise) and he stoutly refused to clean the nooks and crannies of the kitchen counter tops as often as I’d like. His easy disagreement and my own calmness felt like cool lemonade on a hot day. The disagreement without unkindness, the clarity of our differences without disgust.

It had all the honesty and reality of fighting fair.

Finn was taking notes, I could tell.

I think some people get nagging, I mean they get why it’s so tempting.

I do.

Nagging “the interaction in which one person repeatedly makes a request, the other person repeatedly ignored and both become increasingly annoyed” defined last Wednesday by Elizabeth Bernstein, in the Wall Street Journal’s Meet The Marriage Killer: It’s More Common Than Adultery and Potentially as Toxic, So Why is it So Hard to Stop Nagging?

Bernstein calls it a vicious cycle.

Comic Credit: Wall Street Journal

I ask Dale about the pile of papers on the table.

He explains it’s work he needs to have out to remember to get done.

I remind him about our lovely wicker basket system (lovely because you can put papers within and shut them from my eyes)

He explains the wicker basket is full.

It’s full? Well, that’s because you haven’t dedicated and organized and prioritized. I then begin to outline a new plan, for him.

He interrupts me to restate his need for papers on the kitchen table. Or else, it won’t get done!

Now, how can you argue with that?

Recently, I believed we solved this problem by purchasing a new kitchen table. It’s antique finish awed Dale enough to leave all the piles of paper on the floor, making it difficult to slide into his place for mealtime.

“You really need to do something about this pile of papers,” I remind him yesterday

Repeat above conversation.

Mr. Nag?

Why do women nag more than men?

“Because we are conditioned to feel more responsible for managing home and family life, we are more sensitive to early sign of problems in a relationship . . . etc. etc” or so say the experts from the Journal. Thank you Ms. Bernstein.

But really, now.

So when Dale asks me, repeatedly to not place my clothes on the ladder (he might slip!) and I tell him it’s easier for me and besides, that’s what eyes are for.

And he keeps asking and asking.

We don't look like this when we're nagging each other.

Is this not nagging?

Or when Dale requests that I do not move his carefully piled papers on the table, again and again.

Oh, men can nag. I bet I can get even the most unrelational, unemotional, unsocial man to nag.

Recipe: find the thing THEY are responsible for and don’t take care of it, again and again.

They will remind you, again and again.

I do not recommend this.

My father was really good at nagging me to not touch his Porshe 911 with my hands (There is invisible dust, Joni, that your fingers press into and scratch the paint. Don’t touch it!). He asked me repeatedly. Somehow the creamy white begged me to forget.

I didn’t try to turn my dad into a nagger, but I did.

If nagging is such a problem and so wide-spread, what can we do? The WSJ suggests that nagging makes men feel like little boys (girls, you’re not being sexy!), that nagging can ruin marriages (scared, yet?).  Bernstein says we must begin by admitting it (confess your sins? a good start), doing personality tests, learning better communication.

Nice suggestions, but not that helpful, not foundational enough.

Like most stuff journalists pump out,  they’re superb at problem revealing, not at problem solving.

Equally Shared Parenting

I’ve recently picked up a book that was serendipitously displayed at my local library in the parenting section–a section full of book titles that normally make me laugh (Screamfree Parenting, Successful Parenting, True Parenting)

Equally Shared Parenting: Rewriting the Rules for a New Generation of Parents by Marc and Amy Vachon, featured in The New York Times in 2008 article “When Mom and Dad Share it All“.

I didn’t laugh. I just marched over and seized it.

Found within, a husband and wife introduce me to my tribe (EquallySharedParenting.com: Half the Work, All the Fun), the group of people who have chosen, voluntarily and happily to share all of parenting and life’s joys and responsibilities. They call this equally shared parenting (ESP).

The boy who started it all.

Ingredients: 2 willing partners

Goals: full partnership in each of the four domains

4 Domains: childraising, breadwinning, house-work and time for self.

Yeild: a marriage where responsibility isn’t divided along gender roles, but along equality.

Now how in the world do you do that?

First, they believe it’s not fair for one spouse to get sidelined to assistant in parenting (what do I feed him? where are his socks?), they (usually the father) miss out on too much.

Second, they believe it’s not fair for one spouse to get sidelined in terms of career (but I made 1/2 of what you do), they (usually the mother) miss out on too much.

Solution: share.

Their book is a detailed look at how to share, from learning to ask employers for part-time work (The guy tries over half a dozen times before learning HOW to ask), to relinquishing control on typical female or male roles (spoiler alert: the main reason guys don’t help with childcare is because women teach them to feel incompetent), to expecting and giving trust.

What a godly idea, though the Vachon’s don’t profess any faith, their mutuality, respect and equality rivals what I’ve envisioned parenting, career and marriage can be if I were brave enough to try.

I’m half way through and taking copious notes. If I get enough feedback from this post, I’ll post a full review.

For now, let me apply their principle to the nagging problems in our lives.

ESP and Nagging

If women relinquish the Mom Power Grab to take all the responsibility (deciding childcare options, scheduling all activities, doctor’s appointments, packing diaper bag, present purchases, bedtime, potty training method etc) and goodies (first time experience at zoo, birthdays, first step, swimming lessons, nighttime snuggles, post-injury comfort, etc) Dads can have a chance to own the responsibility and goodies of child-raising, too.

And the increase of responsibility = lower nagging.

How?  A responsible mother or father must in turn learn competence. And there is no quicker terminator of nagging than competence. It eliminates all the bad-mouthing of incompetent, unavailable, disagreeable, insensitive husbands, for instance.

Now, this is not easy. Today, Dale had Finn for the morning hours so I could watercolor.  I was to meet them at the Old Town Hot Springs for workout and swim time together.  I was right on time, but passed Dale’s Jeep making a left turn in front of me and pulling into (no it can’t be!)

McDONALDS! as drove past.

I was on the phone with a friend, thankfully, which kept me from leaping into the Mom Power grab.

I wanted to call Dale, remind him that there were better eating options for Finn than McDonalds.

I would have liked to text him the extra snacks I packed (a sign I didn’t really trust him to pack food!) in my car that Finn could eat.

I wanted to tell him he was going to be late, as well.

Instead I cruised right by and only miss a few seconds of my friend’s story.

Dale with Finn at 4 months

Dale was responsible.

Could I trust him?

Could I?

Even if he doesn’t father like I mother.

If I want to say no to nagging… YES.

ESP refuses to transfer ownership of any one domain automatically back on one partner for credit or blame.  For instance, Finn’s got a blow-out at McDonalds (okay, I go there voluntarily), Dale finds extra wipes in the diaper bag. A nearby mother comments, “Good thing Mom packed extra wipes!”  But it was Dad who packed them.

Or say our bank account is shrinking faster than expected due to new home building project. Instead of asking, “Didn’t you plan for this?” of Dale, we work out how we can both make compromises, more savings, less purchases.

With ESP, making money, finding time for our personal hobbies, taking care of Finn, keeping the house (clean, stocked, washed, ordered) is not one person’s sole domain.

Now, of course ESP isn’t for everybody. But it is an attempt to name the thing I’ve been trying to label co-parenting. This equally shared parenting is what Dale and I have been trying to do.

Emphasis on “trying”.

And what’s more exciting, lots of other people are doing it. And they’re not just incredibly lucky, independently wealthy or crazy peeps either.  These are couples who want to make sacrifices so that no one parent is shouldered with the primary task of bringing in the income or raising the children.

So back to nagging about those papers.  Would you believe it? Nagging goes down if I’m not the only one in charge of vacuuming and dusting around Dale’s pile of papers?

Dale finds his own way and time to tidy up when vacuuming is something he does as well. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to vacuum around papers? You don’t have to argue about it, experience is a lovely and swift teacher.

Getting Rid of the Nag

If you struggle with nagging, one of the sweetest little gifts for a Valentine’s Day present is to back up five paces on the nagging issue.

Who has control over it? Whose domain is getting neglected?

In other words, if the dishes aren’t done, who gets inconvenienced?

If it’s both of you, then nagging won’t be a problem. (Side note: sharing chores does require that you 1- agree what needs attention 2- agree to let the other person clean as they see fit). We both clean as if this is OUR property, not someplace our mom will come after and fix the shoddy job. It also means that my standard of cleanliness may or may not be the same as Dale’s. This is where letting my standard bend to Dale’s (also clean) standard comes in. Very few women can do this.

And this is why we nag.

In our home, Dale does all the dishes, unless he cooks, then we switch.  But if the dishes aren’t done, and I cannot make the next meal, the meal doesn’t get made (or we eat cereal out of mugs with plastic spoons). Or I work around the mess, but I don’t complain about the dirty dishes (this is a seven year old skill that isn’t completely in the bag, yet), I cook and make the dishes pile a little larger. It is impossible to make a meal without making some mess (which means more for Dale to eventually clean).

Peanut butter and jelly on paper towels all around.

Dale is not a fan of peanut butter and jelly for all his meals.

The responsibility is shared. We all get impacted by how we do or don’t clean, cook, watch Finn, work on Soulation, take a break. Equality, shared responsibility, even in the areas that seem like the “man’s” or the “woman’s” realm.

And Mr. and Mrs. Nag are slowly retreating.

And with their tail lights in my review mirror, I might just break open that box of chocolates!

You know I care about resting, that I try to practice Sabbath rest. But I don’t practice faithfully or consistently.  In other words, I’m always looking for better ways to practice rest.

One reader of RubySlippers, a woman I met at a speaking engagement in New Hampshire recently explains how she rests.  As a mother of three under the age of 6 (Eldan five, Evelyn  3, and Oliver is nine months), married for eight years to a school teacher (Andrew), a regular participant in her local congregation, you could assume Danielle never gets to rest.

Eldan, Evelyn and Oliver

Danielle originally sought me out through emails confirming her prayers for my rest. She’d pray in the wee hours of the night while she was not resting, for me and my sleep.  Sometimes we figure we were up at the same time. She’s my encourager that the sleep deprivation will one day end.

Danielle is an experienced veteran on the challenges of rest, she’s also a new blogger at Thinking Out Loud.  And she’s figured out a few peaceful practices I think you’ll enjoy. They’ve changed the way I welcome the Sabbath into my life.

~     ~     ~

Danielle, before we talk about how you’ve learned to rest, can you tell me about a crazy moment when resting seemed like the last thing possible?

I can think of a specific instance right after Oliver was born where I was nursing him, Evelyn was screaming from the bathroom because she’d had an accident and Eldan had just hurt himself and was at the same time hollering from his room! Things like that happen a lot;)

I know you live with sleep deprivation. Can you give us a little snapshot?

Sleep, ha! I vaguely remember what that is. Evelyn has been a terrible sleeper so I’ve been running on overtired for three very long years! We just moved Oliver to his own room and a glimmer of hope is shining ever so dimly, but it’s coming!

What’s your Sabbath practice looked like in the past?

When I first read your blog post (Practicing Sabbath: Tips for the Practice) I was really challenged. We try and take Sunday off. We attend Sunday school than spend the rest of the day as a family just chilling, but I have a hard time “turning off.” So the first Sunday after I read your post I “tried” to rest! HA! I got so stressed out because my life with three kiddoes is not restful and no matter how I tried to NOT do anything the more stressed I got that I HAD to do things!!! Revelation!!!! Ding ding went the lightbulb.

Rest has little to do with what we are doing but HOW we are doing it.

The next week I purposed to enjoy my family, and do the necessary tasks with the mindset of resting and focusing on the little things that get so neglected through out our busy week. I just purposed to slow down my pace and enjoy the process. AHHHHH!  It is still a journey for me where I am welcoming my Savior along to help my find the rest I sooo need each week.

Danielle and her family

What did a typical Sunday look like before you tried to rest?

I remember before we had children and even with just Eldan we really rested on Sundays. We’d watch football, nap, read, or take nice calm walks.  As the years went we got busier with Church and just the craziness and chaos that extra children just naturally add.  Sundays turned into a catch up day. I rarely even napped anymore. Sundays became very busy and chaotic.

Can you give me two or three examples of tasks you do during your new Sabbath with the mindset of resting and focusing on the little things?

Danielle with Oliver

I spend a lot of time snuggling!!!

My kiddoes like watching football with us so Andrew and I usually have one of the children curled up with us on the couch. We both also try really hard to share the tasks of the day or do them together.

It makes a huge difference to just focus on togetherness. If the older two are really high strung, we will put on a movie for them in their room and ask them to play quietly. We try and limit television throughout the week so there is no guilt involved when it comes to Sundays! 

We’ve also, for the most part stopped going to Sunday evening church. This way once we are home after Sunday morning, we are just home. It helps to not be rushing everyone to eat and get out the door.  Also, we can still get the kids to bed at a good time which helps in keeping a spirit of calmness. This just works best for us with young children.

What are some tasks you do together as a family on your sabbath days?

Hmm, it can vary ; a few things that come to mind

~ making lunch

~ watching a show together from Netflix and eating on TV trays all in the Living room!

~ We have several Wii games that are for the whole family and we will often play those together.

~ We just bought chinese checkers (its definitely interesting with a three year old, but it sure makes it fun and silly!)

~ We read out of the Message to our children and will often read some passages on Sunday evenings.

My husband has actually been doing something all the time that has made a huge difference. it may seem really dumb, but our kids are young and LOVE competition. He makes every task, a game. He basically says, “Hey, guys, I have a game!!”

They run in and will do just about anything. So much of how we approach things rubs off on our children and their attitudes. my daughter just tonight helped my pick up A BUNCH of Peas that Oliver had thrown all over the floor! She and I laughed the whole time and she high fived me at the end, like it was the greatest thing she had done all day!

Please understand as well that even amidst our search for rest often chaos ensues!! Its just part of the phase of life we are in, but we can keep seeking peace and rest and asking God to help us find it!

How would you encourage other moms of little ones to rest without making it another to do list or guilt thing?

I have been purposing to keep Mondays (as much as possible) a catch up day. That way on Sundays when I’m starting feel overwhelmed with the laundry and dishes and crumbs collecting, I first ask God to quiet my soul, and then I remind myself that I have Monday to, “get it done.”

There will always be things to “do”. I have to remind myself of the precious treasure our rest days are in this busy thing called life.

What is one activity that you recommend for Sabbath days?

Build a Knex creation :)

Loved hearing from you, Danielle. Thank you for letting us into life styles of the purposeful and peaceful.

Consider the way the Jewish command to rest one day out of seven might bring more peace into your life.

I think the attitude Danielle shares about approaching her Sabbath as a day of togetherness is very practical.  Imagine who you could share your Sabbath days alongside? Your mother, your friend, your spouse, your child.

Consider how doing things with purpose and pacing follows in God’s footsteps, when he rested and noticed the world he had made in 6 days.  Spend one day in seven noticing the world you’re creating.

Picking up peas can become playtime, pulling out all your books and noting their spines and titles, dipping in, letting yourself fall asleep can become worship.  Imagine a day where cuddling becomes the end goal.

Any stories you’d like to share of your rest? I’m all ears.

Dale doesn’t think new year resolutions are all they’re cracked up to be.

I tend to disagree, mainly because I’m a lover of opportunities to change in grandiose ways, ways I can write about and check up on. Dale is a changer in bits and pieces, he’s also big on changing when the need arises. As he says, “I’m not waiting until a new year to change something.”

And he  hasn’t. A few weeks back we struggled to find a place for us both to feel like we weren’t drowning (Mercy For Christmas).  I felt annoyed and terse and unappreciated. I know he felt the same.

We were working hard, but often not wing-to-wing, more like two whirling tops. Nothing like this morning when I looked up from my laptop and say to him, “I can’t believe how many emails I still have to just read,” putting my cold hands on my flushed face.

He pauses long enough to cool the smoke from his racing fingers on my laptop and looks back at me, “Take them one by one.” I smile and feel known and like he’s in this with me.  I feel togetherness as I dive back into the inbox.

We’ve found a new way to co-parent, a way to find time when we need it, a life-giving change.

Dale decided to give up his writing, any creative writing, any book ideas, any memoir hopes. He’s pulled them all off the stove because he couldn’t, in his words, “Do it all.”

How many men can say that?

I don’t know.

But I was relieved to know Dale understood he dilemma that so many women face. The 2:3 ratio.

You can have 2 of the 3: a husband, kids, a career.

You can have a husband and a career, but not kids, not well-loved ones.

You can have a career and kids, but no husband, not a happy one.

You can have a husband and kids, but not a career, not a good one.

But not all three. Not if you’re a woman.

Of course, that’s an overstatement, but does it resonate with any of you?

I sure get it.

Dale’s decided to take a hit in his career so he can be more present with Finn.

And you know what? Just a few breaks mean a world of difference for me, for Finn, for him. I’ve even begun brainstorming ways I can watch Finn longer so Dale can get back to writing. But we will see.

I can’t do it all, either.

We’ve both agreed that we don’t want to see Finn as time punched into a chore we dread. Finn is not time we waste or time we have to just grit our teeth and get through to get back to Soulation. Finn will pick that up, and he’ll understand that he’s not as attractive or interesting or important.

And we don’t believe that.

So, for now, Dale is waiting on his writing. As the resident true artist in our  house (yes, I’m an artist, too, but I don’t have the artistic temperament ), he needs lengthy bits of time to write.

It was hard for me to watch a man I know is a gifted writer put that aside. He will work managing Soulation, writing emails, managing writers and video ideas.

And he will work alongside me, continuing to make time for me to write in my fits and starts (like this morning).

For now, we’ve found a boat to carry us through another rapid. It’s safe and dry and cozy–that’s a nice word for small.

And, for now, we’re smiling into each other’s eyes, watching the water and peeps rush by.

We’re not as fast, but we’re together.

New Year Wantings

This year, I’m wanting to read weekday nights and watch fun things like Mad Men weekend nights. Last year’s “Year of the Book” lit up my hunger for reading again. I’m not letting it go. It’s too wonderful.

I’m wanting to watercolor once a week. I will not feel bad about not doing more.

I want to learn Spanish and talk more with Finn in Spanish.

I’m wanting to practice my Spanish with my sister (thank you, Abby!) each week on the phone.

I’m wanting to save energy so at night I can talk and listen and make love to Dale.

I’m wanting to leave my house a little messier and leave those I love a little more peaceful.

God give me my all my wants and save me from them, too.

10 Year Anniversary at Huntington Beach - see Finn's foot?

As a young girl I played “Mercy” with other friends. The wrist-bending game where the loser had to shout, “Mercy.” The word that meant punishment would end, the word that was embarrassing to yell.

Dale and I watched an episode of Midsomer Murders last weekend. The kind vicar with the bitchy wife was the murderer.  Several times Dale and I made significant eye-contact over the slow harping way she pulled him down to the gutter. She was Wormtongue, she eroded his worth and his pleasure. In the end you wondered how she played a part in his crimes.

A day later Dale and I would talk with hurting eyes and slow words about how we had failed to love each other. I had hurt him in ways I had not let myself realize.  He said, his eyes filling, that the vicar’s wife reminded him, for one splitting moment . . . of me. I couldn’t stand it.

And yes, I had my list of offenses, too.

He had hurt me.

Old patterns, but new ways. The stepping on Dale’s value, the stepping on my time. The juggling of Finn, the lack of sleep, the sexual missing of each other like ships in the night, his desire, my apathy, the current sickness that still keeps my beloved in his bed, too achy to even cuddle against my eager body.

My throat aches, but I will the sickness down, deep into my belly where I am too tightly wound to enjoy food.  Finn pulls out of his double ear infection enough to count him nearly well.

But, today I work alone at the coffee shop.

I talk with a dear friend and text another, the two women who hold my hands up, who listen to me crying at night on the phone and remind me of why I married Dale.

“Because he loves you so well,” one says.

So well? I started weeping, even with weeks like this, I know she’s speaking truth.

But Oh, these wretched weeks of sickness.

Sickness without and within.

So I’m watching Finn solo, again.  December 1st, Dale left for a Jeep trip and got stuck in a blizzard. Not really his fault, was it?

He comes home more than a day late. I’m left with Finn and wondering when I get time. Alone.

Monday comes and I take Finn to a friends with gladness, so Dale can put in more hours on his memoir on spiritual abuse. I feel I’m contributing to good work. I put Finn to bed and write.

Bump and Stumble and Bursting get penned, but I notice the pattern, that I write when Finn sleeps, that Dale writes when I watch Finn.

I wonder if we can call this co-parenting and shoulder on, not without ticking off my time gone, wondering when I get my break.

It does not come.

Finn gets sick Tuesday and I commandeer his care, even when Dale offers.

Wednesday finds Dale sick, a sickness that gave him one day respite. That was the day when Dale works hard (too hard) on installing a new sound system into the aforementioned Jeep, a system that MUST be installed Saturday because it’s the only day the friend will be in town to install it.

Dale also got up extra early that morning and took Finn to our babysitter, because I was breaking down.

Dale breaks down that evening.

I pick up Finn from the babysitter at 11:30, insisting on watching Finn as Dale says the Jeep’s sound will be done soon. It’s 5pm when he returns and I swallow resentment.

Even though, even though . . . Dale offered to watch Finn all afternoon if I needed it. But no, I could watch him.

I.

Can.

Do.

It.

Saturday eve Dale is sicker than he was Wednesday.  The promise of getting Saturday afternoon to rest, of Sunday getting time to me, of Monday, of Tuesday. . . gone

Impossible to keep, impossible to know what to ask, impossible to change.

How can I expect day labor from Dale when light is denied him. He is unwell.

I am well.

Am I?

There are sicknesses deeper than those of body.

I heard God in the wee hours of Saturday night, the hours when I wrench my body from sleep and stumble over to Finn to re-dose Motrin or re-store his fluids with milk, I hear God.

“You are strong,” he said.

I almost replied, “Damn right I am… look at all I’m doing!”

“You are strong,” he said, again, “Strong enough to care for Dale. I made you strong . . .

to serve.”

My badge of honor, my strength, a badge for entry into the hall . . .

of servants.

Can I stay outside that hall?

Lately, I’ve been asking friends to pray for me, for expectation to shift into what is the real, even if it’s a desert of realness.

Desert to me means accomplishing little, it also means waiting without a due date, it means surviving without producing.

My days are slow in passing this December. I’m tired of playing with blocks and doing the dishes.

I’m stunned with ennui and cold.

I cannot make the fire as well as Dale, nor can I clean the dishes or make Finn laugh like he. I cannot make love or make delightful meals, my partner-in-arms is sick. I feel him as a ball and chain around my ankle and instantly feel disgust at the way I feel.

But I can ask God

to

heal

me.

I can become a woman who serves, without storing resentment.

I can call my therapist (which I just did) to request a meeting. For her to teach me about how to serve without being subservient, how to ask and receive help, even (and especially) when the help isn’t the way I want it.

How to give mercy, so I can give it, this Christmas.

Wrapped in my flesh, served without a side dish of guilt.

I just finished A Live Coal in the Sea, by Madeleine L’Engle, a story of wonderful, beautiful, painful life. A novel where the sins of the mothers’ infidelity are visited on the second and third generation, where mercy mingles with resentment.

The title is taken from a thousand year old quote by William Langland, 14th century, “But all the wickedness in the world  which man may do or think is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal dropped in the sea.”  

All the wickedness which woman may do . . . or think.

Make me part of your sea of mercy, God,

make me learn the gift of mercy to myself,

so I might give it for Christmas

to those I claim to love.

Inspiration from this post woven from:

~ Spoken word poet, Alysia Harris, Cab Rides & The Morning After , disclaimer for mature content and language.

~ Andrew Peterson’s “Serve Hymn”

~ Midsomer Mystery, Death’s Shadow

~ Madeleine L’Engle, A Live Coal in the Sea

~ John Milton’s “On His Blindness”