Okay, I promise this isn't going to be a blog with only deep, philosophical posts... there will be some carefree, dancing in the sunshine sort of ones, but for now I just need to get some things out for my own sanity. Most of you know me pretty well, and if you don't well that will come one day I'm sure. For those of you who do know me, you know that I like being "tough." I love rock climbing, archery, guns, hunting, scuba diving, camo, and the military. I love the feeling that comes with accomplishing an impossible route, I love the feel of the arrow as it leaves the string and the way it flies across the open air, I love the feel of the trigger against my finger as I prepare to open fire, I love the thrill of the hunt- tracking some wild beast through brush and forest- through their domain, I love exploring the depths of the ocean and seeing things that some people only ever dream about. I love adventure, plain and simple. It has been programmed into me, like a GPS. I know my soul will always lead me to places of excitement and danger. But there is another part of me that I have become very accustomed to hiding. It is behind this wall of "toughness, masculinity," that somewhere along the line I forgot I was a woman.
Now, that may sound a little extreme. I don't mean I actually forgot that I have breasts and have the capabilities of giving birth, but I did forget that I am a feminine being, capable of being tough AND tender. I entered a stage in my life when I began to ridicule married women and look down on them especially if they had children. I scoffed at the female whose devotion was to her home and not her career, whose loyalties lay with her husband and children rather than her talents and opportunities. I looked in shock (and yes, at times even disgust) at women who enjoy such things as sewing, scrap-booking, crafting, etc... I saw them all as weak and conquerable, and so I vowed I would never let my femininity win over my strength. So I started to make a lot of "woman jokes," make comments about women in the kitchen, or say things like "that's woman's work." I used to say that all the time to my mom in the grocery store when she asked me to push the cart. I would stop, stare at her, and then utter those words. Of course, seeing as how she brought me into this world and can most certainly take me out, I always took the cart very quickly afterwards. Children became a nuisance for me, some accidents of nature, creatures that I would not tolerate- like gremlins, mischievous. Baby sitting became the worst form of punishment, and still I could never understand how the darn kids always liked me so much! I started to wear camo a lot and collect knives. Now, let me just say that I still love knives desperately, and they are still some of my most valued possessions, but I think in those days I placed more of my identity in them. I am not entirely sure where all this came from. Perhaps it was my way of hiding after being hurt one too many times. I thought if I didn't act like a woman, maybe I could keep my heart safe from men.
Here comes the confession part: I AM A WOMAN. I love to bake, pies especially. I love dresses... I wear them more often than not, and I own well over 50 of them. I love gardening and flowers. Right now I have a green house on my back porch and it is my pride and joy. I dote over those plants like I imagine most mothers dote over their children. I recently planted a garden with a friend, and it has not yet sprouted... I am devastated. Sometimes I watch romantic movies (the notebook especially) and yes, I often cry. I have been planning my wedding day since birth (like every other little girl), and yes... I LIKE CHILDREN. In fact, I plan on having children! When I was younger I had it all planned out: I would live with my husband in the wilderness with our 9 children and we would be homesteaders. My children were going to be named: Julian, Arya, Peter, Rose and Lily (twins), Violet, Elijah, Edon, and Julia. And I still really want my firstborn to be a boy so he can protect his sisters. In my daydreams we would have horses and cows and would grow/ hunt for our own food. I wanted to homeschool my children and keep them away from things like television, however I did plan on making them watch Lord of the Rings quite frequently (all joking aside). I spent a year planning all this out. Every time we took a trip to our cabin I would disappear into the woods and practice making weapons and gathering edible plants, and just preparing myself for this future I was so certain I would have. My question now is where did the disconnect occur? When did I start seeing these things as weakness instead of dreams? When did I see women as meek, malleable creatures?
Pain did this to me. Heartache did this to me. I think about my own mother. She is such a strong woman, both physically and in temperament. If there is any woman in this world whose ethics of hard work I want to mirror, it is hers. And yet, she had children. I am a living, breathing testament of that. She was not weakened by that. She was strengthened. The amount of stamina and will and pain it takes to give birth is unimaginable. I cannot begin to fathom such, and yet I know one day I will. And I am okay with that! I want children, want someone to pass on my knowledge and memories to. I want to show them off to family and friends and strangers. I want to be proud of something that is truly my own, something I created. I know I am not ready for children right now, but one day I will be. I have become confident in the fact that I can be a woman AND a badass (pardon my language). To be as blatantly "tough" as I have been trying to portray myself these last few years is to take away from the man who I am destined to one day marry. I have come to realize that there is a reason that men and women are different, and that is not just the obvious physical ones. You see, a woman's desire, her defining character beckons the question, am I beautiful? Am I lovely? Do I captivate you? A man's question is very different. His begs, Do I have what it takes? Am I strong enough? Am I truly a man? There is a reason these questions are so different. Man was made after God's warrior side. He was made in the image of a fierce God, a provider and a protector. Woman was made in the image of God's tender nature, His love and His compassion, His comfort. We are two very different, yet equally important embodiments of God, and until we understand this, it will be hard to know what our roles as men and women truly are. Honestly, I could spend the rest of my life talking about this subject, but the hour is late and this post is already WAY too long, so I will just recommend that you read both Wild At Heart and Captivating by John and Staci Eldredge. These books have been SO beneficial to me in coming into who I really am as a woman of God.
All this to say: I am a woman, and I am darn proud.
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