The last gal in our group is a mom. She has several kids, the oldest of which is six. She laughed with us and said, “You know girls, it never goes away. You never get that feeling that you know what you are doing.”

She the went on to tell us that a few weeks ago, she wasn’t sure how to discipline her six year old for something he’d done. Feeling frustrated, she grabbed her head and said to him, “I don’t know what to do with a six year old!” Calmly, her son looked back at her and said, “It’s ok Mommy, can’t we look on the internet? We can just Google it.”

If Only It Were That Simple

After laughing at how cute, honest and innocent six year olds can be, I couldn’t help but agree with him. Why can’t life be that simple? You cannot even imagine the sense of relief I might have right now if I could simply type into my computer “How to do really great at my job, have my boss and my coworkers all like me, and not screw it up in the process.” And because the whole world knows that Google’s secret algorithm is like a magic spell that brings all correct and relevant information to the top 10 links on my results page, I would simply have to click around and Voila! I would know how to do the rest of my life.

The interesting thing about Google is that I use it for more than answers. I use it as my spell check – that little link asking “Did You mean…?” keeps me from all sorts of wrongs (in fact I just used it for voila, because I almost wrote viola, which is a kind of a violin, thanks Google!) I use it to find dates on the calendar when I can’t find my phone. I use it to help me explain things, like last week when my roommate didn’t know what caprese salad was. Thank you Google Images.  I use it for maps, phone numbers, email…the list goes on. But I am assuming you know all of this because if you’re around my age, your probably just as addicted as I am.

Now the question for me is, how is it that a six year old’s knee jerk reaction to life’s questions is simply to Google it? He grew up with Google ingrained in his worldview as “The answer to all of life’s questions.” At least I was in college or something before Google really came barreling into the market. In some semblance, I did know life before Google. But this kid, he has no clue. In his mind, that’s what we do for all of life’s question, simply run to the computer and look them up.

I suppose his mom doesn’t really have to sit him down and explain life to him. Eventually over time all of the kids who grew up on Google will have to sort the tough stuff out for themselves just like the rest of us. And in the mean time, it seems cruel to say to a six year old, “Honey life is hard, and sometimes there aren’t any good answers. Even Google can’t solve them.“I can tell you this though, I really wish he was right. Life would be a whole lot easier if we could just “Google It.”

There is a part at the end of the book that really has stuck with me. He’s talking about a sculptor and her love hate relationship with her art. How it’s tumultuous, painful, and agonizing. Yet she is so emotionally connected to her work, it is like its a part of her soul.

And when it is all finished, it is the pain that gives it meaning. It is the struggle for the art to come out of the clay that makes it beautiful. That the parts of the art that are tarnished and ruined are the very parts that make it valid and valuable.

It is then that Bell poses the question, “Was this sculptor really talking about art? Or is this life?”

Right in the Middle

This season has been interesting in that it has been painful. Or maybe I need to knock the words “this season” from my vocabulary, because maybe that’s just life. It’s painful. It asks a lot from us. Good lives do anyway. They’re scary. Art is scary. Doing something worthwhile is terrifying.

But I think Im in a moment where Im on the fence between beautiful and painful. I see both. I feel both. And this is one of the few moments in my life where I wouldn’t change the painful hard parts. They are so integral from this view. Taking them out of the picture would render the whole thing meaningless. The beauty has validity because it was painful.

The View from Here

Being here in the space between beautiful and painful, this is what I know.

Art is important. Create it if it kills you. Foster it, take care of it. Go to museums, paint, shut your self in your room and create beautiful music, stay up late and go to Indie shows, and support your local film director. Make friends with people who love it too, do it together and create it for the community.

Adventure is important. We weren’t meant for freeways and concrete jungles. Go to the mountains, the forests, the beaches or the deserts. Carve out a time in those meeting notices to make it important. Feed your soul with fresh air, great hikes, and camping under open skies. Remind yourself that you are just a part of something bigger than yourself by standing at the foot of something natural and majestic.

Love is important. Make a place in your heart to love people who are hard to love. It makes you a better person. Loving those who love you is easy. That doesn’t require vulnerability, just reciprocation. But go first, love first, extend your heart to those who might break it. Remain soft. Don’t let the word jaded enter your vocabulary. Carve out a space in your life for good friends who know your heart well and love them. Make space for memories and wine. Don’t get swept in the dailiness of live, create breathing room to love and be loved.

Risk is important. Do the things that scare you. That’s what life is for. Sure, it’s painful, but as I said before pain is what gives life depth and meaning, so if you’re not in pain your doing something wrong. Make a list, find what scares you, and start checking things off. You’ll be more alive than you were yesterday.

As predicted, today that shift shouts gently in the background. To me it seems almost as if there is a light crispness in the air. I’m still searching for the right words to describe it, but I think it has something to do with the fact that we have officially left Summer and have entered the Fall.

Autumn has always been my favorite season, and every year my mind spins to try to capture why. I’m not sure if it’s the gorgeous reds, yellows, and oranges. I don’t know if it’s the pacifying feeling of pulling pea coats out of the closet, or if it’s the aroma of sweet and spiced coffees in the brisk mornings. It could be the contented excitement that washes over me when I think about how many meals need to be prepared in the next few months. There are spiced loaves, turkey dinners, prime rib Christmases, holiday drinks and parties to be had.

I don’t claim to be a Betty Crocker, but I have been so excited for Fall cooking that I have already started looking up recipes. I’ve been telling HNB for a few weeks now that I’m excited to cook Thanksgiving dinner and to host our friends for an evening of relaxation and eatery.

But the feeling in the air is bigger than excitement to cook. It’s a feeling of change. Maybe even good change. It’s a feeling that laughter is on its way. It’s a feeling that there are memories to be made, friendships to be strengthened, wine bottles to be opened, and champagne bottles to be popped. There are engagements to be had, weddings to go to, and Christmas parties to attend. There are scarves to be worn, fall boots to be purchased, and coats to be wrapped in.

And even more than this, there are thanks to be had. Thanks that the fall is here and the world is about to be stunningly beautiful in crisp colors and scents. Thanks to be given that the darkest parts of the economic crash might be behind us, and that our nation is forging forward. Thanks that in the trying parts of this last year we were able to hold to what was important, to grow with our families, to spend our money on things that mattered, and give our time to things that were noble.

There are stories to be written this fall. There are beautiful stories begging to leap off of the pages and into action within our days. There are daring stores, sacrificial stories, and epic stories. And for me, in my mind, these grand stories and adventures are embodied in the leaves that fall, crisp and brown, reminding us that change has come. Autumn is here.

Knowing this I have wanted to do a follow up post, but for a long time I didn’t have anything new or profound to say about it. Last week however I read this really interesting article in Christianity Today by Mark Regnerus (which was sort of a big deal because normally I find Christianity Today WAY too conservative for my tastes). His article was called A Case for Early Marriage, and you can read the full piece here.

Regnerus takes the whole conversation of single Christian sexuality and adds an interesting twist, refocusing the conversation into something different than mere sex.  He points out that as a Christian culture, we are highly focused (and maybe over focused) on physical conservatism before marriage, but we are missing the larger issue. Instead of being focused on how to be able to wait longer and longer to have appropriate sex within marriage, he argues that we need to see the value of, and support young Christians entering into marriage. He illuminates the shift in culture away from marriage and commitment, happening both inside and outside of the Church.Yet at the same time, we haven’t allowed for any shifts in our thoughts surrounding sexuality. We have been left with an entire generation of Christians who are trying all of the virginity commitment gimmicks they can muster, while needing trying to abstain for a continually elongating period before marriage. And in the midst we are wondering why the Church’s 80% sexuality rate isn’t that much behind the world’s 90% rate.

In a single statement, Regnerus says that we don’t need to learn how to be more pure, we need to learn how to get married.

To follow up this statement,  it should be explained that if marriage is God’s display to the world of how Christ loves the Church, then we should be focusing on how to create supported and strong marriages between young Christians…not how to keep your hands to yourself until you are nearly 30.

“I am suggesting that when people wait until mid to late 20s to marry, is IS unreasonable to expect them to refrain from sex. It battles our Creator’s reproductive design. The data don’t lie.”

Right here let me clarify that Regnerus does indicate that young marriagedoesn’t mean that we should be telling high schoolers to think about wedding rings. He is focusing on the 22-24 year old crowd. Which, yes does seem a bit young to us, but even 35 years ago, that was the average age to think about marriage.  Regnerus clarifies our struggles with sexuality and marriage with the following statement:

“…yet in surveying the scene, many Christians perceive a SEXUAL crisis, not a MARITAL one. We buy, read and pass along books about battling our sexual urges, when in fact we are battling them far longer than we were meant to.”

Can I get an amen from all the single 20-something Christians out there? I have to say, it was a bit vindicating to have someone else see the problem here. We aren’t sinful for touching each other…we’ve just lost of the focus of commitment.

To be clear here, the advice is not that we all go out and touch each other because we are in our mid 20s and single. Let’s not throw the baby out with the bath water. Instead, the focus of the argument and solution to the sexual “crisis” is on the idea of having the Church support and build healthy marriages between young people. He does argue that we should try to wait for sex. But we should not be putting off marriage.

“Table For One”

Quoting some statistics about marriage, Regnerus points out that we have 65% more single households than we did in the past 35 years. Also, it surprised me to read that less than half of all households in America are married couples. It doesn’t shock me or any of my single women friends to read that we have 120% more single male homes than we did 35 years ago. Women, the reality is that it IS harder to get married these days.

Why is it that we are waiting? Why is it that most of my friends that got married this past “wedding season” were closer to 30 than to 20? Because we’ve changed the way we think about marriage.  We think that we need to have it all figured out before we get married; that it’s not ok to be in process and want to be married. That we have to be fully formed, worked through our demons,  and know who we are.

I know that I have struggled with this one a lot. I have even written about it. It seems that we need to have a good job, know who we are, have our identity and issues worked out, make good money, and worked through and professional crisis before we are ready to be promoted to the “major leagues of dating”…the kind that might have a ring involved. Before that, we were just dating for company while we had fun, traveled, and went to school.

What I really found hysterical was that Regnerus points out that the Church as lost its ability to SHAME men that cannot commit. HA! Can you imagine that!?

3 to 2 Ratio

Regnerus also has another home hitting point that helped nail a suspicion from nearly all of my Christian girlfriends. We often sit around dinner tables asking each other, “What happened to all of the Good Christian MEN?” Well, statistically speaking, we’re working on a 3 to 2 ratio – 2 men to every 3 Christian women. Meaning, that 1/3 of all Christian women out there WON’T have a good Christian man waiting to find them. So, as we sit around and tell our girlfriends who have fallen for the really great non-Christian guy that she is going to “unequally yoked,” we should also know that this advice is hard to follow when it is statistically impossible. I suppose that throws a wrench in the argument that, “God has the perfect man for you honey. You just need to wait until he brings him to you.”

Now Regnerus doesn’t conclude on what this 1/3 of women should do. And to be honest, I don’t have any good thoughts either. I wouldn’t want to commit to a person who had no faith, no knowledge of God, and couldn’t understand the spiritual parts of my heart. But it was amazing to see the numbers there in black and white - women we are dateless because the men are literally NOT THERE.

Ideology vs. Reality

I love that Regnerus makes this clarification: We think that we need to be fully formed to be ready for marriage, but we forget that marriage is a formative institution. It makes you mature. It makes you practice good communication. It creates responsibility.

Now, Regnerus does go through a series of arguments of why people wait to get married. And they are all of the reasons we have told ourselves and our friends: economic, maturity, independence, making the right choice, chemistry, etc. And he does outline good points for each one. But the overwhelming point that I took from his arguments is that as a Christian community we view marriages entirely too independently. When a young couple chooses to get married, we think, “Well, they’ve made their bed, now they have to lie in it.” And that can mean financial struggles, communication or intimacy struggles.

But here’s is a different way to think about it: what if as a Church, we came along side of marriages and supported those people? What if just because you were a young married couple didn’t mean that you were doing it all on your own? What if parents were still willing to financially support those couples in times of economic struggle? What if mentors and older Christian couples were to come along side seriously dating couples and help them to make a founded decision based upon common values and wise group decisions? What if we were in support of young married couples as they mature into their roles of husband and wife? What if we took on the responsibilities together, as one body? Doesn’t that seem much less risky than simply telling a 21 year old college kid that he should marry his girlfriend so they can finally have sex?

After all, God’s kingdom is all about loving on one another, supporting each other, and creating dependence. God’s kingdom is about growing each other, and being in this together. If marriage is suppose to mirror God’s love for us, then we really have it wrong to think that we need to get your life together, wait until you have the maturity, finances, and perfection to be able to enter into commitment. “Come just as you are?“ That may apply to Jesus, but getting a husband seems a bit more tricky.

Good On Paper – But Really?

Ok here’s the catch, even as I am sitting here telling you all  about how getting married is a great thing…I am still questioning if I really believe it for myself. I am 25. I am glad I’m single. I have lived overseas. I have gone to counseling. I have faced my past. I’m hashing out my professional passions and my future. I almost got married at 23. I can tell you that I’m REALLY happy I didn’t. So, on the one hand, while I champion all of Regnerus’ ideas, part of me says “Yep they’re great…for someone else. I’m glad I’m waiting.” So, I get it, I am in your boat. I’m not telling all of the Christian women out there to drop of of school and hang up their ambitions to be barefoot and make bread for their husbands. In fact, the thought of that just made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

But what I do think is interesting is this: what if marriage is less being perfectly ready and finding the perfect man? What if it is more pragmatic than that? What if it is simply finding our core values, and then using a team of people who love us and know us to help us make a good choice for a spouse.  And then simply saying yes to that commitment every single day. Part of me believes that this has to be more realistic.

And, I do love how the sexuality struggle has been validated through this article. It IS ridiculous to expect us to be 30 and single and not want to intimately connect with our partners. I do still think we should strive for puritan ideals, but in a way it seems that Regnerus has given us a more holistic view of what is going on.

So, with all of that said, know that I stand in the center ground on this issue too. I am still concerned with my friend who just got engaged at 21. I worry they won’t be happy.  I do like the idea of starting to have kids around 30. But I also have seen my share of problems with approaching sexuality and marriage the way we have been.

I’m interested in seeing how this resonates with my readers. In talking about this article this week, it seems that it has hit different people in very different ways. Some were angry, some felt the thoughts were too old fashioned, or some women were screaming “hallelujah!”at the idea of us needing more men to commit.

But as you think on your own opinion, I will close with a quote from Regnerus that I believe sums his whole argument very well:

“While, yes, sex matters…marriage matters more.”

Now I’m sure you all know the premise of the film. But if you live under a rock, I can give you a recap: the film features a bunch of characters who are aspiring comedians and actors. Sandler is an established comedy actor, and finds out that he is dying with cancer. He connects with Rogan and they both go on a little journey learning about fame, fortune, life, disease, love and what is important in life. Horray bro-mance movies.

The reason I talking about this post today is because there is a turn in the story line that puts the audience in an interesting place. The main character is a famous comedy actor, George Simmons (Adam Sandler), and when he finds out he is dying he tries to re-connect with an old love, Laura (Leslie Mann). The thing is, Laura is married. But as the story is painted, you find out that Laur’s husband, Clark (Eric Banna), has been cheating on her for years. And not to mention that there are several scenes where Clark openly disrespects Laura condescendingly. In one scene, Laura teary eyed confesses to George that she loves him more than her husband and wishes that she never would have married Clark.

It’s from this point that the complication begins to weave itself in my mind. As a viewer, I felt incredibly guilty cheering for George in his pursuit of Laura. Part of me wanted him to get her, to love her and have them ride together into the sunset. But the other part of me looked at her beautiful children, her home, her family, and her life and just wanted to scream at George to stop. To leave Laura alone and let her figure out her own life. To not satisfy himself in his need for her, and not destroy her family in the process.

It was an interesting moral split. And the story doesn’t end there – there are 146 minutes of weaving the complicated web, and then leaving you with an adequate sense of closure.

But my question is this: Do you feel bad rooting for the douche bag husband to get cheated on by the beautiful wife? Or do you want the main character to loose so the less popular character wins?

Either way, kudos to the writer, Judd Apatow, for keeping me engaged and divided throughout the course of the film.

What do you think?

During the course of conversation we started laughing about all of the crazy and untrue things that my parents used to tell us as kids.  They would tell us stories to make us stop crying, to try to avoid tantrums in public, or to give us “explanations” to end the ongoing barrage of questioning (“Why is the sky blue? Why do we have to stand in line? Can’t you make this go any faster? Why can’t I have candy…”). My mom laughed as she recalled all of the made up “truths” that consisted of our childhood, but as the stories piled up one at a time I started to find the whole thing not very comical anymore. Quickly, as the evidence was being laid out, a new truth was becoming very apparent.

My parents were big fat liars.

The thought echoed as it dawned on me. I was not having fun at Taco Sunday anymore – I was getting miffed! I looked at my parents and blurted out, “You guys were LIARS!” My mom looked at my dad. They both burst out laughing. “You try having four screaming brats, and tell me that you wouldn’t lie to them to get them to shut up!”

Now, I have to be honest, I am a little indignant over the little joys of childhood and life that I might have missed out on because I was such a good and gullible child. My mom still holds to the notion that they weren’t lies, they were just “good parenting”. But, considering that my opinion in the matter is not objective, I will discuss the evidence with you, and you can render the verdict on whether my parents were just “creative” or if they were indeed liars.

Exhibit A: The Music Truck

Most kids know that in the summer when it is hot, if you happen to hear music wafting from a big yellow truck it can only mean one thing: the Ice Cream Man. I am imagining that most kids begged their parents for coins so that they could frolic out to the street and wait for him to pull over. Choosily they would pick from the beautiful pictures on the side of the truck and the nice ice cream man would sell them a refreshing summer treat – maybe even one with gum ball eyes!

Yeah, except if you were me and my brother, that isn’t how the story goes. When we were small, and we would hear the music coming out of the truck my parents would exclaim,”Oh listen, the music truck is here! What a nice man! He drives through the streets all day long, playing his music so children can hear how beautiful it is!”

Was there ever a mention of ice cream and sugary goodness? Absolutely not. And like little idiots we would nod our heads and say, “Yeah, that man sure is really nice to spend all day driving around so that we can hear his music!”

Please notice this picture doesn’t include me as a child, standing in line. BECAUSE I NEVER DID.

Right. Thanks mom and dad. That’s years of ice cream that we were jipped out of.

Exhibit B: It’s A Small World…of Demons?

Most children go on It’s a Small World when they are small. Their parents sit in the long line so that their joyful children can sit in the little boats, and see the dolls from all over the world – proclaiming that we are all united and equal even though we are all different. Except, if you were in my family, you didn’t. I was in college before I rode that ride for the first time. Why? Because my parents told us that the dolls were demons.

Seriously. These days my mom adamantly claims that it’s not true and she never would have said such a thing. Both my parents say that they simply discouraged us from going on the ride because between four kids they didn’t want to hear “It’s A Small World After All…” for the rest of their lives.

The funny part is that us kids all remember being told that there were demons in that ride. Thanks mom and dad.

Exhibit C: Evil Grocery Store CEOs

This story is a classic example of my mom’s ability to lie. When we were kids, there were four of us and getting through the grocery store could be quite the trick. So, my mom made up a game. Each time we needed to go to the store, we’d look through the pantry and make a list. My mom would explain:

The CEOs who own the grocery stores are evil men. They put candy and toys at the eye level of little kids to make them behave badly when their parents are trying to shop for food. The evil CEOs want you to be naughty, kick, scream and cry to make your parents buy the candy and toys.  So, in order to win again the evil grocery store CEOs we have to get through the entire store, and ONLY buy what is on our list.

You know what I would do? I would waltz through the toy isle like a little schmuck. I would put my hands over my eyes and announce to my mom, “I am not even LOOKING at the toys mom. I see the candy bars over there, but I am not going to ask for one because then the evil CEOs will win!”

Then when we got to the car, my mom would throw a little “dance party” because we got out of the store without buying candy or toys, no tantrums were thrown, and the evil CEOs had lost the war.

I was jipped. There are years of Barbie Dolls and Candy Bars that I never got. Thanks a lot mom.

Exhibit D: Ace of Base vs. The Beatles

My first music video I ever saw was “I Saw the Sign” by Ace of Base. I remember it still, I was at a sleep over party for a classmate when I was in sixth grade. She was popular and cool, and I was…well… not. At that age my mom still dressed me in matching vest and short outfit sets – it was a particularly horrible and embarrassing part of my life. Fashion aside, I also knew nothing in the way of pop-culture. I didn’t listen to cool radio, I listened to bad Christian radio. In fact, my mom made it a point to tell me that non-Christian radio was demon possessed. Again, this is a claim that she would now fight me on, saying that “I would never say that!” But don’t be fooled, she used to say it.

It was late at night and all of the popular girls wanted to watch this oh-so-popular music video. I knew my mom wouldn’t want me to watch, but I was already wearing a short/vest outfit and couldn’t take too many chances. I was too embarrassed to tell the other girls that not only was I a fashion disaster, but I also couldn’t watch popular demon possessed music videos. So I what any unpopular girl in a vest set would do – I watched it. And I remember Ace of Base had all of their clothes on,  and were playing guitars and drums – arguable totally demonic.  Actually, the ironic part is that the stage was engulfed in flames at some point. I felt so awful while watching this oh-so-cool and “evil” video that I felt sick until I got home the next morning.

Bawling, I confessed everything to my mother – the video, how cool it was, the fully clothed band, the guitars and the flames. I didn’t want to be a “bad girl” that listened to demonic music. You know what my mom said to me!? “Now you know why I told you not to watch those things. Now those images will be burned into your mind for the rest of your life.”

Seriously. I’m not joking.

So, yes I can see every part of that sleepover, and every part of that video. But clearly, not because it was demonic. But because I was traumatically lied to. Thanks mom.

Here’s the kicker though. Growing up, my dad loved The Beatles. Which meant that all of us kids loved The Beatles. My first favorite album was St. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. I loved it because “With a Little Help From My Friends” was also the opening song for “The Wonder Years” and Fred Savage was cuter than cute.

Now for those of you who follow The Beatles music, you know that they did a lot of drugs toward the end of their career. Ever listen The White Album? Right. Acid trip induced music I am sure. Brilliant, and absolutely drug enhanced. BUT, let’s not forget that Ace of Base is demonic.

“Acid music? Yeah, that’s totally cool kids. Just don’t listen to “I Saw the Sign,” cause you’ll go to hell.“

Thanks Mom and Dad.

Exhibit E: Chicken Skin

Ok, this story is one of the more embarrassing stories in today’s line up. I say MORE embarrassing, because it is not THE MOST embarrassing believe it or not.

I grew up on a very healthy diet, thank you mom. There were no Doritos chips, Capri Suns, or Snack Packs to be found in my house. Only Juicy Juice (100% real juice!), fruit, and wheat sandwich bread. So you can imagine that boneless skinless chicken was also a staple food group.

Imagine this scene unfolding: I’m in college. It’s Premium night. Meaning, that every Thursday instead of the normal gruel, the cooking staff would pull out all the stops and make steak, or fried chicken, or some other fancy dish. It was actually pretty amazing. All of my new friends from my dorm had got their food, and twelve of us are sitting at a long table. As I began to eat, I peel away the top layer of crunchy skin, and begin digging into my chicken.

Much to my horror, my friends proceeded to bite straight into the chicken, munching THE SKIN! Now please understand, this act in my mind was on par with eating the intestines, or the eye balls. Never in my life had I seen someone eat the skin. It was part of the bird you simply threw away. As my friend starts chewing it, my mouth falls open. I have to stop her. I tell her, “NO NO NO. You don’t eat that part!!!”

The whole table gets silent. Someone says to me, “Jenni, the skin is the best part. Have you never had fried chicken before?”

Between astonishment and laughter from my dinner pals, I was quickly educated in the ways of fried chicken. I soon discovered that not only can you eat the skin, but IT IS THE BEST PART.

Promptly I finished my amazing dinner and called my mother. “What do you mean you can eat the skin!?” I yelled, “You’ve been holding out on me!!”

“Sorry,” my mom said. “I just always thought it was gross. Oopsies!”

Thanks a lot mom. Jipped again.

Exhibit F: The Prison in Irvine

This one might take the cake in terms of embarrassing parental lies. For those of you who are local, you know that there is a HUGE corporate building off of Jamboree and the 405 freeway. All of my life, when driving by this building, my dad has pointed to it and said, “Look, there’s the prison! See those huge silver towers at the top? That’s where the guards sit. And when people try to break out, they can shoot at them.”

It always looked like a very nice prison, very upscale and classy. But after all, this was Irvine – land of tan and taupe. So, I figured it was where they kept the upscale and classy prisoners.

My first week at UC Irvine, while driving by the prison, I said to a car full of Bio Majors (and every knows that they are some of the smartest kids at UCI), “Isn’t it scary living this close to a prison?”

Crickets. Dead Silence.

“What do you mean Jenni?”

I pointed at the building. “Right there. That’s a prison. With the big silver guard towers. Isn’t that scary?”

More Silence.

“Jenni, are you pointing at the building that says Samsung on the side??”

Now it was my turn to be silent. I had never imagined that it was anything other than a prison. I mean, my dad had been calling it a prison for as long as I could remember. But now that she said it, it was a classic corporate building. And it did say Samsung on the side.

I blushed scarlet. Utterly speechless.

Right there in the car I pulled out my phone, demanding to speak to my father. Hearing the story, he laughed so hard he wept.“I had no idea that you really thought it was a prison! It says Samsung right there on the side of the building!!”

“But I never figured that you would just randomly LIE to me for no reason! I’d never thought about it – I didn’t think I had to!!”

Thanks a lot dad.

The Verdict?

So as you can see, not all of the “stories” my parents told me were simply to keep me quite in the store, or keep me from having too much candy. Sure it started out that way – but obviously somehow they got carried away. Funny how the lines between “story” and “lie” can be so blurry sometimes. And sure, while telling your kids that it’s really just a Music Truck, I can think of no fathomable reason to continually tell your children lies that make them look like an idiot well into their twenties.

So make an assessment for yourself. I vote that my parents are just flat out liars.

Let Love Rule.

…..Right,  But How Do We Do That?

Monday night Hot Nerdy Blond and I drove up to Hollywood to grab dinner with a best friend of mine who lives out of state. A friend recommended the Saddle Ranch Chop House in Hollywood – which ended up being one of the funnest venues I have been to in a long time. Karaoke, bull riding, great food, and waiters that literally go above and beyond. Yet, I digress. What struck me about Monday night was that at one point in the evening, I looked out the window, and Sunset Blvd. was completely filled with people. Protesters, carrying signs, banging drums, chanting, full marching bands – all showing their disapproval for the recent Supreme Court ruling regarding Prop 8. Signs reading, “LET LOVE RULE” and “I DO.” or messages expressing how gay individuals had the right to get married too. Or at least be in love to. Or something to that effect (I’m sorry, I’m not the most politically correct person on this subject).

What stood out to me more than any one thing was not the subject of homosexuality, or even sexuality at all. It was just an overwhelming sense of sadness. I get it that marriage is supposed to be sacred, and that the Bible does have a lot to say on the matter. I also get it that homosexuals are people too. And they do fall deeply in love too. So…I think I love the idea of letting love rule. I love love. It’s amazing to be in love. And homosexuals shouldn’t be denied any of it. But, how do we do that?  And it made me so sad. It was like something deep inside of me had to turn and question – to say – “You know what? Something isn’t right. I don’t know what the right answer is. I don’t know how God would show love in this situation. I don’t know what the balance of “God’s Rules” vs. “God’s love and Grace” is. But I do know that this breaks my heart.”

Watching the people flooding through the street was one of the most impacting things I have seen in a long time. And as conflicted as I can feel on the matter sometimes, I couldn’t help but want to cheer them on. Cheer them into fighting against the sadness.

3 Billion Dollars. And We’re All About to be Screwed.

I like to listen to NPR in the car. Well, sometimes I don’t really like it, but I am always amazing at how much information is on there. Things that I had never been aware of – countries in desperate shapes of war. Journalist and activist that are in jail or martyred for their works of heroism. Information about our economy and president that I’d never hear on the news. It’s like a vat, a wealth of tragic information.

Yesterday they were talking about our dear old Governator, and his unbearable task of balancing our budget. The thing that I don’t understand is how we are one of the wealthiest states in the Union, and yet we can’t figure out our budget. We all voted to not raise taxes, and now in our Governor’s words, the only things we have left ourselves to is “Cuts, cuts and more cuts.”

An interview with CalWorks announced that the new budget cuts the entire program completely. This is a group that gives measly little checks to low income families to help ensure that they can stay in housing. A mother and 3 children will get approximately $500 a month – meaning that she and her kids are renting a ROOM, not an apartment – just a room.

With the new cut to the program, it is guessed that 154,000 families in Los Angeles County alone might face life on the streets. Most of these families have small children.

And to make matters worse, most of these children are already on MediCaid, a program designed to help low income families secure health care – a program that is also getting significantly cut down. Meaning that most of the children that might lose their homes could also lose their health care coverage.

Combine that with the idea that LA Unified School District just made significant cuts to the budget, increasing class sizes and changing resources within their school programs.

Does this not seem like the perfect storm for low income families in LA? No housing, no health care, no schools?

Now again, I’m not a politician, and I’m not a financial person. I have no clue how to fix this mess Californians have found ourselves in.  I don’t know if more government aid is the way to create great societies, or rather to encourage a sense of independence and self reliance. But I can tell you this – it breaks my heart. I can’t stand to think about those disenfranchised families who might be about to fall through the cracks of society. It just makes me shake my head and think, “What a Sad World We Have.”

Layoffs, Layoffs, and More Layoffs

For those of you who don’t follow me closely – my mom was given her pink slip earlier this spring. I’m still looking for work. Last week, my dad found out that after 27 years with his IT Company, he was also let go. Oh, and have I mentioned that my older brother was also laid off?  Funny thing is, out of the 6  people in my immediate family, the only jobs that we have right now are cashiers jobs at retail stores. Kinda fun huh?

The part for me where the world gets sad, is that today my roommate was laid off. I remember being where she is now, feeling like she is just in shock, now knowing what way to go next.

Now, with all of these career suspensions or transitions, it’s not that I don’t think that these people aren’t capable, or that they won’t find something – it’s just that it strikes me as being so sad. Sad to watch them struggle, sad to see them scared, sad to watch them asking big questions about the directions they will take their lives, sad that they have to take measures to ensure that they will be ok.

So Where Do We Go From Here?

I have no miraculous conclusion. I’m sure I can insert some “Full House” ending about how God will show up on a white horse and save the day, where everything will be set right before the commercial break. And I do believe that God is big enough to do that. But I don’t think this is all a God-Issue. I think it’s more of a realization of the kinds of sorrows that comprise our world. Injustice, poverty, transition, anxiety, economic turmoil, social transitions…It can almost be overwhelming to think of it all at the same time. Like I’ve continually said, I have no awe-inspiring solutions. I’m not sure how to better our world. I’m not sure how to make a impact for the better. But I can tell you that at one point this week, I flopped on my couch and cried. Hot tears for the homosexuals who can’t get married, even if the Bible doesn’t think it’s ok – hot tears for the children who might not get homes or health care, hot tears for the Governor and the people in Sacramento who are trying to make sense out of our financial disasters. Hot tears for all of those who are lost and scared and trying to navigate their way through career transition.

Call me Debbie-Downer. Call me a softy. Maybe it makes me a bleeding-heart non-activist (because I’m not really doing anything else other than crying).  But this is what I saw and noticed this week – as bleak and sad as it is.

[Insert shocking gasps and horror screams here].

I had a great conversation with a few of my girlfriends over breakfast Saturday morning (Is anyone beginning to notice that most of my amazing conversations seem to take place over breakfast?) I have to admit, a significant portion of my thoughts come from these gals – they never cease to increase the flow of blog materials.

In the midst of a conversation about Easter eggs and white-picket fences, we got to talking about family: getting married, when we wanted to get married, if we were ready, if we wanted to be moms, if we were ready to be settled little families, or if we still wanted to be single and romping around. 

 It was interesting to note that of the five or so women in the room, most of us really wanted a family – and sooner rather than later. However, it took a little bit of conversation before any of us just came out and said “Yes! I can’t wait to get married and have my own family.”  It was almost like admitting that you like Brittany Spears – a guilty little thought in the back of your mind that you wouldn’t admit unless you knew you were in like-company.

Listening to my girlfriends chat, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why is it that admitting that you want to be a stay at home mom is like admitting that you want to have scabies?” It seemed that we were almost sheepish about it, like it wasn’t noble enough for the world and needed to apologize for wanting to take an “easier option” than finding a career.

 ”No thank you price charming, I don’t want to be SuperWoman working 50 hours a week, weighing in at 110 pounds and looking like a beauty queen. That’s just too much work. Instead I want to stay home and eat ice cream all day. Is that ok?”

Baby Talk.

For me, when I am honest, I know moms are those amazing, unexplainable creatures are needed more than we admit to, and appreciated less they should be.  They fix everything, they find everything, they kiss things and make things better, they create homes and meals, they foster love and give life. So why is it again that we feel like we have to want a career on top of all of that?  Is it enough for me to say “Being just a mom is fine”? Or do I need to be Mom and have a career? It’s an awkward topic for me to even think about, much less admit. For most of my life I have wanted to be a career woman. My future family plan looked something like this: 

1) Secure great job. Preferably as an executive. Or at least at a high enough level where I get to tell people when I am coming in instead of the other way around.
2) Get married.
3)Travel around the world and play with hot hubby (Yes, being hot was in the plans).
4) Get knocked up.
5) Take 6 weeks to play mommy.
6) Hire nanny to come and rock Jr. to sleep while I go back to running my company.

 I have always felt like that is what women are suppose to want- we want everything. Women are supposed to be amazing and run the office and the home – hell we could probably be president while raising a family.

I know I’m going to be a kick ass wife. And probably a kick ass mom. But still, I’m not sure I’m even allowed to admit that. Or worse, I’m not sure I’m allowed to tell guys that. Hotter, Nerdy, Blonder guy and I are still talking [blushes upon typing it], and I’m not sure if that would send him to the hills if he knew that I’m thinking about being excited for those things. Or any guy for that matter. Guys, if you met a girl at a party and asked her what she did for a living and she said “I’m in marketing, but I really just can’t wait to be a wife and mom!” wouldn’t that freak you out?

In my mind, I’m afraid that we come across like we are faking our careers so that we don’t send out the message that we are ticking. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not desperate, I’m not faking, and I’m not ready to get married or pop out a kid right NOW – but this is honestly the first time I’ve really thought about kids and family at all. Before now I have been actively opposed to the idea and very busy running around the world.

In fact, at one point when I was living in New Zealand, a professor had said to me, “You are at the perfect age to start looking to get married.” I quite literally laughed and said back, “Haha, YEAH RIGHT.”

In light of that memory, it does feel a bit crazy to be open to start thinking about it. [yep, palms getting sweaty just typing about it].

Were Our Moms Just Lucky?

I think the Feminist movement definitely changed some things for us girls. They raised the bar. It allowed us to have much more opportunities and tasks to choose from. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this is a bad thing – it’s just suddenly made the mommy question a little bit more complicated.  

Were our moms just lucky that they could just be moms and didn’t have to grapple with the “fulfilling career” piece? Or are we lucky that we get to choose to have one, the other, or both if we want? Does it make a difference to good quality men if we want to stay home or not? Does it make you a little bit desperate to realize that yes,  I might want to get married? And yes, I might really love having kids?

Am I ticking?

 I don’t know the answers to half of those questions. But I do know, that I might go looking for bubble wrap tomorrow morning. Or maybe some sort of packing material. I might want to be prepared. If I start ticking, I might try to wrap myself up and silence the sound, because I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to know it.