Because all the #MeToo’s has me wanting to remind women, you can tell your story and it can be healing. There was a day A day she began To crave the destruction Of hands raised in fury Of jagged edged words Of nostrils flaring over thin lips There was a day A day she decided To… Continue reading There Was a Day
My momma’s heart that morning was heavy, my mind racing with worry, anxiety roiling my stomach. The cause for my worry? My eldest daughter. Mini-me.
Long ago, I erected an idol in my mind of the Christian Woman.
The Christian Woman found the time to blow-dry her hair before church. She and her childhood sweetheart and their well behaved brood of children arrived each Sunday with their clothes right side in and their shoes on the right feet. She taught Sunday school and sipped tea at ladies’ functions. She found the time to cart casseroles to potlucks, kiddos to soccer practice, and donations to the food-bank in her mini-van.
Dear woman of God, There is a weapon we Christian women have allowed the devil to wield against us far too effectively for far too long. Insecurity. Satan whispers that we are not enough. We are less than the others. And we have allowed him to use this insidious lie to quash our ministries, weaken our… Continue reading Dear Woman of God
Four women lean in, a tight circle of Grulich Women The youngest 8 months, the eldest 86 years Each face an age progression of the one before Paired with that glowing milky Grulich skin We are an advertisement for Pond’s beauty cream Daughter, Mother, Grandmother, Great grandmother Women who kiss foreheads and murmur gracious complements Four… Continue reading Four Generations
In 2013, inspired by Pinterest and, frankly, sick of my own body image crap, I decided to become a blogger. I would write about beauty, fat, our culture, and loving my body. And why not? Who better qualified to be a fatshionista than me? I certainly had no shortage of opinions on the subject. My sense… Continue reading Trust Me, I’m a Blogger
“You’re just like your mother.” I’ve heard that curse thrown at many a woman, and never as a compliment. Just like your mother. The implication? Critical. Nagging. Sharp-tongued. Impossible to please. But the phrase always gave me hope. If all women eventually transform into images of their moms, I was seriously in luck! Nancy Smerdell is one… Continue reading Just Like My Mother…