All Good Things Must Come to an End….

After my best friend and I got a great friendship going, my mom’s mother experienced a health set back of congestive heart failor. My mother wanted to go and visit her. Grandma lived in New Jersey, and so, my mom, sister and I took a road trip to go and see Grandma.


My Sister on the Left, Grandma and Me

It was one of the most fun trips I had at Grandma’s house. Grandma was pretty “sick” for about a week, but after a week, just like Grandma was, she wanted to get out of the house and do something fun. She thought it would be great to go and visit the Amish.

When mom explained to me who the Amish were, I was ready and rearing to go. So we packed our overnight weekend bags, and set out to Pennsylvania Dutch country, and found a quaint hotel to stay in.

Grandma’s idea of visiting Amish Country was totally different from my mom’s idea. Grandma had her heart set on shopping. Mom and I had our heart set on studying the History of the Amish.

Mom stopped by at some information center ran by Mennonites that gave the history of the Anabaptists. We watched documentaries, and were given places of interest to visit, and browsed the bookstore and gift shop to our hearts content.

My mom, sister and I had a hey day. My poor Grandma. We invited her to come along with us, but she insisted she would rather sit at the hotel and rest.

One time my sister and I got carried away. We commanded mom to follow a horse and buggy to see where it went.We followed it to strip mall with a bank, pizza place, and exercise place. We couldn’t find any Amish in the stores. So I told mom, they must be in the corn field next to the mall “doing the fancy dance”. Mom burst out laughing, and asked me where I got such a notion. I think I said something to the effect of “elementary my dear…elementary.”

The Horse that my Sister and I commanded my mom to follow. And then we couldn't find the Amish people we were looking for in the strip mall.

One particularly funny thing that happened, was that we decided to take a horse and carriage ride. The lady driving the buggy was some type of plain person with a very bad attitude. The horse looked tired, and my mom commented on that fact. The lady then said in a snarky way, “Well, yeah, aren’t we all!.”

That became a running joke in our family whenever someone complained. And it always made us laugh.

When we returned back to Grandma’s house, I had a ton of books about the Amish and I started to devour them. I also started to pretend to be Amish. At night I would lay in bed, fantasize myself as an Amish girl driving her horse and buggy.

As I read the Amish materials and saw their “biblical” reasons for doing what they did, I asked mom why we didn’t live like this. Mom’s answer was, “Some people interpret  the Bible differentially than we do.” This answer did not satisfy me. I continued to devour Amish history books, Amish Fiction, and even tried to make head coverings and play like I was Amish.

My ideal dream was to start a community that was like the Amish, only we didn’t have the same theology as the Amish (I did not agree with them concerning salvation, and other ideas.)

When I was at Grandma’s house, I found out that my best bosom friend would be moving about two hours away. By the time I got home from Grandma’s she would be gone. The sadness of the news didn’t hit me until I got home and had no one to play with.

And then we got news that my Horse, Shadow, was having medical problems. So we had numerous vet visits, and the vet was totally perplexed as to what was wrong with him.  Poor shadow could not go pee or poop because he had lost feeling in his rear haunches. The vet had to make a daily visit to come and help manually eliminate his waste.

The prognosis wasn’t good, and the vet had a feeling he had something similar to EPM, which was a fairly new and rare disease. I decided that it would be easier to donate him to an animal hospital for research than to put him down.

So one Hot summer day, we went to see Shadow for the last time. We were armed with a  huge bag of carrots and apples and awaited the trailer to come and pick him up to take him to the veterinarian school. That was one of the toughest things I had to experience.

Dad, Shadow, Me and Mom spending our last few minutes together before loading him up into the trailer

They loaded up Shadow onto the trailer and I said goodbye to him one last time through the slates in the wall of the trailer, kissed his soft velvety nose, and watched the trailer pull away my best friend.

Mom and Dad were heartbroken that I had to go through something like this. They already had something up their sleeves to help me through this tough time in my life. And it proved to be one of the best things they did for me.

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A Good Blog Post about “Christian” Domestic Discipline

I came across this blog post last night in regards to the other post I posted yesterday.

First let me make this clear. Despite the fact that many supporters of the Domestic Discipline blog are claiming that I aksed people to swarm the blog and post mean comments; I did not ask anyone to do such a thing. I just posted a public blog post link. And wrote of my shock and distast for what I read on it. That is all I did.

People post links they disagree with everyday. I see it done on facebook, disscussion boards, blogs, and even mainstreem news websites post links to contraversial subjects and practices.

What I did, was not against the law, and it is in support of the freedom of speech. If it offends you that people disgree with your public forum, it might be better for you keep things private.  I will not disgree that it can feel intimidating, but the reality that is how it goes.

I get flamed a lot myself for my points of view on this blog. But it helps me to step back from the flaming, take a deep breath and have confidence in what I believe in and learn to enjoy the debate and discussion for what it is and view it as an opportunity to exercise my mind when it is challanged.

So without further ado, here is a great post on why “Christian” Domestic Discipline is not Christian:

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Wow Just Wow!

This is a prime example of what I sure the men and other ladies from certain blogs fantasize about. This link was shared on a facebook group I am part of. Makes my stomach churn. And to think this wife, amend her mistake and still  supposedly had to get spanked. Barforama!

Domestic Discipline Journal Entry

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Joshua Harris, First IFB Church Experience, My Best Friend, and Me

To take a break from the highly controversial post on the war between men and women, I thought it was time to continue on with my story. I know at this time, it seems extremely boring, and nothing really juicy like my ditching the jumpers post. But I promise you more juicy posts will be coming. 😉

This is necessary to give you a foundation, to show you how the events in my life shaped me to want to become a denim jumper follower. I know there are a vast different number of terms for this type of Christian ideology. During the time I was living this lifestyle, I didn’t see it as patriarchy…and recently only only learned what the term patriarchy meant. But I do believe it was the doctrine of patriarchy that fueled these ideas, and that it was the homeschooling movement that was used as the carrier to bring these extra-biblical doctrines to light in mainstream Christianity.

When I neared my “age of flowering” mom signed me up for Joshua Harris’ New Attitude Conference. Now keep in mind this was in the early to mid 90’s. Joshua was still unmarried, and at home for the most part.

I honestly cannot remember what the conference was about. In fact, I was down right bored, LOL! I do remember he did this cool thing with the audience that made it sound like it was raining. Looking back I was too young. The “raining” audience was more exciting to me than the subject at hand. I was still a prime candidate for VBS.  I was not a candidate for the meaty subjects of dating, and boys.

Mom was all into Joshua Harris. She thought he was cute too. She signed up for his “New Attitude Magazine”. Which was very new at the time. I think he only had two issues out when she signed me up for it.

She also signed me up for Focus on the Family’s Brio Magazine. I found this particular magazine to be extremely boring as well. It had some fun stuff in it, but for the most part it had beauty tips, fashion tips, and boy advice. Again, I wasn’t interested in such nonsense at 11 years old.

Around this time, my mom and dad felt it was time to look for a local church to call home. We visited an extremely cultic Independent Fundamental Baptist Church. We only went one time. The WHOLE time the guy screamed, (high-pitched) ranted and raved. I had no idea what he was talking about, because he was so loud, I couldn’t understand the words he was trying to form.  And I couldn’t doodle like I normally did in church because every time I did, his voice would pitch so high I would jump.

We walked out of the church and my parents asked me how I liked it, LOL! Looking back now, I believe they were just getting my perspective on it. I just said it was very loud.

We finally started to attend a very seeker friendly church. They had donuts and coffee at the start of the service. They played music with electric guitars, and drums. The church had modern relevent skits, and a lot of jokes mingled throughout the sermon.

This is where I met my best friend. I finally had a friend that was a kindred spirit! She was a girly girl, who liked to do girly things. She didn’t freak me out with ghost stories, she didn’t talk about boys non stop. She didn’t like M.C. Hammer, and Vanilla Ice. She liked Amy Grant and Micheal W. Smith.  And she went to public school. So not all public school girls were weird like my neighborhood girlfriends.

We were true kindred spirits. Much like Anne and Diana.

We did everything together. It seems we saw each other three or four times a week. Alternating spending the night at her house and my house.

She also brought the idea into my head that God was a real person. It was kind of strange. My mom and dad were defiantly born again. My homeschooling had a God centered curriculum….but my friend introduced me to the concept that God was more than real. He was a person involved in every aspect of life.

I remember waking up one morning and thinking, “Wow, I thought about God everyday this whole week.” I believe it was around this time, that God had awakened my spirit to seek *Him*.

This was the first time, that I also had experience with a youth group. Again, I found it to be extremely boring and tedious. My first youth meeting was about sex. And not only that, they had played basket ball before the “message”, and I just stood back and watched. All the boys got irritated with me that I would not play. When the youth pastor asked me why I did not play, I just stated simply, “I don’t like basket ball”, and one of the boys said, “We will have to make her like it then”

I didn’t go back to youth meetings much after that. Maybe for three months. I had more important and exciting things to accomplish and do than play basketball and talk about sex and boys, make up and hair.

My mom convinced my best friends mom that she too was capable of homeschooling. So my best friend was more available to me now! We even went to each other’s houses to do school work.

We formed “The Bookworm Club” at her house, where we would read a book and discuss it with each other. We had many adventures, and just enjoyed being kids. This was also one of the best times in my life since I had left Georgia. Despite the drama going on with my brother and his lunatic wife, I had a friend. And not only a friend, but a best friend. One who accepted me for who I was. One who loved me and my quirky ways. A true friend. One who pointed my eyes to the fact that God wasn’t just a man in the sky, but a very personal person who cared about every part of me.

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A 10 Year Old Aunt

When my nephew was born, it was so exciting to me! My brother and his girl friend lived with us for three months before my brother’s house was completed. I helped my mom basically take care of the baby.

My brother’s girl friend didn’t seem to attached to him. At least in my 10-year-old mind she didn’t. I could hold him for hours! He was so soft and beautiful and smelled so good.

For some reason, Brother’s girl friend didn’t trust me with her baby. She thought I would drop him. She was like that towards me even when he was two and I was 12 years old. I was NEVER rough with him. I treated him like he was a delicate egg….it was just her way of manipulating and controlling me… and my brother.

There were MANY fights between her and my brother. Violent ones, on both of their parts. Sometimes the police were called, and I was sent over to the neighbors. One time she left without the baby, and just walked away in the mid-summer florida heat.

My mother went after her, and tried to make her take responsibility for herself, and her child. Mom was always trying with her. She opened her home to her, and try to love her, and she had nothing to do with it.

Brother and his girl friend finally decided to get married. My brother wanted to get married as soon as he found out she was pregnant. In fact he had proposed to her before she got pregnant. Remember, she threw the engagement ring in the woods during a fight?

They got married, and had an adorable little wedding. They went on a “honeymoon” a couple hours a way for a week. My parents kept the baby of course. When they arrived to come pick him up they were in the middle of a fight. Brother’s wife took off her rings…again….and threw them in the yard.

Brother asked me to go and see if the next door neighbor had a metal detector. The neighbor didn’t have one, and then asked me what I needed it for.  I just mumbled, “Brother’s wife, lost her ring in the yard.”

My sister also had a moody boy friend. Between my sibling’s significant others, my parents were under a lot of stress.

I saw my mother’s tears, my dad trying to stay positive and be successful with his career, and not get dragged down and depressed.

Homeschooling continued. I occasionally rode my horse. I also started up sewing lessons with another homeschooling mother. She was trying to make ends meet as her husband left her with four little children to take care of.

She was a sweet lady and gave me the love for sewing, which has not left me yet. 🙂

My neighborhood “friends” weren’t very fun to me. There was a girl my age that lived next door, but she and I always got into tifts about the stupidest of things. It drove me nuts. She was always telling me how much better life in “California” was.  She had an annoying way of pronouncing California too. It was with a whine in her voice, and she said, Cali- (long ‘i’) Forn- E (long e) Ahhhh.

She didn’t like to do anything fun. All she liked to do was play baseball and watch movies. She was pretty boring in my estimation. She was also the first one to tell me a dirty joke.

I had more fun with two sisters down the street that were five and three years old. I played with them more.

I also had a neighbor girl across the street that was my age. She was into Vanilla Ice, M.C. Hammer, and bossed her little brother around in a horrible way. She had a dirty mouth, and I was always uncomfortable around her. She also had a fascination with the “spiritual world” of ghosts. She would tell haunting “true” stories. From her, I learned about “Bloody Mary”, and was afraid to go to sleep at night, because I had a mirror in my bedroom.

Even though I had girl “friends” my age, and I was allowed to play with them, I did not want to. I believe I would tell my mom some of the going ons…  They didn’t want to do anything fun and innocent.  And what was innocent was always about baseball, boys, rap music, or ghost stories.

I would rather ride bikes, play Barbies, play with my baby dolls watch good movies, read books, ride horses etc.

These girls did nothing except talk…and at 10 and 11 years old I did not like “talking”. I liked playing and doing.

At this time, we were not going to church. My parents could not find a church that they felt comfortable in. We tried to attend the church that we did we lived at my Grandma’s, but it was an hour away….and eventually we just quit going.

Life in this new community wasn’t all bad. We had previously lived in this same community when I was two and three years old. My family had reconnected with family that we knew when lived there the first time. They had two little girls. I got along better with their oldest daughter.

She was a normal little girl. She still liked to play, and swim, and ride bikes. She wasn’t into boys and rap music. I would get together with her often and play. Our families often would go camping together. They introduced us to another family with all girls in it. These girls were also “normal” and I felt more comfortable around them than I did with my neighbor girl friends.

There was also another family we had known from the previous time we had lived there. They also had a normal little girl. She was about two years younger than I was, but she still liked doing normal girl stuff.

We even began to attend their church. We never joined this church, but we did go very often.

This church had an awesome children’s choir, and I joined it. The lady who taught it would eventually become a pretty big part of my life. Things were starting to “normalize” in my life, and I wasn’t feeling too lonely anymore.

Things were still crazy between my brother and his wife. There was always something going on between them. And my mom and dad would get dragged into the middle somehow.

As I sat watching all of this, at such a young age…I didn’t know what to think about it. I don’t think I started to “process” it all until I reached about 13 or 14. But I knew at the time if my brother had only listened to my parents to start with, he wouldn’t be in such a mess.

And any advice they gave him during his crazy marriage, he didn’t take it…and it was normal common sense stuff. I didn’t want to be like that. I wanted a good life. I wanted to make wise choices that would lead to a good life.

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The “Porn” Factor and it’s Relation to the Treatment of Women

Pin Up Girl Another interruption the previously scheduled programing.

Ok, so, lately, I have been sort of swept up into another area of interest. I never thought I would be so interested in the rights of women. I am not a feminist. (though people will no doubt dub me as one) I never was one. I wasn’t raised to be one.

The reason I linked to “Misandry” in the above paragraph is because that is what Marky Marks Blog says all feminists are…men haters, and he claims all women are feminists.

My brother’s marriage gave me a taste of what full fledge feminism can do to a man. And it isn’t pretty or nice.  There are indeed women who hate men, and disrespect them as a human being, and treat them with contempt. But if I were such a woman, I would not be married, nor would I be encouraging my son to embrace his manhood without any shame.

God made men to be men….it is in their bodies biologically to be men. For a women or movement to suppress that as “bad” is wrong. But it is just as wrong for a man to suppress a woman for being a woman….to cut her down and disrespect them as a human being and treat them with contempt…just for being born a woman.

Why is there a war on sexes between “Christians” just boggles my mind to no end. I am more naive than I originally thought. I was blissfully ignorant that “Christian” men hate women with such passion until I stumbled on Marky Mark’s blog through Laura Grace’s Blog “Full of Grace, Seasoned with Salt.”

Laura Grace wrote a blog post called “The Wife Whisperer” in which Marky Mark “graciously” posted her piece, that was indeed, written with  “full of grace, and seasoned with salt.” (Insert Sarc mark here)

So what does Porn got to do with all of this?

Marky Mark insists that men in the general population are mostly innocent. He cites statistics of how evil women are because of their higher rate of STD’s. He claims that almost 100% of women are evil feminists.

One of his commenters, said,

“…but when I hear someone claim to be anti-feminist, I always notice her to be the same narcissistic “special snowflake” I meet in the feminist crowd.”

So, I guess, I am a special snowflake… and if that makes me a feminist… I guess I am a feminist then. And I guess I am narcissistic too. But I digress, I was diagnosed  non-narcisstic. (By a male of all people! Or wait….should I say “thing” since I am a feminist?)

These men asked me what I do personally to combat feminism. Apparently they want me to stand out on street corners and protest. They also asked how many men I slept with until I got married. (zilch)

So if the general population of males are innocent, and women are 99.9% evil, what about porn?

So, I asked Marky Mark, what has he done personally to combat porngraphy…to stop the funding and production of it. I asked him if he uses it to his advantage, as he claimed that I used the benefits of a feminist society to my advantage, even though I am not a feminist.

Remember, Marky Mark, is not married, but neither is he gay. I wonder what he does with all his pent up feelings?

And Marky, also doesn’t want to get married, as he claims he hasn’t found a woman who is worthy of his love. (Good grief…such a high opinion of himself)

I also pointed out that men are more likely to engage in pornography than women, and that men are more likely to molest little children than women.  And is it any wonder that a lot of male clergy are caught harming little children? Men aren’t the mostly innocent creatures he would like to think they are.

And what did Marky Mark say to that? Well, he wanted to know “what in the blazes” does that have to do with the war on gender? Can we say “GULITY”!?

So I found a piece on the Internet about what pornography does to men in their relation towards women:

Two interesting quotes stood out to me:

What it [pornography] sells is lies about women and their response to sex. Pornography frequently portrays women as mindless, childlike and submissive. We are “pets” or “playmates.” Other forms of pornography depict women who enjoy being raped, spanked, tied up or mutilated.

No wonder Marky Mark cannot find a woman that he feels is worthy enough to love. What real woman would want to be treated as a dog, like “Laura Grace” espouses for men train their wives like? What real woman wants to be considered like a child, and mindless? These men often joke that women want to be “spanked“, they just don’t know it.

Ummm…could it be that pornography is warping these men’s minds? I think so.

Another quote that stood out in the above piece:

Many young males state that their first sexual experience was masturbating to pornography. Think of what this pornography then says to these men — that women like to be treated like objects, treated with contempt, and enjoy eroticized violence. Women in pornography never say “no,” or if they do, they don’t really mean it. Women in porn are really men’s property — always available and ready. pornography, therefore, reinforces inequity in relationships. It is difficult to believe that men can use pornography and at the same time truly respect the women in their lives.

When I asked the question about pornography, “Marky” admitted to looking at it. He did not state how often. But given the above paragraphs, and the way he writes about women on his blog, I would say often enough to become dissatisfied with real live in the flesh human women.

Often enough to have unrealistic expectations of women. To encourage men to train their wives like dogs, to call them whores, to speaking foul langauge to a woman for asking to cut in line.

So what in the blazes does this have to do with the gender war? Let me ask this.  With the majority of porn being viewed by the male population, and with porn portraying women  as “things” that don’t exist in real life, and most men wanting that out of women…Is it any wonder why the majority of women would be tempted to think men are pigs?

A real add from the 1930's to 1940's
I will probably be writing more on this subject in future posts.

PS. I really don’t think all men are pigs. I know some really good ones (men that is 😉 ). Marky and Laura Grace represent their positions badly, and if everyone were like them, I too would become a full fledge man hater.

P.s.s  I also know that many women who claim the title of “feminist” are not man haters. I was just using the term as Marky Mark and Laura Grace use the term. “Feminist” aka “women who put down men, shame them, and treat them like dirt”  I was not raised to not be that way towards men. And I don’t view men that way at all. Never in my life did I believe women are in a general sense better than men. And I never in my life viewed men as better than women in a general sense.

Just had to clear that up! 😉

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The Hartle Family (sung to the tune of Adam’s Family)

Life continued on in Grandma’s house. I rode my horses, attended my art lessons, and went to Jenny Craig meetings with my mom. Mom started to walk early every morning, and I could ride my bike along side of her when she did this, so bike riding was back in session.

My brother continued his relationship with the crazy lady…and it was forever up and down.

My sister still lived in Atlanta. She wanted to stay and finish her senior year in her highschool, and mom and dad allowed her to live with her best friend during this time.

The time soon came, that we finally found a house to move into. This house was about 30 minutes north of where Grandma’s house was located. The reason for the move was that Grandma decided to put her sister in a nursing home, because they couldn’t get along and wanted to come back home. I think that’s how the story went, but I am not very sure.

I was very excited about moving to another community. This place had a normal street where I could ride my bike. It also had a girl my age living next door. I thought things would be looking up for me.

We moved into our house, and I got to know some of the neighborhood kids. But something was quite right. I got along with them fine, yes…but their attitudes were not like the kids I had left in Georgia. I just didn’t seem to “click” with them.

But they were “friends” and so I took what I could get. Another girl my age moved in across the street as well. And then another girl about two years older than me, vacationed during the Summer in another house in our neighborhood.

During this period of my life, I joined a “horse club” that a lady (Mrs. Hartle) in our umbrella school started during the school year. Every week or every other week, we got together, and learned about horses and how to take care of them and ride them.

After the school year, she declared that she was going to have a “horse camp”. A time to spend five days at her house, and spend the night, and do all things horses. I wanted to attend! I asked her if I could bring my own horse, and she said that I could.

They were a “peculiar” family. They had more than three children. I think they had nine…and she was pregnant with her tenth. I thought it was kind of neat to have that many brothers and sisters. Now as I think about it, they reminded me of “The Home School Family” that Tim Hawkins did a parody of.

But they were also kind of strict. I remember, I was sitting at the table to eat, and I was telling a story (I was extremely shy) and getting excited about it, when Mrs. Hartle interrupted me told me to not sit cross-legged in the chair. I thought that odd, because my mom let me do that, but it was her house, and so I respected that.

Our days were filled to the brim. Every afternoon (during the hottest hours) we were given two hours of free time. Her daughters had Little House on the prairie sun bonnets, and we would play little house on the prairie. I really enjoyed that!

We also would have Bible studies every morning. Usually it had to do with horses…and I thought that was kind of cool. 🙂

But Being outside in the hot Florida sun everyday, started to take a toll on me. Plus the Hartle’s didn’t have air conditioning. I got a very bad sunburn and the next day, (Thursday morning) I woke up sick to my stomach and vomited on the bed. I was sleeping on the top bunk, and it was pitch black. I couldn’t get off the bed in time.

I was too afraid to tell anyone. I tried telling one of her daughters, but she wouldn’t wake up. The thought of waking up Mrs. Hartle myself was more than I could bare…and I started to fantasize of leaving the house, saddling up my horse, and riding home. LOL!

Then I started to cry, and that woke someone up. Pretty soon, Mrs. Hartle was up cleaning the mess up. I remember her telling me, “Next time, try to make it to the bathroom”  I was kind of humiliated, as I didn’t mean to throw up on her bed.

I went home that morning and rested up. Apparently, it was just the heat that made me get so sick. I got to finish the camp on Friday.

We found a barn closer to board Shadow in. He went from Horse camp to there. But the stable was a boring place. Hardly any kids, and no fun activities like my teacher’s boarding stables.

Mom paid for my teacher to come up to our new area to give me lessons.

Meanwhile, we found out that my brother was expecting a baby with his girl friend. She threatened to abort the baby. My brother did not want this. He wanted to marry her and try to make a family with her and his new child growing inside of her. She ran away to Colorado to “think”. My brother was very depressed, and just wanted to do the right thing. There were many fights between him and my parents about how to handle this problem. He decided to trade in his beloved corvette for a family car, and buy a house. He tried to make a place for his girl friend to want to come home to.

My parents supported him in his wanting to make things right. They just weren’t sure about the stability of this woman who my brother was determined to love.

I was 10 years old, when all this stuff started to happen. My mother told me later, she didn’t know what to do, because all of this “stuff” with my brother was taking place in front of me. There was no hiding it. And my brother and his girl friend weren’t married and expecting a baby. Mom didn’t think it was good for me to be around, but she felt she didn’t have a choice, because it was her son too, and she felt obligated to help him get on his feet.

As for me I was thrilled to be getting a baby niece or nephew. I had wanted a baby brother or sister since I could remember. Now I was going to be an Aunt!

I knew at the time, that my brother and his girl friend’s lifestyle choices were wrong…but it wasn’t the babies fault.

So, brother’s girl-friend called him and told him that she would come back home…but that her mother didn’t want her living with her when she had the baby. Mom and Dad graciously allowed her to move in with us while the house my brother started to build was completed.

And guess what that meant? Heather was going to get a new bedroom in an odd room. The “formal livingroom” this time. (as our house had a family room and a formal living room) But I didn’t mind. My baby niece or nephew was going to live with us, and I would be able to help take care of him or her.  ♥

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The Saturday Evening Post

Hosted by Elizabeth Esther. Check her blog out and participate. 🙂

My post is:

How I Ditched The Jumper (Sort Of)

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Little House On The Freeway…

That is the term my mother dubbed my Grandmother’s house. My dad’s job transfer to Florida was quicker than originally planned.

I am not sure what the whole story was concerning quick move; but I think it my brother’s “girlfriend trouble” was somehow involved. I was only nine years old at the time, and I did choose to ignore a lot of junk concerning him and his girlfriend. His girlfriend was not nice anyway. She did not like me. She said I was annoying.

I just remember that instead of buying a house immediately, my parents decided we would “borrow” Grandma’s house, while we looked to find a house that we really liked. Grandma would move two hours away to help her sister take care of her other sister.

Grandma’s house was built by my Grandfather, and it was about 2o years old when we moved in. It had those awful 70’s colors. The pukey green, burnt orange and goldenrod yellow wall paper; with dark brown, almost black, kitchen cabinets. And Grandma’s carpeting’s color was awful. It looked like it had been white at one time, and that a dog peed on it all over the place.

Plus, Grandma was not very faithful to debugging her house. And in Florida, that is not an option. You MUST spray the house for bugs. Or else you will pay for it later. In other words, Grandma’s house was pretty much infested with roaches.

Her street was parallel to a major four lane road. I believe that her road was used a thoroughfare for cars to avoid the traffic. I wasn’t allowed to ride my bike on  the street freely like I had in Georgia. In Georgia, the only cars that came in our neighborhood were people who lived there, or were visiting someone who lived there. This was not the case at Grandma’s house.

My mom was not pleased with living at Grandma’s house. First thing that was done was to get a bug guy out there. He showed my mom that there was “bug juice” (not sure of the correct terminology) all over the inside of the cabinets and shelves. Bug juice is when the roach ate something and then spit it back out, and it would dry hard.

The dining room was turned into my bedroom. This wouldn’t be the first time I had an odd room in the house given to me to use as my bedroom. Grandma’s house had three bedrooms. My brother had stayed in one, and my cousin the other. My cousin moved out, when we came, but my brother was still there.

Dad took the third bedroom as his office because there were two phone jacks in that room. That way he could work from home, and have a separate office line.

So I got the Dining room. Which wasn’t too bad. It had doors to it, and was totally separate from the rest of the house. Plus, I had a pretty sweet light fixture of crystal.

Mom turned the “addition” off of Grandma’s house into my school room, and dining room. As the kitchen only had enough room for a teny tiny table.

I believe we lived there for nine months. There weren’t any children in the neighborhood, and If there were children, I wouldn’t have known where to look. Nor could I have looked, for the streets were indeed too dangerous to explore.

This is when mom and dad enrolled me into an “umbrella school”…which legally acted like a private school; except all of the students are homeschooled. That experience with the “school” over all was a really good experience for me.

Mom met a lady who had a little boy my age. Mom and the Boy’s mom got along very well. The boy and I  got along fairly enough, but it still wasn’t the same as have a friend of the same sex.

However, the boyy had a baby sister, and I LOVED playing with her. I so looked forward to seeing that family and playing with the baby. She grew to love me too. ♥

Mom  enrolled me into art classes at this school. I wasn’t very good at art. I still am not. But I did learn a few techniques that showed me I wasn’t a complete dunce with drawing. I really enjoyed the art classes.

We went to theaters and saw kid’s plays, we went on field trips galore. But I still had not met any friends that were girls that I got along with.  I was getting lonely.

Mom also finished reading me the whole Little House Series while we lived at Grandma’s house. I fell in love with that life style from those books. I always wished it was “back then” again. I would pretend to be Laura, and walk to school. I really wanted a sun bonnet to help me out in my play world.

That is when mom dubbed my Grandma’s house “The Little House on the Freeway”

I was also introduced to reading The American Girl series there. The American Girl series was very new during the early 90’s.

I continued my horseback riding in Florida too. My mom and dad found a small riding stable near by, and started my lessons back up. I truly loved riding horses! My horse back riding teacher had a daughter three years older than me, and often she would ride with me.

Pretty soon, mom and dad started considering the idea of *buying* me a horse! I was so excited! A horse of my own!

Eventually, we bought a large pony whose name was “Shadow” and boarded him at the stable I took lessons at. This was an awesome outlet for me as a lonely little girl. I so thoroughly enjoyed going out and riding him. There were a few children at the barn who rode as well. So we had some mutual common ground.

I remember I somehow conned my way into attending my horse’s lesson teacher’s daughter’s 12th birthday party. I don’t know how I did it….but she invited me. It was to be a sleep over.

The party started out innocent enough. We went swimming in her pool, played silly birthday party games. Had Pizza and Cake, etc.

The trouble started when her parents went to bed. In Georgia I went to sleep overs all the time. We little girls would stay up as late as we could playing Barbie’s and putting on makeup, and eating lots of candy. These girls were not so innocent.

It first started when the oldest girl in the bunch decided to raid the refrigerator and found a beer. Someone “dared” her to open it. She did, but not all the way, cause my friend’s step father would “kill” her if he knew one of his beer’s was missing.

Then they decided to play hypnosis stuff. As a nine-year old, I thought it was just a big joke. Then they played truth or dare.

It was pretty raunchy stuff. Can’t remember for the life of me, what they dared and truth’ed each other to do. I think I played in that, but I didn’t have much anything exciting to dare, or tell a truth about…especially with those girls.

Then the girls decided to make a homemade Ouija board. That is when I got freaked out. My mom did tell me about those things. And I knew that it was not safe for me there. I started to cry and threaten to call my mom to pick me up. Several of the girls were trying to convince me it was just a silly game.

The game was going on in a separate room, as I was crying hysterically, and wanting to go home. There were four or five girls trying to get me to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake up my teacher. (I must have been such a pest to be there, LOL!)  All the of the sudden there were screams from the bedroom, and the girls ran out of the room. Which caused me to cry even harder, and the girl’s mother just yelled from her bedroom to “tone it down and be quiet”

One girl finally defended me and said, “She’s right! We need to stop this game right now. She isn’t being silly, she is telling the truth.”

Praise the Lord that she was there, cause I was so scared, and they were not going to let me call my mom. Things settled down after that, and we all went to sleep. I couldn’t wait to see my mom in the morning.

That was my first brush with mean cruel world.  I decided right then and there I would never touch a Ouija board.

I didn’t trust my “friend” much again after that night. She was a baby sitter for my parents a few times, but that whole experience made me fearful of her.

Things with my brother and his girlfriend were still going “bad”. They had a love-hate relationship. My parents kept warning him that she was bad news. But he loved her, and wanted to be her husband. He even proposed to her, in which she accepted. But in an almost violent fight between the both of them, she threw the engagement ring into the woods….and he threatened his own life. My parents tried to be graceful and kind and tell him the truth about her, but he would not listen to them, and they were worried what this girl was doing for his mental health.

We started to attend a large church in the Southern Baptist convention. When I got “saved”, my parents were very hit and miss about church. Which was fine by me. I found it to be boring.

When we started to homeschool, my parents drove about an hour away to go to the church where I was dedicated in as a baby. This is also where I was baptized. (For the first time.)  I liked that church, but we were not there for long before we moved to Florida.

Dad and Mom again drove a good distance away to attend this church in Florida. That church was pretty boring for me. Most the time, I would fall asleep with my head in mom’s lap, because we rose extra early to be there on time.

So that was what life was like in the Little House on the Freeway.

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How Elizabeth Bennet Taught Me About Submission

This post is going to be more of a giving food for thought type of thing. I don’t know all the answers to this subject. I thought I did once, and God has worked on my heart to change my views somewhat.

I am interrupting my “story” of how I got so messed up and got out of, ” The Denim Jumper Lifestyle”,(which is just a term for the toxic faith system I adhered to) to ramble about submission.

Lewis on Commandments of men, showed this really strange blog post.  Even in my most “fundy” of denim jumpers days, I would disagree with much of what was written on this blog. Which is a good thing, cause if I got a man who demanded submission I would be in more trouble than I was.

However, I will say that I did a lot of what that article proposed to do.  I will also say, that I grew up in such a wonderful enviroment that I was a little spoiled. 😉  So, when I read a lot of these submission books it was an eye opener to me, that life did not revolve around me me me me!

When I was depressed, and doubting my salvation, I was in a Bible study. The lady and man who led this Bible study were GOD SEND to me!

As I progress in my story, you will see how. But until then, I just want to make a short observation.

One day, I went to this lady, crying and complaining that things in my marriage were tough. As we talked, my friend said, “Heather, I don’t know where you got your idea of submission, but it is all wrong”

Of course, I thought she was speaking blasphemy, and didn’t take her seriously at the time. However, she and her husband had a great marriage…. I could not deny that.

Fast forward a few months later. Marriage was still a bit rocky. Another lady that had a great marriage told me about the same thing my other friend told me. I must admit, it sounded so indulgent and sinful!

The second lady told me to ask God about this… if there indeed was something wrong with my perspective of what submission looked like according to the submission books.

About two days later, my husband and I were watching Pride and Prejudice (A&E’s version. For there is no other version. 😉 )  My husband loves P&P and so do I. And we were watching P&P for like the seventh time.

As we were watching, my husband pipes up and says, “I know why Mr. Darcy loves Elizabeth so much. She challenges his thinking, she is no doormat” (Yes he used the term doormat)

I was shocked needless to say, and wondered if I heard my husband just right? So I asked for clarification. He then said something akin to this. Don’t remember his exact quote. But he said if a man ever feels threatened by a woman’s mind and personality, and demands submission, he is a weakling and insecure.

My face was on the floor! But God had answered my prayer. Those ladies were right. I had embraced a totally wrong concept of submission, and I began to reevaluate many things concerning this topic. I still don’t have all the answers…and I am still trying to find the balance in all of this. But I am determined to bring all of my questions about anything before the Lord before I move on, and say that I know the exact “truth” of what submission should look exactly like.

As time went on, I realized that I had become unhealthily co-dependent on my husband. An emotional wreck of a leech. And I realized my husband did. not. like. that.  He wanted a woman who had a strong mind, and who actually thought through things critically. A woman who had opinions and made her opinions known.

And in essence, I really wasn’t submitting to my husband. My husband is not like the men described in those submission books. He was resenting me, because I was not being “me”, but some girl who was trying to play a role that he did not like or believe in.

I will not deny, that some of those submission books did make great points and helped me somewhat. Because you see, I was part of a church system that taught the Pastor was almost the ultimate authority…even above the husband. So, reading those submission books did give some freedom in that aspect. My earthly authority wasn’t in my pastor.

But a lot of the practical advice in those submission books was unhealthy, and eventually caused me to become even more weak-minded than I already was, and easy to pick on. And here I thought I was becoming my man’s dream woman, by being this submissive servant to him the way these books taught me to be. And in reality, I was shrinking into a mindless robot, and my husband didn’t know what to “do” about it.

Thank the Lord, that Jesus intervened and taught me that I was embracing an unhealthy teaching, and I needed to start relying on Jesus to teach me about submission instead of “godly” men.

2 Corinthians 10:5
Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ;

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