Found this on my Facebook News Feed this morning. It’s from Mark Driscoll’s FB Page. I’ve always heard that the rate of divorce was statistically the same for Christians and non Christians. 

 

 

Driscoll found while researching the subject for his book a study done by Bradford Wilcox, Associate professor of Sociology at UVA.

Professor Wilcox did the largest study of it’s kind (The National Marriage Project) in regards to marriage and divorce. His research seems to indicate this statistic is an urban legend.  

Here’s a link to the project’s home page:

 

http://www.virginia.edu/marriageproject/

 

I’ve been thinking about making a road trip to see my Older kids. I’d like to get an interview w/ Larry Sabato about Early American politics and the founding fathers. My son’s fiancee, Whitney, has him as a professor and says he’s very approachable. Maybe I could get one with Wilcox as well. I don’t know if they even do these sort of things. I’d like to make it a school project for my middle kids. We’ll see. 

 

But this study seems to contradict key assumptions made by some in this national debate about marriage.    

Most of you know by now why I call myself Bakersdozen2. 

We have a big family. We’re not Duggar big, but we’re big nonetheless. 

At the moment, our oldest is on his own (financially speaking)

The next 4 are at University. They’re not completely on there own financially meaning we supplement school loans and food and housing at times. FASFA requires we kick in a share in order for them to meet their housing and tuition demands. I’m not complaining about this, btw. It is a joy to help my kids out especially because they are such conscientious adults.  

The final 8 are still at home. Two of which are enrolled in Community college here. Mark and David (are financially indep. via The National Guard w/ Mark also having full time employment (ATM) and taking 2 classes w/ his sister Amanda.

 

Here’s my question: Like everyone else, we’re trying to pear down expenses. I’m not looking to wash Ziploc baggies for reuse or repeatedly recycle our own aluminum foil. I’m not going to collect empty cool whip tubs as an alternative to tupperware.  We have those items covered. What I am looking for is creative ways to save on groceries. So even if you’re a poor college student you can help me out. Or if you’re a Mom and need to stretch your food bill every month. I’d love to hear suggestions. 

 

I love to cook and have baked my own bread but time is an issue because I homeschool.

My biggest problem is that I like expensive ingredients because I’m a foodie.

In other words I’m spoiled. If I can’t eat something worthy of eating, I won’t eat.

Like that food critic says on “Ratatouille”, “If it doesn’t taste good, I don’t swallow.”  

Well, I just don’t cook it to begin with. 

 

 

Because of this, I tend to not care about the cost. This can really cause a budget to get out of hand especially with a lot of mouths to feed. 

Also, there are frivolous items I purchase, I’m sure of that. You all would probably be appalled at my monthly food expenses. I don’t even want to know the exact figure, but I can guess at the ball park figure. 

It CAN be reduced if I exercise some discipline. 

 

 

So any suggestions would be helpful. I don’t know if I’ll be able to respond for a couple of days so thank-you in advance for comments. 

And here are some pictures of my youngest who is incapable of doing a “normal face” when I take her picture. 

She loves to be goofy…..

and I love her, so I don’t mind.    

 

Getting ready for the Super Moon the other night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thumbs up. (Her sister Sarah thinks she looks like Newt on “Aliens” here) 

 

 

 

 

 

 Air Guitar

 

 

How about a normal face for mommy?  

 

 

 

 You can see she’s still a huge fan of a certain Super Hero.  :)

 

 

TheTheologiansCafe posted a blog recently that deals with the idea of Submission.  Here’s the link:

 

http://thetheologianscafe.xanga.com/743923292/women-should-submit-to-their-husbands/

 

I left a comment but wanted to elaborate on it further here. First I want to make clear that this is not a rebuttal of his blog but rather my perspective on Ephesians 5:22-24, “Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord.  For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior.  Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.” 

 

I like Dan. He seems like a good fellow so I was somewhat surprised by the hostility of some of his commenters. I think Xangans have thrown around the words “Troll” and “Bully” a bit too liberally lately. It’s become the latest attack word. Kind of like the word “Nazi” among political foes during the election cycle. I think we’re in danger of marginalizing the meaning with our unbridled enthusiasm for our opinions.

 

So what?   ~ People disagree with your views… it doesn’t make them Attila the Hun. (That sounded like Joy Behar)

But this is a blog for another time. Here is my response to the Ephesians reference:

 

I have an illustration that might serve as a metaphor of how this principle was meant to function (in a perfect world). Yesterday afternoon my husband was sleeping because he had worked a shift the night before. The kids and I had just finished lunch and I felt that a little nap was in order. I went upstairs; got comfortable and crawled into bed next to my husband. He rolled over; greeted me with a smile and I laid my head on his chest in that perfectly wonderful spot that’s always there for it.  

 

 

I snuggled in close; told him I loved him and that I wanted to lay my head there for a minute and shut my eyes. He kissed my head and I fell asleep almost immediately. 30 minutes later I woke up. He had put his hand on my head to stroke my hair. It occurred to me that he had just been lying there enjoying the moment and not wanting to disturb me. I asked him if he’d been awake the whole time and he admitted that he was. I felt bad that he didn’t move on my account. If you knew my husband, you’d know he is not the type to sit still for very long. When he’s not sleeping he’s on the go. 

 

 

I think this passage speaks of this type of relationship. 

The woman is actually the initiator in her submission. 

God is telling her to do it. The husband isn’t demanding it.

It’s something the woman is willing to do naturally for love, comfort and safety. 

 

It’s appealing not repulsive to her.

The husband’s response is one of joy and wanting to serve her needs as he sees her coming to him eagerly with a spirit of trust in her heart. 

 

 

This verse does not demand a mindless commitment contrary to how God designed our wants and desires. 

Such as, “I know this is difficult guys and gals but it’s kind of like medicine… it tastes awful but it’s good for ya”. Notice also, it does not say, “Husband’s make sure that your wife submits”. That has become a popular interpretation for the more domineering sort. A scriptural stick to pull out and beat your wife with whenever she doesn’t live up to expectations.  Worse yet, I have seen really controlling men try and pull it on other men’s wives. This ticks my husband off royally when it’s happened to me on a few occasions . It isn’t safe for a man to tick my husband off by pulling this trick.     

When a man demands obedience, it becomes an ugly thing and marriages are thrown into a vicious cycle of anger and resentment. 

 

 

Now I don’t think you can extrapolate from this verse. 

Ladies, don’t work; or do anything else contrary to the will of a demanding husband.

My point in this illustration is only meant to show that God intends a strength and a pleasure to the marriage bond that works beautifully within the framework of submission. 

I think fear, cynicism and the very real nature of our selfish behavior can screw up a really great principle and we usually end up arguing about the “what if’s” while missing the beauty of what God intended. 

If I am to place in my husband’s care the same trust that the church places in Christ; then my husband is to guard over that trust with the same love and leadership as Christ does for His church. 

 

 

To me there isn’t a more beautiful picture. Unfortunately, we creatures have a knack for taking perfectly good & godly principles and distorting them beyond all recognition. 

Thank goodness there’s an opportunity for forgiveness in all relationships. 

 

 

 

 

  

  

I borrowed this image from a fellow Xangan.  It wasn’t directly related to his entry but it got me to thinking about man’s duty and our expectations of God. Somehow we’ve begun to require from God a position and perspective we would never begin to entertain for ourselves.  

 

 

On the surface, the above quote from Marcus Aurelius may sound like a pretty good perspective to have, maybe even a magnanimous one coming from such a great and powerful leader as the last Good Emperor. But I was immediately struck by the impracticality of this bit of wisdom.  I don’t think Marcus Aurelius showed the same degree of goodwill towards subjects who refused to recognize his own earthly authority though he was certainly one of the more reasonable Emperors. I doubt he tolerated desertion from his military officers or subversion from his subjects. In fact I’m quite certain he required a degree of devotion from his people. He even paid mercenaries to help defend against the barbarians who threatened the glory of the Roman Empire he so gladly ruled.

 

It isn’t a position I fault him for. All leaders have at their disposal the power of the military for the purpose of defending a legitimate state and it’s citizenry.  Duty and even devotion can be noble qualities. They’re attributes most people expect from those they’ve been given charge over.    

 

 

Whether it be bosses, Presidents or parents, people expect recognition and acknowledgment of their position of authority. An individual’s virtue means nothing to a boss when his employees refuse to listen to directives that will ultimately benefit the company. Judges expect their rulings to have weight and consequence. It’s a Parent’s desire that their children respect and honor them etc etc…. Emperors and Presidents don’t care for subversion even if it is shrouded in virtue. If duty and respect aren’t given, the working relationship is severed. It’s how we function in our society. Even on Xanga, where we’re all equals, we expect a certain degree of respect when exchanging our ideas and opinions. It’s a good expectation to have in many ways.

 

 

 

So my question is:

 

How is it that we think that a Creator God would be content with so much less than what we demand daily?

 

 

 

*A Repost*  :)

 

 

 

The following is a brief story about a famous Welshman named Maewyn Sucat, also known as Saint Patrick. 


This excerpt was taken directly from the book The Great Escape (40 faith-building lessons from history) by Christine Farenhorst. My kids love the stories in this book. ~And in particular the following story about the famous Welshman whose faith impacted history. 

If you have a moment this St. Patrick’s day, this short story is worth taking the time to share with your kids/grandkids. It gives a different perspective on the true meaning of this day. 



 

 

Maewyn’s Vision

”Maewyn Sucat was born in Wales around the year 389. The Romans ruled Great Britain at this time, and Maewyn was proud of his nationality. His people built fine churches and sturdy houses. Calpurnius Sucat, Maewyn’s father, was a magistrate, a Roman official. He was also a deacon in the Christian church. Calpurnius and his wife taught Maewyn about God. But although Maewyn listened with his ears, his heart was stopped up. He had no need of the gospel. He led a sheltered existence. There were servants to obey him, plenty of food, a strong roof over his head, and fine clothes to wear.




 


Across the sea from England lay the country of Ireland. Ireland was ruled by a number of powerful men. Each man called himself a king and the most powerful of them all was king Niall. But even more powerful than the kings were the druid priests. With power to declare war and make peace, practicing divination and sorcery, these Druid priests often resorted to human sacrifice. When Maewyn was sixteen years old, King Niall, with the Druids encouragement, attacked England and took thousands of prisoners. Maewyn was one of these prisoners. Taken away from friends and family, he was sold into slavery to one of the rulers of Ireland. Suddenly there were no more servants to bring him his dinner; no fresh clothes were laid out for him in the morning, and the roof over his head was exchanged for the great outdoors. From heir to a rich house, Maewyn was demoted to the position of swineherd. 

Sometimes when luxuries are taken away from us, we begin to appreciate things more and more. So it was with Maewyn. Alone in a strange country, with plenty of time on his hands to think about why he had been pirated away from his home and friends, he found that the only comfort he had was in prayer. In his loneliness, Maewyn was thrown into the arms of God. He prayed much and such is the power of prayer that it made a child a man, and the man, a child of God.





 

 

After he had lived in Ireland for six years, Maewyn had a vision in which he heard a voice saying to him, “Behold, a ship is ready for thee.” He got up, left the swine, and walked many miles to the sea. No one stopped him. Finding the ship, he secured a passage and was taken to an island off the southern coast of France. Here he entered a monastery and seriously began to study his bible.

When Maewyn, after an absence of nearly ten years, returned to the village where he had been born, his family was overjoyed to see him. For a while he was happy to be back, but one night he was given another dream. In it a man spoke to him and said, “Why dost thou loiter here in peace and happiness when there are men waiting in darkness for a message from God that thou shouldst carry to them? Arise and return to the land of thy captivity, for the people there need thee.”


 

 

Maewyn was certain God was calling him to go back to Ireland. In the year 432 he was ordained as a missionary and renamed Patricius, or Patrick. He then sailed back to Ireland. He had eight fellow workers with him to face the enmity of the Druid Priests and to help him preach. He prayed much and earnestly.

Patrick thought that if the kings of Ireland would be converted to Christ, surely the tribe members would follow. At this time the high king of Ireland was a man named Laager. Legend has it that as Patrick spoke to Laager in the name of The Lord, the chief Druid continually mocked Patrick and his God. But as he mocked, a lightning bolt struck him down and stunned him while an earthquake rocked the countryside. Believing in Patrick’s God, many were converted, and Laager is reported to have said, “Thy God is great and wonderful. He has worked miracles for thee. Thou mayest indeed carry thy message to the people of my kingdom, and I will help thee as I may.”


 

Although there were people who hated Patrick and tried to kill him, God protected him. His success was amazing. He traveled, preached, converted, and baptized. The King of Leinster, the King of Munster, and many others came to Christ until it was said that Ireland had more Christians per square mile than any other country. With God’s help, Patrick established monasteries and schools. The Irish tribes did not yet have a written language, but the gift of the Christian religion gave them the Latin alphabet. Gospel books Patrick carried with him became Irish treasures. Students spent their lives copying them, and Irish monasteries became the cradles of many who would later spread the Gospel throughout Europe.



 

 

Happy St. Paddy’s Day!!

 

 

But then also, don’t forget the Welsh….    :)

 

 

 

 

Watched “27 Dresses” w/ the big kids last night. This ⬇ was a really funny scene. It reminded me of when I was about 7 and my sisters overheard me singing “To Live and Let Die”.

 

 

 

Only I thought Mr. McCartney’s was saying, “The Liverman Died”.  

Made sense to me. You know the Liverman, right?

He’s like the milkman. Except he delivers the liver door to door in your neighborhood. 

 

I will never live it down. My sisters still bring it up…. (usually when they’re introducing me to complete strangers).    :P

 

 

 

 

 

It was one of those days I looked forward to with both excitement and dread. It was the day we were to get our “class” pictures back. In that day and age, I don’t remember going through a picture selection process before we received the typical portrait package of 8×10′s; 5×7′s and wallet photos, so naturally, I was curious to see how they turned out. I had no clue. In fact, all through my school years my youthful vanity would set me up for the inevitable disappointment on this day and I would muse, ”I thought I’d look better than that”     

 

 

        

3 years old (?)                                                   4 years old (?)

 

5 years old (I was the tallest in my class until 9th grade)

 

 

But on this day 40 years ago, I was standing at the back of the classroom as the teacher called the children up one by one to receive their portraits. The envelope containing the pictures had a transparent cut out on the front so you could see the happy student smiling back through the plastic film. It seems to me that I was the 3rd or 4th student called. The first several kids were summoned unceremoniously to the front but as she came to my photo, my teacher paused to examine it. It was then her students seemed to freeze in unison. She was an unpredictable sort, though at this point in the school year there was one thing we had all come to count on, and that was careful consideration of anything by this woman never resulted in anything positive. 

 

 

 

We waited for the insanity bomb to drop and she didn’t disappoint. After chuckling to herself, she held my picture up to the classroom for inspection and laughed derisively, “Have you ever seen a more ugly thing in your life??!!” I remember glancing over to my right and seeing one of my classmates standing with her mouth open; eyes wide and standing stalk still. As I looked around the room I noticed the entire room held the same posture. Nobody laughed. Nobody spoke. No one even flinched. Once again, they were stunned. I could almost hear them wondering to themselves, “Sure, we kids can be cruel, but what kind of adult ridicules children?”    Not normal ones.   After finishing a long critique of my photo, she called me to the front of the class. At this point, the evaluation of my picture had been made and as I walked back to my seat I looked down at the image staring back at me and I saw exactly what my teacher saw.  Ugliness.  

 

 

 

Fortunately for the rest of my classmates she had vented her illness on me that morning and they were able to acquire their pictures in peace. Years later, the parents of children from her other classes found out that she had locked kids in the closet for “misbehaving”. I seriously doubt any of her students really misbehaved. She was just crazy. At any rate, this never happened to me. I was often berated for being ugly and stupid but she never did anything physical to me and I don’t recall her treating others in my class this way. No doubt, she had a model classroom. The woman knew how provoke the very best behavior from her students. I suspect she could have single handedly driven the mischief out of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer.  

 

         

*My teacher was “Larsonesque” in appearance*

 

 

 

My first grade year had a tremendous impact on my life. It was the kind of impact that wasn’t readily apparent but would manifest itself in the decisions I made later on in life.  Decisions I’m thankful about. For instance, it was my first Grade teacher that was the very breath of inspiration behind our decision to home school our children. In that way, she was a role model. Even now, she is a constant reminder of what NOT to be; how NOT to act; what NOT to do when teaching/raising children. It wasn’t until recently that I told my kids about this crazy tenured public school teacher who provoked my adolescent struggle with self image. Even after I had determined this lady was just plain nuts, there was still a certain shame in recalling these stories aloud. Perhaps part of me thought she might be right. Maybe I WAS ugly and stupid? ….. What if speaking these memories out loud should spark some suspicion in the minds of those who heard them. They might believe these things to be true too.

 

 

Nonsense!

 

 

Guess which one of these poor kids is me?  

 

To this day though, I can still see her in my mind’s eye surveying the classroom with her high beehive hair and black cat eye glasses. The ill fitting, long suffering polyester pantsuit she wore was a favorite of hers. She forever wears it in my mind. The turquoise material did an adequate job of restraining her generous girth but the elastic waistband always seemed to strain at the task of containing her. 

 

I even felt sorry for her pantsuit.   

 

At any rate, it serves as an appropriate metaphor for the thin veil of sanity she wore to disguise her super-sized mental pathology. Once my mother and I were out shopping and happened to run into her. To my horror I realized she was the mother of a beautiful little baby. Even as a child I understood that a “mean” person could modulate their temper to suit their favorite people. But this woman wasn’t mean. She was mentally ill and untreated at that. I really feared for that child. To this day, I still wonder how she faired.

 

But I didn’t tell my mom about her behavior and treatment of me. I was far too embarrassed to tell my Mom that I was ugly. Because in my childish mind, telling her that my 1st grade teacher said I was stupid and ugly meant revealing to her that I was stupid and ugly. Up to this point she appeared blissfully ignorant of these facts and I wanted her to remain that way.    Nevertheless, my mother did find out she was nuts and I realized very young that it’s damn near impossible to conceal 100% pure fire crazy. Not that it did any good for the 1st graders that would continue to attend that school through the years. 

 

It all happened the day of the parent teacher conference. All the students had off and the parents filed into the school with their kids throughout the day. My Mom and I showed up and I sat in the hall outside that horrible classroom. Never in my wildest dream did I think my teacher would have a psychotic break and unload on my mother who was a mental health professional herself.

 

Well, she did.

 

I don’t think the two were in there more than 15 minutes when my Mom whipped open the door and stormed passed me with a look of pure determination on her face. The Polyester Pantsuit followed closely behind her. My Mom was TICKED!!  You’d have to know my Mom to appreciate how unusual this was. My Mom is about the most even keeled, professional person you could ever possibly meet. Seeing this was quite disturbing to me because she very rarely was upset or angry. One thing I did know, she wasn’t mad at me. Something pretty outrageous must have been said to provoke that kind of reaction from my Mom. After they blew by, I peaked around the corner and saw the two of them head into the principals office.

 

My Mom was taking my teacher to the principal’s office!    how cool was that? 

 

As we drove home that afternoon, I questioned her about what had happened. She lied, “Nothing really, Beth Ann.”  I continued to press but information was NOT forthcoming. It wasn’t until I was an adult that she told me (minimally) what happened. 

 

For whatever reason, my teacher felt it necessary to tell her that she thought I was stupid and that my mother was stupid as well. Hearing the details of the conversation years later was a relief in many ways. My mom is anything but an idiot. The woman graduated Summa Cum Laude from the University of Pa. for crying out loud. Having this bit of information helped to dispel much of my doubts about myself. I know that my Mom could not and should not have shared those details with me then. How could she? But I’m thankful she told me later.

 

Unfortunately talking to the Principal that day proved unfruitful. He informed my mom that she wasn’t the first to complain. This lady was an on going problem and firing her would be next to impossible. In fact, it just wasn’t going to happen. I have no idea what happened to her after that. We moved from the area 2 years later. 

 

As awful as that experience was, I really am grateful for the things it taught me. It has shaped me in positive ways and it certainly was not an accurate picture of my experience with public school teachers (thankfully). Most of them truly cared for their students. One of the biggest ways God has used this in my life is to help me reflect on where I derive my sense of worth and the worth of others. 

 

But that’s a philosophical discussion for another time…..