Tag Archives: Family

Being a Man, Being a Woman…

This is a warning.  This post will probably be politically incorrect.  There is a bit of Bible talk in it.  You have been warned.  Read at your own risk.

As I was decluttering in my office recently, I ran across a book that I had forgotten I had purchased.  I bought it at a used book store for two reasons, first, because I liked the book – “Captains Courageous”, by Rudyard Kipling, and second, because of the edition it was.  Classic Press put out a series of books, really for kids, I think, of some classic literature.  They were heavily illustrated, but what I really liked about them, even as a kid, was the fact that in the margins they had notes of interest and definitions for some of the more obscure things that were mentioned in these classic books, that might be less known at the time of their printing, which, for this book, was 1969.  The other thing about these editions was that they also included more information at the back of the book, in this case, a brief bio of Kipling, and a brief discussion of the history of sailing boats.  My parents had purchased me some of the books from this series when I was a kid, but I did not have this one, so when I found it at a used book store, I bought it.  It had gotten buried on a bookshelf, and when I uncovered it, I read it.

If you have never read the story, the basic plot centers around a spoiled millionaire’s son who falls off a luxury cruise ship.  He gets picked up by a fisherman, and the captain of the fishing boat doesn’t believe him when he says his father will pay him good money to take him back home.  So, he spends the fishing season on the boat, and learns to be a man.

While reading the info section at the back of the book, I ran across a couple of sentences that I have been pondering over and mulling over ever since.

“Modern man usually jettisons the baggage of the past, only to find later that he has lost something of value that he cannot replace.”

and

“By pitting the best in a boy – his wits, his courage, his strength – against the mightiest forces in nature – the wind and the sea – the boy soon is made a man.  That journey into manhood is as lost to us today as are the men who were made that way.”

Now, I consider myself somewhat of a feminist – in the sense of “Why would I want to be equal to a man?  Why should I give up my superiority?”  That is somewhat of a joke.  But men and women are NOT the same, and in some things, we should NOT be treated the same way.

In others, we should be treated the same.  I believe in equal pay for equal work, for example.  But if a male firefighter has to be able to carry a 200 pound man out of a fire, a female firefighter should meet those same requirements – and they should not cry “discrimination” if they don’t get the job because they can only carry 150 pounds.  If a particular job has a specific requirement for men, that same requirement should apply to women – it should not be made a lesser requirement just because of gender – or race, either, for that matter.

I am somewhat of a feminist who believes in Women’s choice – but who is against abortion.  I just believe it should be the woman making the decision, not the state.

I am somewhat of a feminist who believes that a woman’s place does not have to be in the home – but that the full time job of HOMEMAKER is one of the highest callings a woman can aspire to.

I am somewhat of a feminist who believes a woman should be allowed to do or be anything for which she is physically and intellectually, but who always wanted to be June Cleaver, with the clean house and cookies and milk for the kids after school. (I never achieved that particular dream)

I am somewhat of a feminist who believes that daddy can and should take care of babies – but if mommy doesn’t want to actually breast feed, I certainly hope that she is at least willing to express her milk for a minimum of six months to give her child the best start in life that it can have.

I am somewhat of a feminist who believes that a nursing mother should be able to nurse her baby anyplace, anywhere – but please use a nursing blanket out of respect for those who believe that the sight of a milk-engorged breast is either immoral or sexually arousing.

And…

I am somewhat of a feminist who believes the men should be in “touch with their feminine side” but should stay completely masculine at the same time.

Some of the past standards of behavior need to be demolished.  The ideas that “real men don’t cry” for example, is a bunch of hooey.  Real men cry – but they pick themselves up and go on.  Real men have emotion – and are not afraid to show it, in a healthy way.  Real men are strong – but are not afraid to ask for help when they need it.  Real men are leaders – but are not afraid to ask for suggestions and even change their mind about things.

I see lots and lots of stuff in the news, comments from friends, about victims – and how we are creating a society of victims.  I am not sure if we are creating a society of victims or not.  There are lots of things that are out there that do “victimize” people, whether we want to admit it, or not.  But what I do think is and has happened is that we have created a society where men are not allowed to be men.

We have a society that teaches men, not to be assertive, in a good way, but to be aggressive.

We have a society that teaches if you don’t agree with me, you are stupid, and shouldn’t be alive.

We have a society that teaches if something is wrong, the best way to fix it is with violence.

We have a society that has turned men, the ones that should provide comfort and strength to those in need, into either violent aggressive malefactors who brutalize those around them, or passive wimps who are not willing to stand up for or to anything or anyone.

I am aware that this is a generalization.  I am aware that not every man falls into the aggressive or passive category.  And I know that there was plenty of brutality from men of the past.

But still – something is wrong with this society.  And I think that part of the problem is that we have lost the proper (here it gets religious) Biblical ideas of what a man and a woman should be, and how their relationships should be.  This is from Ephesians 5.

21 Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 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. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her 26 to make her holy, cleansing[b] her by the washing with water through the word, 27 and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. 28 In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. 29 After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— 30 for we are members of his body. 31 “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”[c] 32 This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. 33 However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.

A lot of people have used verse 23, Women are to submit to their husbands, to justify abuse of  women, or to justify men as the absolute rulers of the home.  That is NOT the intent of that verse.  Husbands are the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church.  What did Christ do?  Let’s see, he healed.  He forgave.  He died.  They totally ignore verse 22 – where we are told to submit to each other.  Verse 22 sounds a lot like the men are supposed to do as much submitting as the women.   And they also ignore verse 25 and 28.  Love your wife as Christ loved the church?  Are you willing to die for your wife? Love your wife as you would your own body?  Do you hit your own body?  Do you insult it?  Do you ignore it?  Do you yell at it?  Betray it?  I hope not.  I hope you care for your body, feed it, do the things that it needs to be healthy.  And notice verse 33 – men are told to love their wives.  Wives are told to respect their husbands.

Now – what would happen to society if all the men were to love their wives?  And what would happen to society if all the women were to treat their husbands with respect? And if both men and women submitted to each other?  And most importantly – what would happen to our children, our sons and daughters – if that was the role model that they had? If a boy saw his father treat his mother with love and honor, how do you think he would treat women as he grew up?  If a daughter saw her mother treat her father with respect, how would she treat men?  And how would that influence their choice in a partner?

Personally, I think that if that were to happen, a lot of good things would start happening in society.

So – why did those quotes from that book get me to thinking about this?  Because there was a time in the past, when many men were taught to treat women with consideration.  There was a time in the past when many women were taught to show respect to men.  There was a time when certain family values were important – it didn’t matter what your race or nationality was – certain things were taught, like respect for your elders, consideration for others, reflection before action…

I am somewhat of a feminist, who believes that men should be taught to be real MEN, and women should be taught to be real WOMEN.  We need to be taught that we are different, and because of that difference, we are not and should not always be treated equally.  But we should always be treated fairly.

We all need to be fair, to be considerate, to be respectful to others, to speak up for the abused, to be assertive, without being aggressive.  We women need to respect our men.  We men need to respect our women.  And both of us need to learn when to submit “out of reverence to Christ.”

Well, these obscure thoughts trailed along paths that I didn’t know I would travel when I started.  Maybe some other day I will follow the path that I thought I was on…hope you enjoyed the thoughts, anyway…

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Happiness is a memory of my sister…

I am reading a new-to-me book right now.  1000+ Little Things Happy Successful People Do Differently.  It is by Marc & Angel Chernoff.   It is a series of articles, quotes, and thought provoking questions.   Some of it is very repetitive – I’ve read the same paragraph, with just a little difference, at least three or four times now, in different chapters.   Considering how repetition is so important in retention, this is actually a good thing.

One of the pages is titled “Happiness questions to make you think.”  One of the questions is “What is your happiest childhood memory?”  When I read that, I had three memories flash through my mind, almost simultaneously.  One of those memories was of the times my mother told us bedtimes stories.  She TOLD us stories, she seldom read to us – at least, not that I remember.  I am a storyteller today, and I attribute a lot of my skill to listening to my mother as a child.  I loved those bedtime stories.

The other two memories both involved my sister.  I found that very interesting.  You see, usually when I think of my sister and my childhood, I tend to think of sibling rivalry, resentments, favoritism (we both thought the other was the favored child), fights – a lot of negatives.  I am not used to thinking of childhood memories of my sister in connection with happiness.

So when TWO of my three happiest memories involved my sister, I was surprised, to say the least.  I enjoyed remembering those times.

We lived out in the country.  Our nearest neighbors were half a mile away, on either side of us.  We had grass that, when we were much younger, literally grew above our heads, and even as we grew taller, it was still chest and waist high.  We used to play hide and seek in the grass.  We created tunnels and secret passageways.  We played house.  I can remember flattening a section of grass and putting towels down on the ground and sunbathing together, with grass walls rising around us.  Playing in the tall grass with my sister, and sunbathing with her, is one of my happy memories.

The other one?  We had a lake.  Our dad built a floating platform out in the middle.  When we got older, mom would (reluctantly) let us go down together to swim – without obvious adult supervision.  And I remember skinny dipping in our lake with my sister.  We didn’t do it often, but that is one of the happy memories of my childhood.

And that third memory?  Of mom telling us stories?  Well, for a long time, we shared a room – so my sister was part of that, as well.

Wow.  “What is your happiest childhood memory?”  Three memories flash through my head.  My sister is in all of them.

Sometimes I think that we get stuck in the pain of the past, and forget the happiness that we had, as well.  I’m glad that I had this reminder of some of those happy times.

I love you, sissy.  Thanks for the good memories.

Role Reversal

I have been pondering something the last few days.  I have been thinking about my children.

I have a certain attitude towards my kids.  I understand that this is a common feeling among parents.  I have tended to think of my children as just that – children.  I have all the memories of their childhood.  I remember all the times when they asked me for help, when Momma had the answers that they needed.

Even tho they are grown, I still have those memories that color our every interaction.  I still have the feeling of “Momma knows best.”

At least, until a few days ago.

I had the opportunity of visiting my oldest son’s work.  He is the assistant manager of a store chain that I frequent on a regular basis.  I was passing through his town, heading home from a business trip.  I stopped off to say hi, and to pick up a couple of things.  As I am just the mother, I got to wait while he assisted other customers.

I watched him answering questions, directing people to what they needed, competent, confident, and assured.

And I had a sudden thought – When did our roles reverse?

I was waiting for him – to ask for his advice and instruction.  When did that start happening?  When did that young boy, who came to me asking for help and directions, morph into the young man, that now I was asking for help and instruction?  Wasn’t it only yesterday that he was seven?  Twelve?

No.  That was years ago.

There are still subjects that my son will ask for feedback on, or information, or even help.  But now there are just as many times that I turn to him, for his expertise on something.

Role reversal.

He isn’t a boy anymore.  He has grown to a man.