Weekly Links!

~ LINKS TO SOME INTERESTING READING, FOR WHAT'S LEFT OF YOUR WEEKEND ~


-I have loved Linda Holmes' thoughts on reality TV since the days she was covering Survivor for the now-defunct site Television Without Pity. Here she is, talking about the ethics of a recent episode of Top Chef for NPR.



-A review of "Nailed It" from Aimee Byrd over at The Housewife Theologian. A snippet:

This is a devotional for those who don't fit into the happy-little-Christian box. And it's also for those who think it's okay to have a little humor in their reading reflections. Kennedy doesn't pick all the easy verses either. She pulls devotion to God out of what may have seemed random acts in history. Our days are kind of like that, aren't they? Circumstances often seem arbitrary and we sometimes question if it really matters how we get through them. That is what I especially appreciated about the book---Anne weaves all the tapestry together and helps the reader see the significance of God's holiness, mercy, and love in Christ working in our own lives now.

-And while I'm on the topic of my favorite devotional, here's a lovely podcast: "Persuasion: How Sarcasm is Good for the Soul." 



-And speaking of good podcasts, I liked this one: "Mere Fidelity: Humble Roots, with Hannah Anderson."



-And here's another good thing by Hannah Anderson, this time an essay: "You Can't Do It All: Rex Tillerson and the Limits of Vocation."



-"Minimalism Gets It Wrong."



-Also, "The Minimalism Trap."



-And, on our current season of the church year, here's "How To Throw an Epiphany Party In Four Easy Steps." 



-"How 'Sherlock of the Library' Cracked the Case of Shakespeare's Identity"



-These short filmed scenes of King Lear are amazing.



-And, finally, sailing the solar system with solar sailing ships.



I hope you have a lovely Sunday, full of worship and rest!

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

"Finding Livelihood", by Nancy Nordenson

So, this isn't a proper book review, at all, because I'm much too close to this one.

This is a book I had the privilege of working on as an editor, and I love it:



I even had the privilege of getting to help write the back cover blurb, and so I'm going to stick that here, in lieu of a proper book review:

A Book About Work
for Grown-Ups

When we were young, they asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Those answers were our childhood dreams. The reality of adulthood is that what we are and do now is what we became.  

Finding Livelihood is a book about work for grown-ups. It’s about not just the work we thought we wanted but about the work we found and the work that found us. It’s also about the work we have lost.

At once a shrewd challenge of Buechner’s assertion that “the place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet” and also a lyrical journey to the place where labor and love meet, Finding Livelihood explores the tensions between the planned life and the given, between desire and need, between aspirations and limits.

Through story, collage, and juxtaposition, Finding Livelihood invites you to consider work in its many facets. Who gets to decide if our work is “good”? How do we deal with forces and routines that leave us longing for escape? How do questions about money and meaning change when you are holding a pink slip in your hand? How are we transformed when our current work becomes part of a spiritual journey that encompasses all of life? 

Drawing from thinkers as diverse as St. Aquinas, Josef Pieper, and Simone Weil, Nordenson affirms the doctrine of imago Dei and brings it into the real world of work: a world full of brokenness and hope, of dead-end jobs and live-saving interventions, of daily bread and transcendent meaning. In the midst of it all, we find our livelihood. 

I feel too involved in this one to say much more about it, but I couldn't let the release date pass without saying something about it.   :)  So, maybe poke around the book website a bit - or the other book website - and see if it's something that might speak to you.


And, finally, I wanted to end this by saying, Happy release day, dear Nancy!  It's been nothing but a pleasure to work with you.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell



This post contains Amazon affiliate links; if you purchase a book from this link, I receive a small percentage of the purchase price.  (See full disclosure on sidebar of my blog.)

Weekend Links!

Some good reading for your weekend, from around the Web:

"Aspergian Christianity":

. . . I soon came to see it as a gift that those with Aspergers or others on the autistic spectrum have to offer to the church and the world: the gift of truth-telling. Instead of being offended by the forthrightness or clarity of speech from those who have Aspergers, we can welcome it as a reminder of the way we use our words, and the power that they have. When choose beating around the bush, or gently trying to imply what feels like a blatant truth, we can learn from those who speak the truth plainly. We must always choose gentleness when communicating that truth, but we ought to pursue speaking the truth.

"Things I Love about the Things I Love" (this one has great pictures and GIFs):

The way it always feels miraculous when you look down at the finished product and think "this used to just be string." 

"Why You Do What You Do" - I'm still in the middle of listening to this podcast interview with Carolyn McCulley, so I can't endorse it whole-heartedly (yet, anyway), but I'm really appreciating her distinction between the idea of "women in the workplace" and "women being productive". Lots of good thoughts here.

"I Liked Everything I Saw on Facebook for Two Days. Here’s What It Did to Me": frightening stuff.

"It’s Just Better with Community":

God never meant for us to live our lives by ourselves. God lives in perfect community with Himself, and we as His image bearers are also to live in community with one another. When Christ ascended to the Father, He commissioned a community—the Church—to embody His message to the world. We need to live life with others. 

And finally, after hearing the sad news of Robin Williams' death, I found these two articles particularly helpful:
-"What Does the Church Say About Suicide?": I'm not Catholic, so I don't agree with every nuance here, but it's a really good place to start thinking about these issues.
-"the depressed Christian: why the dark night is no measure of your soul":

I wanted their souls to be better, stronger, more determined. I had no idea at all what their brains were going through. But now I know. And I am humbled beyond words.

I hope you have a lovely weekend.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

Faithful to the Work

photo credit: Betsy Barber

I had the pleasure recently of meeting with a staff member of my university's alumni office. She and I talked together for about an hour, about what I'd done since graduation, and about the possibility of me interacting with some of the current students who hope to become writers.

It was a lot of fun, and I love the idea of being able to give back to the institution that I feel gave me so much.

But one of the most interesting questions she asked me was about how my writing and my devotional life fit together. Or, more to the point, how I kept my sense of self-worth centered in God's love, instead of in the success or failure of my writing work.

What was so interesting to me was that I actually had an answer. I didn't know I had an answer until I  heard it coming out of my mouth.

I said, "It's about being faithful to the work, not to the outcome."

And even as I type that, I think it must be something I heard somewhere else, from someone much wiser than I am.*

Because it feels so true, and so right.

You can't guarantee success. You can't decide that something is going to work. You can't will things into existence.

You have no "Fiat ME."

Only God can do that. Deus volt works.  ME volt doesn't.  (Yes, yes. Excuse my terrible fake Latin.)

But you can choose - in the moment, through God's grace - to say "yes" to the work. You can choose to say "yes" to his invitation to do with all your might what he has given you to do.

By his grace, you can choose to be faithful.

And that's plenty to hope for, right there.


Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

*And now, I'm thinking it's something I first heard from Mother Teresa. IIRC, she said, "We are not called to be successful. We are only called to be faithful."  See? I knew it wasn't me!  :)

New Year's Resolution #5: work!

New Year’s Resolution #5: Write!

This is the place to consider our goals for our jobs. It might be a work-outside-the-home gig, or work-at-home, or homeschooling, or SAHM’ing – whatever it is, this is the place. For me, it’s writing and editing.

My specific plans:

1) Treat my work like what it is: real work. Specifically, during school year, clock in and clock out while kids are at school. And when summer comes, figure out a writing schedule that works for that time.

2) Query, then do the work. I’m not sure exactly which projects I’ll work on this year, because the nature of the job is to query first, and then find out whether or not you have work. So I have a list of projects and places to query, and I’m planning on just working my way through those, and doing the work as I get assignments. I can’t control which jobs I get, but I can control how I go after them, and how professionally I do the work that I get. (You can look at this as, "I promise to get X many rejections." Which is, ironically, one of the best ways to get acceptances!)

3) Pray about the work. Most importantly, pray about various opportunities, and try to listen to what the Lord is giving me to do.

4) Keep track of what I earn. For taxes, first of all! But this will be my first full year with all the kids in school, so I do want to pay attention to the financial side of my work. I’m not sure what to expect or what to aim for, because this is the first time I’ve had enough time to treat writing and editing as a substantial part-time job. So this year I want to keep track, and pay attention to how things go, so that I’ll have the information I need to make sensible goals in the future.

5) Keep track of how much time I spend working. Much like the above point, I just want to pay attention and collect data, so that when next year comes around, I’ll have an idea of how to set sensible goals for how I spend my time in this work.

6) Keep working on making a good blog. I’d like this to be a good place on the web – a place I would enjoy finding if it were someone else’s. My favorite blogs are two things: interesting and encouraging. That’s what I’d like this space to be.

What about you?

Talk about your work-related goals in the comments, or link to your post about your goals. I’ll add any links to the body of this post, so they’re easier for others to see and visit.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

Motherhood and Vocation: a second epilogue

This was supposed to just be a four-part blog, but as I was posting these this week, I realized I had just a bit more to say. Smaller things, but probably important.

1) What if you have no other vocation? What if you’re “just” a wife and mother? (Or just a wife? Or just a mother?)

Well, in that case, my guess is there’s no “just” about it. Women like that tend to be, in my experience, pillars of the church and community. They’re the ones who take care of everyone behind the scenes, the ones who fill in the gaps – gaps that might seem small, but that end up making all the difference in the world. The old are comforted by them, the sick visited, the children watched, the sad encouraged, the extra bit of running around and paperwork done, the missionaries housed, the strangers welcomed . . . and piece by piece, this looks small, but honestly: the world would fall apart without these “mere” wives and mothers. And even if you think this superwoman isn’t you, take a closer look: you might be surprised by what the Lord is accomplishing through your hours and your days.

Or what He will accomplish. You might be in the middle of a time where you feel you’re not even enough to take care of your own household. It’s okay: serve Him there. Turn to Him; He will not forsake you. And remember that you don’t know what He has in store for you, and no more do you know what He will do with those sacrifices of yours that now seem so insignificant. We aren’t allowed to see what’s coming and we aren’t always allowed to see the eternal result of our work – and all our work is just gift, just grace, just superfluous goodness in the kingdom that is entirely dependent on His great virtue, not ours.

(Also, if you are in this place, and you find it a discouraging place, I urge you to go and read Milton’s great sonnet, which he wrote as his sight disappeared. Remember: “they also serve who only stand and wait.”)


2) Okay, this is the harder piece, because this is where I’m likely to get things thrown at me. But I felt like I needed so say it, especially after all my emphasis on the essential humanity of women: I think women and men are different.

Phew! I know, I know, it’s shocking, but hear me out: we are different. Man was created male and female, and what would be the point of that if we were exactly the same? Moreover, basic biology tells us there is a difference and I get so annoyed when people ignore basic biology.

(And that’s just the biology – I’m pretty sure there are some even less tangible differences between the sexes, but I really don’t think I’m up to articulating them – and I mean that literally: I doubt my ability to do it. But being creatures who are not just physical, but whose embodiment is part of our very nature, it would make sense that what we see in our bodies is reflected in our souls. We’re very all-of-a-piece.)

The thing is though – and the reason I hesitated to say anything about this – is I don’t have a worked-out, easily-stated philosophy of the difference between the sexes. It’s a difference I can see more easily in real life and in good stories than I can in coldly-stated philosophical statements. And that’s probably a fault on my part.

So, before I go on, let me state really clearly: These are my thoughts in progress. You know how you can have an opinion about everything (and probably do), but you hold some opinions more strongly than others? This is an opinion that’s a little weak. Not because I think I’m wrong, but because I know it’s a huge and complicated subject that I haven’t thought through well enough yet. So it’s an opinion I hold lightly, because it seems not unlikely that I have some of it wrong.

But, with that huge caveat, here's what I see when I think through it:

Women are more vulnerable than men. History teaches us this – sadly, the daily news teaches us this. When people are being virtuous, this vulnerability is no disadvantage. In marriage, women receive. In pregnancy, women nurture. In childbirth, women break themselves in order to bring forth life. Can men receive and nurture and so productively be broken? Yes, of course. But not in the very literal sense that women can. (Huh – though as I think of it – Jesus is the sole exception to that last one – His broken body produced more life than any woman ever could.)

And in good societies, in good marriages, in good families, these feminine abilities are great gifts. They’re uniquely feminine opportunities for virtue and growth and goodness. They’re great gifts.

In bad societies and families, they’re uniquely feminine opportunities for experiencing violence and victimization.

And this is just true. I hate it when people act like it’s otherwise. The very reason we need all the protections our laws afford women is because this is true. Are men victims of violence? Of course. But not in the same systemic ways women are, and that’s because, as a group, men are less vulnerable. (And that’s not even getting into the effect hormones may or may not have on our daily emotional experience – not that that might not go the other way, too: I understand men are much more likely to be sociopaths, for example.)

St. Peter talks about men treating their wives kindly, as weaker vessels, and I can’t help but think this vulnerability might be what he’s talking about. As if he’s saying, “recognize that they are vulnerable in a way you aren’t, that they are operating under hardships you don’t have to bear, and remember also that they are loved by your Lord, as His good creatures, just as you are, and so don’t take advantage – though you can – and don’t be unkind. They are the Lord’s, as you are, and so treat them well, as you would be treated if you were them.”

I don’t know. I don’t presume to know I understand everything St. Peter meant. But it seems to me clear that he was reminding men that women were “fellow heirs of salvation” because the men needed to be reminded, and reminding them to treat women kindly because we women need that kind treatment. If we’re called to be mothers, we’re called to a specific kind of purposeful vulnerability, in order that we might nurture our young, and in that vulnerability, we need the protection of good men.

And if you think that’s not true, you need to read some more history. Or daily headlines. But you’ll find them both pretty depressing. See what happens to women in cultures that haven’t been influenced by Peter’s stern admonition about women being treated kindly as fellow heirs of salvation (i.e., made in the image of God, i.e., humans). They’re squished, that’s what happens. Because they can be. And because nothing stops the men from doing it.


And I don’t want to leave you depressed, or with the impression that the weakness of women (because, in some ways, we really are weak) is all bad news. It isn’t. Like I said: it presents us with unique opportunities to grow in holiness. (I’m sure men’s strength provides them with unique opportunities, too, but that’s not my topic here.) God’s strength is shown in weakness – that’s so clear in Scripture – and so in some ways, we have a head start. Weird as it is to look at it that way. But we can't ignore our vulnerability. It shouts at us. Sometimes I think men can ignore their weakness (because all humans are weak and breakable) more easily than we can, and I can’t imagine that’s to their eternal advantage. Realizing you're weak when you always thought you were strong - that's a pretty rude awakening, and one we all must have, one way or another.

Strength in weakness; God’s strength in our weakness: it’s a glorious thing.

Our prime example of this, of course, is Mary, who represented the entire people of God – male and female – when she in her humility said, “May it be to me as the Lord has said.”

May we all be more like her. And as we’re more like her, by God’s grace, may we be more like Christ.

Motherhood and Vocation, Part 4

I suppose I could also title this: EPILOGUE: THE GOOD HUSBAND.

You've probably noticed that I haven't given a lot of specifics in this series. I haven't used the words "stay-at-home mom" or "daycare".

Yeah, that was on purpose. The thing is, I don't know what the right answers are for you. I don't know the details of how this all works out in your life. I'm only barely figuring out how it works out in my own!

I can give a few general thoughts on it though:

1) A bad husband will make every single piece of this so, so much harder. If vocational worries are a first-world problem, they're also in some ways a good-marriage problem. Women with husbands who aren't good at husbanding are in a hard spot. They need every grace everyone around them can give. A good husband will, well, husband. In older times, that word was a verb that meant to cultivate, to guard, to help things grow and flourish. The result of good husbanding is growth and flourishing.

I do believe that God is a father to the fatherless and a husband to the husband-less. But if a good husband is an unearned blessing, a bad one is at the very least a severe handicap.

And we're all of us bad spouses to some extent. I'm just saying that it's not fair to beat yourself up when you're having to fulfill your own role and someone else's and you're finding you're not able to do the job of two people no matter how hard you try.

God gives grace wherever we find ourselves. But it's unkind, I think, to fail to acknowledge that the husbandless or badly-husbanded woman is playing the game on a much higher difficulty setting.*

Again, I don't know how to address the situation or how to fix individual situations. I can just see clearly that having no husband or having a bad husband makes all of mothering harder, and that has to include the parts that have to do with juggling your vocation. And I want to acknowledge the bravery of the mothers who keep loving and working in the middle of those situations. They're heroic. And may God grant them every grace and mercy and strength that they need.

2) People say "specialization is for insects" but screw that. The truth is, specialization allows for civilization. Try having roads without engineers or secure borders without soldiers. Specialization is efficient.

Specialization allows for civilization in countries . . . and in families.

That the children are fed and clothed is the responsibility of both parents. It's my concern that there's money for food and it's my husband's concern that the children are cared for. If either of those things fail to happen it's both our faults. Redundant responsibility is a good failsafe.

But, practically, specialization makes for efficiency, and often it's going to make sense to have one person specialize as the bread-winner and one as the care-giver. Not always. Often. There are certainly reasons to split up those tasks or to juggle them back and forth. There are reasons, and there are seasons. (And I think the older kids get, the easier it's going to be to juggle those responsibilities back and forth.)

But, often, specialization is the most efficient way to make sure the family is 1) provided for, and, 2) cared for.

So you end up, often, having the father with the bigger career and the mother more often at home. I just want to point out how practical this is. And that it isn't necessarily bad to do things for practical reasons.
I think the problem comes when we start to see ourselves as the roles and only the roles. If I look at my husband and see a workhorse or a piggy bank, if he looks at me and sees a nanny or a maid . . . then we're in trouble.

But if I look at him and see Adam, and he looks at me and sees Jess - knowing full well that Adam earned the money and health insurance, and Jess cleaned the bathroom and cooked dinner - well, that's fine. We're called to love each other is all. Not use each other. Love each other. That there is utility there too is just the proper rights of love. That's okay.

It's a question of love. I guess it all comes down to a question of love. Sometimes loving the Lord means I'm nursing twins and trying to have a kind word for my toddlers despite my headache and my exhaustion. Sometimes loving the Lord means I'm spending four hours writing. Sometimes loving the Lord means I'm scrubbing a toilet. Sometimes it means I'm sitting still long enough that I can hear Him remind me how much He loves me.

So, motherhood and vocation . . . all come down to love, I think. Loving the Lord with all your heart and mind and soul and strength . . . and loving your neighbor as yourself. You know, those little neighbors who are the fruit of your and your husband's love. Your first neighbors. The ones in your own household.

Love God. Love each other. Do the work God's given you to do. Trust Him to make up the lack. And . . . I don't know what else to say, so I'm stopping there. What do you think?



*I think the first user of this metaphor was John Scalzi, here. It's probably pretty obvious that I don't agree with Mr. Scalzi on everything, but he's a good writer and it's just a brilliant metaphor. Credit where credit's due.

Motherhood and Vocation, Part 3 of 4

Have I mentioned I'm still in the middle of working this out in my own life? Ha, ha, and I was writing like I had all the answers, huh? Sorry. :)

But! I do have the beginning of an answer, I think. And this is just what I've gathered by observing the lives of the saints ahead of me - of the smart and loving women I know who are going through life using both their brains and their hearts.

The thing is, they do Have It All, sort of. They just do not Have It All All At Once.

(btw, one of the other answers I've seen lies in those exceptions I keep acknowledging: some women are called to the life of the mind and not the life of the home. Christianity has always held a high view of the celibate man or woman dedicated solely to the advancement of the Kingdom of God. St. Scholastica, pray for us.)

So, for those of us work-a-day sorts, for those of us called to the ordinary roles of wife-and-mother, what's the answer? What do you do, as Harriet Vane said, if you're blessed with both a brain and a heart?*

And now is when I'd invoke a different saint, if I did indeed pray to the saints, and say: St. Dorothy, pray for us. Because I think the answer lies in in the answer to Sayers' famous question: Are women human?

The answer is: yes. Yes, we are. And so, like men, we are called to worship God with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our strength and with all our mind.

God didn't call just part of us, He called all of us.

Here's the thing, though, about virtues: they are immutable and immortal and unchangeable. But, in their application, they are as various as the flowers of the field. Modesty is an eternal virtue. But modesty in Regency England looks different than modesty in 2013 Los Angeles. The application of virtues looks different in different lives.

Serving God with all your mind won't just look different in you than in your next-door neighbor, it will look different in the 20-year-old you and in the 40-year-old you.

The first thing, always, is to pray and ask the Lord, "what is my duty right now? At this minute? How should I obey you today? What do you want of me this hour?" And then obey.

And often, obedience looks like cooking dinner or doing the dishes or reading to your kids. If that's today's duty, be content. Christians have always - always, always - been called to be content in their current circumstances. Were you a slave when Christ called you? Serve Him there. Get free if you can! says St. Paul, but if not, well, serve Him there.**

Wherever we are, we are called to contentment.

And so we're called to patience. We're called to peace.

But we're not called to complacence.

We're mothers: growth is our business. We know what it looks like; we watch it happen every day in our children.

And adults are supposed to grow and mature, too. Our growth isn't as dramatic, awkward, and startling as growth is in children, but stagnation is pretty ugly in grown-ups.

Children grow, and their growth makes room for us to take up our old pursuits and passions.

But to take them up peacefully, calmly, maturely. We're given the gift of finding ourselves again and finding that we're new people. The refining fire of motherhood has knocked off a lot of our hard edges. The long nights and days and toil in obscurity have taught us patience.

It's a gift. I'm saying: motherhood is a gift. And it's a gift in this completely unexpected way, because it gives you yourself back, after you'd given up completely any hope of finding that person again. You sort of wake up slowly, and it takes you awhile to realize that you're still there.

But you are. And you're whole. And you can do work, more work than you ever could when you were young and selfish and naive. You didn't know what work was then.

(In the first draft of this post, I had a screed here about dealing with male condescension. And, well, maybe there's a place for it somewhere, sometime. But not here, not now. Because the truth is: men have their own trials and temptations. And what they are isn't my business, any more than the single woman's trials and temptations are my business. Besides, that screed doesn't apply to good men and, frankly, good men are the ones I care about and who care about me, so for the jerks, who cares? God bless them; may they find their way home.)

But: work. Mothers know how to work. Oh, do we ever. And what a gift! Would you have ever learned the lesson of work quite so thoroughly if you hadn't been forced? I know I wouldn't. The tide of need that comes with children washes you over like a flood and you swim and you swim and swim so that you don't drown.

But then the tide goes out, and sometimes they still need you urgently and sometimes they still need you constantly, but they don't constantly need you urgently . . . and, those swimming muscles you built up? They're still there. And you're free to use them for something else. For something extra.

For your work. Your work. Your proper work. Your human work.

Because women are human. We're human first, and we're women second. The first thing you notice about a person may be their gender, but it's the first thing you notice about a person.

What screws us up here is that, in temporal terms, our gendered work comes first. Motherhood doesn't end till you die, I don't think, but biologically it's the job of youth. If you're going to have kids, you're likely going to have them in your twenties and thirties.

And because we often have to do it before our careers - or as an interruption to our careers - it feels like that's all we are. No. That's just what we are first. It's what we are always. But it's not all we are.
It's okay to be a mother and to take the time to be a good one. It's okay, it's good. It's okay to want to be more than a mother.

It's okay to live for a time - even a long time - with those two desires in tension. It's hard, but it's okay.

Desire delayed makes the heart sick . . . but there's still a place for patience. For resignation. For contentment.

And it's okay to reach beyond your first vocation when the time is right.

And it is always, always, always good to bring all these desires and conflicts before the Lord in prayer. Because this isn't going to look the same for every woman and He knows and loves you better than anyone.

Wait on the Lord. Take heart, and wait on the Lord. And He will give you the desires of your heart.

And desire fulfilled is the tree of life.




*Read Gaudy Night by Dorothy L. Sayers. Read it now.
**1 Corinthians 7:21.

Motherhood and Vocation, Part 2

In the last post, I talked about how motherhood constricts your choices and your potential. And it does.

But that constriction doesn't last.

Children grow up. And you grow up, too.

You get better at caring for them. Of course, every couple of weeks, they hit a new developmental stage, and you have to revamp every last schedule and routine to deal with the new, crazy behavior they've sprouted now . . . but even then: you get better at that kind of flexibility. You know that children=change, and you grow in the grace of matching them rhythm for rhythm.

You get a little bit of space.

And you realize . . . you're still human. That girl who was brilliant with words or who was perfectly intuitive with people or who could make an office run like clockwork . . . you still have all her skills. And, what's more, now you're mature enough that you have an idea of what to do with those skills now, how to put them to best use. But you can't, can you, because you have to mother your children.

Here's the thing: motherhood may be the primary vocation of most Christian women, but that doesn't mean it's the only one.

There is a tendency in conservative Christianity to be weird about this. We're so worried about losing the family that we end up acting like the family is all there is. We think that because women are mothers that they can't be professors or police officers or teachers or council members or doctors. That they have hearts, but not brains.

And, honestly, we think this because we're at least willing to acknowledge the truth stated in Part 1: that mothering takes real energy and real time. We know that taking the time and energy to mother means we're not going to have as much time and energy as we would otherwise. We're willing to acknowledge the cost.

And that's good as far as it goes. But it isn't true that being a mother always takes all your time and energy.

Truthfully, this is a first world problem. I know we don't want to think that, but hear me out: you're only going to have opportunity to worry that you're not living up to your potential if you have enough energy at the end of the to stay awake fifteen minutes thinking about it. If you labored in the fields all day and barely kept your family fed, well, this isn't going to be your issue.

Or your husband's, to be fair.

So, anyway, I just had to point out: this is a problem for the privileged.

But it is a real problem. Ask any smart woman who's been through college. Especially if she's been to a Christian college. Ask her if there's a tension between having a family and having a career. Go ahead. Just ask.

Are you back? (Are you me?) Okay, so: there's a tension.  And I already gave my opinion that being a mother is a good thing. Ignore your biology at your peril: God created your body. You are female. You are made to mother. That's just bound up in your DNA, and trying to not be yourself never made anyone happy. (Yes, there are exceptions. No, I'm not qualified to address them.)

But being a smart person is a good thing, too. Being a gifted person is a good thing. And your intelligence and your gifts are just as hard-wired into your body as your fertility is. God made your brains, too.

The thing is, that you can't ignore people in pursuit of things. You can't ignore your husband and your kids in pursuit of your career. You can't neglect them. That's sinning. And so that's where we get caught up: we just mother, just housewife, because these things need to be done, but we're unhappy, because we're not using our brains and our gifts.

(And here I'm going to stop and say again: these things need to be done. Modern culture tries to ignore this, tries to act like we can have homes without homemakers or healthy kids without caretakers, but that's just ridiculous. And given, again, biology, mothers are going to usually be those homemakers and caretakers. Our bodies are made to sustain life. Bluntly: we can breastfeed. It makes sense for us to be home with, at least, the babies and toddlers, because We're Not Just Mom, We're Dinner.)

But, anyway: we're not using all our gifts, and so we're unhappy.

And, at that unhappy place, I'm going to leave you until Part III.

Motherhood and Vocation, Part 1 of 4

Want to sit down and have a cup of coffee? - because any blog that has "Part 1" in its title ought to come with coffee. :)

(And I want to say at the start: this blog series isn’t comprehensive, not in any sense, and I’m not pretending it is.*)

In this series, my focus is on what many of us experience: getting married and having kids. This is the path a lot of us take, and so it's worth looking at it. Most of us marry rather than burn, and the result of sex is kids. Fairly often, anyway.

Given that, what does that mean for Christian women? It means that our primary vocations, often, will be that of wife and mother.

And this isn't a bad thing. 

In fact, this is a normal path for sanctification. Marriage and child-rearing require self-sacrifice and that's good. It doesn't feel good, but it is good.

I'm not sure I know another way to say it . . . I just know it needs to be said. Yes, it's hard. Yes, you have to give things up. Yes, you get an infinite return.

Your sphere of influence will be abruptly contracted and so will your choices. You chose this one thing (and in our culture, it was your choice - now there's a mercy and a judgment!) and that meant you didn't choose every other thing in the world.**

And you have to be faithful to the vocation to which you've been called. Yes, called, even though you chose it. Did you really know what you were choosing? No, probably not. We never do. We're human, which means we're finite. Which means we're stupid. (Cosmically speaking, anyway.)

You didn't know it would be so hard, and that you'd be so tired, and that you'd be so angry, so often. So, so often.

But it happens to men too, it happens to single people too, it happens to everyone. Everyone chooses one thing and not every other thing. Everyone has to deal with the consequences of their choices and the loss of freedom that follows.

But there's a new kind of freedom that comes after the choice: the freedom to be faithful. Once you know what you're supposed to be doing, you're free to do it well. You're freed to do it with your whole heart. You're freed to do it faithfully.***

Which is just glorious.

So, that first: being a wife and a mother is normal and good. Your biology is destiny, in one way. You were made to do this. You were made to bear and to nurture. You were made to give of yourself. You were made to be the strong and sturdy trellis these baby plants could cling to as they grow towards the sun. You were made to provide structure and peace around their nutty energy. You were made to soothe and comfort and feed and protect. This is normal. This is good.

And when people say it's not, they're lying.

Yes, you can't do everything you want. You can't have it all. Being a mother means that where you're going to spend the majority of your time and energy for the next twenty years is now determined, and you don't have the potential you used to, and you can't "have it all".

But no one can. No one can.

And motherhood, if you receive it as from the Lord, if you take it as from His hands, will give you opportunity after opportunity to grow in holiness. It will give you practice in giving grace - over and over - and in opening yourself up to receive it in turn. It can teach you the practice, the constant practice, of turning your face towards the Father to receive from Him the love that you need. And then you can turn and give it to your children. And then receive again - because you don't have enough of yourself, and motherhood teaches you how finite and small and fragile you are - how much you need the Lord.

And how much He gives of Himself to you. How He is ever-present, ever-sufficient, ever-kind. How He loves you through His own presence, and through the presence of your husband, and of your family, and of your church, and of your friends. Christ in every face that greets you with kindness. Christ being formed in your children. Christ when you are in tears for fear of their lives or of their souls. Christ when you're so tired you wish you never had to wake up. Christ always present, always.

This is a grace that I am sure is available in every vocation, but that I know is present in motherhood.

It should not be despised.


(Stay tuned for Part 2, tomorrow . . .)




* My experience is that of a married woman who didn’t struggle with her fertility. I know that means there are a lot of people this series of essays just can’t address. I'm writing under the assumption mothering is one of the normative vocations for Christian women. But there are other paths; those other paths exist and they matter and many good people who are not me are writing good things about them. (Try this blog, or this one, just as a start.)
**I learned this from Elena.
***This is what discipline does: it allows for freedom. Think of how working out regularly allows you take a hike in the gorgeous fall weather without getting out of breath. Think of how practicing scales gives you the freedom to interpret a piece by Bach. It is the boundaries of discipline and choice – choosing “this” and not “that” - that allow for freedom!

Links!: a workout, a calling, and 3 reasons

The Scientific 7-Minute Workout - I tried this! It's a really decent, no-equipment-needed circuit.

"The Calling":

Into this fog came Thomas Merton, the priest in the documentary, whose example offered Martin a way out. But being called is one thing; answering the call is something else entirely. “At that time, joining the priesthood would have been like becoming an opera singer or running away to the circus,” Martin says. He consulted a psychologist instead.

“What would you do if you could be doing anything?” the doctor asked him, a year or so into his therapy.

“I’d be a priest,” Martin replied.

“Well, why don’t you?”

The next day, Martin was on the phone with the local office of the Jesuits.

"Three Reasons Star Trek Endures":

If Kirk is the heart of the show, Spock and McCoy are the head and conscience. Spock is all intellect. He’s the foil to all of Kirk’s antics – logical to the point of frustration, so reserved in emotion that he comes across as frigid, and asexual except when his half-human side gets the better of him. McCoy serves as the voice of human conscience, always at odds with Vulcan logic, seeking compassion and mercy, but also moderation and control. Kirk is stuck in the middle, struggling with these angels and pointy-eared demons on his shoulders. It’s a classic battle among Id, Ego, and Super Ego.

Book Notes: "Are Women Human?" by Dorothy L. Sayers

Are Women Human? by Dorothy L. Sayers
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The short answer is “yes”. The longer answer concerns what that “yes” implies. Sayers says that if women are human first, and female second, then they have vocations, or “proper work” just as men (human first, male second) do.
This essay was out of print for awhile, but now is back. I highly recommend it.

View all my reviews


Okay, the above is my short review. Here's a slightly longer response:

It's hard to take any notes on this book because it is so short and so profound. My instinct is just to copy it all down and let you read it, because every word in the book is worth reading and rereading, and even if you read and reread it, it would scarcely take you over an hour.

Along with her "Gaudy Night", "Are Women Human?" is one of those books I reread periodically in order to get my head set on straight.

Sayers' main assertion in the two essays that make up this book is that the first thing that is important about women is that they are human. That they are female may be the second most important thing about them - after all, the first thing you notice about someone after you notice that he is a person is whether or not he is a he or she is a she - but the first most important thing about a person is that he is a person. In our case, a human being. We are creatures made in the image of God, and that is the first thing there is to know about us. It's the most important thing to keep in mind as we go on to look at the differences between the sexes.

The other main subject that these essays explore is work. Sayers wants to make it clear that if a person is clearly made for a specific sort of work, she ought to be allowed to do it. She doesn't insist that every woman is a genius, and admits that very few may be specially gifted for special work. But, she says, if they are good at something and the thing they are good at is worth doing, then they ought to be allowed to do it and to do it well. She's very big on people being allowed to do their "proper work" - that is, the work that belongs to them. In short, she is arguing for excellence. She is arguing for virtue - for skill to be allowed to be diligently and wisely applied to the tasks at hand.

And I would say, honestly, that this is very much along the lines of what we find in Proverbs 31, in the paean of praise to the ideal wife. That woman works. And it is intelligent, creative, organizational work. And it is hers and she does it well.

The book ends with Sayers explicating the parts of the gospel where Jesus interacts with women, pointing out that he took them seriously.

I don't insist that Sayers got it all right, or that this is anything like a comprehensive take on the issue, but it's well-worth an hour of your attention - or if you're like me, an hour of your attention about once a year.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

More on women and vocation, and Mary and Martha

Just after I posted my last blog entry, my mom came over, and so I talked to her about what I'd been writing. And now I have more vocation-and-women stuff to put out there in the Pool of Ponder.

(That last blog entry was - and this might not have been obvious, but it's true - just an I'm-pondering-these-things entry. Not an I-have-this-all-figured-out entry.)

One important thing my mom pointed out is that we shouldn't look at the first Mary-and-Martha story in the gospels without also looking at the second: the death of Lazarus. In that case, Mary was overwhelmed with her emotions and missed Jesus. But Martha was there, and present, and confessed that Jesus was the Messiah. So . . . Martha got the better part in the end too, and it's worth thinking about how much her sensible, practical nature helped her to be present and aware in the midst of tragedy - present and aware enough to recognize Life Himself when he stood before her.

I guess what really struck me about the Mary-and-Martha story as Sayers presents it is that being a contemplative is a legitimate calling, even for a woman. (And yes, I know who the other Mary is, and so this should have been obvious to me.) I feel like so much of what I want to do is just to read and think and read and think and read some more. And Mary's story shows me that sometimes sitting and listening isn't lazy; sometimes sitting and listening is exactly the right thing to do. It's not sloth; it's something we are made for.


The other thing my mom helped me with was with a clearer explanation of the traditional Christian view of "vocation". (My mom's a theology prof, so she knows this stuff - that said, anything I get wrong in this recounting is my mistake, not hers - and some of it isn't her information, it's just my ruminations.) She talked about how vocation means "calling" and that it includes everything that God calls us to, which means that my division of calling into "vocation" and "duty" isn't correct.

There are the things we are all called to, like wisdom. Or like obedience to Christ. Then there are the very common callings that are ours because of where we are when we become Christians. Are you a mother, a brother, a husband? You are called to be that in service to God. Are you a soldier, a teacher, a welder? You are called to be that in service to God.

Then there are the more specific gifts and callings, and some people have lots and some have a few, but whatever they are, you are to use them in God's service, as He leads you to do so.

And then there is the question of time. You aren't called to do everything all the time. For instance, when my twins were newborn, and I had four children under the age of four, my whole duty was pretty much comprised in loving God and my immediate family. It was all I could do to just do that! and I don't think I was called to anything else at that specific time.

I think there are times like that in most people's lives. When you have a newborn, when you are gravely ill, when someone who it's your duty to care for is gravely ill . . . your duty narrows to one very specific point and you just serve Christ there, wherever there is. You're still following the first and second greatest commandments, and so even though the scope of duty is narrow, the obedience and love found there can be as great as any in the whole wide world.

There's also the fact, my mom pointed out, that sometimes the hard and narrow parts of our lives are the times when God is equipping us for some future work, but we can only see it in hindsight. We look back at those times and see, "oh, that's when I learned to pray" or "that's when my heart was truly converted" or whatever other thing it was that God needed to do in us in order to fit us for our true calling, to get us ready for whatever tasks were lying ahead.

And in the end, our calling is a calling to Him, it's a calling to our home. He Himself is our peace, as Dante said, and He wants to make us into people who can be at home with Him. In Advent, that's good to remember too. In the words of the children's carol, we pray, Lord Jesus, fit us for heaven, to live with Thee there.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

Keeping Advent: Watching, Working, and Waiting: the duties and vocations of women

My Advent thoughts this week have been prompted by my Bible reading, which is probably a good thing. The St. James Devotional that I use has been taking us through some of the more dire parables in Matthew, and so I've been pondering things like the Parable of the Talents.

Is it a coincidence that in English "talents" means gifts or abilities, and that when I read the Parable of the Talents I can't help but think of "gifts or abilities" rather than "denomination of coin"?

When I think about this parable, what comes to mind first is Milton's sonnet on his blindness, where he complains, "When I consider how my light is spent/Ere half my days in this dark world and wide/And that one talent which is death to hide/Lodged in me useless . . ." He was a writer who couldn't see; what had he to offer God then?

The poem famously leads him to a consideration of the majesty of God, who has thousands upon thousands of other servants to perform whatever acts of service He desires. Milton concludes that God doesn't need him, and yet it is God's good pleasure to have him ready and willing for whatever order may come. Milton concludes, "They also serve who only stand and wait."

And Advent is a season of waiting. So Milton's sonnet seems a fit conclusion for me to reach. I stand and wait.

And yet . . . and yet I know what the blind Milton went on to do: he wrote Paradise Lost in his blindness, dictating each stanza to his daughters. He was willing to only stand and wait, but that wasn't what ended up being required of him.

So.

I said above that my Advent thoughts this week have been prompted by my Bible reading, but that's only part of the truth. They've also been prompted by my Sayers reading; I just reread her powerful collection of essays entitled Are Women Human?

(The answer, in case you're wondering, is "yes.")

These essays, perhaps surprisingly, are largely about work. One of Sayers' primary concerns, in promoting the humanity of women (women, she points out, are human ("homo") first and female ("femina") second) is that they be allowed to do their proper work.

She doesn't insist that every woman everywhere has a special vocation, instead she says:

I have admitted that there are very few women who would put their job before every earthly consideration. I will go further and assert that there are very few men who would do it either. In fact, there is perhaps only one human being in a thousand who is passionately interested in his job for the job's sake. The difference is that if that one person in a thousand is a man, we say, simply, that he is passionately keen on his job; if she is a woman, we say she is a freak.

I can't help but be reminded of Sayers' character Harriet Vane, who, when challenged about the "unwomanliness" of her job of writing murder mysteries retorts that her challenger would no doubt rather she did something more feminine, like washing floors. The only problem, says Harriet, is that:

". . . I should scrub floors very badly, and I write detective stories rather well. I don't see why proper feelings should prevent me from doing my proper job."

The idea of a "proper job" captivates me, probably because I know what mine is. It's to write fiction. (Is there any wonder I go back to Harriet Vane's story again and again?)

And yet I also have my duty - the duty that does come on me not as a human, but as a woman, and as a married woman: the care of house and children. "Duty" sounds cold to our modern ears, but I don't mean it that way. My children are the delight of my heart and my home is the happy center of my earthly universe.  But "duty" in the sense of "the normal tasks appointed in the normal course of things, without which I could not be healthy, well, or sane".

I'm not quite sure what the solution to the problem of vocation and duty is, mostly because I'm not quite convinced that it is a problem. (Clarification: I'm not sure it's a philosophical problem. I do see (oh so clearly!) that it's a practical problem.) I just can't see an earthly reason why it should be "duty versus vocation" rather than the simple "duty and vocation". It feels like the former, sometimes, but I firmly believe that God always gives what He demands, and that it's all a question of how and when and not what.

But there is one section, in the final pages of Are Women Human? that seems to at least frame well the  at-least-apparent-if-not-actual conflict between duty and vocation:

God, of course, may have His own opinion, but the Church is reluctant to endorse it. I think I have never heard a sermon preached on the story of Martha and Mary that did not attempt, somehow, somewhere, to explain away its text. Mary's, of course, was the better part - the Lord said so, and we must not precisely contradict Him. But we will be careful not to despise Martha. No doubt, He approved of her too. We could not get on without her, and indeed (having paid lip-service to God's opinion) we must admit that we greatly prefer her. For Martha was doing a really feminine job, whereas Mary was just behaving like any other disciple, male or female; and that is a hard pill to swallow . . . Women are not human; nobody shall persuade that they are human, let them say what they like, we will not believe it, though One rose from the dead.

Mary was a contemplative. She is, I think, a fitting model for this Advent season, wherein we watch, we work, and we wait.

More Advent thoughts found here, at A Ten O'Clock Scholar.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell

ETA: An update on this entry can be found here.

A Denver Day in Los Angeles

Today on the way to church it was so that I could see all of the mountains surrounding the city. I love days like this! We have so many mountains around the L. A. Basin, and they're so beautiful, especially when they're capped by snow like they were today. Days when the air is clear enough to see them it feels like we live in Colorado, with the Rockies springing up just outside the city limits.
And here, for your Sunday enjoyment, is a wonderful Kipling poem I first read here. I especially like the last line.
WHEN Earth’s last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried,
When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died,
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it –lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew!

And those that were good shall be happy: they shall sit in a golden chair;
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets’ hair;
They shall find real saints to draw from –Magdalene, Peter, and Paul;
They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all!

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame;
And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame;
But each for the joy of the working, and each in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They Are!

–Rudyard Kipling, L’Envoi from The Seven Seas, 1897.

peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell