A Very Late Third

I left off when we returned from Iowa, right?  I'll pick up there even if it's a little bit of backtrack.

I have started this next bit twice now and have erased because it feels too detailed and not relevant to the story at hand.  Suffice it to say, we had many changes and much growth in this time after Iowa.  We became absolutely committed to raising the children (going from two to four over the next few years) in a home centered around God and family. We began looking more seriously at "homesteading" and raising our own food. 

In the midst of that I couldn't seem to let go of the head-covering.  And with the head-covering came questions of dress.  I had not been an immodest woman, but I was one who sought attention. Really though, it was discontent and selfishness. I wanted an outward sign of what I wanted my innards to be, when in reality I was a "white washed tomb."  I was still fighting my own self in so many areas, but thought that if I dressed holy, everyone would see me as holy and maybe it would be easier to BE holy.

So my daughters and I started wearing dresses, most all of the time.  We wore our hair long (which is, I might add, the only part of this whole experiment that Darrin probably enjoyed.)  If I remember right this went on for about 3 years.  And even though I did get lots of good sewing practice, it was a struggle the whole time.  I didn't ever know if I was doing right. I believed all of Scripture as God's inspired word, but I felt like I was picking and choosing what I was going to follow closely and what I was going to ignore.  I was not more submitted to my husband.  I was not purer in speech or heart.  Something was going to have to change, and it did, and it wasn't pretty.

Chapter the Second.

As I contemplate starting into the second part of my silly little story, I wonder how deep to go.  How much of the side stories and such do I tell?  Probably only those that have a bearing on the subject at hand....closet plain-ness, right?  Even though all experiences shape who we are, many have no direct bearing on this story.


After Darrin was baptized, we still lived the college town life.  The only real difference is that he played piano for Campus Crusade and we often went home for the weekends and went to church there.  Time went on.  Darrin graduated and we moved to the Portland area and though we had no real friends and an infant, we only attended church there one time.  It was my only experience with a "mega church" and one I do not plan to repeat.  


While living in an apartment (another experience I hope not to repeat) we learned just how much we didn't belong in the city.  Darrin drove about 20 minutes a day to work and one day while tending Madi and nursing my little bit of morning sickness, I heard sirens.  When he got home he told me about the police chasing a robber past our apartment and over the hill into the neighborhood where he worked.  There the man refused to give up and they had to shoot him.  He was standing in a school yard.  That was when we decided we had to get back to who we were and that very weekend we started driving the countryside looking for a place to land.


The place we found and were instantly drawn to was Vernonia.  We bought our first home there and joined the First Christian Church two months before Wilson was born.  I don't think we have missed a Sunday without reason since.  Some of the reasons may have been a little iffy, but we believed that we were asked by Jesus to be part of His body and commitment to the local congregation is part of that.  Oops....soapbox moment.


The Vernonia church has had numerous issues for all of its history.  I will not trot out my guesses as to why here, but suffice it to say, they were between pastors when we came and between pastors when we left for good eight years later.  


In the middle of those years, however we had a go at the mid west. Darrin was offered the opportunity to set up and manage a satellite company in Dubuque, Iowa and being young and ambitious and not knowing any better, we jumped on it. It only lasted a few months but while we were there our faith was challenged and our commitment to God and each other grew immensely.  While there are many things that were adversely affected, our credit rating mostly, I do not regret our time "back east" because it was there we first attended a church where the women covered their heads for worship.  


I had discovered the passage in Corinthians about women covering many years before and had never resolved in myself why that was cultural and communion was not.  The usual explanation about  how the women needed a reminder of God's and their husband's authority on their head because they were taking leadership in the church seemed MORE relevant today not LESS.  I still waffle on this.  I still have trouble buying that just because Paul mentioned it only once and only to a troubled church means that it isn't important for our troubled church here in America.


No more for today.  Its time for school. :)

I Really Haven't Forgotten...

...that I'm in the middle of a story, but I just have not the energy nor the will to write right now.  Maybe next week?

We interrupt.....

     Here in the middle of my telling, I am going to squeeze in a little real world example of why I am a closet Mennonite.  I definitely, partially, semi, lean toward noncombatant. What brought this to light recently was the death of a man who brought evil to most of the world, but who was still a child of God, Osama bin Laden. 


     Growing up in an NRA-belonging, gun-toting, protect-it-if-it's-your's family that has served in all four branches of the US military, you can see my dilemma.  The worst part is the constant battle in myself over my beliefs.  I still believe that if someone were hurting someone I love I would absolutely go all kinds of crazy on their head.  That is decidedly NOT anabaptist.  But I am so disturbed by rejoicing over the gruesome death of even a terrorist.  


     I have always been a believer in capital punishment....it's scriptural, right?  But doesn't that come from before Jesus came and changed the standard by which we are to live?  How can I reconcile the war within myself?


    

In the Beginning...

     I am actually, literally, physically rolling up my sleeves to start this post.  What's been running around in my brain is where to start the voyage of memory from when I first began considering Plain living,  to here, where I waffle about it daily.  There seem to be many fits and starts and revelations to the path looking at it now, but I hope that as I write, maybe it will be a straighter road looking backwards.


     A few years ago I ran into an old acquaintance and when she asked me about the number of children we had told me that she was surprised that I had so many because I didn't "seem the type."  When I told my oldest friend about the incident, she replied that the other woman didn't ever know me very well.  If she had known me she would have known that I had a long standing obsession with pregnancy and birthing and had always had in the back of my scattered brain the idea to become a mid-wife.  As a young teen I started reading about midwifery and this led me to a book whose title I don't even remember.  In it, the  midwife went  to attend the birth of a New Order Amish woman.  That single story out of a book that I can't even name began my contemplation.  


     At that time, my interest was much more about wanting a change from where I was (as many young teens do) than making a complete submission to God.  However, even then the possibility of living a simpler, more Laura life was very appealing to me.  My splotchy  commitment started around this time with a confession of faith at church camp.  The previously mentioned oldest friend and I went forward at the same time and were baptized there.  I still do not know if that confession was true or if it was some self inflicted peer pressure decision.  I did have many great experiences at camp and even some life altering times of seeing God clearly.


     That summer began a 5 year long cycle of going to camp and deciding to seek the Lord, then going back to school and getting involved with a new non-Christian boyfriend for those nine months.  It is strange to think back on but having a family with no interest in spiritual things, it probably makes more human sense than becoming a Mennonite!  Through out those lost years of turmoil inside and out, God was working on me.  He was protecting me from real harm and even from the big major regrets that so many have to carry.


   Then Darrin came.  We had known each other previously but were involved with other people until the summer before my senior year.  Following the cycle, he was not a Christian, and mentioned to me the first night we spent talking as only new love interests can do, that he was agnostic.  But I was already thinking he IT.  So I decided to ignore what I had been taught in youth group and proceeded into a relationship.  


     This is the part of the story I always hesitate to tell young people.  Our story is NOT typical.  It is another example of God's unbelievable mercy and touch.  Darrin and I dated, were intimate, got married young and one year after, on our anniversary, Darrin accepted Jesus and was baptized.  See why I don't care too much to share that!?  Such a bad example,  but a good place to close the first chapter.

A Thought on Last Post's Poll

While talking about the poll with Miss Katie, I realized that using the word "Mennonite" may have not been the best choice.  I used that as a general description of Plain, not as a denominational reference.  Naming a group of followers after their leader is often regrettable and usually is to be avoided by those of us who claim the One True Name, though in this case there haven't been the issues that sometimes come of the practice.  


I said all that to say this, though the name of the blog isn't going change (because it sounds cool) if you who read wouldn't mind remembering that my intention is plain living, not a particular group I would appreciate it greatly.  More to come later.

Where to Begin?

     I am starting this brand new blog in an effort to put into words some of the crazy things that have been floating around in my head for the majority of my life.  I am still uncertain where to begin. I suppose that is why its been in the works for weeks and there are still no real posts.  What seems to be the best course of action, then, is to start putting thoughts into print and just anticipate many edits.  While I do hope it is a look into "me" for you, more than anything I am really more interested in figuring out "me" for myself!


HOWEVER, I want to start with a question for YOU, whomever you may be.  What do you think a Mennonite is?

No Thoughts,

Just a test.