The other day, Forbes magazine published an article by Michael Noer entitled Point: Don't Marry Career Women. The article painted women as "desperate housewives" who want it all (career and family) and end up increasingly dissatisfied. He claims that women would be happier at home, allowing their husbands to be the sole breadwinner and therefore decreasing the chance of divorce. I wrote the following response to the editor, and since there is a likely chance it won't get published (because I'm sure thousands of other people sent in something exactly like it), I am putting it here so that people can still read it.

Michael Noer's article warning men not to marry a career woman was not only extremely biased and chauvanistic, it was ill-informed. First, the cited statistics and sources which report women's dissatisfaction with dual-career marriages fail to consider the other side of the coin: the HUSBAND'S role in the marriage. Mr. Noer conveniently overlooked the fact that women who are dissatisfied with dual-career marriages report that it is because their husbands do not share the household duties. Moreover, many statistics in fact show that a majority of dual-career marriages report a greater sense of freedom because a spouse can take time off work or change jobs if s/he is not satisfied. Lastly, Mr. Noer reveals his own dysfunctional view of the role of a husband by painting "career women" as the sole detriment in a marriage. Let's ask our "career men" to take equal responsibility and stop blaming marriage troubles solely on women who "want it all." The fact remains that every marriage where a true selfless partnership exists, where both spouses want what is best for the other, will have a higher success rate, regardless of who makes the money.

Thoughts from the subway

On my way home last night, I got into the subway and sat down, tired from a long day. Across from me was a man who, when he realized it was a stop, stumbled up out of his seat, got stuck between the closing doors, then stumbled out of them and went on his way. There were a few things about him that made my thoughts linger on him a bit. First of all, he stunk. I mean, STUNK. His stench lingered longer than my thoughts in the subway car. He was dirty, too. Like Pigpen (from Charlie Brown), there was a cloud of dirt left behind on the seat. He was barefoot and his feet were so dirty you could barely see the flesh underneath. And who knows if he had substance abuse problems. All I know is that I had never smelled anybody so putrid in my life. And all I could think was, Jesus loves this man. If Jesus was sitting on this train right now, he would not be grossed out by this man's stench and filth. He would reach out to him, heal him, love him. This person, who is unlovable to all of us, is loved. What a God we have.

So things have settled. Family is no longer upset, everyone is happy about my move, and I only have a few more days of being homeless. Also, I met some of the neighbors last night. They're all really nice and welcoming. I can't wait to move in.

This weekend is the long-awaited COUSINS WEEKEND!! L,K,J & C will be partying hard all weekend while G will join in later on. If J&H weren't away on business, it would be perfect. (No, AL, I will never let that one go.)

The only thing that will make the end of this weekend bearable is knowing that I am coming back to the big apple and my very own set of apartment keys! Yes, ladies and jellybeans, I will take up residence in lovely Astoria, NY. Woohoo!

Having a blog is like keeping a diary for me; I have wonderful intentions of writing in it every day, but it often seems that a week goes by before I remember to write in it again. This time, my absence is marked by the fact that I have been frantically searching for a NYC apartment. Two words: NOT FUN. Half the places you arrange to see get rented before you even get there. A majority never even get back to you when you contact them to say you're interested. Of the ones that you actually do get to see, two out of three of them are U-U-U-U-G-L-Y. Or teeny tiny. Or in a basement. Or all of the above. Or too expensive. Finally, however, I found the perfect (albeit on the small side) apartment. It was the first place I walked into and felt like I was actually home. It was absolutely adorable, brand new, beautiful backyard, laundry on the premises, plenty of parking, clean, wow. We signed for it, went out to celebrate, then walked back to the car and realized that the lovely apartment complex across the street was the projects. Mom's heart sank and took mine down with it. After grappling with stereotypes we bring with us and making sure I would be safe, I think I'm going to take it. But it's made me think, again, about racism in our country and the system we live in that perpetuates these stereotypes. What kind of person am I if I want us to take ACTION to break down racial stereotypes but act in ways that contradict that? Is there integrity in refusing to live near the kind of people I want to help?

Amidst all the thoughts swirling in my head, I feel God calling me to live as Jesus would, without prejudice and with total love for ALL people. This is where we have to put FAITH into ACTION.

Here Is A Wound

Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,
Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,
But of a love turned ashes and the breath
Gone out of beauty; never again will grow
The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow
Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath
Its friendly weathers down, far underneath
Shall be such bitterness of an old woe.
That April should be shattered by a gust,
That August should be levelled by a rain,
I can endure, and that the lifted dust
Of man should settle to the earth again;
But that a dream can die, will be a thrust
Between my ribs forever of hot pain.

-- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I looked at my calendar this morning and realized there are only 2 more days left of camp. We leave on Saturday. I mean, I cognitively knew this information, but it really "hit home" this morning. I can't believe the summer is over already. In a few days I'll be back to cubicle life, searching for an apartment in NYC. It's still so unreal.

I was exhausted today, so I slept for a good portion of the afternoon and thought a lot about my experience this summer. I have been blessed with meeting so many wonderful people, but have also grown apart from others. I have experienced the trial of forgiving people who do not deserve to be forgiven. I have been unjustly mistreated. I have learned a lot about myself. I have grown closer to God. I have seen myself change. I have experienced true fellowship, gathering with others in the name of God. It has been quite a summer. I leave with some sadness in my heart, both for leaving the good times behind and for those relationships which have turned sour that I cannot, no matter what I do, make right because of people's hardened hearts. I leave with a sense of hope, though, as I look forward to a new ministry that awaits me.

It's one of those days when I say to myself, "THAT'S why I'm doing this."

I had to teach the religion class today because the instructor needed to be elsewhere. I ended up having the most wonderful conversation with our 8-12 year olds about why they like church. To hear a child say, "I feel closer to God when I'm in church" is music to my ears. They all genuinely love church, feel closer to God when they're there, and see something special about it that they can't get anywhere else. I couldn't have taught the lesson better myself.

I had the chance to preach this morning here at camp. The priest is on vacation and he appointed me to give the Sunday message during our service.

I love love love to preach. I just feel so humbled and full of God's grace and presence in that moment. I love to share my faith, and without trying to sound arrogant, I think preaching is a gift God has given me. It is such a deep joy in my heart.

I can't believe this is our last week of camp. The summer went by so quickly, even though a million things have happened and I haven't seen or talked to my family or friends for almost 2 months now. To think that I'm actually relocating to NYC is still unreal, but it's happening in a week. Crazy.

Since my last post...

1) I got hit by the "wet bandits" (aka a group of guy counselors threw me into a giant mudpuddle) (I took it as a compliment)
2) The room next to mine flooded
3) I fell and injured my knee
4) I registered 57 campers on Sunday for our third and final camp session
5) I still average 4-5 hours of sleep per night

It has been over 100 degrees the past two days, too, which makes me very crabby. I am indebted to the person who invented air conditioning on days like this. YAWN... time for bed.