A Feminist of Sorts

I would have to say that I have been and am a feminist or sorts.  Not the kind that is radical, or hates men, or wants to be like them.  But the kind that believes in equality between men and women--particularly when it comes to equal pay for the same work. While women may have different strengths to bring to life's table, their value and contributions are in no way less significant than those of men. Also,  I believe firmly that marriage is a partnership of equals, and that the husband and wife are interdependent. Submission is a recipe for disaster in a marriage.

Recently, I was reflecting on all of this as it has to do with money and wealth. What one's relationship is to money is an interesting thing to ponder.  Truthfully, I never had much for most of my life.   When Gerry and I first got married, the fact that I could not bring home a paycheck equal to his really bothered me. It was an emotional stumbling block for me. But it was clear that that was never going to happen. We had had different opportunities and paths in life. I had children and child care issues and all the challenges that brings.

 In some ways, we have a different approach to managing money.  Gerry is the treasurer of our family, we like to joke.  Thankfully, neither of us is a big spender, but we each do feel free to spend money if there is something that might be especially meaningful to us---a cruise, for instance, or expensive ski gear.  We are mostly in agreement when it comes to our relationship with money. Mostly.

Gerry believes that one's savings should at least keep up with inflation, or grow at that rate;  therefore, he wants to earn interest.   I have a different feeling.  I want to protect the money I do have, and do not care one bit whether it earns a penny of interest.   At this point in my life, I do have a little money of my own which I have squirreled away.  It sits in a savings account that makes absolutely no money. Neither does it lose its value.  In the past month, my pension fund  has lost tens of thousands of dollars in value.

But I digress.  What I really wanted to address in this blog was the struggle I originally had when I could not make as much money as my husband.   I did eventually come to terms with all of that, and I now realize the great value of what I  have brought to our lives, our relationship, our family.

I give birth and care and tend.  Like most women, I am the keeper of the family relationships and emotions.  I create a home and a warm place to gather.  I manage the social calendar and the food.  It is hard for me to imagine, really, that life could be worth much without family and loved ones.

I would not necessarily limit family to a biological connection. Family can also be a group of supportive friends, or a congregation, or a softball team---those closest to us who bring joy into our lives, and love us.

Part of my own journey as a feminist is coming around to understanding my own worth---regardless of  my income, or how much money I could contribute to the pot.  Some things of great value cannot be measured by the usual markers of this old world of status or wealth or worldly success.

Earth Is Our Home

Beautiful Home

  Earth is our home,

Beautiful home,

Like no other place,

  we’ve ever found

in outer space.

Earth is our home, beautiful home.

She is spotted with mountains,

how high they rise,

blanketed with oceans

that dance with the tides.

Adorned with valleys

And dressed up with trees.

Creatures and flowers,

Play their part, come and go;

Rise in the spring,

Die with the snow.

They take what they need,

but nothing more,

as it should be, as it should be.

Blessed by the sunlight,

clean and pure;

caressed by the wind,

may Earth endure.

Without poisoning the atmosphere,

wind and sun could sustain us here,

if only we dare; if only we care,

for our mother earth, who gave us birth.

Earth is our mother

Who nurtures and feeds

Who gives us seeds and

 fish and corn.

How we deface her,

unmindful of species,

of life yet unborn.

Earth is our home;

 Our fragile home;

                                              How fragile our home.     


                        
Song Performed at Community Arts Challenge, January 22, 1016  1st Place

A Rhythm to the Days

There is a rhythm to the days now. Now that I am no longer addicted to busyness.

There is peace and pleasure.   Pleasure in that first cup of morning coffee, as I wait for the day to unfold.

I don't need a to-do list to check off items.  The few things I want to do are in my head, and can be arranged or rearranged at will,  regarded or disregarded.  Done now or postponed.

There are, of course, things scheduled on the calendar.  But I protect the space there, so that each square does not fill up and overflow with too many commitments.   My commitment is to life's simple pleasures.

On the calendar the best thing there is lunch with a friend or family member.   This is something that I especially wanted to cultivate in my later years.   While one is raising a complicated family, and trying to meet the demands of a career, or in my case, 24/7 ministry,  there is not enough time to cultivate friendships and nurture relationships.  Now there is time aplenty.

 There are occasional meetings and responsibilities, but I try to keep those to a minimum.  The thing that brings the most joy is being creative.  Mostly that has to do with words.  The words are likely to be lyrics for a song to come.  Or a poem to submit to a poetry competition.  Or an occasional sermon.

I think the reason I stopped writing this blog is that it stopped being a joy and began to feel like a duty, an obligation.  And so, I felt, it had run its course.

I like projects, especially ones that have a beginning and an end point, rather than something open-ended, that constantly repeats, year after year, endlessly.   I have spent many happy hours planning trips, itineraries, doing arrangements, and making a travel  plan.

At the moment, I am working on  lessons for an Adult Sunday School class for the Fall.  That is a nice project.  I can pick it up or put it down at any time.  Fall is a long time off, so there is no rush.  It is a creative project, to some degree, as I am creating the lesson plans.

Food and cooking and doing the preparation, including grocery shopping, and looking at recipes probably brings the greatest joy.  That also is a creative, and daily endeavor.

There is a nice slow rhythm to the days now, not rushed, nor pressing in, nor urgency.
But calm and serenity.
Exactly where I want to be.
Exactly where I am.