There is so little I'm qualified to write on... Shall we whip out singleness again?

Hello, dear reader! Did you know that I'm single? Don't snigger behind your hand. I know that the "plight of singleness" is this blog's bread and butter, and although I try to stray to more edifying topics, the fact is: people (judging from the volume of comments) seem to like reading my "relationship posts" more than any other type of post.

I'm thinking of becoming the new Ann Landers.

Singleness has been the primary topic of the past three days. (Weddings, it turns out, will do that to you.) I and several of my grad school girl friends, drove to Indianapolis to ooh, ahh, and dance the night away at a dear friend's wedding. (And yes, my eyes held sparkly tears as I watched her walk towards her groom.) My new roomie moved in the night I got back, and (both of us being newly launched career girls) we discussed the pros and cons of our single condition. I'm also reading "This Momentary Marriage" with another friend, and we discussed it over curried chicken tonight at dinner. (My little house still smells of curry. Ick.)

All that to say, I think I've had the same conversation about six times in the past three days. I think if men knew how often we talked about them (both specifically and as a general whole), they would be... intimidated.



If, in Jane Austen's day, "it was a truth universally acknowledged that a single man, in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife," then today's universally acknowledged truth is that "a single girl, in possession of a fabulous career, must be in want of a husband."

The general consensus among my girlfriends? We all want to be married.

But after the first torrent of girlish frustration (smattered with jokes of looking for a man at a gun and knife show... which they whip out because they know the very thought gives me terrified goosebumps), something else (because my friends are delightful, vibrant ladies) always surfaces:

"Well, what am I going to do with the time I have now?"

Yes. We are single. But our very productive, thrifty souls shake their heads at a flagrant waste of these years. I am proud to know such friends. Ladies who ask, "What will I do with the freedom my singleness provides? Who can I serve? What should I be doing now, that in the future, a family will keep me from doing?"

We've discussed travels to orphans in Africa, philanthropic pursuits, hospitality, mentoring, and personal growth. I'm delighted to be surrounded by a myriad of women who desperately want to be wives and mothers, but who are aware of the delights, privileges, and unique responsibilities of singleness.

These are not days to be wasted, or time to be marked off as you scour the horizon for some distant (perhaps fictional) mate. These are delightful times filled with adventure and freedom that may never be found again.

Life does not start when you get married. Happiness is not automatic, troubles do not lessen, and character flaws do not evaporate. Marriage is not the magic pill to your dream life.

What are you doing now, with your singleness to guarantee that married or not, you are a better, more selfless individual when you stand before Christ? I ask myself this same question. Registering for a Kitchen Aide mixer will not make me complete. But pulling out my nifty hand-held mixer and whipping up a dinner for a new family or lonely college student- ah, that might actually produce eternal fruit.

As the adage goes: “Remember that a successful marriage depends on two things: (1) finding the right person and (2) being the right person."

You can't control one, but you can control the other.

Stop looking and start being.

Hermeneutics and Exegesis? I think so!

Last night I had the wonderful privilege of attending a Biblical Counseling Training class at Faith Baptist Church. I've been re-shaping my five year goals (since the way my life turned out makes it impossible to fulfill some of my previous goals!), and one of these goals is to get my certification in Biblical counseling. Last night, perched awkwardly on one of the most uncomfortable folding chairs known to man, I was struck by two things.

The first was the total humility of the man who was teaching. Dr. Bob Smith has taught counseling classes for years. He's an M.D. with an impressive track record, and a slew of accomplishments to back him up. He's started several counseling majors at universities, he's written multiple books, he's taught in the field longer than most people in the class have been alive (this includes my parents). But he never rested on these laurels. He was gracious, he was confident, but he deferred to the younger, seminary-taught man in regards to several key points, and was very willing to acknowledge that he didn't know the answer to a question that was asked. After six years, surrounded by "competent academics" who are afraid to say, "I don't know," last night was a refreshing breath of humility. Humility not being a strong suit in yours' truly, I was reminded of its importance and my need of it.

And then I was humbled by the teaching. Last night the topic was entitled, "What Makes Biblical Counseling Biblical?" The first point is what struck me... "When it recognizes the Bible as Foundational." In this point, Dr. Smith went through a diagram in which he showed that with out the canon, hermeneutics, exegesis, Biblical/Systematic Theology, one could not claim that your Practical Theology was really from the Word of God. I'll be honest. When I saw the topic for the class, I rolled my eyes a little bit. "Biblical" counseling has been the topic of so many dinnertime talks at the Blake household, that I thought I could probably give Dr. Smith's lecture.

But as he continued to expound, I saw that unless I had the nuts and bolts of the Bible (grammar, vocabulary, history, doctrine, etc.) I could not claim an accurate view of the practical theology that I dole out. I'm very much a where-the-rubber-meets-the-road type of Christian. Philosophical debates and abstract concepts have never appealed to me, and I love the branch of practical theology much more than Biblical theology (i.e. propositional statements, abstract doctrine). I glean much of my Biblical knowledge from people who study the Bible (and I don't think this is bad), but I do little to augment that study with my own digging into the Word. I don't dig. I read. And I'm going to change that...

Suffice to say that with so much to think about after just the first night, I can hardly wait for next week!

"For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope." (Romans 15:4)

If you think we killed chivalry, for crying out loud, give it mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!

I have heard rumblings of discontent among males.

"If you want me to hold the door, don't give me a dirty look, like I don't think you can do it."

"She won't LET me pay for dinner. I was reaching for my wallet. I promise."

"She put her coat on before I could even find it to hold for her. It's not my fault."

Yes, gentlemen. I'll admit. We ladies can be a wee bit forceful at times. In fact, the rumor has been batted around that "chivalry is dead," and the rumble from the men I've talked to is that feminism* is what killed it.

Which is complete poppycock.

If all it took were some opinionated women to kill chivalry, then chivalry must have been a pretty weak specimen.

Yes, there will be ladies who sneer at your kindness and compassion. There will be those who look at your helping hand with disdain. And there will be those who will interpret every kind, thoughtful, chivalrous gesture as affront to their competence as a human being. And I know that can't be pleasant. But you must know that behind one of these commanding women, stand ten who love chivalry. We will light up when you open the car door, when you shovel our driveways, scrape our windshields, and walk us home in the dark. (And yes, with revolving doors, the man goes first.)

We're not namby-pamby, vanilla girls. In most cases we're competent, spicy ladies... who still love knights in shining armor.

All this to say:

Plan the date.
Pay for it.
Open the door.
Hold up the jacket.
Shake our fathers' hand firmly.
Chit-chat with our mamas.
Don't sit out front and honk when you're picking us up.

And please be patient with us if we seem initially unsure, or confused by your courtesies. They are often a rare commodity. But don't worry. Our surprise and confusion won't last for long... soon your chivalry will be the reason for a smile, and a sparkle of happiness.

If abrasive feminism "killed" chivalry, then let true masculinity give it a shock back to life.



*I am condoning "feminism" very narrowly in this post. I'm a "first wave" feminist. (i.e. I believe women should have the same rights as men when it comes to politics, landholding, and jobs.) There is, however, a branch of feminism whose flagrant delight in emasculating men is abhorrent. They are sexists. Period. But we'll save that rant for another post. I don't think this argument is dependent on the type of feminist any lady may happen to be, but I thought I should probably expound for clarity's sake.


**This post is not a reaction to a negative event, but rather a way (albeit a rather upside-down way) of appreciating the men in my life (aka, my father and brothers) who are remarkably skilled at recognizing the strengths of women, while simultaneously protecting them. Thank you, dear ones for your chivalry!)

Submission. Defined.

Good 'morrow, gentle ladies! This post is specifically for you. Or perhaps I should say this post is for me, and hashing it out for all to read is incredibly helpful. I'm not a natural "thinker" or philosopher. I've never been labeled the "contemplative type." But by talking, by writing, by being forced to place my convictions into coherent sentences, I am able to approach something akin to intelligent thought. I hope.

For the past year I've been digging through the role of women. What does the Bible say, what does our society say, what do Christian thinkers, my mentors, and my friends say? For, whether we like to admit it or not, our definition of womanhood will define our choices and shape our lives. Recently I've started examining the men's role, because that (obviously) also has a strong bearing on how we, as ladies, act, but I'll venture into that realm after it's simmered (i.e. been studied) more.

Today I'm venturing into the realm of "submission." Don't curl up your modern noses at the term which oozes with connotations of inferiority. I know. I've been there, sometimes I still visit there. In our culture, "submission" denotes a hanging head, down-cast eyes, murmurings of assent. It summons up beliefs that one may not, or cannot use one's brain, have an opinion, or pursue one's talents passionately. Some may picture a 1950s family. I did.


To argue such a view of submission, one would have to transfer those same beliefs, not only to women, but also to men, for we are all told to submit to one another "out of reverence to Christ." (Ephesians 5:21) Submission clearly means something else, for the Christian walk is not filled with sniveling, brainless followers.

At least we hope not.

I would purport the following definition of submission:

Submission is a willing support of anothers godly interests and choices in the place of your own, with a conscious effort to enhance their service and abilities through the vibrant and passionate use of your gifts.

Let's unpack it, shall we?

"Willing support" indicates that you are not being coerced into submission. Your strength is supporting. And this is supporting without begrudging. It is "willing." I would argue that this often requires more strength than leading. A lack of willing support doesn't necessarily stem from strength, but rather from pride and selfishness. (James 4:1,7)

"Anothers godly interests" highlights the fact that submission to human authority should never be placed above obedience to God. (Deuteronomy 11:1) Should your authority's desires and choices be contrary to the scripture, or cause you to sin, you are not obligated to submit. But I used the words "interests and choices" because I believe the vast majority of strife in marriages is not caused by clear, black and white issue, but rather by an unwillingness to do something you just don't like. And while (in theory) it would be nice to have a husband whose one goal was to make you happy, there will be times when a choice is just a preference- no morality attached. And ladies, he's allowed to pick something that doesn't make you jump up and down with glee. Once again, it's at these moments when strength is not in the ability to battle, but rather in the ability to graciously not get what you want. This requires humility, another frequently abused character quality of our times. (Philippians 2:1-11) It's easy to say, but doing this "in place of your own" preferences and desires is incredibly difficult. Of this I am quite convinced.

My favorite aspect of this definition, however, is the final phrase which says you should do all this "with a conscious effort to enhance their service and abilities through the vibrant and passionate use of your gifts." This is an aspect of submission that I think is frequently overlooked, but it's what we were designed for. We are designed to help. (Genesis 2:18-24) We, as women, are beautifully gifted in a multitude of areas. I look at the women around me and am astounded at the love, insight, wisdom, kindness, generosity, and compassion which I see (in addition to skills in management, finances, design, art, and intellect). Look at each of those character qualities. How powerful they could be in the life of a man, should they be used to aid and abet his ministry. Submission is not a squashing of your talents, but rather the constant, selfless exercise of these gifts to enhance and strengthen your leader. How Christlike is this focus! And how perfect for the design of women... Think of the women who have shaped Biblical history: Sarah, Deborah, Elizabeth, Dorcas, Ruth, Esther, etc. What variety! Rich, poor, young, old, single, married, different eras, all with a variety of situations and problems, and yet, each defined Biblical womanhood with their separate strengths and abilities. What a wonderful challenge to seek to use our gifts and abilities to enhance and serve others! And let's face it, we, as women, do very well with challenges, so it's nothing to balk at.

So, bring on the challenge of submission! Invite this unconventional use of your gifts, and revel in the delight of service.

That's submission. Defined.





*I recognize that this post leaves many questions unanswered, and perhaps many feathers ruffled: What about when you're single? What about women working? What happens when your submission is abused? etc., etc. Trust me. I understand the limitation of the post I just made. However, take it as it is: a definition, not an exposition. I will touch on additional aspect of femininity and masculinity in future posts. Rome was not built in a day, you know.

Dreams Come Alive

I love this place. The brushing wind, the puddles of sunshine appearing through white puffy clouds, the white stone beaches with clear, cold waves breaking. Mackinac Island. Our family has been coming here for ten years. The old, dilapidated house where our adventures began is now a bustling, renovated success. But we discovered it, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I look upon the other guests as intruders. This is our summer home.

People always ask why we keep coming back.

When I'm away from the Island, I can never remember. But on the ferry ride, as we are tousled and tossed by the Michigan wind, the water gets bluer, the island gets bigger, and I remember. This is where my dreams live.

There is a place where all my dreams seem possible. When I can open up my notebook and believe that I can make a living writing. Where I can read good literature and believe that I'll someday write good literature. Where I can sip coffee, laugh with my family, peddle down hills, feel the sun on my face, the wind whip my hair, and believe that my life will come together. It will all work out. That it's a good thing to be alive. To live and dream.

So, I spent a good part of today curled up, writing, reading. I played lacrosse with my brothers, drank coffee with my mom, and dipped my toes in the pool with Julie. Martha and I talked about traveling the world. Dubai sounds interesting and Brussels a possibility. Erika and I debate vocabulary, and my father alternately laughs and encourages my inept bike peddling up the Grand Hotel hill.

The horizon is hopeful. My mind is teaming with new dreams and the rebirth of old aspirations.

I love The Island...

Lost in the Cornfields... Lonely for the City

I graduated.

I'm done.

And I don't have a job.

Granted, my job search suffered as my externship wrapped up. Working 10-12 hour days isn't exactly conducive to interviewing, but it still wasn't fun to tell everyone, "Nope! No idea what I'm doing!" when my compatriots had their lives perfectly mapped out.

This week I've interviewed for multiple jobs and applied for even more.

I'm not excited.

I was determine to leave this little town, the surrounding cornfields, and the complete lack of whole foods grocery stores. I am not a country girl. I'm scared of chickens, I love to wear heals, and I've always had a fascination with designer couture. I've applied for probably seventy-five jobs out of state in prominent cities. Haven't heard from a one of them. I applied for four jobs in state. Every single one has called me back, conducted interviews, and begun preliminary salary negotiations. Apparently I'm staying in the cornfields.

I don't want to do this. I never wanted to do this. My siblings are flying to the four corners of the globe, and I'm staying here. I've had nightmares of vacationing at age 32 with my mom, dad, and Julie-Bop. Just us. Everyone else out living their lives, and I'm just excited that Walmart is finally carrying organic milk.

What if I never click my heals along the New York sidewalk, apartment shop on the Magnificent Mile, or learn how to surf the sand-flecked waves of the Golden State? What if I stay in the cornfields forever?



A little, practical voice in the back of my head tells me that I can change jobs, I can move later, I can switch career paths. But right now the road stretches before me with no exciting bends.

One long, flat, Indiana road.

This gray-blue mood is probably the result of too many late nights, rejection letters, and the passing of my unconditional cheerleader (I love you, Grandma!). I understand that God will teach me many things. I love sunrises over those emerald fields. I delight in cuddles with Julie and coffee with my mom. I see the good things here... But right now I'm just a little lost, a little blue, and a little bruised and tender. My plan didn't pan out, and now I have to accept God's (much better) plan. That's a lot harder than it sounds...

Especially when I'm surrounded by cornfields.

Because of the memories... not "In Memory of"

On August 9th, 2010, my darling grandma went home.




From the first day I can remember, through the last day I knew her, my grandmother struggled to breathe, struggled to move, struggled to live. But she never struggled in loving her big, loud, "Americana" family. Never in her struggled did she forget Christmas presents for all, cheese balls and home-made noodles at each family get-together. She never let the struggle eclipse her kind words and gentle presence. She was always unconditionally proud of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

My grandmother doesn't fit in the "famous" people of our time. She lived quietly, she raised her four boys alone, she worked, she loved, she died. But the consistent grace and love which accompanied each of these actions is more amazing because of the lack of accolades. Glorifying God and loving others are her legacy.




I love you, Grandma. I can't wait to see you again.