Friday, March 9, 2012
Project Run and Play Update
The final five audition outfits have been chosen and....it's not mine.
Ah well. It was a fun way to kick off my spring sewing. Once the PRP season kicks off think I'll try to do a few of the sew-alongs this time.
I am, however, slightly obsessed with that shrug so stay tuned for more design craziness. In the mean time, check out the final five:
Project Run and Play
Voting is open so give a thumbs up to your favorite look.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Project Run and Play Audition: The Everywhere Ensemble
At 10:30 Tuesday night, I found out about the Project Run and Play open auditions. I am a huge fan, so I knew I had to give it a try. Also, I was crazy. 40 hours to design, draft, sew, photograph, and post a whole new outfit? With three girls running around, one of which is an (adorable) six-month old mama-octopus?
I would need coffee, a handful of Dora videos, and my baby wraps.
After a two-day design sprint-- which I loved-- I am done. ::catches breath::
The outfit was designed for Small Girl, my two year old middle daughter whose nickname would be better Fierce Girl
I would need coffee, a handful of Dora videos, and my baby wraps.
After a two-day design sprint-- which I loved-- I am done. ::catches breath::
The outfit was designed for Small Girl, my two year old middle daughter whose nickname would be better Fierce Girl
As in "Where The Wild Things Are" fierce, not Christian Siriano fierce
Though she can be sweet....especially when promised a Slurpee for modeling.
I wanted to design her an ensemble to kick off her spring wardrobe-- something versatile enough for our various adventures, something free-spirited and carefree and just a little romantic.
The Bloomers
were the main inspiration, as they are the closest Small Girl can get to being naked all the time, which would be her preference. (But then what would I sew?) When I was growing up, we wore bloomers under everything-- handmade by a friend of my mothers who sewed all our summer clothes. I am carrying on the tradition with my little ladies.
I raided my stash for some super-cute owl-print duck canvas, which would be sturdy enough for all the exploring (and the potty-training) that is in our future as the days warm up. I think I am going to make more in this fabric, as I can envision it holding steady through bike rides and beach trips and potty accidents.
Though we have very warm springs here by the beach, there are also days when the wind has a little nip to it, just enough for a little something on the shoulders.
The Shrug
I drafted the pattern using as my guide a half-finished bodice I found in my fabric stash, and added ruffles to the sleeves. My stash raiding came up with the blue eyelet lace and some vintage trim which I will rave about in greater detail later. One of my favorite things about this version of the outfit was the view from the back:
Where are the sand toys? I am ready for the beach!
But as much as we love carefree clothes around here, there are times when you have to put on a dress. I wanted to keep it simple and sweet. Small Girl wanted princess. Our compromise was a basic sundress that had a gathered skirt with a ribbon drawstring to show off the bloomers.
The Dress
The Dress
Slightly more proper playtime. Only slightly.
I used a brown paisley that had some peachy undertones which worked well with the owls. That fabric had been in my stash for years-- before Small Girl was even alive-- waiting for The Perfect Use.
This dress was it.
This dress was it.
The outfit is casual enough for play but dressy enough for church, especially when you add the shrug again.
She is now transformed from a shirtless wild girl to a proper lady, all ready to go out with her mama.
We're going to get balloons and a Slurpee since she's been a trooper through all the "try it on again now hold still so I can photograph you" nonsense.
I love the look of the whole ensemble but the bloomers are still my favorite part
Here is a view of the back. With balloons.
And some balloon related silliness, because who can resist, really? I can't.
She liked the way the world looked through the pink one the best.
At play (or war?) in tug of balloon with the wind
Running is happier with balloons chasing you.
Okay mom, enough pictures.
Then the dress up fun was done and she wanted to go home and nap.
Naked.
That's my girl.
Design Details
My goal for this look was to make a versatile spring outfit that was girly yet adventurous. I am very satisfied with the results but there are a couple things in particular really love. Before I even knew I was making this project, my fabric fairy godmother (the same lady who used to sew my bloomers) gave me a whole bag of vintage trim, which included the lovely teal trim you see.
I couldn't get enough of how it looked against the other fabrics, which explains why I about drove myself nuts binding just about everything.
Pictured here: insanity for the sake of vintage crafty cuteness.
I also loved the ruffle sleeves on the shrug.
But my favorite design detail would have to be the bloomer-showin' cinch.
It adds a bit of practicality to the skirt but also it's just darn cute.
It's such an easy and satisfying effect that I definitely will use it again.
Making this outfit was so much fun and pushed me in new directions. I have more vintage trim from the Fabric Fairy Godmother so who knows what's next?
Thank you Project Run and Play for giving us the chance to audition!
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Dear Doctor
I found yet another article today about a woman who thinks she knows how to liberate the rest of us.
Here is the link, if you'd like to read it for yourself: http://www.lifesitenews.com/news/brave-new-world-uk-ethicist-wants-women-to-abandon-motherhood-use-artificia
Most of the time, I restrain my urge to argue back at people with her worldview, as I know they will never be convinced. But sometimes I find something so blatant in its woman-hatred, so perverse in its claims to be feminist, that I have to respond. Out of protest. Out of dissidence. Out of everything I am as a woman. Here is my open letter to Dr. Anna Smajdor.
Dear Dr. Smajdor--
Perhaps you are being provacative. Perhaps you want the press.
Perhaps you are sincere. Perhaps you genuinely want to help women and think you've hit upon a solution that will lift us all up from the muck and mud of gender slavery. Perhaps you think you are a feminist heroine.
Unquestionably, you are wrong.
And, while we're at it, quite misogynistic.
Carrying a child for nine months is not, as you have implied, a case of the measles.
The environment God created for my child within my womb cannot be replaced by a plastic shell, no matter how much techno-wizardry is involved. But that's not really what I find so awry in your view of women.
Your vision of equality is frightening-- a sexless, joyless, repressive world in which everything that separates us from masculinity is stripped away. Your basic premise is that being male is better than being female. You speak of the “dis-benefits” of being a woman, of the “burdens” of bearing children. You hold masculine physiological and social function as higher than the female counterpart. In your words,
Pregnancy is a condition that causes pain and suffering, and that affects only women. The fact that men do not have to go through pregnancy to have a genetically related child, whereas women do, is a natural inequality,
Of course gender difference-- what you call inequality-- is natural. Because perfect equality would be terrifying. Like the tyrant of mythology who would cut off the legs or stretch the bodies of those hapless enough to find themselves in his perfectly equal bed, you would torture the nature of human beings until we all resembled one another.
Let's say we dove head-long into your brave new world. Let's say we gave up having babies. What would be the next step to equality? Should we hollow ourselves, scrape clean our insides, removing the unwanted and unnecessary organs of reproduction? Eggs can be harvested and stored, so why keep the useless byproducts of yesterday's womanhood. Should we cut off our breasts, so that men cannot sexualize us, judging us on reproductive appeal rather than intellectual or social value? Should we mutilate our genitals to further remove any unwanted sexual domination? Would we be masculine enough for your “equality?”
It is the so-called inequalities of masculinity and femininity that give balance to the human race. Men are good at some things. Women are good at some things. Just because some men abuse their power, or because some women associate nurturing with weakness does not mean we should seek to abandon our very natures. That only makes the ugly worse.
If you want to abandon child-bearing, go ahead. But don't tell me you are doing it to make me more of a woman. Don't tell me you are advocating my rights. I am a woman. I bear children. I birth children. I nurse children. I raise children. I can do a heck of lot of other things too, many of which men can do, but child-bearing is mine as a woman. It is my birth right, my blessing, and yes, my burden. Because nothing in life that is truly worth it comes without pain and suffering. Not babies, not marriage, not love, not change, not beauty, not freedom, not faith, not anything good under the sun. Each baby I have carried, birthed, and held has only deepened my sense of human worth, not diminished. it. I will not give birth up to any man, to any social program, to any agenda.
Before you try to liberate me, liberate yourself. Before you go seeking to empower yourself at such great cost, become aware of the power you already have. You don't need masculinity. You could have femininity. Trust me, that's enough.
Here is the link, if you'd like to read it for yourself: http://www.lifesitenews.com/news/brave-new-world-uk-ethicist-wants-women-to-abandon-motherhood-use-artificia
Most of the time, I restrain my urge to argue back at people with her worldview, as I know they will never be convinced. But sometimes I find something so blatant in its woman-hatred, so perverse in its claims to be feminist, that I have to respond. Out of protest. Out of dissidence. Out of everything I am as a woman. Here is my open letter to Dr. Anna Smajdor.
Dear Dr. Smajdor--
Perhaps you are being provacative. Perhaps you want the press.
Perhaps you are sincere. Perhaps you genuinely want to help women and think you've hit upon a solution that will lift us all up from the muck and mud of gender slavery. Perhaps you think you are a feminist heroine.
Unquestionably, you are wrong.
And, while we're at it, quite misogynistic.
Carrying a child for nine months is not, as you have implied, a case of the measles.
The environment God created for my child within my womb cannot be replaced by a plastic shell, no matter how much techno-wizardry is involved. But that's not really what I find so awry in your view of women.
Your vision of equality is frightening-- a sexless, joyless, repressive world in which everything that separates us from masculinity is stripped away. Your basic premise is that being male is better than being female. You speak of the “dis-benefits” of being a woman, of the “burdens” of bearing children. You hold masculine physiological and social function as higher than the female counterpart. In your words,
Pregnancy is a condition that causes pain and suffering, and that affects only women. The fact that men do not have to go through pregnancy to have a genetically related child, whereas women do, is a natural inequality,
Of course gender difference-- what you call inequality-- is natural. Because perfect equality would be terrifying. Like the tyrant of mythology who would cut off the legs or stretch the bodies of those hapless enough to find themselves in his perfectly equal bed, you would torture the nature of human beings until we all resembled one another.
Let's say we dove head-long into your brave new world. Let's say we gave up having babies. What would be the next step to equality? Should we hollow ourselves, scrape clean our insides, removing the unwanted and unnecessary organs of reproduction? Eggs can be harvested and stored, so why keep the useless byproducts of yesterday's womanhood. Should we cut off our breasts, so that men cannot sexualize us, judging us on reproductive appeal rather than intellectual or social value? Should we mutilate our genitals to further remove any unwanted sexual domination? Would we be masculine enough for your “equality?”
It is the so-called inequalities of masculinity and femininity that give balance to the human race. Men are good at some things. Women are good at some things. Just because some men abuse their power, or because some women associate nurturing with weakness does not mean we should seek to abandon our very natures. That only makes the ugly worse.
If you want to abandon child-bearing, go ahead. But don't tell me you are doing it to make me more of a woman. Don't tell me you are advocating my rights. I am a woman. I bear children. I birth children. I nurse children. I raise children. I can do a heck of lot of other things too, many of which men can do, but child-bearing is mine as a woman. It is my birth right, my blessing, and yes, my burden. Because nothing in life that is truly worth it comes without pain and suffering. Not babies, not marriage, not love, not change, not beauty, not freedom, not faith, not anything good under the sun. Each baby I have carried, birthed, and held has only deepened my sense of human worth, not diminished. it. I will not give birth up to any man, to any social program, to any agenda.
Before you try to liberate me, liberate yourself. Before you go seeking to empower yourself at such great cost, become aware of the power you already have. You don't need masculinity. You could have femininity. Trust me, that's enough.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Five Minute Fairy: A Halloween Mini-Tutorial
There must be an unspoken rule in my house that every Halloween someone must be a fairy or some other winged creature. My two-year old decided it's her turn this year, and I didn't want to just stick her in the fairy remnants of years past. But I have a newborn. And a five year who wants to be a leopard. And a pile of laundry you don't want to see.
I also have five minutes and a glue gun. :)
Following is a mini-tutorial on how to turn a plain t-shirt into a simple fairy costume.Forgive the lack of pictures. I wasn't planning to turn the project into a tutorial until I was looking at the finished product and thought some other laundry-menaced mama might appreciate this idea. If I have time and tulle later I'll go back and do a nicely photographed version.
Also, the bright idea behind it all is not mine. My friends used this idea at the onesie-decorating contest they had at my baby shower. They know I'm ripping them off for a good cause.
What You'll Need:
You can move on to other pressing Halloween issues such as your leftover candy damage control plan. Or, if you have another five minutes, you can fancy it up a bit more.
Pair the shirt with a pettiskirt, tutu, or even a pair of jeans if you're feeling that laid back vibe. If you feel giddy with all the time you now have, try your hand at making a tutu. Here's a great tutorial from Cut Out And Keep
Yes, you can also sew it and it will probably look much more elegant. But the five-minute version will still make for a pretty fairy and this way you won't cry nearly so much when she gets chocolate all over it at the Harvest Party.
Happy Harvest!
I also have five minutes and a glue gun. :)
Following is a mini-tutorial on how to turn a plain t-shirt into a simple fairy costume.Forgive the lack of pictures. I wasn't planning to turn the project into a tutorial until I was looking at the finished product and thought some other laundry-menaced mama might appreciate this idea. If I have time and tulle later I'll go back and do a nicely photographed version.
Also, the bright idea behind it all is not mine. My friends used this idea at the onesie-decorating contest they had at my baby shower. They know I'm ripping them off for a good cause.
What You'll Need:
- Glue gun and glue sticks
- Scissors
- At least 1 yard of tulle in a color of your choice.
- If you don't like cutting the huge length of tulle from a bolt, the little rolls of tulle work well.
- I layered two colors of tulle but use a single color or a dozen colors if you fancy.
- Plain t-shirt or onesie in the color of your choice.
- Scrap end of ribbon
- Optional: additional ribbon for embellishment
- Optional: episode of Dora the Explorer to keep the future fairy away from the glue gun
- Cut your tulle
- The width and length will be determined by the size of your fairy. The t-shirt base was 24 months on mine and I cut strips approximately 9x19".
- I cut the tulle into 10 layers, five of each color I had chosen. Use more or less if desired. I recommend a less full set of wings for very small fairies so that the shirt doesn't get too bulky when they are on their backs.
- Layer the tulle in the color arrangement of your choice.
- Pinch the middle as if making a bow. Secure with glue gun.
- Tip: Use a metal spoon to the fabric against the glue if you are worried about gluing your fingers.
- Wrap the scrap end of ribbon around the middle. Glue the ends of the ribbon so that they are overlapping one another. I also glued the ribbon to the tulle so that everything would be nice and secure.
- Center the wings on the back of the t-shirt and glue in place.
- Fluff tulle for maximum fairy effect.
You can move on to other pressing Halloween issues such as your leftover candy damage control plan. Or, if you have another five minutes, you can fancy it up a bit more.
- Cut three lengths of coordinating ribbon the length of the front of the t-shirt from neckline to hem.
- Trim edges so that they are even
- Glue in place.
Yes, it is puckered. I had to pull off one of the ribbons and re-align it.
My inner perfectionist is fuming but my toddler so will not care.
Pair the shirt with a pettiskirt, tutu, or even a pair of jeans if you're feeling that laid back vibe. If you feel giddy with all the time you now have, try your hand at making a tutu. Here's a great tutorial from Cut Out And Keep
Yes, you can also sew it and it will probably look much more elegant. But the five-minute version will still make for a pretty fairy and this way you won't cry nearly so much when she gets chocolate all over it at the Harvest Party.
Happy Harvest!
Labels:
diy,
dress up,
fairy tutorial,
halloween tutorial,
toddler girls costume
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Sunday Stitches: Corduroy and Tulle
Sundays are a big deal. We know this. But I want my family to see it. To celebrate it. I've been mulling over ways I can emphasize the special, wonderful First Day of the week and my thoughts (of course) came to sewing. I decided to sew each of my girls a special Sunday Dress of their own.
With three girls five and younger, my first thought for Sunday dressing is practical, not pretty. Can it survive the snack in Sunday school and our pizza-and-play after church family tradition? Can I change a diaper in under two minutes? Most of their church clothes as dual use-- worn with sparkly shoes on Sunday and with scuffed sneakers on Monday. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
But my new sewing goal, over the next few weeks, will be to make each of the girls something different. Something a little more special. A little fancier. Clothes for my girls to wear when they worship, clothes to remind them that they are unique and lovely daughters of a King. Twirling optional.
I know we're not scoring fashion points with our Father on Sunday morning.
The idea of "dressing up" for church is a bit stuffy for our jeans-and-t-shirt culture, but I'd like to offer in its place the idea of dressing deliberately. To use our clothes as a visible sign of the invisible reality that we are meeting our God. Our Hope, our Redeemer, our King! We should select clothes that emphasize not the stuffiness of starched shirts and itchy lace but the specialness of something Not Ordinary. This isn't a dress my daughter will wear to dig in her dirt pile or go to Wal-mart. It's a dress with a purpose, and that purpose is to worship her Creator in her own tiny two-year old way. When I sew with that in mind, the domestic act becomes deliberate worship. One tiny way I can help my young ladies learn to rejoice in Sunday, and one way I can refresh my heart to rejoice with them.
With that in mind, I started sewing. I thought I'd make Ember a skirt out of some deep purple corduroy I'd found on sale. And throw in a tulle ruffle for fun. I love the idea of the folksy corduroy against the frilly tulle. What followed was, perhaps, a comedy of errors. Sorry I don't have more pictures to prove what a crazy process this was. You'll have to take my word for it.
I cut what should have been a basic two-tiered ruffle skirt, the second tiering lined with cotton that ended in peek-a-boo gathered tulle. And yes, I blame baby brain for the fact that I cut the fabric wrong and ended up with something more like a strapless dress. I thought I'd throw straps or cap sleeves on it and whip out a cute shrug.
Cue the inspiration. Owly Baby offers a super-sweet baby shrug pattern that I thought I'd up-size for Ember. After a minor (cough) pattern cutting error I ditched the idea of a matching corduroy shrug and decided to use some black cotton knit from my stash. Then decided again that rather than a shrug I'd use the pattern as the upper part of the bodice and cover both cozy and cute all at once. The knit bodice was slightly smaller than the corduroy so I did a little snipping. Okay, more than a little. After extracting Ember from the results, I decided to try it on River. The dress must have wanted to be hers all along. After a few tweaks, some hemming and neckline finishing, and chasing her down for a final fitting, we had a finished garment! Though I did break a needle trying to sew on the bow.
I wouldn't exactly call this next part a tutorial....more like design notes. A guide for someone to follow should they like this look and want one for their little girl.
The corduroy part was constructed from simple rectangles. The top corduroy panel on this dress is 4" x 23" and the gathered panel is 12"x38". Those are the finished measurements. For your pattern pieces you'll want to add extra for seam allowances and hems.
The bodice, as I mentioned, is based off Owly Baby's shrug. All awesomeness goes to her...I just tweaked it for my own use. I used her sleeves, and I used the back piece of her shrug to cut my front and back bodice. I cut my pieces just a bit larger than her template so that it would fit my corduroy panel.
Once I'd completed the bodice, I simply attached it to the skirt then finished my neckline and sleeve hems. The bow was from one of the girls' rejected hairbands and was quite stubborn. I broke an embroidery needle and a machine needle before reaching for the hot glue gun. Maybe I got enough stitches in before the needle broke so that it will hold if the glue washes out in the wash.
You can learn how to make your own bow here via Sutton Grace's free tutorial.
Another great ideas for embellishment would be a fabric flower. Hop on over to Tip Nut for a list of over thirty different kinds. Have fun :)
With three girls five and younger, my first thought for Sunday dressing is practical, not pretty. Can it survive the snack in Sunday school and our pizza-and-play after church family tradition? Can I change a diaper in under two minutes? Most of their church clothes as dual use-- worn with sparkly shoes on Sunday and with scuffed sneakers on Monday. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.
But my new sewing goal, over the next few weeks, will be to make each of the girls something different. Something a little more special. A little fancier. Clothes for my girls to wear when they worship, clothes to remind them that they are unique and lovely daughters of a King. Twirling optional.
I know we're not scoring fashion points with our Father on Sunday morning.
The idea of "dressing up" for church is a bit stuffy for our jeans-and-t-shirt culture, but I'd like to offer in its place the idea of dressing deliberately. To use our clothes as a visible sign of the invisible reality that we are meeting our God. Our Hope, our Redeemer, our King! We should select clothes that emphasize not the stuffiness of starched shirts and itchy lace but the specialness of something Not Ordinary. This isn't a dress my daughter will wear to dig in her dirt pile or go to Wal-mart. It's a dress with a purpose, and that purpose is to worship her Creator in her own tiny two-year old way. When I sew with that in mind, the domestic act becomes deliberate worship. One tiny way I can help my young ladies learn to rejoice in Sunday, and one way I can refresh my heart to rejoice with them.
With that in mind, I started sewing. I thought I'd make Ember a skirt out of some deep purple corduroy I'd found on sale. And throw in a tulle ruffle for fun. I love the idea of the folksy corduroy against the frilly tulle. What followed was, perhaps, a comedy of errors. Sorry I don't have more pictures to prove what a crazy process this was. You'll have to take my word for it.
I cut what should have been a basic two-tiered ruffle skirt, the second tiering lined with cotton that ended in peek-a-boo gathered tulle. And yes, I blame baby brain for the fact that I cut the fabric wrong and ended up with something more like a strapless dress. I thought I'd throw straps or cap sleeves on it and whip out a cute shrug.
Cue the inspiration. Owly Baby offers a super-sweet baby shrug pattern that I thought I'd up-size for Ember. After a minor (cough) pattern cutting error I ditched the idea of a matching corduroy shrug and decided to use some black cotton knit from my stash. Then decided again that rather than a shrug I'd use the pattern as the upper part of the bodice and cover both cozy and cute all at once. The knit bodice was slightly smaller than the corduroy so I did a little snipping. Okay, more than a little. After extracting Ember from the results, I decided to try it on River. The dress must have wanted to be hers all along. After a few tweaks, some hemming and neckline finishing, and chasing her down for a final fitting, we had a finished garment! Though I did break a needle trying to sew on the bow.
![]() | ||||
| This was the rare still moment... |
![]() | |||
| ...followed by bouncing, which means the dress must be comfortable enough for her. |
![]() | |
| And the grin! We have a winner! |
![]() | ||
| Pardon the poor quality. By now the baby was crying so photo time was over. |
I wouldn't exactly call this next part a tutorial....more like design notes. A guide for someone to follow should they like this look and want one for their little girl.
The corduroy part was constructed from simple rectangles. The top corduroy panel on this dress is 4" x 23" and the gathered panel is 12"x38". Those are the finished measurements. For your pattern pieces you'll want to add extra for seam allowances and hems.
The bodice, as I mentioned, is based off Owly Baby's shrug. All awesomeness goes to her...I just tweaked it for my own use. I used her sleeves, and I used the back piece of her shrug to cut my front and back bodice. I cut my pieces just a bit larger than her template so that it would fit my corduroy panel.
Once I'd completed the bodice, I simply attached it to the skirt then finished my neckline and sleeve hems. The bow was from one of the girls' rejected hairbands and was quite stubborn. I broke an embroidery needle and a machine needle before reaching for the hot glue gun. Maybe I got enough stitches in before the needle broke so that it will hold if the glue washes out in the wash.
You can learn how to make your own bow here via Sutton Grace's free tutorial.
Another great ideas for embellishment would be a fabric flower. Hop on over to Tip Nut for a list of over thirty different kinds. Have fun :)
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The Point of No Return
You think of martyrs as wild-eyed men
with goatskin and beards or ecstatic saints, white-robed amidst
flame. You think of them as shuddering in the Arctic winter of a
Russian gulag or staring down gunmetal with prayers on their tongues.
You don't really think of them sitting
on their couch with their family, holding a son, beside a wife.The picture of Youcef Nadarkhani, an
Iranian pastor facing execution for refusing to convert to Islam,
resembles more math teacher than religious dissident. He's wearing a
white dress shirt. His hairline is receding. He faces the camera with
a small smile, his hand resting on the arm of one of his two young
sons. He's calm.
From this picture, you wouldn't guess
what the man is up against. He's been arrested before, for protesting
that his son was forced to read the Koran at school. His wife's been
arrested, a pressure move designed to force him to recant. She was
released after international justice movements intervened on her
behalf but Nadarkhani was sentenced to death for apostasy.
The whole article is here:
http://www.foxnews.com/world/2011/09/28/iranian-pastor-faces-execution-for-refusing-to-recant-christian-faith/
The fact that regimes around the world
violently oppress Christianity is not news.
The fact that Christians around the
world face death for their faith is not news.
The fact that they do so with grace and
courage is the real story.
According to the article, when
pressured to repent, Nadarkhani replied
Those words struck me like the sounding of a bell, one that has reverberated through millenia of faith and persecution. Peter said it first-- to whom shall we go, You have the words of eternal life and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God."
That phrase has been repeated before first century Christians in the arena, reformers at the stake, believers in a Communist interrogation cell, and countless others whose names we will only know in heaven. They are heroes not because they are brave but because they are desperate. To whom shall we go?
Behind is a wasteland, a scorched and sin-blasted landscape of godlessness, peopled by wretches who stagger in helpless oblivion towards the pit of final wrath. Behind is emptiness, the starless night of a dead soul that all the money, comfort, pleasure, and fleeting joy of earth cannot lighten. Behind is the crushing stone of guilt upon the chest, cracking every bone of good intention and self-made merit until the very heart is pressed flat. Behind is life without Christ. Without grace. Without hope. Dead in our trespasses and sins. Walking decay.
Nadarkhani, like so many other Christians put to the same test, looks over his shoulder and sees all this. He sees who he was before and the answer to the question is simple.
"What should I return to? To the blasphemy that I had before my faith in Christ?"
"To the religion of your ancestors, Islam,"
"I cannot,"
He's at a point of no return. There is only Christ. While there is hope that an appeal may overturn the death sentence, it is unlikely that the pastor will be released without a long jail sentence “or worse,” according to the article. As his brothers and sisters, fellow members of Christ's body, we should uplift him in prayer not only for the sparing of his life but for the protection of his family should he be taken from them and imprisoned. But let's not just rattle off a prayer of concern, admire the man's faith, and go back to the Starbucks latte that's getting cold. Let's think a minute, because that question is always for you. And me.
What should we return to?
No one is standing
outside my porch with a machete to cut off my hands because I refused
to vote for a dictator. When I go to church on Sunday morning, I
won't be concerned that soldiers will appear to lock the doors and
burn the building down with my babies inside beside me. I can read my
Bible. I can invite the grocery store clerk to church without facing
arrest. But American Christians, in our life of complete freedom and
considerable ease, face a different challenge to our faith. Because
our culture is so comfortable,
we can forget the underlying chasm. We can turn again to stumbling,
grasping at any shiny thing within our reach, angry at God because He
took our job, our health, our 401K. We blame Him for our lost dreams,
our failed marriages, our angry children. And the Father of Lies is
quick to sidle up to our souls and whisper-- repent.
Return. Go back. You
tried it. He failed you. Give up.
When life is hard and
faith is harder, look over your shoulder. Ask for eyes to see, like
Pastor Nadarkhani, what lies behind us. Look with eyes of faith to
what lies before us. Then answer the Deceiver--
I cannot.
This animation of the song All I Have In Christ pays tribute to those who have had to answer the question at gunpoint. It inspires those of us who have to answer it within in our own souls every day. I'm posting in in honor of Pastor Nadarkhani and his family. Pray for him when you watch it. Pray for me, that I'll live out my faith in freedom with the same courage, and I'll pray the same for you.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Birth Songs
to my daughters
I. Fire
Though we named you for fire, you came to us as snow. In silence
and midnight you changed everything in sight; we did not even know
you were a part of me until suddenly we opened our eyes and saw a
world transformed by your existence. We did not know anything about
carrying or birthing babies but our love for you made us brave. We
walked the journey toward the beginning of your life determined to
birth you in the gentlest, kindest way possible. Only we were
novices; we were young. When voices older and-- we thought-- wiser
told us to hasten your coming with drugs we listened because we
thought we could not trust our own voices. Your birth was not gentle,
nor was it kind; the drugs made my rushes unnaturally strong and we
chose medicine to relieve the pain so that I could birth you without
surgery. I could not feel you move through me toward life but I
pushed with the memory of my muscles and you moved. In blood, and
chaos, in joy and triumph, you came into the world. Your Daddy says I
cried out in joy-- my baby, my baby-- as you passed into the
midwife's hands and that the cry, the exultation, was louder than any
other groan or sigh I made in your birth.
Ember Rose. Flower of fire, firstborn daughter, burning of my
heart.
II. Water
We waited for you, as desert people wait for rain. We danced you
down; we prayed. As they search the horizon for any cloud, as they
lift their faces for any coolness in the wind, we searched for any
sign of your coming. And come you did, rushing in to fill and swell
my womb. We had another journey before us, and this time we promised
you we would trust our wisdom. We told the midwives that we would not
bring you into the world early unless it was to save your life. We
prepared to wait, as we did with your sister, we thought your birth
would come slow. But you came as a strong current, as a tide rushing
to shore. Before we even got out of the driveway, I birthed you into
your Daddy's hands. He caught you and gave you to me wrapped in a
bath towel. The paramedics had come and again we followed voices not
our own and went to the hospital, which was not necessary because you
were strong and beautiful and healthy. We spent two days waiting to
go home with you but you never left my arms. You slept beside me even
in the hospital bed, happy with my breast and our love.
River Lynn. Rain child, ripple of joy, water to my soul.
III. Song
You swept over us suddenly. You rushed in like a north wind,
rattling shutters and overturning trash cans and changing me, again.
Like a blast of air in my face you stole the breath right out of my
lungs. And then turned it into song, into hope as you grew and grew
strong inside me. We chose wise women to catch you and knew they
would leave room for our voices besides their own. Your birthing
began as a little breeze that slipped in through my bedroom window
and woke me with the first of my rushes. Your eldest sister waited
with me, in the darkness before dawn, until we knew you were coming.
Birthing you was unlike any other experience of my life. I walked
with your Daddy outside the house and lifted my face to the sun when
the rushes came. I knelt in water and moaned, and sang, and even
wailed, in those last moments, when your birth was a roaring wind in
my ears and body. Then you were here. The midwives gave you to me in
my own house, and I closed my eyes to rest in my own room. The house
was hushed and holy as your Daddy and I slept with you nestled to my
breast. Piper Haven. Little sand piper, little bird girl. Song and
wind, music to my world.
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