THE MARRIAGE MIX

Written by Rhian Cooksey Quinton

For Part I.

We had been married for less than a year when my youngest brother died. We were two weeks away from moving to another area of our country. Another country entirely if we want to be specific. We had no jobs lined up.   My University course was starting 5 months away, and nothing in our current rental had been packed up yet.

In my case, less than a year’s worth of marriage was enough time to realize that person you had married could actually be quite annoying. In fact, more than annoying. They could be infuriating. You were passionately in love, yet there were those little voices stomping around in your head, prodding you with their imaginary fingers, and chanting, “He can’t really love you very well if he does that. He can’t really know you very well if he does that.”

I had a pre-conceived notion that the person I would eventually fall in love with would immediately know that more than anything in the world I love to be bought books. It felt a little long, almost a year in, not to have been gifted any books, and I was growing increasingly impatient.

I am quite convinced that these questions and expectations are quite normal. I am also quite convinced that these questions were not created by imaginary pixies running amok, but more my own subconscious. A subconscious fueled by Hollywood and too many years worth of fairy tales.  More certain than anything, am I convinced that they would be easily dealt with, and worked through, under ‘normal’ circumstances. However, my 17-year-old brother dieing, two weeks before we were due to relocate home and country, were no t the most ‘normal’ of circumstances.

In that place of grief and overwhelming brokenness, it became very clear that my somewhat newly acquired husband did not really know me at all.

My idea of him as ultimate awkward “Geekboy”, being so observant and sensitive that he would know what I needed to hear, and when, was soon dashed. In reality, I begun to believe he didn’t really know me at all.

And worse still, he was anything but sensitive to my all-encompassing pain.

The memory of him stopping for a Burger King when I was in such a rush to get home, became just one example of how little he understood my pain. In my mind I began to realize that this is how it had been all along. Before my brother had even died, he hadn’t realized even then what would and wouldn’t be helpful for me.

As the months went on, we became just two people who happened to be sharing a flat. Two people who truly wanted the best for each other, but who seemed to be incapable of knowing what that was, or how to provide it.

Five years later I can look back with vague memories and wonder how on earth we got through.
How he could be expected to know my innermost self, when I had become a shattered version of it?
How I could be expected to want to fight for our fledgling relationship, when I was fighting so hard to wake up in the morning?

How really, all I ever wanted was for him to know me. To know, like he had somehow seemed to know in the car on that first date, that my eyebrows were one of my most vulnerable parts. And to compliment them.

My disappointment towards realizing the man I had married was anything but the sensitive pioneer I had believed he was, manifested in anger. Every little thing that went wrong I became furious about, whether it had anything to do with him or not, it was instantly his fault.

We sought counseling, we had time apart, and I had anger therapy, all the while wondering if what I was fighting for was really worth it.

I read a book soon after my brother died that said, ‘When you no longer know what to do, just do what you know.’

I knew that I had made a commitment to this man, a man that had changed before my very eyes, but a commitment none the less. And maybe, when we were able to finally able to move all the mess out the way, there would be something still there that had been worth fighting for. Something beautiful and vulnerable.

So we fought. He fought. I fought. We continue to fight. We continue to fight, and believe, that we can know each other.

He is patient. And he learns my new ways. The ways he had only touched upon in that first year were scrambled, and he had to figure out how to learn this new version of me.

He is strong. And he fights on the days when I have no fight left in me. When my energy is taken up with getting up. Brushing my teeth. Showering.

I am less patient. But I too learn my new ways. I practice my skills acquired in therapy of realizing, although it may be my instinct to blame my husband for everything, it is not always his fault.

Together we are learning how to be married.

I am realizing that the wide, empty, unlit road we sped down that first night is a lot like marriage. There will be darkness. There will be glimpses. There will be unexpected twists and turns. And just as there is no one else on the road, there will be no one else like you, for each marriage is unique an individual.

I still fight to feel secure and safe.

Only now I help him along with an Amazon wish list or two. And am unspeakably content when he comes home with random books.

taken from yoshiko314’s flickr photostream

Each week I leave a short story or video blog here about where I saw love in action during the previous week.  Looking for love in the world around us inspires us to look for love everywhere - especially in our marriages.  Feel free to play along!!!

The past month has been very busy for me.  I am working more than I have in several years, and in addition, I am posting on this blog at least three times a week.  And while I love everything I am doing, I am just a little overcome by the new business!  The other day, I mentioned to Herb how fast my car has become trashed since living a busier lifestyle and making multiple wardrobe changes throughout the day.

Yesterday, I went to Dream Dinners to make some meals for Chad and Allison.  I asked Herb to go to a coffee shop while he waited for me (we went to breakfast first, so he just dropped me off to meet my friend Rachael at the meal place and had an hour or two to kill before picking me up).  My husband tends to set high standards for himself, and he does not like to rest or take care of himself (especially if he would have fun or enjoy the process) until he has met his self-imposed high standards.  This worries me.  So, I asked him to please find a newspaper and go enjoy a coffee for an hour and a half.  After we made the meals, Rachael dropped me off at Cafe Europa.  Herb had a coffee and a paper and was listening to music.

He seemed to have heeded to my request.  Then we walked outside.  My car was clean.  Before going to the coffee shop, Herb washed my car.  He vacuumed it.  He washed the mats.  And then, so as to avoid confusion about why he did it, he said, “I was hoping this was a really practical way of showing you that I love you today.”  Even his thoughtfulness in making that clarification was an act of love, because I have a tendency to interpret these kinds of things to mean, “You are so lazy and slow, so I had to do this FOR YOU or it would NEVER have gotten done!”  But that was no the case.  My man simply heard me as I worried about wondered aloud about how I would possibly get everything done this week, and he approached me in love by responding, “You don’t have to.  I can help.”

Where did YOU see love in action this week???

I picked a number between 1 and 9.

That number was 4.

Jody, you have won The New Rules of Marriage!

At first, I was like, “Bummer.   Jody and Chip have got this marriage thing in the bag.  They don’t need this book.”  BUT then I realized that is just silly.  We all can use a little new perspective from time to time.  So, enjoy the book Jody!

If you won a book last month, do not worry, you have not been forgotten!  I have had the stomach flu ALL WEEK and have not accomplished much that could not be done from my couch or bed and with a computer!  I have big plans to pack up those books tonight/tomorrow and mail them Monday morning.
Speaking of Monday morning, Herb and I leave for two weeks!  We are flying into London on Monday night and meeting  Rhi (for a second time) and Dan for the first!  Herb and I are so excited to spend 8 days with them in Wales and London!!!  So, what that means around here is that there will be all sorts of guest blogging going on!!! Depending on what our trip is like, perhaps I will be able to pop in during that time too!  Maybe I can even convince Herb and the Brits to do a video blog with me!   (That would be cool, but I doubt ANY of them would ever consent to such nonsense!!! AHHHH, but a girl can dream!)

Have a wonderful weekend!
Cara

from the flickr photostream of notquitealmost

”
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.”
- C.S. Lewis

Something I appreciate about people like C.S. Lewis and Mike Mason is that they had the foresight to tell their readers what love is.  What marriage is. So often, I stumble across books and conversations that tell me how to be married.  What to do.  But learning the actions, or even the attitude, of a healthy and happy wife does me little good if I don’t know what it is that I am doing.  If I don’t know what marriage is.  If I don’t know what love is.

All of us have had some part of our pre-married understanding of what marriage is shattered or at least challenged.  It is inevitable.  This break down in understanding and expectations is where a lot of us begin a downward spiral towards divorce.  If I don’t know what marriage is, then as my marriage is not meeting my expectations, I begin to assume it is all wrong.  My marriage, that is, not my expectations.  It is easy to fall into the trap of believing that our expectations are the base line and that if the marriage moves away from this base line, then something is dreadfully wrong.

But knowing what marriage actually is brings clarity and peace.  It does not make it easier, necessarily, but it does bring peace.  I am grateful for these words about vulnerability and love.  Because they allow me to make sense of what is happening in my life; in my marriage.  These words allow me to step back on a very hard day and say, “I feel this way because being vulnerable is gut-wrenching.  So this feeling has to do with being close to Herb.  It does not (necessarily) have anything to do with Herb himself or the marriage being an abomination!”

Knowing that vulnerability causes a strong reaction, I can step back and figure out what my unique reaction tends to be when I am feeling raw and open and at risk for being hurt.   From my perspective, vulnerability is the thing that could allow me to be completely loved.  Or destroyed. This doesn’t appeal to me.  So, instead of embracing it, I reject it.  In my life, vulnerability often gets passed over and unrecognized.  Because instead of realizing I am feeling vulnerable, I go right to anger.  I don’t like being exposed or fully seen.  If I am fully seen, what will he think?  And then, what will he do?  I have already answered that question in my mind: he will leave me.  So I become angry.  I feel angry.  I act angry.  And I assume it is because I can’t stand him.  Because I don’t like our life together.  Because I am miserable being his wife.  That is when I want to leave.  And for so long, I have mistaken it for hate.  When I become that angry, I feel like I hate him.  And so it seems logical that if I hate him, I should not be married to him.

But what I need is awareness of what is actually happening.  I don’t hate him.  I hate being seen by him.  Because I am scared. Scared he will leave me.  What I mistook for hate towards my husband is actually the opposite - I love him so much that the thought of loosing him or being left by him is more painful than anything I have ever experienced.   On my most sane days, I am able to take this information that I have gathered about how I respond to being vulnerable with Herb, and I can then try and make choices that build us up.  This is not to be mistaken as a big pink bow, tying up the delima, but rather a tattered map, giving a little bit of direction in the midst of a difficult journey.

How do you tend to experience vulnerability?  Share it here if you like.  But it is a personal question, so it makes sense if you choose not to.  But explore this idea somewhere.  With a friend.  In a journal.  On a wall with a can of spray paint (preferably a wall within your property line!).  It doesn’t really matter how you explore it . . .  but DO explore it… and see if what you find is as invaluable to you as it has been to me.

This next new addition to The MarriageMix is called Perspectives. I think it will be helpful to hear what many different people think about various topics related to love, intimacy, and marriage.

The four people featured this week will join us every Thursday for the entire month of March, answering various questions about their viewpoints on and experiences with marriage.

Jodie Allen: Chris and I were married in the fall of 2004 and live in St. Louis, MO where we grew up. Our three unexpected little gifts came in the packages of Bailey Smith Allen: 7.8.05, Parker Jane Allen: 11.18.06, and Grayson Richard Allen: 6.12.08.  As you can see, things get a little crazy around here sometimes.  Chris teaches high school biology (at Webster Groves High School) and coaches the boys and girls soccer teams (head varsity girls coach, asst varsity boys coach). When I am not manhandling our children, I run my own business, Jodified Photography+Design.  We are the 4th generation Kirkwood High School sweethearts in C’s family . . . we have been together since 1998.

Matt Whiteford: Matt is the childhood best friend of my husband and one of the funnier men I know.  Matt loves speaking to groups of people.  He might tell you it is because he likes the sound of his own voice, but the rest of us know he has something really important to say.  Matt works as a young adults pastor at a church in Michigan.  He has three kids with his wife and Spring Hill Camp sweetie, Sherri, to whom he was been married for 14 1/2 years.

Courtney Lynch: I  am a 31 year old woman living in Albuquerque, NM. I    have been married for 2 and 1/2 years. I work as a Professional Clinical Counselor at the Christian Counseling Center of New Mexico.  I graduated from college in 2000 with a BA in Religious Studies and I graduated in 2005 from Denver Seminary with a MA in Counseling.  I grew up in New Mexico in a small mountain town and attended the same school from elementary through high school. When I graduated from high school I wanted to travel the world and see new things.  Since then I have traveled to several countries and have participated in missions and ministries around the world.  My current favorite things in life are a hot cup of tea, hiking, backpacking, knitting, my dogs and relationships.  I am very close to my sister and continually learn to enjoy my relationship with my husband. I have many wonderful friends and a fantastic best friend that I count as close as a sister.  I am a strong Christian with fairly liberal political points of view.  I attend a large charismatic church in Albuquerque and think of my work as a ministry to children.

Dave Huff: My name is David Huff and I live in downtown Denver with my wife and 10 month old daughter Sydney.  That covers about 90% of my life right now… however, I suppose I do head out the door each morning and go to my family’s company where we produce large animal vaccines and instruments, the least of which happens to be a goat ejaculator, but that is the only product my friend’s seem capable of remembering.  Past that, I really enjoy dining out.  Its a remarkably pitiful hobby but one I seem to be good at.  I also enjoy a martini or three in the company of my friends. 

What have you learned about yourself through marriage?

Jodie: That I like things done my way. Especially once we had kids. I want Chris to do everything the way I do it, but not only that, I want him to know instinctually how I do things. It’s impossible.  I also have learned that I always want things even. We get stuck in the hole of keeping score. On any given day I can tell you how many loads of laundry I’ve done, how many dishes I’ve washed, how many butts I’ve wiped compared to him. It’s so sad really. And then when any kind of argument starts I somehow ALWAYS manage to bring up the fact that I’ve changed 34 poopy diapers this week to his 3. Which has nothing to do with the fight except that at the root of almost all of our fights is the fact that I feel under appreciated.

On a happier note, I’ve also learned that I love watching him pursue his passion. I always knew he was sexy, but watching him coach his team and guide young minds turns me on. Not in an actual SEX-way, but more in an “I’ve never been more proud to be his wife” way. I’ve also learned that although I love him as a father and sometimes feel love for him faster while watching him play with our kids, I do still love him for being him. I’m still in love with him.

And what I’m currently learning is that we constantly need time for us as a couple that is separate from our time as mommy and daddy. That time is crazy hard to come by, but now that we recognize this we’re working on carving out more time for each other as lovers and friends.

Matt: I am selfish, but that may be too easy because the only people who don’t realize that they are selfish when they get married are tools.  I have learned that I can love someone whether I like them at that moment or not.  Having kids has reinforced that lesson.

Courtney: I have learned that my independence can be a weakness in partnership - the very characteristic that I prided myself on and enjoyed while I was single.  I never expected nor wanted to give it up, until it began to corrode my relationship with my husband.  I have had to learn to balance independence with a healthy dependent partnership, otherwise I can come off as selfish and inconsiderate.
I have had to learn to respect a man.  Little did I know, as a good little Christian girl, that I had a REAL problem respecting any man.  I am still trying to learn this and work very hard at seeing the way a man thinks, feels and acts as significant and important.  My husband has had to deal with a lot of condensation and patronizing from me because of it.  Until I realized the root of my feelings, I did not realize that I was acting out of the generational curse of women in my family – disrespecting my partner.  I have to see the unique personality of my husband, the positive contributions he makes to our partnership and the wealth of talent, intelligence and wisdom he has to offer on a daily basis so I don’t screw up and treat him like a child.

Dave: I have held the belief for some time now that without the vulnerability we are exposed to in marriage, it is near impossible to understand some of our deepest wounds and issues.  Personally, I have discovered previously unnamed fears that revolve around how I see myself which can keep me from experiencing true intimacy in marriage.  Other relationships in life don’t necessarily require us to face our demons…. not that marriage guarantees it either, but if we are to achieve a healthy and thriving one, then somewhere along the line we will be forced to examine the names we have acquired over our lifetime (Unlovable, Worthless, Forgettable, Stupid, Unwanted, etc.) and re-learn our true identity.  Thus, I believe there is a process of dying to oneself in marriage that must occur before real intimacy can take place, the kind of intimacy which demands our vulnerability – hiding behind nothing and approaching our partner as our most honest selves.

How are you different than you were as a single person?

Jodie: Does fatter count? Or dirtier, considering I used to shower every day when I was single? No? Ok. I guess, sadly, the biggest thing that has changed since marriage is my relationship with the Lord. I hate to even write these words, but they are true. When I was single I would wake up early every morning and have quiet time at Bread Co before work. I would pray and read my Bible or do a study or something that started my day out with Him, helping me keep my day focused on Him. Since being married and having three children ages three and under before we’ve hit our fifth anniversary, I’ve fallen away in the closeness I used to feel with God. Pregnancy, babies, work, life, marriage, family, etc. have all twisted and pulled me but the real reason is myself. I’ve stopped giving up that time for Him. It is something I am currently trying desperately to remedy.

Matt: Honestly, I have no idea because I don’t remember life or what I was like before I was married.  Again, I’m pretty sure that I didn’t recognize much outside my immediate presence.

Courtney: I think that learning to “check in”, “think about someone else”, and “communicate” when I don’t feel like it have been the most obvious behavior changes.  Also, I have found that I am connected to a person like I have never been – I can’t quite explain it….I miss him when he is gone, I find that I depend on him for certain opinions and tasks, and, my God, I think I am learning to need someone!

. . . to scroll down a few posts and sign up for the book giveaway!

Names will be drawn tomorrow!!!

Have a great day!

Cara

I am happy to introduce our first guest blogger.  Rhi and I met in blogland, but have had the honor of truly becoming real friends.  She and her husband, along with me and mine, hope to become even better friends next week as we hunker down in their home in Wales to talk and laugh and drink british ale and get to know each other better.  I am thrilled that she agreed to share a bit of their very real and raw love story here.

my name is rhian, i am mostly known as rhi, sometimes cooksey. i am an unemployed graduate with grand dreams of living as a struggling artist. i am pretty good at the struggling, but still practicing the art bit.  i like to read and write, i like to walk barefoot in grass, and i like strawberry soya milkshakes.  i have been married for nearly 6 years to an often wonderful geekboy. and it has been hard.  but we still laugh at each others jokes, he warms my feet when they are cold, i bake him cupcakes frequently, and enable him to leave the house with at least one stray cotton thread on his self. i have a blog that is much abused with youtube videos, random journal pages, and daily ponderings.

This is just a small, highly edited and censored part of my story. One half of how a baby marriage of less than one year has struggled and fought and kicked and screamed its way to regain some sense of normality. To regain some feeling of love and security amidst a time of grief and loss.  And how freshly tweezed eyebrows may be the key to it all.

*****

“Do you pluck your eyebrows yourself or go to a shop?”
The shiny blue Peugeot, big enough to fit an entire drum kit in the boot, sped down the wide open B-road.  It drove down unlit territory on an empty road.

“Uh - myself.” I replied with a mixture of complete embarrassment and horror.

Why on earth would he ask that? Isn’t that some kind of sacred ground that should never be crossed by them; that other, unobservant species more akin to caveman than gentleman.

“They’re really nice.”

The air in the car seemed to take on a golden glow. The pitch black sky blurring by overhead seemed to grow a little bigger, the stars shone a little brighter, and my face grew a lot redder.

Fancy he picked my eyebrows as his target for the first compliment he would pay me!

I mean, the half whispered in nervousness, “I think I like you”, didn’t really count as a compliment. Lots of people liked me. My mum liked me. My brothers sometimes liked me. That boy who took me on a date the week before probably more than liked me. Or, something.

But my eyebrows. That was something special. That was actually quite tangible. And it was one of the many areas I always felt most self conscious of in my 18 year-old self’s body.

I suddenly felt very sure that this boy was terrifically special. He had unknowingly tapped into the one facial feature I had complete control over, and often had spent copious hours worrying over. Were they too bushy? Did they have enough shape? Were they lopsided? Lopsided is not a look I was going for.

Traveling down that unlit expanse of tarmac, empty of any other car to race or be compared too, the world felt a little more exciting.

A little more terrifying.

*FLASH*

We haven’t got time to stop for a Burger King. Why doesn’t he realize this?
As the panic sat in my stomach, and felt like it burned a hole in my heart, I tried to persuade myself to stay calm. To breathe. To not stress him out. Everybody needs to eat.
I will remember that drive home forever. Having talked to my dad just hours earlier, and having been informed that my brother had been taken to hospital, the already planned journey had taken on a new feel. It was no longer carefree and enjoyable. It had become a race to get somewhere as quickly as possible, to get to that safe place where our pictures hung on the walls, and where I could pretend that everything would be okay. Because it always was okay in the end. Always.

That was three days before my brother would die. Three days before I would lose him, and parts of myself forever. Three days before the world turned dark and my heart would be shattered into a thousand pieces. Before I would sit at my dark mahogany family dining table, and sob into my hands. Three days before my marriage would alter inconceivably, and before the memory of a nighttime Burger King pit stop would make me despise my own husband.

Death is something we are all aware of, yet something we all blissfully ignore on a daily basis. Until it creeps in and takes you by surprise.

I am quite certain there can never be a preparation for the overwhelming shock of losing someone. Its as if all the air is sucked out of your world, your lungs struggle to do the job they were created for, your head feels as though it might burst any minute with the incomprehensible idea of never seeing that person again. The world has shrunk, and you have no space or time for the things that came Before. Your life becomes a battle-ground to complete the most menial of tasks. Getting up. Brushing your teeth. Showering.

Time is split into Before and After.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEDNESDAY . . .

Happy Tuesday, Marriage Mixers!

I SO enjoyed giving away a few books last month that I have decided to do it again.

And again

and again.

In fact, be on the lookout, because once a month you will find a book give away on this blog.

Leave a comment about one thing you like about your spouse (even if it is something you have not seen in years and you can’t think of anything else) and I will enter your name in a drawing that will take place on Friday!

from the flicker feed of Skye Gazer

I mentioned this a week or two ago, but I think I should probably expand upon it . . .

THE MARRIAGE MIX IS TAKING OFF!

My hope in writing this  blog is that it will help other people to realize that they are not weird or odd or alone.  That their marriages are not that different from those of the people around them - but the problem is just that other people are not talking, so they feel alone.  This made me sad.  So, I started talking.  And I have spent the past month telling you one thing, over and over again: “Marriage is not easy for most of us and if you relate to that, you are not alone.” I have been trying to say, “If it is hard, and I mean really really hard, you still don’t have to give up if you don’t want to! There is hope.  You are not alone.”

I realized early on in this blog that I wanted other people to start blogging with me.  I have a lot to say, but not everyone can relate to my story; my voice.  So, starting tomorrow, you will start to see some changes on this blog.  You will see new faces and hear new voices. There will be stories from people who have had it easier than I have . . . and stories from people who have had it harder.  But one thing is sure, there will be stories of real, honest people who love marriage, but know it is hard!  I sure hope you enjoy it.

Then later this week, you will see a new look on this blog, thanks to my tech geek husband!

In all of these changes, I am striving to make this blog the BEST it can be!  I want to spread this message that love and marriage are not perfect to as many people as I can.  SO, can you help out? Tell your friends about this blog.  Add it to your blog lines or your blog reader (that helps with “google juice”).  Write a short post about it on your blog.  Add it to the links section on your blog. Is this shameless self-endorsement? Perhaps, but I think if you have read more than one post on this blog, you know I don’t know how to beat around the bush, much.  The truth is, I need your help.  SO, here I am, asking for it.

Please
And
Thank
You!!!

Hang on, we are off for the ride of a lifetime!

Each week I leave a short story or video blog here about where I saw love in action during the previous week.  Looking for love in the world around us inspires us to look for love everywhere - especially in our marriages.  Leave your story in the comments section about how you saw love in action last week!  Or write about it on your blog and leave a link to your blog in the comments section (and be sure to link your readers over here so they can see more stories about love in action!).

There is something about women in our culture who are selling their bodies for the sexual fulfillment of men that is confusing to me.  My experience says that as a women in the United States, I have so many other choices about how to use my body and how to earn money.  I did not grow up as a young girl in the Red Light District of India.  I do not have a heritage of sex trade.  And as a result, I have trouble conceptualizing how and why these choices are being made in a country that seems to provide so many other options for women.  Maybe cycles of poverty, abuse, and lack of options have not lent the same experience to some women in my country; in my city.   Maybe the idea of having a $100 bill tucked into your G-string does not feel like a problem when your alternative is standing on your feet at McDonald’s all day, for minimum wage.  I rarely feel judgement towards women who are strippers, escorts, or prostitutes; but I do feel sadness and regret.  I feel anger towards a culture that has come so far and yet has left these women in a position where dancing in front of a bunch of abusive men strung out on coke is even an option; let alone a good one.

Some feminists would say it is their choice and their right give lap dances and have sex for money.  And that when done willingly, it is even liberating and fulfilling.  To me, that just sounds like a modern day middle finger to all of the men who have scared them and abused them; now THEY get to be in charge.  Either scenario sounds, to me, filled with painful stories.  Well, I am not here to figure that out, but what I do know is that every time I drive by a small, windowless cinder block building that touts any variation of “LIVE*NUDE*GIRLS”, I become a very dangerous combination of sad and angry.  I want very badly to see those women released from what looks to me like a modern day, acceptable form of sexual slavery - women whose circumstances sort of pin them into a corner and leave them without a lot of other options.  I am sad for all of the girlhood dreams of becoming doctors, artists, and airplane pilots that were either never born or used as someone elses’ plaything, until they ceased to exist.

When my friend Kevin sent me  this link and video, I found myself, through tears, relieved to know that someone, somewhere has figured out how to take light and love into what seems to be a very dark place.  They set aside their judgements and agendas and desire to figure out this cultural catastrophe.   They decided to take only one personal value in with them - the value to love other women in ways that are tangible.  They are called Jesus Said Love, and they are doing just that.