Because apparently I can’t be on a podcast without saying orgasm 6x

Jason Boyett invited me to join his 9 Thumbs podcast and…well, yeah. I talk a lot. I talk fast. I talk loudly. And I may or may not be addicted to the word “orgasm.” But this was such a fun thing for me to participate in–especially since I’ve pretty much wanted to be a radio personality since I was a kid. We covered so much ground in this podcast: racism, addiction, misogyny, Cookie Butter, Mark Twain, Mary Poppins and The Book of Mormon, the musical. Super fun. LISTEN AT YOUR OWN RISK. :)

Posted in Guest Posts | 1 Comment

Outfit of the wEEk

Dress by Stop Staring! and shoes from White House/Black Market. This is my all-time favorite dress. I wore it on Saturday night to “The Parisian Woman”–a wise-cracking, coy, political drama at South Coast Repertory. And no, that is NOT a permanent tattoo on my left forearm. It’s temporary. But I like. Very much. So, YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT MIGHT HAPPEN, omg, what will she do next?? *cackling w. glee*

 

Posted in Outfit of the wEEk | 24 Comments

Encourage one another {YOUR wonderful emails and stories}

A few weeks ago, I was feeling discouraged. I take a lot of risks writing so vulnerably online and it seemed like I was getting a near constant barrage of criticism.

I knew that I got positive feedback, especially in the form of personal emails or FB messages, but for whatever reason–it felt like I got more criticism.

I decided to start paying closer attention to the many messages I receive from my readers.

To my great delight (and surprise!) I discovered that, proportionally speaking, I receive WAY more love than hate. My perception of being “constantly criticized” was simply not true. The truth is that EVERY SINGLE DAY people email me to say how much my writing has encouraged or helped them!

I don’t always have time to reply to each email so instead, I began posting some of these encouraging/awesome emails on my fan page with a little note of thanks to the sender. And guess what? It was like an Encouragement Cycle began. People read the emails and then started encouraging the person who wrote the email AND each other!

Each day I look forward to opening my inbox because I know there will be a little gift of encouragement waiting for me. I wanted to share some of those encouraging emails, here, because spreading the love and encouragement is so important for those of us who have survived abusive church experiences.

It’s SO important for us to know we’re not alone. As we each recover and learn to thrive, knowing others are cheering us on is so very empowering. 

I just wanted to tell you how much your blog has meant to me in the past couple weeks. I stumbled on it and you have been the most sane, helpful and reassuring voice I’ve heard on all of this in…well, ever. I was raised fundamentalist, homeschooled, homechurched, Michael Pearl’s training methods, us girls wore only skirts and I was given a copy of I Kissed Dating Goodbye for my 16th birthday. Everything you write about resonates with me so deeply…I have a lot of anger and alternate between being overly emotional and completely shut down. Your blog has made me feel a sense of kinship that was sorely lacking. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. –C.

I found your blog and it was like a huge weight was lifted from my soul to hear someone else speak with such clarity the things I have been feeling inside but it seems no one gets. I grew up in a church that was so very cult-like. I endured 25+ years of spiritual abuse. Even when you leave, the things you have been taught don’t suddenly go away. They are THERE, in your brain, telling you what to do and not to do, judging every situation just as strongly as before. But reading your posts has really opened up my eyes to things that I needed articulated. Thank you so much for your blog and your honesty and openness. –J.

Elizabeth, I laughed so hard! Sometimes you just need a good laugh, thanks for making my day. –K.

I was born into an abusive fundamentalist church. I still feel trapped by it sometimes but reading your blog and seeing your life unveiled in all its beauty and freedom gives me hope and determination to choose my life for myself, never to let anyone make me feel less than, and to choose to believe that God loves me no matter what – even when I mess up. –B.

I am a 19 year old Christian feminist who is fed up with the majority of American Christians. Your pieces are a breath of fresh air for someone who is tired of thinking they are the only one who wants to see Christians fight for something that actually adheres to their values (slave labor, poverty, that whole lot).Thank you so much for your blog, you’re awesome!
–L.

I just have to tell you how much I appreciate your blog. I was raised in a ‘cult’ fundamentalist church…I am still working my way out of it..struggling w. guilt and all the stuff that goes w. walking away. It is all such hard work–but so worth it! Thanks for your voice and “using your words” to make a difference. You are impacting lives you don’t even know about.–C.L.

THANK YOU, it was SO encouraging to read that someone else out there had a story similar to mine. Except, for the longest time, I never knew that something was “wrong” with it. [My mom] believed in Y2K, system crash, military take-over, war, famine, disease, death all around me – and if I was lucky, I might get martyred for Jesus, so I needed to start toughening up now so that I could say “Yes, I am a Christian” without fear…even if torture was implied or a gun used against me. I would not be where I am or who I am today without God and his love + his care to place certain people in my life to help me along the way. He has been my best friend. But there are still days when I wake up and I feel like I’m in the woods again, alone, praying that he will see a reason to let me survive. Living like this for so long is not something you can just shake off, as you well know. But on the days I DO feel the wave of freedom break over me again, I sing and dance and write and take pictures and hug my husband, to help me remember that there IS so much to live for. Right now, this is enough. –S.

Posted in YOUR stories | 3 Comments

Books I’ve Recently Read/Enjoyed

The Fault in Our Stars is about teens with cancer who fall in love with each other. And then everyone dies. Oops, spoiler. Younger readers will probably enjoy this book more than I did (parental note: story contains teen sex). To me, the characters seemed one-dimensional and while I occasionally enjoyed the snarky insights of the teenage mind, by the end of the book the teen girl narrator voice was wearing on my very last Mama nerve. Rating: 2.5 stars.

The Language of Flowers is the story of a newly emancipated foster child and her struggle to make sense of life, loss and love through her work in a florist’s shop. This book unfolds as a story-within-a-story with us tracking along Victoria’s current life and flashbacks to events from her childhood. The plot development kept me interested and the characters were beautifully drawn. But I found the ending a little disappointing. Rating: 3 stars.

The Last Brother tells the brutal story of a young boy growing up during World War II on a remote island in the Indian Ocean. His heartbreak and isolation are relieved by his friendship with an orphaned, Jewish refugee. In many ways this is the story of how larger, world conflicts affect the innocent lives of children. It was a quick read but vaguely depressing without any satisfying, redemptive takeaway. Rating: 3 stars.

Theology of the Body for Beginners by Christopher West was a decent introduction to Pope John Paul II’s writings about sex and the body. I found the first few chapters to be the most helpful but West’s heavy-handed tone and egregiously poor comparative analysis had me cringing by the last chapters. Rating: 1.5 stars.

As a die-hard Dodgers’ fan, 100 Things Dodgers’ Fans Should Know and Do Before They Die is a fun, informative way for me to get into baseball season. Published in 2009, I’ve read it at the beginning of each season since then. Rating: 4 stars.

Where was this book when I was a young mom? In Desperate: Hope for the Mom who needs to breathe, Sarah Mae and Sally Clarkson have done a beautiful job sharing letters and stories to encourage mothers as they raise their babies and maintain their own well-being. Rating: 3 stars.

The Language of Letting Go provides short, daily meditations on codependency. Each day is a simple reflection on topics like: healthy limits, nurturing self-care, accepting change, letting things happen and letting go of shame. Every time I read this book I experience a deep sigh of relief. Rating: 4 stars.

Posted in Book Reviews | 8 Comments

Divorce after twins

Sunday breakfast: phone calls, coffee, perusing the newspaper

There is a land of the living and a land of the dead
and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.
–Thornton Wilder 

Looking back, I can see how blindly optimistic I was–as if willpower alone could rescue and restore us to sanity. I never once imagined we’d be taken down by the slow, inexorable crushing: months of sleep deprivation and twins born on the cusp of a devastating economic downturn, the strain of raising five children on one income and the ongoing process of recovering from our cult backgrounds.

I guess I just didn’t think divorce could happen to us. That somehow, we’d be different. We’d overcome. After all, we’d escaped our childhood cults and forged a new life for ourselves. We’d beaten the odds. We were the exception.

There’s a reason, I think, why people refer to life Before Twins and life After Twins. Giving birth to multiples–especially on top of three other children–is the kind of shocking life change around which the whole of a marriage seems hinge. At least, that’s how it’s been for us.

“The twins run the show now,” a neonatologist told us when our babies were still in the NICU. He was amused, chuckling. I remember thinking: yeah, right. I’m already a mom of three. How much more intense can it be, really?

Answer: way more intense.

I had heard the anecdotal horror stories about marriages falling apart within five years of a twin/multiples birth. Four years after our twins were born, I suddenly understood.

Last summer, I asked my husband to move out. I was exhausted. We were both exhausted. Burned out. I didn’t have the will to carry on anymore. The prolonged crucible of raising twins had exacerbated all our other issues. At the time, I could see no way through except quitting.

But the greatest act of courage is to love. I heard that line last night in Smokefall, a play at South Coast Repertory. Something in that line sank deep into my soul. This play was the story of a family–a pregnant mother of twins whose husband who could no longer bear the crushing weight of life. And so he disappeared one day. It was the story of a family over several generations. It was poetic and plebeian, heartbreaking and humorous. It was a story of leaving and staying, of the moments that define us and bind us.

And like all good art, this play reflected life back to me. It inspired me. It helped me remember. The greatest act of courage is to love.

My husband and I, we stayed together. By daily grace we are staying together. Last summer was our rock bottom and it’s been a long, slow, moment-by-moment recovery. But it is a recovery.

We live in these daily moments and by being present in them–by living the pain, by facing our pain instead of seeking escape–we are finding a very present grace and a refined-by-fire love.

There are moments like a Sunday breakfast–the twins flipping through the coupons (look! Mama! orange juice on sale!), husband answering a phone call from one of his employees, my ballerina wandering in all groggy and tired from her week dancing in NYC, our sons playing with the the dogs–these moments we remember.

In the end, these moments are all we have–the moment in the arbor where the rain beat/ The moment in the draughty church at smokefall/Be remembered…. –T.S. Eliot

Every day is the choice to live courageously–to love by word and deed–to cross the bridge between life and death. The bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.

Posted in Art & Theatre, Childbearing, Her Royal Mommy-Ness, Marriage, Twins!! | 32 Comments

Favorite outfit of the wEEk

Since getting fit in the last year (I went from running a 12 minute mile to a 7:56), I actually LIKE clothes again! And dressing up is way more fun these days. I’ve been exercising 5x/week and eating right for the past 15 months. It’s been hard work but I’m proud to say I’m fitter and healthier than I was BEFORE I had my five kiddos. To celebrate, I’m starting a new series where I’ll post my favorite Outfit of the wEEk each Sunday. Ladies, if I can get fit after having FIVE babies, YOU CAN, TOO!

Don't Mess.

Posted in Outfit of the wEEk | 8 Comments

A former religious extremist explains how radicalization happens {plus, a theory of how suspected Boston Marathon bombers were radicalized}

How do two sons of a political asylum refugee grow up to be terrorists? Their father loved America. Their uncle and aunt and everyone that knew them–including their neighbors and school mates–were shocked to hear these young men were suspected terrorists. In fact, it was so shocking, that the aunt and father quickly began saying the boys were “framed.”

The suspects in the Boston Marathon were brothers. Their father, by a neighbor’s account, was brutually beaten by KGB and fled to the United States. He loved America.

So, how did they become suspected terrorists?

A neighbor described the boys as helpful, the family as hospitable. She said when she saw their picture on TV, she fell on the floor. Her only thought? Somehow they were “poisoned along the way.”

The suspects’ uncle, in a brief appearance on CNN, said his guess was that “somebody radicalized them.” He said this had nothing to do with Chechnya. And historian Charles King agrees, citing reports from journalists interviewing family members in Dagestan:

In other words, the focus now should be on the Tsarnaevs as homegrown terrorists, not on the ethnic or regional origins of their family. Journalists’ initial conversations with family members in Dagestan amplify that point: a sense of shock that two nice boys who had gone to America for their education could have been involved in such a brutal act.

So, how did these young men become terrorists?

The best article I’ve read is from a Reuters journalist who spent seven months in captivity in Pakistan. And although the radicalization process he saw happened in Pakistan, the underlying conclusions are, in my opinion, spot-on: 

militants had created a sophisticated system of schools, training camps and indoctrination videos that slowly severed young men’s bonds with their families.

The only relationship that mattered, recruits were told, was their relationship to God. The only cause that mattered, clerics preached, was stopping a vast – and nonexistent – Christian-Jewish-Hindu conspiracy to obliterate Islam from the face of the earth.

No matter how long I spent talking with him, I could not alter his attitudes. Radicalism gave him a cause, a community and an identity.

My own extremist religious past resonates with this. Here’s how radicalization happens:

  1. Cut off from family. New recruits to my childhood cult found our extremist way of life attractive because they had never made a genuine connection with the “dead” Christianity of their childhood. It was easy to persuade new members to cut off their families because outsiders were “worldly, hypocritical and compromised.” Outsiders didn’t appreciate the HIGHER CALLING that our TRUE religion offered. Effective radicalization requires a rejection of the outside world which many times includes family members.
  2. Relationship with God is the only thing that matters. Extremist religion is narrowly focused. It elevates one thing; ie. “relationship with God” above all else. The trick, here, is that what ACTUALLY matters is the group. The group becomes God for the new recruit. Whatever the group leader says and believes is what the new recruit says and believes. Effective radicalization requires a rejection of previously held values; ie. the American dream is no longer valuable but martyrdom for God IS valuable.
  3. Radicalism gives identity, cause and community. For those disaffected by the disappointments of modern life or crushed by poverty or suffering a heartbreaking loss, extremist religion provides a nearly irresistible solution. Identity, cause and community are a POWERFUL trifecta–especially for young recruits.

Now, here’s my theory about how the two young terrorist suspects experienced their self-radicalization:

My guess is that the older brother was disaffected first. His father had returned to Chechnya. The older brother had a criminal record–beating an ex-girlfriend. Perhaps he’d become disillusioned with the American dream, with American values. Perhaps it felt like no matter how hard he worked or no matter how good an education he had, he was not going to Make It in America.

There was a vacuum in his soul. Moderate, peaceful Islam was no longer attractive–or perhaps, he had never truly connected with his Muslim faith.

Slowly, religious extremism began providing answers. He began watching terrorist YouTube videos. He was looking for something purposeful, some kind of higher calling.

The only relationship that mattered, recruits were told, was their relationship to God.

My guess is that the older brother’s values began shifting. A good education, a nice house and a car, a good job–these things no longer held value for him.

Radicalism gave him a cause, a community and an identity.

Slowly, martyrdom and/or jihadist insurgency became increasingly attractive to the older brother. He started talking to his younger brother about it. They didn’t want to die, necessarily, but they wanted to inflict righteous judgment on the Great Oppressors–the United States.

Whether or not the older brother had real connections to terrorist groups remains unknown. I agree with David Rhode, the Reuters journalist who spent seven months in Pakistani captivity. The enemy is not religion. The enemy is extremism.

And let’s be clear, extremism isn’t just happening in Islam. It happens in all religions. In fact, what has disturbed me the MOST since leaving my childhood cult is that Christian fundamentalism is growing in popularity. My cult used to be considered “fringe” and “weird.” But now, fundamentalism is hip.

Contemplative, mystic, “moderate” Christianity is derided and dismissed just as contemplative Sufism is dismissed and derided among fundamentalist Muslims.

The enemy is fundamentalism because fundamentalism is very attractive to people looking for Definitive Answers. Extremist religion provides a rigid, black-and-white framework for understanding the world.

For those disaffected by the disappointments of modern life, extremist religion provides a nearly irresistible solution.

**DISCLAIMER: although my childhood cult didn’t promote violence toward outsiders (we just beat up each other, ugh), it’s not a huge leap of logic to see the similarities between hard-line religious groups. Also, these are just my opinions and theories based my experience in extremist religion. When new information comes to light, I’ll probably change my theories and opinions. WHICH IS TO SAY, no need to get all crazy up in da combox, k? Good. Thanks.**

Posted in Cults, Current Affairs, Religion | 11 Comments

Winners of “Bread & Wine” giveaway!

The winners of Shauna Niequist’s new book “Bread & Wine” are: Rachel F., Cindy K. and Elizabeth G. I have emailed the winners with details. Thanks everyone!

Posted in Book Reviews, Give-aways!! | Comments Off

Bread & Wine {guest post by Shauna Niequist + book giveaway!}

I read Shauna Niequist’s new book in the bathtub. Usually after a long day of writing and tending kids, doing carpool and helping with homework. Shauna’s book, Bread & Wine: a love letter to life around the table soothed me. It made my mouth water. Most of all, it inspired me to have people over more often and sit around the table talking and sharing life. I hope you enjoy Shauna’s words as much as I do. xo, EE.

: : :

I’m a food person, a table person. I’m also a writer and speaker and for ten years I worked in churches, but more than almost anything else, I’m a table person. I didn’t always admit it because it seemed sort of silly, or less important than, say, ministry or meetings or missions.

Unless it is your mission. Unless it is your ministry. Unless you believe that the most meaningful way to meet about any topic is around a table filled with food.

It’s no accident that when a loved one dies, the family is deluged with food. The impulse to feed is innate. Food is a language of care, the thing we do when traditional language fails us, when we don’t know what to say, when there are no words to say. And food is what we offer in celebration — at weddings, at anniversaries, at happy events of every kind. It’s the thing that connects us, that bears our traditions, our sense of home and family, our deepest memories, and, on a practical level, our ability to live and breathe each day. Food matters.

At the very beginning, and all through the Bible, all through the stories about God and His people, there are stories about food, about all of life changing with the bite of an apple, about trading an inheritance for a bowl of stew, about waking up to find the land littered with bread, God’s way of caring for his people; about a wedding where water turned to wine, Jesus’ first miracle; about the very first Last Supper, the humble bread and wine becoming, for all time, indelibly linked to the very body of Christ, the center point for thousands of years of tradition and belief. It matters.

It mattered then, and it matters now, possibly even more so, because it’s a way of reclaiming some of the things we may have lost along the way.

Both the church and modern life, together and separately, have wandered away from the table. The church has preferred to live in the mind and the heart and the soul, and almost not at all in fingers and mouths and senses. And modern life has pushed us into faux food and fast food and highly engineered food products cased in sterile packages that we eat in the car or on the subway — as though we’re astronauts, as though we can’t be bothered with a meal.

Life at the table is life at its best to me, and the spiritual significance of what and how we eat, and with whom and where, is new and profound to me every day. I believe God is here among us, present and working. I believe all of life is shot through with God’s presence, and that part of the gift of walking with Him is seeing His fingerprints in all sorts of unexpected ways.

What makes me feel alive and connected to God’s voice and spirit in this world is creating opportunities for the people I love to rest and connect and be fed at my table. I believe it’s the way I was made, and I believe it matters. For many years, I didn’t let it matter, for a whole constellation of reasons, but part of becoming yourself, in a deeply spiritual way, is finding the words to tell the truth about what it is you really love.

In the words of my favorite poet, Mary Oliver, it’s about “letting the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

My friends and I didn’t learn to cook, necessarily. In an effort to widen our options, to set us free to be whatever we wanted to be, many of our mothers shooed us out of the kitchen — that place of lingering oppression and captivity for many of them.  They encouraged us to study and travel and participate in sports and the arts, the things women didn’t get to do when they were young. They shooed us out as an act of love, regardless of the fact that some of us really wanted to be there. So then, largely, young women and men moved out of their parents’ homes and didn’t know how to cook at all, and both genders felt conflicted about it, for a host of reasons. So we got takeout and thought about other things.

But many of us, men and women alike, at a certain point, are wandering back to the kitchen and fumbling and learning and trying to feed ourselves and the people we love, because we sense that it’s important and that we may have missed something fundamental along the way.

Especially for those of us who make our livings largely in front of computer screens, there’s something extraordinary about getting up from the keyboard and using our hands for something besides typing — for chopping and dicing and coaxing scents and flavors from the raw materials in front of us.

There’s something entirely satisfying in a modern, increasingly virtual world about something so elemental — heat, knife, sizzle. And there’s something entirely satisfying about faces, stories, listening, time to hear it all, taste it all, be together in the midst of it all. Everything in my life, it seems, is leading me back to the table.

[To win a copy of Shauna's book, Bread & Wine, please leave a comment. One comment per person. THREE winners will be chosen. Giveaway closes Friday, April 19th at 12pm PST]

Posted in Book Reviews, Guest Posts | 59 Comments

Making sense of senselessness

Senseless violence is everywhere. Or so it seems. I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. And may I admit something? I’ve also stopped trying to keep up. Thomas Merton once wrote that he didn’t read “the news” because he refused to get swept up in the sensationalism, the immediacy, the frantic urgency. He preferred, rather, to receive the news belatedly–as a “dry crust of bread.”

What I’m beginning to realize is that I’m not helping anyone–least of all, myself–by running around with a microscope trying to figure out Why All The Things Happen. I mean, I don’t just do this with bad things. I microscope the crap out of everything. I examine and process and try to figure out how it all fits in the Grand Scheme….READ MORE AT DEEPER STORY.

Posted in DeeperStory | 3 Comments