Archive for June 2012

Today, I'm writing about Relationship with Future. I have a really rosy relationship with my future-- after years of struggling with dread as a teenager, I can pretty much say that I'm an optimist. I mean, I struggle with the occasional worry about something happening to Adam or my kids, but as far as "five-year-plan" future goes, it looks good to me.

Adam is in grad school and money has been tight for all of our marriage. Fortunately, we went into marriage with the expectation that it would be. Now he's in the last summer of school and we're approaching another expectation of mine: he will finish and get a job with a good salary. An "I went to school for 6+ years for this" salary.

I'm not very worried about this not happening, to be honest. I can't imagine anyone not wanting to hire Adam-- he's so smart and hardworking. More than that, I just trust that God has a good job for Adam.

I won't lie. I'm looking forward to times I assume are in our future. I'm looking forward to being able to spend $10 without it being a big deal. And therein lies the problem.

I've realized that I fall into the trap of looking forward to the future with hope for the wrong reasons. Because, I assume, money won't be as tight, I'll be even happier, less stressed, less tempted to reside in worry. And before I know what I'm doing, I've envisioned this future where I'm leaving Target after a spur-of-the-moment shopping spree and I'm somehow a more disciplined, patient, contented, loving person.

But it won't happen that way. I have the potential to be those things, but only if I'm willing to learn how to be them now-- and having more money and a larger budget won't make them happen.

If I develop a habit of stress now, I will be stressed later. If I wait until I have a bigger house to be disciplined to clean it, I will have a filthy house-- now and later.

On the other hand, if I learn to be content and refuse to dwell in stress, I will be more Christ-like now. If Adam makes more money, I will be more generous with it, rather than treating it like my security.

We have a home now. We have never gone hungry. We do not have a single need that Christ has ever failed to meet. My future is secure because it rests in Him, not because of a larger budget. The budget isn't a guarantee, but Christ is. I have a longing in my heart for the future, but I must train my eyes and heart to focus properly-- on Heaven with Jesus. That is a hope that is not misplaced.

What about you? Do you dread the future? Do you hope for it? Do you fall into the trap of thinking that if you can just get "there," in another year or two, everything will be better?



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This is part of a two week series on Biblical Relationships that I'm doing with a network of bloggers! Check out their daily (or almost-daily!) posts on Biblical Relationships at these links!

This is the final post in the Relationship with Self part of the Biblical Relationships series. This is an interview, done via email, with my mom, Kathleen Guire, about the issues I had with gender while growing up. My questions are in italics and her answers are presented with only minimal proofreading. If you haven't read the previous posts from this series, I strongly recommend doing so! Start with Monday of this week.


Interview with Kathleen Guire:


1. Did you ever feel like there was something wrong with me? Did it scare you? Why or why not?

Most of the time I didn’t but I had sporadic doubts especially after spending time with friends and family who put seeds of doubt in my mind.  It was hard to think something was wrong with you because you were so full of life, so determined and the boy-wanna-be didn’t dominate everything.  It was a layer on top of you for awhile.  I could see YOU and all of your gifts and talents shining through even when you micro-focused on being a boy.
You seemed to have a strong sense of who you were in your core being.


2. What kind of response did you get from friends and family about the way I dressed and behaved?

Most people thought it was strange that I let you dress the way you did and wear your hair short.  My family chided me.  My sister Anne fought with me, you and wept every time we went to her shop for haircuts.  You whispered to her that you wanted a buzz cut.  She called me up to the chair and cried when she told me that she wasn’t going to cut your hair that short. It amazed me that she had this reaction.  She was a flannel-shirt-jeans-wearing tomboy when she was young.  You cried when you didn’t get your way.  I stood in as peace maker and helped find a compromise, no buzzing, just a cute bob. [Audrey’s note: I remember never being happy about this compromise at the time, but only being occasionally frustrated about hair length in the interim between haircuts.]


3. Did you ever worry that you were somehow responsible for how I felt?

No, I learned during your infancy that you had a determined spirit, this was just one more test of it.  I knew you weren’t miserable all the time.  You were a happy girl and loved to play, along with attempting to run the universe.  I saw your clothing choices and your refusal to be girlie as being independent in a flesh-indulging manner.  


4. One of the earliest stories about me rejecting “girl toys” was so early that it’s not even a memory for me. Talk about the incident at my 3rd birthday.

When you were three years old, someone who didn’t know you very well got you a barbie as a gift.  When you opened it, you looked at it and said, “A Barbie?  I don’t want this, you can have it Joanna,” and you handed it to her. [Audrey’s note: Joanna is still a best friend of mine, and hopefully not just because of that Barbie.]


5. What made you decide to let me wear boys’ clothes? Did it bother Dad? How and where did you draw the line?
You felt strongly about it.  I didn’t think it was that big of a deal for you to be a tomboy.  I made you wear dresses when it was appropriate, even if you pitched a fit- Easter, Christmas, etc.  I drew the line at boy’s underwear. [Audrey’s note: I only vaguely remember this part, but I apparently asked for them frequently.]


6. Did you worry that I was always miserable?

No.  You weren’t always miserable.  When you were involved in one of your self-made projects- making a movie and interviewing neighborhood kids to be in it, writing stories or scripts, playing in the backyard, riding your bike- you were full of energy and life.  It didn’t matter then that you wanted to be a boy (so you said), your core being was shining through and you had a blast.


7. What things did I say that bothered you the most?

God made a mistake.  Fortunately, I did not believe that and knew you liked to say things for shock value.  Parents sometimes focus on statements kids say about their sexuality and blow it out of proportion, what about when kids say, “God should have made me thin, short, blue-eyed, light skinned, dark skinned, not have a disease or learning disability?”  I used to tell my mother that God hated me because he made me a redheaded, spindly legged, freckle-faced girl.  Kids made fun of me because of my physical attributes so I thought they were right and God must be wrong.  My mother set me straight.


8. Were you ever worried that I would decide I was lesbian or transsexual? 

Only when I listened to the wrong people who thought I was crazy for letting you wear boy shorts and play hockey.


9. How did you pray for me? 

I prayed for you the same way I prayed for all of my children.  I prayed the prayers in Ephesians 1 and 3.  I prayed that God would show you the height and depth and width of His love.  I prayed that you would become a woman of God.  I didn’t focus all kinds of prayer on the matter of you wanting to be a boy until some friends pressured me to pray for you about it. It was at a prayer meeting.  Your father was very upset when I told him what we had prayed for. We both thought you were a wonderful kid with oodles of talent and a bright future.  We weren’t overly concerned about your tomboyish ways.  Other people were.


My dad, at my mom's request, added his thoughts:


I didn’t think there was anything wrong with you being a tomboy.  I grew up in the country where girls wore overalls until they were teens and started caring about the way they looked.  I think you wanted to do boy things to be like me, I was gone a lot and it was a point of connection for you. You were also influenced by your friends who were boys; you wanted to dress like them and play like them- Brock, Joey and Cory.




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This is part of a two week series on Biblical Relationships that I'm doing with a network of bloggers! Check out their daily (or almost-daily!) posts on Biblical Relationships at these links!

This is post four, and the last part of a story about Relationship with Self for a series on Biblical Relationships. The final post, tomorrow's, will be an interview with my mom. This story is about my childhood struggle with my gender. Picking up from yesterday:

My identity crisis, even from a young age, was wrapped up not in abuse or poor role models or absent parents or exposure to the wrong media, but rather in an innate understanding of how wretched I was apart from Christ, in trying to have a happy identity apart from Him. My struggle with my gender was not a struggle with sexual sin, but a struggle with the very nature of sin within me.

I would haven't put it in so many words at a young age-- I lacked the understanding, even if the teaching about sin and Christ's sacrifice was always around me. I just knew I hated myself and my gender was the biggest part of me to hate-- so I assumed that it must be the reason I was miserable. Jeremiah 17 says "the heart is deceitful above all else." And my heart was confused without the understanding that comes from the grace of God.

I didn't know what I wanted or needed, but my parents swinging to one extreme or another would have been disastrous for me. If they had tried to repress every un-girly desire or if they had indulged every whim, it would have gotten me into a confusing mess for years. I needed the grace of God to stop fleeing from who He had made me as an entire person, to recognize those parts of myself that I hated were not my "girl parts," but my sinful tendencies that kept me from Him. Those parts that were truly making me miserable were the very parts that He actually did want to change, to work a new creation. I didn't need a penis; I needed a Savior. I'm thankful beyond words that He found me and I found Him and for the life I have today.

This is part of my story. This was a lot of my childhood. What's yours? Have you ever confused your sinful nature with some other part of you? Is it corrupting or marring or skewing your relationship with self?

Tomorrow, the interview!


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This is part of a two week series on Biblical Relationships that I'm doing with a network of bloggers! Check out their daily (or almost-daily!) posts on Biblical Relationships at these links!

This is post number three of a five-post story about Relationship with Self for a series on Biblical Relationships. This picks up from where Tuesday left off.

So, I was unhappy and talked about how much God hated me. I genuinely felt like either He'd messed up while making me, or had done it on purpose to make me miserable.

My parents responded with a lot of love without making a big deal about it-- they gave some and required some. I still had to wear dresses for nice events and church, but I was allowed to play sports. My mom let me shop in the boys' side of the Kid's Gap, but also bought me make-up. I told an aunt several times that I would get married-- if I ever did-- in a hockey jersey. She always tried to talk me out of it, but my mom never said much about declarations like this.

My parents didn't take me to psychologists or insist on buying girly toys. I remember them reminding me that I was a girl even if I didn't like it, and that God loved me, but it never went much further than that. They didn't ban me from "gender inappropriate pretend play."

I wasn't romantically attracted to other girls. I was infatuated by men and masculinity-- I largely disregarded and despised women and couldn't stand the idea that I was one. My perception of myself, along with my discomfort with my own body, didn't lessen until I was around 12 and a major family event distracted me from my constant introspection, and didn't really change until I was 17 and rededicated my life to Christ. And that was also preceded by a lot of junk and depression (though those things weren't specifically related to gender).

I love being a woman now. I see value in myself and other women. I don't mind the occasional dress and I like to look cute. I'm glad I'm not the man in my marriage.

But I still like shorts, I never wear make-up or put "gunk" in my hair. I still prefer sneakers to "cute" shoes. I no longer wish I was a boy, but I'm not super "girly" either. But I am content with who I am after hating myself for years.

I told my mom while we were talking about this that I was grateful that I didn't grow up with doctors always giving me the impression that something was "wrong" with me or my brain.

I also said, and believe, that a lot of my discontent and unhappiness with my biological gender was wrapped up in rebellion and an incredibly low self-worth. My perception of myself didn't really change until I both accepted Christ's love for me and truly began to view myself the way He saw me. I have a St. Augustine quote tacked up on my wall that goes, "Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee." I was restless apart from Christ.

Check back tomorrow for the next, and last, part of the story! Friday will be the final post-- an interview with my mom.


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This is part of a two week series on Biblical Relationships that I'm doing with a network of bloggers! Check out their daily (or almost-daily!) posts on Biblical Relationships at these links!

This is continuing a five-part story about Relationship with Self for a Biblical Relationships series. This is post two, but the proper start of my story-- the previous post mostly served as introduction to gender dysphoria and issues with gender.

First, let me say that I am a happy, content, unrepressed woman. I love being a mom, having boobs, being married to a man, and more. This is not a coming out story. This is a story about an angry child whose parents raised her with a lot of grace, love, and understanding-- and crazy amounts of wisdom.

From the earliest times I can remember, I was upset that I wasn't a boy. For me, it went beyond mere tomboyishness. I said upset-- furious would be more accurate. I cried a lot between the ages of four and nine: when I was told I was a girl, when I was reminded of it, when I had to wear dresses or pink, when I couldn't play football.

I did play t-ball, soccer, basketball, softball, and ice hockey. I begged to be allowed to join the boys' Wednesday night classes at church instead of the girls' ones. My friends were mostly boys-- I avoided the girls, with only a few exceptions.

I was obsessed with ninjas, sports cards, and Batman (my fifth birthday party was Batman-themed). I hated dolls. When I'd play pretend with friends, I was always a boy. I begged my parents to let me change my name, to call me something else ("Alex" was my preference).

I kept my hair as short as they would let me. My aunt usually cried while cutting it, and I would cry because she wasn't cutting it short enough. I wore baseball caps almost constantly and never corrected people who mistook me for a boy. I had one hockey coach's assistant who went several practice sessions before finding out I was a girl. I intentionally fooled friend's visiting relatives when I was ten.

I wore boy's shorts, boy's shoes, and cried (again) every year for years when I wasn't allowed to buy swim trunks. I was mad that I couldn't pee standing up.

One incident related to that last confession was so weird and drastic even for me that I was deeply ashamed of it and didn't even tell anyone about it until this year: When I was six, I made myself a penis out of paper, contact paper, and orange crayon. My plan was to wear it all the time. I abandoned the plan after my first attempt to use it to pee resulted in a huge mess all over the bathroom.

I have happy memories of my childhood, but this discontent was a large, daily part of life for me. It was not a six-month phase-- this was ages three through 16.

I told my mom that God had messed up, that He hated me and had made a mistake or was punishing me. I told her these things often. "I was supposed to be a boy!" was a mantra.

Check back tomorrow for the next part!



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This is part of a two week series on Biblical Relationships that I'm doing with a network of bloggers! Check out their daily (or almost-daily!) posts on Biblical Relationships at these links!

I've recently joined a blogging group and our very first project is a two-week series on Biblical Relationships. I have a lot of totally different things to share over the next ten week days, but this week is primarily going to be about one thing: Relationship with Self.

I wrote this out as one long post and I'm breaking it up into four, plus a day that's just an interview with my mom. I had started thinking about this topic totally apart from the blogging project when I read a post over at The American Conservative, from Rod Dreher. His post is here. In the post, he links to a Washington Post article titled "Transgender at Five."

I recommend reading them if you have the time, but if not, I'll briefly summarize: The article is about a family dealing with a very young child who is diagnosed with gender dysphoria and, though born a female, begins preschool life as a male-- this includes registration as a boy for school and gymnastics, a short haircut, a new name, etc. The parents discuss issues that they haven't had to deal with yet, but may have to in the future, such as hormone repression during puberty and hormone therapy afterward.

When I read both of those things a few weeks ago, my first reaction was to post a comment on Rod Dreher's post. My iPod was giving me trouble so I ended up deciding I had too much to say in a mere comment anyway. It needed it's own post-- I needed to write a full post (or two, or three) about it-- and I thought it fit well into this Biblical Relationships series.

Gender dysphoria is the name given to a condition diagnosed by psychologists and doctors in those people with a profound discontent with their natural (i.e., biological) gender. Very young children are being diagnosed with this and are labeled "transgender."

I was never diagnosed with gender dysphoria as a child, and cannot say for certain I would have been, but I strongly identified with the child in the Washington Post story. The article made me think about things I hadn't thought of in years. I'll post the first part of the things it brought to mind on Tuesday.

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This is part of a two week series on Biblical Relationships that I'm doing with a network of bloggers! Check out their daily (or almost-daily!) posts on Biblical Relationships at these links!

Tomorrow begins a two-week series on Biblical Relationships that I'm doing with a network of bloggers! Check out their daily (or almost-daily!) posts on Biblical Relationships at these links! My first post, on Relationship with Self, goes up tomorrow!