Where am I and what am I doing??

I’m here–but I don’t really know where here is. Staring blankly at this black, blogging abyss. Wondering why I came and what possessed me to pay for a personalized website where I can shock the senses of any tech save human being unfortunate enough to stumble upon this little blip in the web. I had to enlist the help of my 14 yo son to even create a username on my new MacBook pro that I purchased for the express purpose of posting blogs. So, here I am–coming before you with a very ugly website and a few incoherent words because I’m in a panic. I’m in a “first blog post” panic and I’m considering a fast retreat to my kitchen where at least I don’t feel intimidated and small. (Yes. I said that. I’m a woman who is not afraid to say “kitchen.” I can cook a mean sandwich and then go out and change the oil in my diesel like a real Proverbs Woman. So let’s move on.)

Maybe that’s a good place to start. Being a woman. It’s not all its being made out to be in recent days. Well, it is actually–but not in the way its being sold to us by those that wish to change the beauty of our species. Some popular power words that come to mind are: Equality. Powerful. Independent. Fierce. Empowered. All good words. All good words when they do not stand alone.

Because you know what? Being woman cannot be replaced with so called “power words”. Being woman cannot be redefined by a world gone mad. Being woman cannot be remolded to fit into a time era. Because being woman is timeless.

Being woman is being all that a man cannot be. Not trying to be all that a man is.

Being woman is thriving in the role that suites you best. Not trying to fit into society’s role.

Being woman is celebrating your natural strengths. Not seeing them as weakness.

Being woman is accepting your feral, feminine spirit. Not seeking the accepted, modern spirit of the world.

Yes, I said feral. Because there’s not a one of us Godly ladies that can walk that perfect line of help-meet, kitchen wench, grocery getter, love machine, sandwich maker, husband supporter, home schooler, garden keeper, occasional mechanic, (and the list goes on) without occasionally loosing our domestication and running off into the wilderness like a feral cat on a mission of madness.

So, that’s me. A feral housewife that likes being a woman.