Desperately seeking local female friend who loves Jesus, Justin*, and John**

A ramble/rant/possible form of incoherence.

I am trying to reconcile who I am with who God wants me to be as a married woman living in the Philadelphia area. More than that, I think, I struggle with trying to reconcile who I am with what I think Christianity expects or wants me to be.

I’ve written before about how I see differences between myself and other women. I am currently struggling with my role as a Christian woman within the church. I’m 28, married, and currently childless. I’m a minority at my church. Moreover, I’m suddenly starting to feel like a minority in my phase of life. I am having a difficult time accepting that I’m in the stage of life where many of my friends are married and having children and parenthood is not a place God has called me to yet.

I am also struggling with the idea of a glass ceiling in the church: how much can women serve and is that glass ceiling really ordained by God or by power-hungry, chauvinistic men hanging onto an archaic rule that served its purpose for that time and that culture? (My husband warned me that I sound all Brian McLaren with those thoughts, but I happen to think he’s a little biased considering he’s a guy and all.)

I spent the day crying (partially about what I don’t have but also) about what I like: social media; reformed theology; discussing mental health issues; writing fiction; blogging about topics that don’t include fashion, kids, or TV shows; pop music; and going to concerts. I am grieved by the superficial — apart from my faith, I share very little in common with the women of my church.

I whine about the days when I used to be able to call up a buddy and say, “Hey, want to go to a concert with me?” and she’d say, “Sure! Time and date, please!” and we’d just go. Perhaps it’s because I don’t have children that I still feel that kind of freedom. But even if I did, I’d hope that I’d still be able to go. (I attend concerts once or twice a year.)

I feel the need to live two different lives: a life with Christians where I act all Christian and do whatever Christian people do and a life with non-Christians where we share similar interests but nothing that unites as deeply as spiritual things do. Is it wrong for me to want the two worlds to collide? To want the crazy friend who dyes her hair pink and purple, loves music, literature, and Jesus just as much as I do (if not more), and would go to Hershey with me to see Justin Bieber? To want that friend who can say, “You wanna hang out on Saturday and find a place in Philly where a local band is playing?” or “I’m in a really dark place right now in my life. Could you come over, talk, and pray with me?” Perhaps it’s never too late to develop imaginary friends. Or, slightly less creepy, put an ad up on the Philadelphia craigslist. (Maybe imaginary friends are safer, though. Hmm…)

I have friends all over the United States who I connect with on different levels, but in suburban Philadelphia, an area I’ll likely call home for the rest of my life, I still feel lost. I still see myself as the freak loser even though I’ve never gone to school here and have never had anyone tease me here. I have lots of local friends, but when I’m depressed, upset, and hurting, I don’t have that “one” friend I feel comfortable calling. Mostly because I know they’ve all got their kids and their husbands, and hence their busy lives that have little room or space for me.

I keep wondering how to rectify the situation. How to find my crazy Christian friend who loves Jesus, loves pop music, lives within 20 minutes, and can educate me on the greatness of Proust and Faulkner.

Or maybe I’ll just stick to this solitary life of writing novels and keeping hoping and wishing that I had different so I didn’t feel so immature, so isolated, and so alone.


How is a Christian woman supposed to act? In the novel I’m currently working on, my protagonist gets a brief lesson on being a Titus 2/Proverbs 31 (Biblical) woman. I’m feeling about as flummoxed as my character. The Biblical woman is ever working, ever busy, ever faithful, ever diligent. Striving to be like the woman the Bible outlines is striving for perfection — a goal I’ll surely never attain. Why bother at all?

I struggle with ambition. I am an ambitious woman. I don’t know what I want to do but I want to do something. But all I can do is write. There’s not much of a need for that in my local church.

I could go on and on but the rest of my thoughts are a jumble, I’m feeling tired and depressed again about how I’m doomed to live with a 16-year-old mentality in a 28-year-old body and a New York mentality in suburban Philadelphia, and how I have no kids and probably too much time on my hands. I need to get involved in something in which I can utilize my talents regularly but I’m not sure what.

*Justin Bieber
**John Piper

My messed-up imagination

Because I am doped up on cold and flu medicines, my equilibrium is off, and I’m feeling rather spacey, I’m going to use my blog here to just rant about nothing. Nothing that makes sense to anyone else anyway. And if it’s really bad, when I come to, I may take this down. I don’t know.

In any event, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve got a really messed-up imagination. By Christian and non-Christian standards, you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff that I’ve written. Some of it’s so far-fetched that it simply boggles the mind that I could have come up with it to begin with. Some of it’s incredulous. I need to go up to the loft, dig up some of the stuff I wrote (as in literally—wrote by hand) when I was a preteen, and type it all out. I’ve written 200-300 looseleaf pages of a novel. None of it will ever see the light of day because the stuff rivals L. Ron Hubbard’s books for believability. And they’re so embarrassingly bad. Want to blackmail me? Get your hands on some of that stuff. I’d turn darker than an a red delicious.

I have a storyline running through my mind. Different stories have been running through my mind at different times since I was 12. I may take every NaNoWriMo that comes along and actually put it on paper. Heaven knows I have the characters, plot, subplot, and conflict to keep it going to 50,000 words. Ending it may be the difficult part.

It’s October 22 and I’m not working steadily for the ad agency. Last year at this time I was so it’ll be interesting to see if I can crap out 50K words by November 15. (Although I doubt it.) Last year, I finished my novel just under 50K and had to keep writing nonsense to hit the 50K word mark. It’s a novel no one will probably ever see or read but it’s part of that running storyline I have in my head.

NaNoWriMo 2009 Participant BadgeSo I may just take some time off from revising my current novel to do NaNo. I’ll probably go it alone this year instead of attending write-ins like I’ve done in the past. But I’m rambling out of a head filled with DayQuil and Theraflu. Writing a chapter in my novel should prove to either be interesting or a challenge.

Now that I know what I want to write for NaNo, I can’t wait to get started. A coming-of-age story about a 14-year-old rich girl on Long Island. (Not autobiographical at all.)

November 1 can’t get here soon enough.