Do you ever feel like you’re in a funk? Like…you had goals and vision for your life, but somewhere in between 10 hour workdays, fighting off the flu (again), and unexpected personal drama, you lost sight of where you were at?
Do you ever think, is this really where I’m supposed to be?
Today was uncharacteristically foggy in Southern California. Where I live, there’s often a morning mist that breaks by mid-day. But today was different. The haze remained into dusk, drifting across parking lots and tree tops, clouding the landscape in white. The sunlight never broke and the hot orange-pink sunset never showed up.
Being a child of the 90’s, I grew up knowing yogurt only as syrupy-pink and sickly-sweet, poured out of a plastic Yoplait cup, or worse – squeezed out of a packet (remember “GoGurt”?) I was never a fan of the stuff, preferring a bowl of crunchy kix soaked in milk for breakfast or a stack of crumbly oreos for a snack.
And then, somewhere around my freshman year in college, Chobani greek yogurt was introduced to the American market. Creamy, tangy, and satisfying, this was a distant cousin to the snack I had known as a kid. All of a sudden, yogurt became my perfect food. It’s high in protein, versatile, and pairs with all my favorite foods: jam, granola, nuts, nut butter. Heck, I think it works with chocolate.
Lately, I’ve been restless. My schedule has been uncharacteristically consistent, and, while that’s good for my productivity, my health, and my personal relationships, I’m beginning to feel antsy…when will the next trip come? When will I break from my day-in-day-out work/life routine?
When will I see something new again—something that challenges my boundaries, and refreshes my perspective?
The answer is as close as Google flights, but instead of turning to the airport, I’ve turned to my own hometown for a little adventure. Call it a “stay-cation” if you want. I took a trip for the few days off I had for Christmas, and explored my familiar surroundings with fresh eyes.
If you haven’t heard, California still thinks it’s summer.
It’s been 85 + degrees here, hot, dry, and just perfect for the beach- not the pumpkin patch. While desperately longing to wrap myself in cozy scarves and whip up hot chocolate, I’m fanning my neck and rehydrating with iced tea.
Have you ever noticed that even in most Disney movies that glorify a strong female character, the story inevitably ends in a marriage?
She’s defeated warriors (Mulan) and saved lives (Frozen), but the plot isn’t really complete until she’s found a husband, presumably with whom she will have many, many babies.
Please hear me: the desire to be married is beautiful and God-given, and should never be looked down upon, in a man or a woman. But what I take issue with is the idea that a person- specifically a woman- is somehow incomplete until she’s entered into marital union, and then, given birth.
For the majority of human history, in most every time and place, a woman’s value has been defined by her ability to bear children. You can imagine what this has meant for millions of females over the centuries who have remained single, or remained unable to conceive: extreme pain, loss of identity, powerlessness, despair.