I re-entered the workforce in 2020. (Crazy, right?) While it was a great opportunity and a remote position, it still brought up a lot of new rhythms and emotions our family had to navigate. I had always done some sort of work, but up to that point I was freelance. I was my own boss. I pulled back when needed because I accepted projects based on what our family could handle. Saying “yes” to a job meant saying “no” to that sort of flexibility.

Ask any mom who works outside the home, and she will tell you that going back into the workforce brings up all the mom feelings. Whether you’re a first-time mom and your maternity leave is winding down, or you’ve been out of the workforce for a few years and are stepping back into it, taking that first step feels like a mix of excitement and dread.

It’s been a long season of revelation in our culture, one where everywhere you turn someone is being outed for behaving badly. Even within a matter of days, this post will be old news. And since I write most of my posts/articles over the course of months, this post is already dated. But sadly, new revelations are always coming to the surface about sin, abuse of power, and women being hurt. So in many ways, talking about how women are treated in our culture is an evergreen topic—from the Bible until today.

The Galatian Christians were tempted to go back to bondage. They wanted the comforts of the law, not the nuances of grace. They wanted the structure that the law afforded them, not the freedom that grace afforded them. Grace took away their own ability to do anything to save themselves. What they missed is that the law did the very same thing.

Every year, as Mother’s Day rolls around, we are met with a number of posts ranging from honoring mothers to exhorting mothers to manage their expectations of the day. There are posts that acknowledge that the day is hard for many women. There are posts that work to be inclusive. I’ve even written a number of these types of posts over the years. 

Mother’s Day can be a tricky one for Christians. On the one hand, we want to honor the blessing of motherhood, both as mothers and as children of mothers. Every person was brought into the world by a mother, so we all have some stake in this day. But it also can be an incredibly painful day for many women, so for the Christian, the call to “weep with those who weep” rings truer than ever. 

My twin boys started kindergarten this year, which has been an adjustment for our entire family. But in the months leading up to their first day, I spent a lot of time reading and researching educational options in my city (as well as the options from a biblical/theological perspective). I was helped by thoughts from all sides in the discussion about how we educate our children. But in nearly every article I read, or message/interview I listened to, one thing was absent (or at least not talked about much). 

As Christians, we’re called to love our neighbors as ourselves. It’s right there in Mark 12:31. We recognize that “neighbor” doesn’t just mean the people in the house or apartment next door; everyone we come in contact with is our neighbor, someone God has called us to love. 

You’ve probably heard the statistics about single women in our culture. There are now more women on some college campuses than men. In some cities there are more single women than married women. Women outpace men academically and often times professionally. In many churches, the single women outnumber the men. For all of our emphasis on marriage being a good and important institution, singleness is the reality for many people.

Men who behave badly are all over the news these days. In fact, it’s been so much a part of our national conversation for the last year that I’ve had this post (most of it, anyway) written since we found out that we were having another boy—raising the Reissig boy total to four. I’ve been mulling over these thoughts for the better part of a year and finally got around to editing them. Unfortunately the national conversation about men doing bad things hasn’t changed one bit. It’s only gotten worse, which has only increased my desire to process what it means to raise four sons in a world where men behave badly.

A few weeks ago my sons were watching the popular children’s show, Doc McStuffins on television. I’m a big fan of Doc McStuffins. I like the diversity the show brings to the table. I like that the main character is a girl and a doctor. I like that she is African-American and portrayed in a positive light. I like that she is kind and helps people. It even holds my attention when my kids are watching it.

I wish I could say I always pay close attention to what they are watching. True confession: I don’t. While we don’t let them watch things that we haven’t vetted, I don’t filter every piece of content once we have approved it.

I learned my lesson.

I’m usually pretty behind on the news, though this week I’ve been paying attention to the A Day Without a Woman strike set to happen today. The organizers of the strike are calling on women to either refrain from shopping, wear red, or stay home from paid or unpaid work. While they acknowledge this is not a possibility for many women (and say that they strike for those women, too), it strikes (no pun intended) me as a fairly privileged event—and therefore not for all women. 

When was the last time you went to your doctor? How about your OBGYN? Did you wonder how this specialty of medicine came into existence? I hadn’t given it much thought until I listened to a program on NPR a few weeks ago about the father of modern gynecology—J. Marion Sims.

But I don’t want to talk about him, at least not directly. February is Black History Month (and March is Women's History Month), so I want to talk about the women who made his discoveries possible. The women he practiced on. The women he studied. And more importantly, I want to talk about the women he exploited to find cures to ailments many of us no longer are at risk of facing.

Eight years ago my mom happened to be in town during President Obama’s first inauguration. As a daughter of a political junkie, we watched the ceremony, the balls, and the celebration that comes with the peaceful transfer of power in a democratic nation. Four years ago, I watched his second inauguration in the warmth of my own home while big and pregnant with the twins. Even though I didn’t vote for him, I appreciated what his inauguration represented. I’ve watched his state of the union addresses. I enjoy the political process in our country, even if my preferred candidate doesn’t always win. 

But I’m struggling with this inauguration.

My grandpa coached football for his entire career. He gave his life to the sport, playing it in college and then spending his retirement years watching local teams play wherever he lived. My dad played football in college, coached my brothers growing up, and then enjoyed watching them play in high school and college. My husband loves football, joining the many men (and women) mourning the impending end of the football season. Even our youngest son loves football, saying one of the few words he knows (“football”) whenever he sees a game on TV. I have been surrounded by football enthusiasts and athletes my entire life, even though I have only a small interest in it. But I appreciate it.

Whether we like it or not, Election Day is coming. Soon we will know the outcome of this long political season, and we will all have to come to terms with the leader the people have chosen. This has been a hard election cycle for everyone, and in many ways I wonder how our country (and more importantly the church) will recover from the fighting, the insults, and the hostility over one another’s choices. But regardless of what Tuesday’s results mean for the nation as a whole, they mean something absolutely clear for God’s people—the church.

This is not our home.

Part of growing up is a growing awareness of the difficulties that life brings us. For most of my life I was pretty shielded from death, loss, and suffering. My parents loved us, cared for us, and pointed us to Jesus. As I stepped into adulthood the ground I walked on didn’t seem so stable any longer, and the world didn’t look as bright. Now with each passing year I am confronted with the brokenness that life in a fallen world brings all of us, and there are days that I miss the innocence of my youth. But then there are days where I feel a sense of responsibility for what I now know.

When I read The Warmth of Other Suns a few months ago I kept thinking to myself: “How did I never know about things like this?” How did I not know of the broad scope of the atrocities committed against African-Americans in this country? How did I not know that even though Jim Crow ended or people moved north, the systemic effects of such heinous sins still linger? How did I not know?

I remember where I was on September 10, 2001. Do you? 

Of course, I remember where I was on September 11, but September 10 is etched in my mind as clearly as the dark day that followed it. I remember what I wore (black turtleneck sleeveless shirt and jeans). I remember what I did (bowling with friends from work). And I remember the blissful ignorance that characterized my life that I spent the better part of the last fifteen years trying to recreate.

We live in troubling political times in America. I think I can speak for many Christians when I say that this has been a confusing and grieving election cycle. I’m not a political expert by any means, but I enjoy the process. It’s quite the privilege to be able to have a voice in how our country operates, a privilege many throughout the world don’t have. It’s a gift to us that we have access to information about our leaders, that we can vote without fear of being killed or harmed for our views, and that we can engage with others in the process—even those we disagree with. This election season is different than any I’ve experienced—and I’m young—so I’m not speaking from a wealth of experience here. I’ve had my moments of panic, fear, anger, frustration, and every other emotion in between throughout this long cycle. As we inch towards Election Day, I want none of those to rule my thoughts. Rather, I want to trust, not fear. I want to listen, not spout off my view. I want to have peace, not anger in my heart over the outcome.

As I’ve reflected on all of this, the reality of God’s sovereignty keeps coming back to my mind. I must ask myself: Do I really believe that God is sovereign? If I do, then I must believe he is not surprised by our political process anymore than he is surprised by the political processes of any other nation that has been in existence since the beginning of time. While it might be news to me, it’s not news to him.

The Olympics are over now and I’m a bit aimless, wondering what I’m going to do with myself now that I don’t have a high intensity sporting event to watch every night of the week. My husband reminds me that college football is coming, but to me, it’s just not the same. The Olympics are my thing, as you probably already can tell.

Daniel likened my post-Olympics letdown to coming home from the high of church camp. We all had a good couple of weeks, watching with friends, texting about results, interacting on social media, and now we have to go back to real life, with real bedtimes, and even worse, a real election that is coming whether we like it or not.

The Olympics and all they brought with them were not real life, but they allowed us to forget real life for a moment. They allowed us to enter a world where the nations gather together, excellence is prized, and people finish and win the race. One former Olympian said it feels a little bit like heaven. Maybe it does, I don’t know. But I do know that while I am not alone in my post-Olympic hangover, it’s actually much harder, and much more serious for the athletes.

We talk a lot about whether or not women can have it all in our culture. Can a mom have a successful career and a thriving home life? Can she throw in volunteering, too? Even in our Christian subculture we might not talk as much about women having it all, but we have our own ways of continuing the having it all discussion even among stay-at-home moms. Can a mom homeschool, volunteer at church, keep a side business of selling essential oils, and successfully save hundreds a month by couponing? Is it possible? Can women have it all?

Others, both in Christian culture and the broader culture, have answered these questions for us with a resounding “no”. Something usually has to give when we are attempting to have it all or do it all. 

I’ve been thinking more about the whole “having it all” thing as I’ve watched the Olympics these past couple of weeks (I know. Another Olympics post. I just can’t help myself!). Often we frame the discussion as a female one, as if women are the only ones having to ask themselves whether the demands on their lives are more than are humanly possible. But I would argue that it’s actually a human dilemma, not just a female one. Men and women are both regularly confronted with the reality of their humanness when it comes up against their ambition, their capacity, or their season of life.

Like many of you, I’ve spent the better part of the last week glued to my television and losing way too much sleep over the Olympics. I love the Olympics. I love watching sports I don’t get to see regularly. I love learning about new athletes. I love the dedication and talent that permeates the games. I love the human interest stories that tell us more about the athletes. I love it all.

This Olympics, the American team is majority female, which means we have the highest percentage of female athletes of any competing country. There is no denying women have come very far in sports. What I love about the coverage of the athletes (male and female) is how we learn not only about their sport, but their life.

It's summer. Summer is for slower schedules and later bedtimes. Summer is for days at the pool and nights eating ice cream. Summer is also for spending more time relaxing and enjoying life. So if you don't want to visit the internet every day wondering if I've posted (which is so scattered these days), I have good news! You can now subscribe to my blog through the handy, dandy "subscribe" button on the right side of my blog. I'm all for efficiency and time-saving devices, and my hope is that this new button will do just that for you, my readers. Instead of having to visit my website, wondering when I will post (hopefully I will post more!), you can have my posts delivered to your inbox by 2 PM the day I post them. So there you go, subscribe away, friends!

Last week I spent the better part of my Monday afternoon looking at recipe websites in an attempt to get out of a cooking rut. Even though I’ve been largely dissatisfied with the meals I’ve made for the past few months, I haven’t been able to shake the boring meals I keep making for our family. So I set out to find some new recipes. But I also learned something about myself. 

If I don’t understand what the ingredient is for, I won’t buy it. If I can’t pronounce the recipe name, I won’t make it. If it seems unfamiliar to me, foreign to me, or too new to me, I will pass over it. As a result, we continue to eat the same types of foods and never expand beyond what is familiar to us. As a result, we miss out on a world of food combinations and ingredients that are probably really good if only I would take the time to branch out a little more to make things that I can’t fully wrap my mind around.

I think that’s often what we do with people who are different than us.

Since my kids aren't in school yet, I don't really have the summer to break up our normal routine of life. But I did just turn in my book manuscript, so in some ways it feels like I am on summer break as I wait for edits to start. Also, because I am not working on my book right now, I am able to read things that have been on my list for a while now. Here is my summer reading list and some favorite podcasts I am enjoying right now. I'd love to hear what's on your list, too! 

I had high hopes for this week. I was going to check things off my to-do list, get my house in order, and head out of town feeling like super mom (and wife). I also was praying for humility, having noticed pride lurking in my own heart. It tends to do that after I come off a period of manning the fort while Daniel is traveling. So in true prideful fashion, I was due for a good humbling.