I dare you to put me in a box. Just try.

I refuse to conform.

I refuse to ascribe to the idea that a single/unmarried woman is of less value than one in a stable relationship.

I refuse to agree with the idea that the ideal for women is to go to University to find a husband, get married, and work in a part time job as a holding pattern until children are born.

I refuse to be a member of the culture of hate and injustice that has sometimes been purported by different parties, including, sadly, the Church.

I refuse to be place in the box of submission.

I refuse to throw my hands up and state that there is nothing that can be done.

I will fight.

I will love.

I will never give up on my dreams.

Micah 6:8

He has showed you, O man, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and
to love mercy and
to walk humbly with your God

That's it. Nothing more.

S'mores, anyone?

I'm here in Georgia as I write this, visiting for a wedding.

I realized something today.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have worked and worked so that I can be noticed and seen. I'm not strikingly beautiful, I'm not talented at sports (at all), I'm not a moving actress or inspired artist, but I am smart. I want to be seen.

I'm seen in London.

I'm not seen here. I'm still invisible here, very much in my box. In my place.

I don't want to come back.

I'm sick and tired of working and striving and trying to earn the approval of those who constantly move the bar higher and higher. I'm done. I'm taking all your bloody hurdles and piling them up and setting them on fire.

Then, I will roast marshmallows over them.