As I sit here and fold the laundry, it’s just little boys’ underwear.
The same thing every single goshdarnn day.
It is their summer wardrobe. And I’m just jealous because of bras and skin toner and shaving and…. someone coming to the door that I’m not prepared for………….
What must it be like for four children who know nothing of birds and bees and shame and patriarchy and privilege? I wouldn’t know.
I’m raising four sons to be leaders… not of women… not of their future wives… but of the world. I’m raising them to become servants of people, to be humble and considerate and kind and selfless… even though they are white, and male… and dear friends…..
Forgive me if this post seems strange. I’m just trying to be honest. I have no idea why society will give them status and honor that they have never earned. I have no idea why they might be escorted to the front of the line or to the head of the table based on skin pigmentation and gender only. I have cautioned them to put others first… to be colorblind… to be feminists, to advocate… to be sensitive to the fact that they are, indeed, no more important than any woman, or man, or child, or anyone of any race than they themselves have found themselves.
But how will they understand injustice enough to care when they never experience it for themselves?
But I just can’t seem to find my footing. I am 37. I’m a free spirit. I love the fringes. I have pink hair. I have four sons. I have a very kind husband. I love the Bible and teaching and I have a heart for the lost. I’m a shepherdess and (at times) a prophetess and when I am mopping my kitchen God audibly tells me things…. (shhh, don’t tell anyone that this happens!)
But I just don’t seem to know what to do with that.
I’m… just…. lost…..
Four piles of tiny, superhero underwear.
Four carefree boys.
Four beautiful souls that could change the entire direction of our world some day…
if they wanted to.