I grew up in the 70s and came of age in the 80s.  I was a child of the media, apathy and societal laissez-faire- and of parents who were poor and had to work a lot more than they should have.

Even growing up in a backwater town that was 20 years behind the times didn’t help much. I still wanted to dress like the dancers on Soul Train and was convinced someday I would be a super combo of the women in the Virginia Slims and the Enjoli ads.

The church wasn’t a whole lot of help. The RCC had jettisoned much of its traditional practices and teachings so we got mixed messages from them. I learned more about Jesus and the grace of God from the rare trips I got to Sunday School in Grandma’s Regular Baptist church than from the confused version of Catholicism taught at that time. In the RCC’s defense they are more true to the Scriptures than most Protestants today, but that’s not saying much.

The 80s were a free for all both in culture and institutionalized religion. And it’s all downhill from there.

For a woman of my generation I was conservative politically and socially, but liberalism and militant feminism had their bad influences on me.

I used overwork like some people use opiates. To stay numb. To have perceived value. I didn’t need a man. I certainly didn’t want to stay home and raise kids. I wanted to be important and in control. And I had no choice because neither my first nor second husbands were good providers.

I thought once my son was born the most important thing was for me to get back to work and earn money, not to pay personal one- on-one attention to his education and well-being. I could not have afforded being a stay at home mother financially anyway, as my husband at the time was more about blowing money drinking and gambling than providing.

I was sold a bill of rotten goods. And I was gullible enough to buy it.

I bought a bill of rotten goods that caused me to fail my son by denying him the nurture and education from a present and caring mother. It was a bill of rotten goods that led to two failed marriages to beta males who needed mommies and enablers rather than wives. It was a bill of rotten goods that reaped years of exhaustion, depression and despair.

I couldn’t be the Enjoli woman or the sexy Soul Train dancer. I became just a burned out, depleted, depressed middle aged crone.

The natural order is good. It is made by God for our benefit. Men and women were made to complement and complete each other, not to compete.

One man and one woman marriage was instituted by God not just for the procreation and nurture of children but for the good of society. Men are called to provide and women are called to nurture and teach our children.

For Christians our lives are not our own. We have been bought with the price of the sacrificed Lamb of God, Who has paid for our sins and Who sustains us into eternal life.

I’ve always said that my life serves more as a warning than an example to follow. My life can show one what NOT to do.

Women, find a real man. A man who belongs to Christ. A man who supports and loves you. Marry young and have as many children as the Lord will give you. Cherish your husband, love and respect him. Give him a home.

As far as the cologne commercial, the cigarettes, and the obsession with overwork and militant bodily autonomy, let those things go. We were created for better than this.