"…for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her." (Proverbs 8:11)

My husband is a big band singer, and therefore has the uncanny ability to take any random phrase and turn it into song lyrics. He sings about playing fetch with our Jack Russell Terrier. He sings about making coffee. And, most recently, he crooned an impromptu country ditty called “Put Your Womb on the Altar.”

Let me back up just a little. We were driving home from the gym the other day, and I brought up the fact that I was, well…fertile. See, there’s “that time of the month” and then there’s that other time of the month. For me, the latter is just as stressful as the former, because we don’t use any birth control. And, truth be told, I don’t think I want to get pregnant. Consequently, whenever we hit the fertile days, I become exceptionally paranoid.

Admittedly, I feel guilty about not wanting children, especially with so many folks we know going to great lengths to get pregnant or adopt a baby from overseas. It seems that lots of couples will stop at nothing to have a family. But, I’m already in my late 30s, and I just can’t see myself raising a brood while I’m planning my retirement. Besides, I’m selfish. And, parenting is an entirely selfless act, one that takes immeasurable patience and altruism. Currently, those traits are not among my strong suits.

So, there I was, sweaty and tired after a bout at the gym, voicing my worries to my husband about the possibility of pregnancy. To which he flatly replied, “Put your womb on the altar.”

Then, he started to sing it, in a hokey country twang:

Put your womb on the altar
Give your ovaries to the Lord
Throw your fertility on the sacrificial fire
Relax, and cook yourself some s’mores

We had a good laugh, and Craig gently reminded me that it’s really not up to me whether we have children. That’s God’s call. If He wants us to have kiddos, I’ll get pregnant. If He doesn’t, I won’t. We decided long ago that God’s got the ball on that one (hence the “no birth control” thing), and I have to trust that He always has my best interest at heart.

So, I’m putting my womb on the altar. And, I’m looking forward to seeing how the Lord’s will continues to unfold in our lives.

In the meantime, please pass the s’mores.

Since I was in my early teens, I have loved fashion. I have never spent a lot of money on clothing — still don’t — but I’ve always gotten a special thrill from flipping through glamour magazines, sketching ideas for an outfit, or playing dress-up at the mall. Fashion is fun, and having an eye for style can be a creative means of self-expression.

Sadly, today’s kids’ fashions are more of a desperate plea for attention, as evidenced by the new children’s line from singer Beyonce’s “House of Dereon”, aimed at grade-school girls whose parents must want them to become pole dancers.

I’m all good with fashion being edgy. Heck, back in the mid-Eighties, I was New Wave all the way, with snakeskin mini-skirts and studded belts. I colored my hair a tinge of purplish-red using bleach and Black Cherry Kool-Aid. Rebellious? Sure. But, I was a straight-A student who always kept curfew, stayed drug-free and was unmarred by piercings or tattoos. For me, fashion was a creative outlet; I was happily non-conformist, and I wanted my clothes to show it.

A decade later, I was a swing kid, feverishly collecting vintage attire and dancing every weekend to live big band music. No longer just a way to play dress-up, fashion had become an expression of my deep-seated beliefs about respect for oneself and others. The Forties were an era of class and character. This was when the Greatest Generation proved its mettle. Dressing in vintage attire was a reflection of my desire to bring back the best of a bygone era, both in terms of personal pride as well as shifting social mores.

Not so for today’s young women, who seemingly are being groomed to become a generation of street walkers. Bad enough that BRATZ has co-opted the feminine ideal from wholesome Barbie in the collective subconscious of America’s pre-teens. Now, pop singer Beyonce has opened a veritable Pandora’s Box of fashion calamities with her new “House of Dereon” children’s line that perfectly preps young girls for a future appearance on Shot of Love with Tila Tequila.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” (Matthew 19:14)

Parents, I beg of you, consider the fall-out of your fashion choices when shopping for your kids. There’s a saying in the business world that you should “dress for the job you want.” Is “hoochie-mama hip hop dancer” really at the top of your little girls’ career list?

Whether they are 4 or 14, dressing like a tramp-in-training does nothing to build self-esteem or demonstrate to the world your child’s perfect worth. You needn’t try to raise prissy little prudes, but if you put your second-grader in four-inch heels, footing the bill for her back surgery will be the least of your worries.