A Hobby Lobby Conversion

I am ashamed about my newfound love for Hobby Lobby.


This is for three reasons:  snobbery, Gnosticism, and wrongly conceived feminism.  First, my maternal ancestors aspired to be great ladies. Their minds dwelt on higher culture:  Mozart, Shakespeare, and the King James Bible, not on knitting, canning, or crafts.  Those things you hopefully hire others to do, that is, if your family has the means.  This is the snobbery. But the disdain also betrays a gnostic lack of appreciation for the body and the physical. The mechanical, three-dimensional arts enrich homemaking. Mothering doesn’t require the crafting skill, but when it is there it deserves to be admired. Why aren’t I treasuring it?


My third reason is a sign of the times. As an educated woman with a fancy degree, I feel embarrassed that I have not written a book or started a midsized company by now.  After ten years as a struggling artist, I married, homeschooled four children, became a classical teacher, helped my pastor-husband, counseled people at church, and cooked and cleaned and climbed mountains.  I have become a generalist.


As I prepare my daughter’s bridal shower, I find myself to be the very sort of woman that Hobby Lobby is aimed at.  I am about to fashion an enchanted forest of silver half-price Christmas trees combined with pink hearts from the Valentines aisle, all to herald the bride in her glory.  Marriage is an icon, an image, a puppet show of the love of Christ for the Church.  Here is my daughter.  She represents the Church.   Here is her fiancé.  He represents Christ.  See they kiss.  The meaning of this little ceremony is this:  God loves us, and He’s coming back for us.  This is why there is a halo of gold leaf around the bride.  This is why we stand up for her.  If I, of all people, cannot celebrate creating this celebration, then something is very wrong.


Here I am in the bridal aisle of Hobby Lobby seeking to say something holy, to give the maternal blessing for the new bride. I am connecting with the deep desire of mothers for the flourishing of their daughters and granddaughters.  Therefore, I am now the most feminist.  So, I am going to stop being ashamed of a store that helps mothers in their constructive work.


Instead, I have written a celebratory ode:


This year I have learned wisdom from my friend, Stefany.

For birthdays, weddings, Christmas, and real estate projects,

Hobby Lobby is one source of her power.


Here is what they don’t have in Manhattan:

Hobby Lobby.


Here is what they have at Hobby Lobby:

cast iron brackets for the flip house, half price Mama Bear Apologetics,

oil paint, gold mesh birthday favor bags,

cold pink valentine heart garlands, bottle brush Christmas trees,

small polar bears covered with sparkles,

and everything bridal.


Here is what they don’t have at Hobby Lobby: tea towels that say

“It’s wine o’clock!” or “When you say ‘bitch’, you make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

(Actual tea towels I have observed in a Manhattan home goods store).


Here is what they have at Hobby Lobby:

not bad silk flowers and not horrible Christmas music,


Here is what they don’t have at Hobby Lobby:

trans American Girl dolls promoting girl power.


Here’s what they have at Hobby Lobby: girl power.


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