Vive La Difference!

     My aim, when starting this blog was to write a minimum of one blog weekly.  ...and yet I find I am struggling with this very modest goal.  The need for balancing Prayer and Dishes, not to mention every other thing under the sun is as great as ever, and my success rate is as low as ever!  I also was determined to always have something in mind when I opened up the post.  This, too, has not been the case.  I don't want to write simply for the sake of hitting a target.  But I don't want to avoid this blog because I feel as though I have nothing to say when I have the time to say it!
    Well... no great thoughts loom in my head, but it is time to write, so I will relate a small experience I had today.  After church, my husband and I were invited to a dinner which included 7 other couples...all of which have known each other for about 25 years!  It was a true kindness to be invited, and in no way did we feel we were condescended to or ignored.  However, the facts of the case had the two of us there more as observers than anything else.  
    I have been (and will be) doing a great deal of reading on the differences between men and women, and how these effect the most basic relationships of all...marriage.  As I stood to one side, my 48 year old self being the youngest by a good 15 years, I was amazed at how competent these good farm women were.  In all honesty, I am usually intimidated by other women.  Their comfort level in any kitchen; their down-home bossiness that gets things done without being offensive; their instinctive dance around each other and the various tasks that take place in a kitchen...all the while catching up, keeping an eye on their husbands and making sure that all are comfortable.  
   And then the meal.  I can't remember the last time I witnessed the women holding back while the men charged into line.  There was need, and they all knew it, for the men to go first.  They would be seated at the end of the dining room from which there was no escape!  The women Needed  to serve themselves last so that they could easily get up from the table when required to do so.  
   So, obviously, the men all ended up at one end, the women at the other.  There was no jockeying for a place in the conversation.  The women talked about what they wanted to, including their husbands as part of the stories they told.  The men spoke of what interested them...mostly feed, machinery and the economy.  It was delicious...and I don't simply mean the food.  
   This group of farming couples, hard-working, honest and worthy had learned that there is no shame in the differences between them.  Again, as an "observer" I caught glances between spouses.  They were fond, twinkling almost...even when the story being told involved the exasperation married couples feel for each other.  (Each spouse seemed to be able to participate fully in the "men's" conversation, or the "ladies' conversation, while keeping an ear out for the voice of their mate!)  There was an over-all acceptance that, all in all, this business of marriage is worth every hardship; that the differences that annoy, when woven into a tale several days later, usually evoke laughter.  Every wife understands the stubbornness of a man, every man understands the exasperation of a nagging wife.  We put up with it out of commitment, sometimes out of habit...but when we're honest about it, perhaps we put up with it because it shines a light on our differences...those deep down things that makes our Spouse the Other, our Complement. 
    I don't mean to make light of sin in our relationships.  We should be striving always to live in true charity with our husbands, and they with us.  But how often could I save myself some heartache, by simply accepting that we are different, we will always be different, and our marriage is the tool by which these differences form us into a Unity that can be sublimely wonderful. 

One leg at a time

  This will be a "wee" post, as I'm dashing about trying to balance my prayer, dishes and all other sundry parts of my life!  However, I made a momentous discovery last week that I simply must put in this blog for future generations.  Here goes.

      When I am irritated by something my spouse continually does, I can change the situation.  There it is.  In black and white (or gold and brown if you want to get technical).  

     The specifics.  Between my husband's dresser and the wall there is just enough floor space to accommodate any number of clothes that could also be accommodated in the laundry hamper of hangers/drawers all within a few inches of the aforementioned floor space.  I am not an obsessive compulsive personality. However, I like the floor in my bedroom as neat as possible (particularly since our bedroom completely opens onto the living-room, our unfinished house not having the French doors up that would divide one from the other). Here is where my discovery happened.  For the past years I have been grumbling, sometimes at a level that can be heard, bending over, picking up the clothing and putting them wherever seemed best that WASN'T the floor.  Last week I had a flash of insight and realized I was going about this all the wrong way.  

    My husband's choice in this matter has NOTHING to do with wanting to create work for me.  He is not TRYING to mess up our bedroom.  He simply doesn't think about it at all.  I have spoken, grumbled, whined, complained, and thrown things (not breakable) in an attempt to modify his behavior.  So...I went for the gold and decided to modify my own.

    For over a week, I have done what I wanted to with his clothing. It has cost me less than my previous method of dealing with the "problem" because my negative emotions aren't involved.  It has cost my husband nothing but having to do a little less work to find his pants.  (The hook in the closet is more easily accessible than the floor!)  I resent him less, and that's good all around.  

    There are many who would call this codependent behavior.  I am to the point of almost violently disagreeing.  My husband is not sinning by not thinking about how the room looks when his work trousers are lying in a heap by the dresser.  His work trousers represent so much that he contributes to our family.  His behavior costs me approximately 5 seconds of work...something I can afford and realized I would be selfish to begrudge him.

   So there you have it.  I am choosing to pick up after him for my own pleasure, and for his as well, though he may not realize it.  I choose to do it while being thankful for him...for the clothes God provides for us, the work that my husband does, the chance to make my home look a little more welcoming, and feel a lot less like an emotional quagmire.  

  HOWEVER...if my boys think they can get away with it.... 

Super Bowl Monday at the Castle

I feel compelled to write and apologize to myself and any others opening this blog for the last two posts.  Yesterday's  attempt at making my home a castle was such an abysmal failure that I feel exhausted today...and left wondering..."what to do now?"   
   The perennial problem is that a Castle usually involves more than a Queen (that being myself of course.)  There is a King, princes, honored guests, servants, and pets.  This mix at the time of a tournament (the Super Bowl) gets rowdy...and when the Queen is the ONLY female present, there is no where to escape.  The honored guest's faithful charger is blocking the exit out of the royal stables.  I think my ears are too sensitive, physically.  And my spirit is possibly too sensitive emotionally.  If there is going to be rowdiness, I can take it in small doses of positive rowdiness...large doses of calls for Referee-icide are simply beyond my ability to tolerate.  If I escape to the kitchens, I am followed and reprimanded.  Who will deliver me from my distress? (my apologies to the Psalmist...but I was starting to see some similarities.)
   And of course the similarities don't end with my distress. I DO know from "whence cometh my help.  My help comes from the Lord."  It is simply hard to realize that the deliverance he offers is often that which he is working with me.  As I've mentioned before, sometimes it would be nice to have a physical hand up, a palpable embrace that is "all about me".  What do I do when my influence on the general tone in my home is apparently of no value?  If I complain to friends, the conversation would be unhealthy on so many levels!   
   I can't give up.  There is too much at stake.  My response today must be one of peaceful graciousness.  If I am run by resentment, or self-pity, I put my castle in jeopardy. And so, this day following the tournament, I chose to "look to the hills", acknowledge my own uber-senitivities, and get busy about the routines of the day.  This Castle needs a good dusting! 

Castles

If I don't write now,  nothing will be written.  I know myself too well. Sigh. So  I'm grasping at some of the less banal thoughts that have been teasing my mind of late.  I've been reading in the Psalms about the heritage we have in the Lord.  I realize the Psalmist was writing about the People of Isreal.  That Jerusalem meant the physical city, that the thought of Gentiles being a part of the inheritance of Abraham was probably not on the psalmist's radar screen.  However, as Christians we know that we ARE a part and parcel of the true People of God, the sheep of his pasture.
   A couple of years ago I read the book Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict the XVI. (I highly recommend it, by the way.)  He had a paragraph or two on the the meek inheriting the earth. In this brief aside, he talks about the importance of people having their own "place" to worship.  It all falls under the "freedom of religion", probably, but in a simple, homespun way, I think it applies to each individual as well.  Where is my place to worship?  I obviously go to church and worship with fellow Christians as often as possible.  But my calling as a homemaker challenges me to maintain my home-life in such a way that my children, my spouse and myself will find these four walls a cathedral when we need it, (Sing as loud and long as you want, without worry)...a chapel when we need to get on our knees and do the business of intercession...a sanctuary for those whose home is a threatening place to be...a university in the Kingdom of God when it comes to our conversation.   
  Ummm...I have a ways to go here.  However, as a Spiritual child of the promise to Abraham I need never worry about running out of things to do!  The blessings I live under, are not simply for my benefit...they are to be shared, and possibly more importantly, passed down to the next generation of Father Abraham.  
    Meanwhile...doesn't this background make you think of blueberry yoghurt?  
    Update on the whole Prayer and Dishes from my perspective.  I'm now more in the dishes camp.  Especially with a new "diet".  Hard to keep a balance.  May our healthier bodies be home to healthier souls!