How To Feed Your Man A Sandwich
It has been decided, feminism doesn't work for me. It's out. Femininity? Check.
This weekend I went to Arizona with some family, two sisters, a sister-in-law, a brother, a brother-in-law, a future brother-in-law and my parents. There were also the three cutest children on this planet belonging to Stephanie. Don't tell the Cougars but the children were the real reason I drove 10 hours both ways across the desert on a horse with no name.
My spouse was in Idaho, thus I had a lot of time to watch my siblings with their spouses. It was quite enlightening to watch how nuclear they all are in their respective coupling. I come from a family filled with traditional marital roles and expectations but goodness! I certainly was NEVER going to submit myself to that torture. No, not me, I had a modern marriage.
On the ride home from Tucson, after the Cougars barely lost to U of A, my dad and I listened to the KSL post-game show while everyone slept. People were calling in angered by the bad refereeing (a-to-the-men). Call after call came in, and in the midst of the most fantastic lightening storm, it didn't matter how bothered I was about the refereeing, all I could think about was a change I had to make. Mostly the pride I needed to swallow regarding how I go about this tricky business of wifery.
The difference between feminism and femininity is that femininity works. It persuades, it heals, it creates security. It balances, soothes and inspires. It's the power of the women leaders of our church. It is divinity. I would be gravely mistaken if I didn't use it for good in my life.
So when I slip back into that feminist mode, mainly where I feel anger more than love, I am going to let my mind remember this weekend. Mostly when I watched Lindsay make a sandwich for Jesse. And then made another one when he wanted it, refilled his drink and rubbed his back. She wasn't concerned with her limits on serving her husband. She didn't fear that her actions were lesser, weak or allowing a tradition of lazy husbanitis. She felt inclined to nurture my brother.
How seriously liberating.
This weekend I went to Arizona with some family, two sisters, a sister-in-law, a brother, a brother-in-law, a future brother-in-law and my parents. There were also the three cutest children on this planet belonging to Stephanie. Don't tell the Cougars but the children were the real reason I drove 10 hours both ways across the desert on a horse with no name.
My spouse was in Idaho, thus I had a lot of time to watch my siblings with their spouses. It was quite enlightening to watch how nuclear they all are in their respective coupling. I come from a family filled with traditional marital roles and expectations but goodness! I certainly was NEVER going to submit myself to that torture. No, not me, I had a modern marriage.
On the ride home from Tucson, after the Cougars barely lost to U of A, my dad and I listened to the KSL post-game show while everyone slept. People were calling in angered by the bad refereeing (a-to-the-men). Call after call came in, and in the midst of the most fantastic lightening storm, it didn't matter how bothered I was about the refereeing, all I could think about was a change I had to make. Mostly the pride I needed to swallow regarding how I go about this tricky business of wifery.
The difference between feminism and femininity is that femininity works. It persuades, it heals, it creates security. It balances, soothes and inspires. It's the power of the women leaders of our church. It is divinity. I would be gravely mistaken if I didn't use it for good in my life.
So when I slip back into that feminist mode, mainly where I feel anger more than love, I am going to let my mind remember this weekend. Mostly when I watched Lindsay make a sandwich for Jesse. And then made another one when he wanted it, refilled his drink and rubbed his back. She wasn't concerned with her limits on serving her husband. She didn't fear that her actions were lesser, weak or allowing a tradition of lazy husbanitis. She felt inclined to nurture my brother.
How seriously liberating.