My Year of The Homemaker

I wake up to a deep, familiar ache in my sinuses. This is my new post-covid norm, and while I hope that in a few months, it will no longer be a part of my daily routine, I am trying to keep myself free of worried expectations.

I ask my husband to crack open the blinds. When he is home, he graciously allows me extra time in bed in the morning. I am naturally a night owl, but my children have demanded I learn to rise with the sun.

This morning’s sun rests its kiss of pink on the snowy mountains that I can see from the built-in blind windows of our stained French doors. I breathe deeply, and ask the 2 year old who is squirming on top of my abdomen what colors she sees.

“Oh! Blue!” she exclaims.

“You’re right, it is blue!” I respond animatedly. My heart swells at the simplicity of this moment.

A crisp, winter blue is backdrop to the pink- now orange, mountains. I love this valley.

I have resisted loving this valley. Loving this valley enough to call it “home” in my heart, the place we have chosen to put down roots for our family; asks me to let go of old versions of myself. A year ago, I wasn’t ready to let her go. This year, I cannot reach far and fast enough into the new me. The me who truly has always been here.

In years past, when the words “weird” and “radical”, were put next to my ideas and interests, it would make me curl within myself. I wasn’t yet mature enough to say, “…and?” to the accusations that I wasn’t settling into the status quo quite enough for everyone’s comfort. But, I do not value the status quo. I never really have, but I have always feared the relational repercussions for such a stance.

This year, I’ve realized that God gave me a gift, which has taken nearly 6 years to truly understand and appreciate: a life partner who values the “weird” as much as I do. If not, more. (Is it truly “weird” to value family-time over career, or to question who we treat as ultimate authorities in our world?)

This is a gift, that in my 30th year of life, I refuse to take for granted. My husband, my family, our home, are a treasure to me. What in the world could hold more worth than that? Certainly not my ego-driven grasping for a title, or outsider acknowledgement of success. Certainly not friendships that don’t give back, or ask me to quiet my truths. Certainly not time spent slaving for a company who doesn’t care for me, while giving away one of the most precious commodities I have: time with my children who inevitably will grow up or time spent creating a home and life that my husband and I can both feel contentment and joy in.

I grew up reflecting on a dichotomy about a woman’s role that I am coming to terms with over the last two years of my life. I watched my mother work hard to provide as a single mother, while I also had the example of a woman who had always been a homemaker (albeit with side gigs on the way): my grandmother. These two visions of a woman’s role have warred inside my head and identity for as long as I can remember. I’ve found that they don’t need to any longer. They both have inherent worth. They are both important work. I have been both. Every woman has to be who she needs to be in this world. But, I am choosing the path of relationship, and homemaking. And I am deeply proud to turn towards the hardwork of a simpler life.

Now, I simply have to learn the skills.