Old-Fashioned Motherhood

The following is a paper I wrote for the weekly Five Pillar Class I’m taking. I realize that parts of this will be a repeat of things I’ve said before, but I thought that it might be worth sharing again.

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience;
Too little payment for so great a debt.

(The Taming of the Shrew by William Shakespeare)

Many, many women I know react with a shudder when they hear the speech made by the character of Katherina in the final act of Shakespeare’s “The Taming of the Shrew.” Because of current society’s view of men and women and marriage, I was once a woman of a similar mind. Throughout the sixteen years of my marriage, I have done much study and reading on the subjects of womanhood and what it means to be a good wife. I have found for myself, that Katherina’s words are not only accurate, but that if they are applied in a marriage, greater happiness can come to the home and family.

When we, as wives, ask ourselves how we would like to be treated, can we honestly say that we would enjoy being nagged or corrected? Why has “shrewishness” become the normal state of wives in the media, and even in our homes? As women, we have the role of mother to play, but we should never begin to use those methods with our husbands. If we expect marriage to be an equal, loving partnership, then we should never overstep our bounds and push our husbands in to the role of a child. Nagging, complaining, and correcting our spouse places them lower on the family hierarchy, and serves only to erode and destroy the relationship between husband and wife.

Some might say that when a wife plays the feminine role and submits to her husband, that she is becoming the “child” in the relationship. The difference I see, is that when one chooses to become humble and meek like a little child, they are following the path that Christ has set when he said, “… Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3-4 KJV) We can choose to stand, arms crossed, and insist that the other person is the one who needs to change. The result of that experiment would manifest itself rather quickly in the form of hostility, resentment, heartbreak– but never can produce change, love or respect. We can choose to be “right”, or we can choose to heal that most important and precious of relationships—our marriage.

In the play, “The Taming of the Shrew”, Shakespeare points out a great truth of human nature: People live up to the expectations others have of them. And that truth reverberates not only in the Bard’s work, but also in Proverbs, “As [a man] thinketh in his heart, so is he.” (Proverbs 23:7 KJV) I feel that the role and story of “Sly” in the beginning of the play open our thoughts up to the logic behind the above philosophies. Then later, Katherina changes of her own free will and choice into a person that can have much more influence and power in her home and marriage than being a shrew ever could give her. (And more than it ever gave her in her childhood home.) To my mind, Katherina saw the opportunity to turn over a new leaf, and found the love that always had evaded her in the past as a result of her choice to be humble.

Over time, in the midst of my study and pondering on the role of wives within a marriage, I came to the conclusion that I contribute more to my marriage, home and family when I fill the role that God has given me. I love my husband, and I want to stay happily married. If I were to try and take on his role, or to attempt to reduce his role to that of a child, our relationship would strain, then crumble, then die. Love begets more love, and sarcasm, complaints, and general “shrewishness” creates hard feelings and avoidance. I have asked myself, on several occasions, “Do I allow my husband to fill his God-given role as provider and protector? Do I treat him as a MAN, the head of our family, or do I follow the trends of society at large, and leave my husband feeling useless? Do I expect him to step in and take over my work, when what he needs from me is soothing, loving care that will give him the courage to face another day outside our home “slaying dragons”?

Men want to provide for their families. They want to protect us, and they want us to let them be who God designed them to be. We can show our love and appreciation for all they do by creating a haven for them at the end of a long day of “painful labour both by sea and land” for us and our children. One of my favorite stories portrays this idea beautifully. I want to include an excerpt from it here:

“Men are such queer things, husbands especially. For instance, they want us to be economical, and yet they love to see us in pretty clothes. They need our work and yet they want us to keep our youth and beauty. And sometimes they don’t know themselves which they really want most. So we have to choose. That’s what makes it so hard.”

“Just after we were married, my husband decided to have his own business so he started a very tiny one. I helped my husband in the store, but we would both be tired and discouraged after a hard day at the office and we didn’t seem to be having any great success. The house got run down and dinner was always a hasty affair, and soon we both started complaining and bickering with each other.”

“Finally, we decided that maybe I should stay at home and let him take care of his work at the office as best he could. And then I worked in my house to make it a clean, shining, happy place. My husband would come home dead tired and discouraged, ready to give up the whole thing. But after he had eaten and sat in our bright little living room, and I had told him all the funny things I could invent about my day, I could see the change in him. By bedtime, he had his courage back, and by morning he was all ready to go out and fight again. And at last he won.”

“There was a queen once, who reigned in troubled days. And every time the country was on the brink of war and the people ready to fly into a panic, she would put on her showiest dress and take her court with her and go hunting. And when the people would see her riding by, they were sure all was well with the government. So she tided over many a danger.”

“And I’ve tried to be like her. Whenever a big crisis comes in my husband’s business, or when he’s discouraged, I put on my prettiest dress and get the best dinner I know how, or give a party! And somehow it seems to work. That’s the woman’s part, you know, to play the queen …” (“When Queens Ride By” By Olive White Fortenbacher, published by Walter H. Baker, Co., 1932, Agnes Slight Turnbull, editor and compiler.)

I also want to share one last quote that I came upon the other day. It was given by a woman I admire very much, who was married to her sweetheart for well over 60 years before she passed away:

“I know it is hard for you young mothers to believe that almost before you can turn around the children will be gone and you will be alone with your husband. You had better be sure you are developing the kind of love and friendship that will be delightful and enduring. Let the children learn from your attitude that he is important. Encourage him. Be kind. It is a rough world, and he, like everyone else, is fighting to survive. Be cheerful. Don’t be a whiner.”

Marjorie Pay Hinckley, Small and Simple Things (2003), 31

I hope that I am the kind of wife my husband needs most. I try to put his needs before my own, and build him up to my children. I strive to make our home a haven where his efforts are loved and acknowledged. I show him affection in the ways that he needs and appreciates. I do my best to be frugal and careful with the hard-earned money he provides for our family. And though I have a way to go, I try to let him occasionally see me at my best, and not always at my worst. (*grin*)

I sincerely hope that I am becoming more like the reformed shrew, Katherina, from “The Taming of the Shrew.”

I read this article on another blog, and loved how the author clarified my same thoughts on this issue.

http://ccostello.blogspot.com/2008/06/why-men-dont-court-women-anymore.html

Ladies, do we allow our husbands to “court” us? Do we treat them as MEN, the heads of our family, or do we follow the trends of society at large, and leave our husbands feeling useless? Do we expect them to step in and take over our work, without letting them be our knights in shining armor?

Men want to provide for their families. They want to protect us, and they want us to let them be who God designed them to be. We can show our love and appreciation for all they do by creating a haven for them at the end of a long day of “fighting dragons” for us and our children.

And here is another article about the way society, especially the media, continues to emasculate the men in our lives by portraying them as weak-minded, crass, and unneeded.

http://www.ladiesagainstfeminism.com/artman/publish/Feminism_and_Related_Issues_5/Feminism_s_Television_Intrusion1003328.shtml

What are we teaching our sons and daughters about the roles of husband and father? Something to ponder today.

Dear Friends,

I found a fun “30’s Housewife” test thanks to my friend Suzanne and her blog at http://nightingalescage.blogspot.com/ . (Hi Suzanne!)

I hope you all enjoy taking it!

http://www.magatsu.net/maritaltest/

My results are:

118 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Superior Take the test!

There is a fallacy that is too commonly accepted in today’s society– the idea that one person can “change” another. We each choose, moment by moment, our reaction in any situation. We can face struggles with fear, or dogged determination. We can be so focused on our spouse’s weaknesses, that we forget we have a multitude of our own; or, we can stand back and look at a situation honestly, and ask ourselves how WE can change.

The great Gandhi said, “BE the change you wish to see in the world.”

We can choose to stand, arms crossed, and insist that the other person is the one who needs to change. The result of that experiment would manifest itself rather quickly in the form of hostility, resentment, heartbreak– but never can produce change, love or respect.

I’d like to recommend here a series of books on relationships by the Arbinger Institute. My favorites are: “The Bonds that Make Us Free,” and “The Anatomy of Peace.” These books are about saving relationships, and seeing that when we try to push, and force someone into changing, we are deceiving ourselves. What we are really doing, is creating more of the same problems we are trying to fix! I highly recommend the above books for healing hearts, homes, and relationships.

We can choose to be “right”, or we can choose to heal that most important and precious of relationships.

Gandhi was one man who changed an entire nation, and brought a world super-power to its knees with love, unselfishness, and peace in his heart. Surely, we can put forth a little effort to have peace in our homes and marriages.

“BE the change you wish to see in the world.”

As Women of Faith, do we stand out from the world?

This question has lately been plaguing me. Do we act, speak, look, or dress differently than others? Do our words and acts reveal us as followers of Jesus Christ? Do we educate ourselves and our children any differently? How about the clothes that we wear, the music that we listen to? Can we honestly say that our behaviors and choices as feminine women help us stand out from the crowd?

Are we “elect ladies” and “handmaidens of the Lord?”

There is a movement growing among women. At the moment, it is small, and hidden from the eyes of the world. But it exists, and it’s gaining strength and momentum. This “change” is actually a return to the principles and standards of our fore-mothers. Many women are again finding joy in their children, their marriages, and in their homemaking efforts.

It’s a call to “return our hearts to the home.”

Here are some questions I have begun to ask myself:

~Am I putting the Lord first in my life?

• Do I pray on my knees every morning and evening?

• Do I study the scriptures daily?

• Do I serve others, and set an example of charity and love?

• Do I try to be like the Savior?

~Am I rejoicing in my posterity?

• Do I let my children know how grateful I am to be home with them by my words, actions and attitude?

• Do I teach my children about God’s special plans for their lives?

• Do I work with my daughters, teaching them the skills they will need to know to be successful homemakers and mothers?

• Do I encourage my sons to look to their father as their ideal role-model, always speaking of him in complimentary terms?

• Do I speak in kind, loving, encouraging tones?

• Do I remember that my children are a sacred stewardship given to me by the Lord?

~Am I a true help-meet to my husband?

• Do I daily create a haven of love and peace away from the world for my husband?

• Do I regularly let him know I appreciate his efforts to work and support our family?

• Do I show him affection in the ways that he needs and appreciates?

• Do I let him see me at my best, and not always at my worst?

• Do I cook meals that he likes, and keep the pantry and refrigerator well-stocked?

• Do I do my best to be frugal and careful with the hard-earned money he provides for our family?

~Am I finding joy and satisfaction in my chosen vocation of homemaker-mother?

• Do I keep a regular daily schedule, so that my family can have order and structure to their lives?

• Do I take care of tasks immediately, rather than putting them off until “later?” (WHEN is “later,” by the way?!)

• Do I plan,cook, and serve meals at a consistent time and place each day?

• Do I resist the temptation to socialize with my friends online, or on the phone?

• Do I put the needs of my family and home before my own?

• Am I setting a good example of hard work and dependability for my children?

• Do I rise before my children, preparing myself and my home for the day?

• Do I have systems in place to help me control and rid myself of clutter?

Today, as I ask myself these questions, I see that I still have many things I can improve upon!

So here are my 10 goals for this weekend, and through next week:

1. Make and serve all meals on time.

2. Clean off my desk and file all important documents, bills, recipes, etc.

3. Re-make my children’s chore chart, and then follow through with chore requirements

4. Kiss my husband every morning and evening

5. Spend less time socializing online

6. Get up before my children, even if I don’t get much done, yet. I can at least start breakfast and plan the meals for the day

7. Pray every morning and evening– on my knees– and ask the Lord for His help in doing a better job as homemaker and in speaking more kindly to my children

8. Go through my closet and get rid of the clothes that I feel unattractive in

9. Cut out some cute skirts for myself to wear

10. De-junk my closet and nightstand

Will you join me in making some self-improvement goals of your own?

We can do this!!!

I’ve read bits of this story before, but I’ve never come across the entire version, complete with the source until this morning. I’m thrilled to now share it here!

When Queens Ride By

John and Jennie Musgrave had eager plans when they married and took over the old farm. But their great faith dwindled as the first years passed. John worked later and later in the evenings. Jennie took more and more of the heavy tasks upon her own shoulders and had no time for the home and children. They were no further on and life had degenerated into a straining, hopeless struggle.

One hot afternoon, Jennie was loading baskets of tomatoes to take to town when the children came running to tell her there was a dressed-up lady at the kitchen door. Wearily she followed the children back and saw a woman in a gray tweed coat that seemed somehow to be a part of her straight, slim body. A small gray hat with a rose quill was drawn low over her brownish hair. She was not young, but she was beautiful! An aura of eager youth clung to her, a clean and exquisite freshness.

The stranger in turn saw a young woman, haggard and weary. Her eyes looked hard and hunted. Her calico dress was shapeless and begrimed from her work.

Stranger (sailing): “How do you do? We parked our car in the shade of your lane to have lunch and rest awhile. And I walked on up to buy a few apples, if you have them.”

Jennie (grudgingly): “Won’t you go in and sit down? I’ll go and pick the apples.”

Stranger: “May I go with you? I’d love to help pick them.”

Jennie: “Why, I s’pose so. If you can get out here through the dirt.” (She led the way along the unkempt path toward the orchard. She had never been so acutely conscious of the disorder about her. She reached the orchard and began to drag a long ladder from the fence to the apple tree.)

Stranger (crying out): “Oh, but you can’t do that! It’s too heavy. Please let me pick a few from the ground.”

Jennie: “Heavy? This ladder! I wish I didn’t ever lift anything heavier than this.

After hoistin’ bushel baskets of tomatoes onto a wagon, this feels light to me.”

Stranger: “But — but, do you think you should? Do you think it’s right … Why, that’s a man’s work.”

Jennie (furiously): “Right! Who are you to be askin’ me whether I’m right or not?

A person like you don’t know what work is!”

Stranger (soothingly): “I’m sorry I annoyed you by saying that. If you were to tell me all about it — because I’m a stranger — perhaps it would help. Why can’t we sit down here and rest a minute?”

Jennie: “Rest? Me sit down to rest, an’ the wagon loaded to go to town? It’ll hurry me to get back before dark.”

Stranger: “Just take the time you would have spent picking the apples. I wish I could help you. Won’t you tell me why you have to work so hard?”

Jennie (half sullenly): “There ain’t much to tell only that we ain’t getting’ ahead.

Henry Davis is talkin’ about foreclosin’ on us if we don’t soon pay some principal.

The time of the mortgage is out this year an’ mebbe he won’t renew it. And it ain’t that I haven’t done my part. I’m bare thirty, and I might be fifty. I’m so weather beaten.

That’s the way I’ve worked.”

Stranger: “And you think that has helped your husband?”

Jennie (sharply): “Helped him? Why wouldn’t it help him?”

Stranger: “Men are such queer things, husbands especially. For instance, they want us to be economical, and yet they love to see us in pretty clothes. They need our work and yet they want us to keep our youth and beauty. And sometimes they don’t know themselves which they really want most. So we have to choose. That’s what makes it so hard.

Just after we were married, my husband decided to have his own business so he started a very tiny one. I helped my husband in the store, but we would both be tired and discouraged after a hard day at the office and we didn’t seem to be having any great success. The house got run down and dinner was always a hasty affair, and soon we both started complaining and bickering with each other.

Finally, we decided that maybe I should stay at home and let him take care of his work at the office as best he could. And then I worked in my house to make it a clean, shining, happy place. My husband would come home dead tired and discouraged, ready to give up the whole thing. But after he had eaten and sat in our bright little living room, and I had told him all the funny things I could invent about my day, I could see the change in him. By bedtime, he had his courage back, and by morning he was all ready to go out and fight again. And at last he won.

(Jennie did not speak. She only regarded her guest with a half-resentful understanding.)

The stranger continued: “There was a queen once, who reigned in troubled days. And every time the country was on the brink of war and the people ready to fly into a panic, she would put on her showiest dress and take her court with her and go hunting. And when the people would see her riding by, they were sure all was well with the government. So she tided over many a danger.

“And I’ve tried to be like her. Whenever a big crisis comes in my husband’s business, or when he’s discouraged, I put on my prettiest dress and get the best dinner I know how, or give a party! And somehow it seems to work. That’s the woman’s part, you know, to play the queen …”

(A faint “honk, honk” came from the lane. The stranger started to her feet.”)

“That’s my husband. I must go. Please don’t bother about the apples. I’ll just take these few from under the tree.” (She took some coins from her purse) “And give these to the children.”

Jennie’s thoughts were too confused for speech, but, as she watched the stranger’s erect figure hurrying towards the lane, she remembered her words with the pain of anger.

Jennie: “Easy enough for her to set talkin’ about queens! She never felt the work at her throat like a wolf. Talk about choosin’! I haven’t got no choice. I just got to keep a goin’, like I always have …”

She stopped suddenly and picked up a fairy-like hanky of white linen that the stranger had dropped. Its faint, delicious fragrance made her think wistfully of strange, sweet things. Of gardens in the early summer dusk; of wide, fair rooms with the moonlight shining in them; of pretty women in beautiful dresses dancing, and men admiring them.

She, Jennie, had nothing of that. Everything about their lives, hers and John’s, was coarsened, soiled somehow by the dragging, endless labor of the days. Suppose … suppose … suppose she were to try doing what the stranger had said, suppose she spent her time on the house and let the outside work go. . .

Jennie (with sudden resolution): “Mebbe I’m crazy, but I’m going to do it!”

Jennie brushed her hair, changed her shoes, and put on her one good dress. Then with something of the burning zeal of a fanatic, she attacked the confusion in the kitchen. By half-past four the room was clean. Now for supper! She decided upon fried ham and browned potatoes and apple sauce with hot biscuits, and pie. With a spirit of daring recklessness, she spread the one white table cloth on the table.

The first pan of flaky brown mounds had been withdrawn from the oven when Henry Davis’ car came up the lane. Cold fear struck Jeannie. He could be coming for only one thing. As she stood shaken, wondering how she could live through what the next hour would bring, she heard the words again, “There was a queen once …”

Jennie (cordially): “Well, Howd’ you do, Mr Davis! Come right in. I’m real glad to see you. Been quite a while since you was over.”

Henry (embarrassed): “Why, no, not now, I won’t go in. I just stopped to see John on a little matter of business. I’ll just …

Jennie: “You’ll just come right in. John will be in from milkin’ in a few minutes an’ you can talk while you eat, both of you. I’ve supper just ready.”

Henry: “Why, now I reckon I’d just speak to John, an’ then be gettin’ on.”

Jennie: “They’ll see you at home when you get there. You never tasted my hot biscuits with butter an’ quince honey or you wouldn’t take so much coaxin!”

(Henry Davis came into the big, clean kitchen and sat down. His eyes took in every homey detail of the orderly room.)

Jennie: “And how are things goin’ with you, Mr. Davis?”

Henry: “Oh, so so. How are they with you?”

Jennie: “Why, just fine, Mr. Davis! It’s been hard sleddin’, but I sort of think the worst is over. We’ll be ‘round to pay that mortgage so fast come another year that you’ll be be surprised.”

Henry: “Well, now that’s fine. I always wanted to see John make a success of the old place, but a man has to sort of watch his investments … Well, now, I’m glad things are pickin’ up a little.”

Jennie felt as though a tight hand at her throat had relaxed. At the kitchen door John stopped, staring blankly at the scene before him … at Jennie moving about the bright table, chatting happily with Henry Davis! At Henry himself, his sharp features softened by an air of great satisfaction. At the sixth plate on the white cloth — Henry was staying for supper! But the silent depths of John’s nature served him well. He made no comment. He merely shook hands with Henry Davis and then washed his face in the sink.

Jennie arranged the savory dishes, and they sat down to supper. Henry seemed to grow more and more genial and expansive as he ate. So did John. By the time the pie was set before them, they were laughing over a joke Henry had heard at Grange meeting. As they rose from the table, Henry brought the conversation awkwardly around to his errand.

Jennie (quickly): “I told him, John, that the worst’s over now, and we’re getting on fine! I told him we’d be swampin’ him pretty soon with payments. Ain’t that right, John?”

John’s mind was not analytical. He had been host at a delicious supper with his ancient adversary, whose sharp face was marvelously softened. Jennie’s eyes were shining with a new and amazing confidence. It was a natural moment for unreason[able] optimism.

John: “Why, that’s right, Mr. Davis. I believe we can start clearin’ this off now pretty soon. If you could just see your way to renew the terms …”

It was done. The papers went back in Davis’ pocket. They had bid him a cordial good-bye at the door. Jennie cleared off the table and began to wash the dishes.

John was fumbling through the papers on a hanging shelf. He finally sat down with an old tablet and pencil.

John: “I believe I’ll do a little figurin’ since I’ve got time tonight. It just struck me if I used my head a little more, I’ll get on faster.”

Jennie: “Well, now you might.” (She polished two big apples and placed them on a saucer beside him.)

John (pleased): “Now, that’s what I like. Say, you look sort of pretty tonight.”

Jennie (smiling): “Go along with you.”

But a wave of color swept up in her sallow cheeks. John had looked more grateful over her setting those two apples beside him now than he had the day last fall when she had lifted all the potatoes by herself! Maybe even John had been needing something else more than he had needed the hard, back-breaking work she had been giving him.

Jennie walked to the doorway and stood looking off through the darkness. A thin, haunting breath of sweetness rose from the bosom of her dress where she had tucked the scrap of white linen. She wished that she could somehow tell the beautiful stranger that her words had been true … that she, Jennie, was going to fulfill her women’s part. She had read the real needs of John’s soul from his eyes that evening. Yes, wives had to choose for their husbands sometimes.

At that very moment, speeding along the sleek highway, a woman in a gray coat with a soft gray hat and a rose quill leaned suddenly close to her husband.

Husband: “Tired?”

Stranger: “I’m all right. Only, I can’t get that poor woman at the farm out of my mind.

It was so hopeless.”

Husband (smiling tenderly): “Well, I’m sorry, too, but you mustn’t worry. Good gracious, darling, you’re not weeping over it, I hope.”

Stranger: “No, truly, just two little tears. I know it’s silly, but I did so want to help her and I know what I said sounded insane. She wouldn’t know what I was talking about. She just looked up with that blank, tired face. And it all seemed so impossible. No … I’m not going to cry. Of course I’m not … but … lend me your handkerchief, will you dear? I’ve lost mine somehow.” (By Olive White Fortenbacher, published by Walter H. Baker, Co., 1932, Agnes Slight Turnbull, editor and compiler.)