What is my purpose? This question plagued me for the first time when I was 10 years old. The idea of simply living to go to school; pursue a career; marry; raise children; retire; and then die seems so empty and, well, rather pointless. Thankfully this question was answered for me when I heard the gospel. Aha! I do have a purpose. My purpose is to serve an Almighty Creator. Although there are many in life who can enjoy simply living, I tend to struggle and side with Solomon that "all is vanity." You live; you die; and what have you really accomplished? Okay, before you think this post has taken a deep plunge into the pit of despair, I must insist that I am fine. It seems to depress or worry others whenever I discuss this topic, but I can reassure you that I am feeling quite content at the moment. Actually, I am relieved as I am beginning to realize that part of my purpose is to continually grow, understand, and regain my purpose. Oh! The thinks I can think...
In moving to Cambodia, back to the states, and then on to Korea, I have come to stiffen at the question, "so what do you do?" Mainly because I will find myself floundering, thinking, what do I do? I have, in recent posts, touched on this frustration of mine, but I do not believe I had any resolution at the time. I feel differently now.
In our modern culture, the role of a wife is not generally addressed. You may be a wife, but that is simply your marital status, not who you are as a person. You are so much more...as if being a wife is not enough. Add the word "house" onto wife, and the title becomes unimportant, out-of-date, and a role fulfilled only by those who have little motivation, intelligence, or courage. Well, in 2014, I became a housewife, and it has been a struggle that I had never anticipated.
First of all, although I had always envisioned staying home with my children, working at home was not something I had foreseen before motherhood. As a nanny, I knew what to do with my time. My main job was to care for the safety and enrichment of the boys with whom I had been entrusted. At the end of the day, if those precious blessings were intact, it meant I had been successful, regardless of what other accomplishments I had managed or neglected. Some days I had a completed check list a mile long, and other days I was thankful to have survived. However frustrating the day, the boys were whole and well, and I had therefore served my purpose.
Cambodia did not offer me this obvious purpose. Occasionally I assisted with the Edwards' children, but in my home, I felt I had no function. I was, well, just a wife. Just a housewife. Having heard some of the negative comments our society has made about stay-at-home moms, I could not imagine what "they" must think of me, a plain, childless housewife. Due to this -let's call it what it is- fear, I grew anxious any time I was asked what I did for a living or how I spent my time. At first I leaned on the graphic design card, and would discuss the tiny business I had owned, in hopes that this would give me more accreditation in "their" eyes. Then I shifted toward artist, because after all, I did enjoy a variety of media, and it allowed me to be more than just a housewife. In moving back to Dallas, I was okay being a housewife, because it was with the intention of working toward opening our own coffee shop. In that shop I would again be effective. Between my talents with graphic design, decor, finances, organization, and personal relations, I would be of great use and benefit to my husband and our place of business.
Then came Korea. Once again I was searching for my purpose. Since Cambodia, I had gained a greater respect for my position as a wife, but I still felt that it was not enough. People asked if I would be getting a job in Korea, and I once more gave into the belief that being a wife was simply not adequate. A friend had passed my name onto a hogwan (the Korean word for a private academy), and I felt compelled to take a position teaching English. In taking this new job, we realized the need to bump up the date of our trip home. So, we hurriedly made plans and bought tickets to travel home and surprise our moms for holiday and birthday time. Amidst this planning, I became aware that at some point I had switched to auto drive. Afraid of doing something that was not within the Lord's will, I was avoiding making plans at all, and was taking whatever seemed to be sent my way. Bradley and I had a long heart to heart, and he reaffirmed his desire for me to stay home, although he had no intentions of making me stay home if I really wanted to take this job. What was I doing? I had no desire for this job; Bradley had no desire for me to take this job; our time with family and friends was going to be cut short because of this job; and yet, we were planning our life around this job. That day I respectfully declined the position at the hogwan, and we continued packing for our travel.
The following day I was feeling silly, and I said or did something to make Bradley laugh. Not just a chuckle, but one of those life-is-so-great-that-I-cannot-contain-this-joy-internally-and-must-share-it-with-the-world type of laughs. There was so much happiness in his face as he drew me in for a hug, and it hit me: this man's happiness depends on me.
Okay, okay, I know some of you are thinking, "well, duh!" But hear me out for a moment. A man is capable of taking care of himself. Barring any disabilities, he is able to do, think, act, and provide for himself without any help from any one. Sometimes jokes are made, but the reality is that a man is fully able to survive without a woman. So, then what is the purpose of a woman in a man's life? Logically speaking, I have read enough scripture to know that a wife is meant to help complete a man, and that the two together serve a purpose for God's plan. However, to actually take on that role is a whole different ball of wax.
It has now registered that I have had a purpose this whole time, but I was letting "them," or rather, my fear of "them" rob me of my peace in fulfilling my role. The hours I have watched Bradley stress, trying to complete the next step in the visa process; the frustrations he has endured in doing this work, essentially alone so far; the homesickness; the moments of uncertainty; the fears; through all of this, I have had the honor of bringing him joy. Yes, I have cleaned and cared for his body and home, but as noted, he is capable of doing that on his own, a part from me. The one thing he cannot manage without me, is the joy (or sorrow if I focus on the wrong things) that I can bring him.
This new perspective has changed my outlook entirely. Instead of bordering on shame of my position, I am proud to tell people that I am a housewife. Yes, from time to time I still have some hesitancy since there are those who will assume I am lazy, unintelligent, or lacking in some way. But, I am strengthened knowing that whether they see me as purposeful or not, my husband, and more importantly, my Creator does. In the world's eyes, there are a host of women much greater and more valuable than lil' ole me, but in my husband's eyes, there is no one of greater value. To know that my daily tasks, even the dull ones, allow me to serve a purpose greater than myself is mind-altering. I still desire to do other things, outside of being a wife, but with the understanding that none are more important. Since our children (Lord willing) will form their world views based on mine and Bradley's relationship, there really is nothing more important in my realm of servitude. Maybe in having children or with age, many have already come to this realization, but for me it is fresh and wonderful. I am relishing in this revelation; in this purpose. I am forever grateful to have a role in serving the Almighty through and with my husband. The little things may all be vanity, tripping me up at times, but my purpose in being a wife is a blessing; a privilege; a joyful purpose.
