The other night I walked into a room of people that scare the dickens out of me.  I’m not sure what “the dickens” are, but whatever they are, they were cowering and trying to find a place to hide, but the room was swarming with people and the dreaded question was inevitable. At some point within the next 2.5 hours, I would have to answer.   Pencil skirts and pumps have a way of making me feel “less than,” and I shrink when they move toward me.  Maybe it’s that they physically tower over me, or maybe I’ve come to believe that the sparkly intellect sitting atop the business attire somehow dwarfs my mind’s occupation of trying out the Pioneer Woman’s latest recipes, and scrubbing toilets.  These lovely women are paid for what they know and I “just” volunteer my services, lowly as they appear.

And there it is, that pesky little word that has somehow become my safeguard due to it’s familiarity.  By safeguard, I think I mean it gives off some sort of persona that speaks, I know my job isn’t as important as yours, but it’ll do for now…as if I plan on doing something more important than caring for the four other people closest to me sometime in the very near future.  I’ve trained my brain to say it over and over again so that it has become habit, and there it landed, in the middle of that room filled with suits and glitter…”I just stay home…” was my response to two prominent business women’s question.  Suddenly, I felt very small and the need to defend why I stay home, especially since all three of my children are grown.

I’m convinced everyone waited for me to go to work when all of my children were in school.  I was even more sure they thought, surely she will go to work when her kids are teenagers.  What must they think now that all three of my children will be in their 20’s in less than two months, and here I sit?

Truth be told, sitting is for writing, and if I’m not writing, I ain’t sittin!  And when I ain’t sittin’ honey, I’ve got an unending list of work that is never quite finished.  That list, well, things get crossed off it from time to time, and scribbled ideas get added, and oils and onions and runaway fixin’s from dinner preparations stain it…but that list, is anything but “just” a list.  That list is a list of love, and when I act on that list, it’s a labor of love, and when those two grown men I care for that share this sanctuary, we call home, with me are the recipients of that labor, and the two daughters come home and smell those familiar smells and know right where they can find mom…

well, this upside down crash and burn world can stop itself for a moment in order to grant some revivin’ to the weak, some restorin’ to the tired, some fondness of the sweetness of “same” to the ones who always have to face the new out there, some refreshin’ to the empty.

And the world can just keep on light speeding itself into wherever it’s racing outside the four walls of this nest the goose and I have built…

and fought for…

and cherish…

and want to extend…

and from now on if you ask me that question that made those dickens run like chickens,

“What do you do?”

I’ll refrain from preceding my answer, “I stay home” with the word “just” because that silly little word steals the worth right out of what I do.  It’s definition means, merely or only….

as if somehow I did more it would make me more interesting, more worthy, more anything but a crazy in love husband lover, grown kid lover, and brothers and sisters in Christ lover (who get some of me regularly, too).

and since Titus 2 is a raging passion of mine next to loving Jesus with every ounce of me, I take seriously my charge to teach those younger women how to be husband and children lovers.  And if we’re all gonna do this thing…we ought to understand that word “love” in the good ol’ Greek, instructed to us in Titus 2:4-5, means an affectionate kind of love, then we best understand how to be affectionate…

which means to be devoted to with a fondness for.  I don’t know about you, but when I devote myself to something, I’m all in….and if God has told me to devote myself to loving my husband and children and keeping a close watch over my home, any outside energies would mean the goose and those twenty-something kids would get “less than” God’s grace through me unto them.

That’s all for now folks…cuz ya see, it’s the Christmas season, and I tend to get a little wild in my plannin’ and preparations come this time of year. The rain bird will fly (drive) home from college for a few weeks, and the southern Pedersons will arrive all the way from Little Rock AR, and I’m guessin’ they could use some home cookin and lovin too.

But I’ll be back, God willing.

in awe of what the shepherd’s saw,



One thought on “less than pumps and pencil skirts?

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