martes, noviembre 04, 2008

The Heart of the Home.

I have noticed recently that I am a woman, and that I live in a home. This realization led me to ponder my role as a woman, and my role in my home. I, Mrs. M., am very different from Mr. M. I must say, and I think you will agree, our home wouldn't be the same without me. I've heard it said that, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Now, I ain't no Mama, but I think I can speak for them when I say, "True 'dat!!!" My pondering and reflecting on my role and the power therein as the woman of this house naturally led me to the words of Carlos Santana in his song, Evil Ways. This poor guy comes home to a dark house with cold pots, all because his woman is out hanging around with Jean and Joan and who-knows-who. He finally gets so tired of feeling like a clown that he gives her an ultimatum-either she change her evil ways, or he'll stop loving her.
I'm not afraid that Mr. M. will stop loving me in any case, but I do my best to avoid his having to come home to a dark house with cold pots. However, I do think the state of your home reflects your heart, and it has an impact far wider than the one who lives in the house with you. What about your friends? Do they like coming over, or are they scared to? I've been scared to go to my friends' homes because of what I would find (or wouldn't find) inside. How about your kids, and your friends' kids? Your kids' friends'? Growing up, I was terrified to go to one of my friends' house because of her mother. Will they feel welcome in your home? Is there love and warmth inside? Think of your roommate. Are they proud to bring their peeps over to your pad? Does it feel like home?
I can't write a post about femininity and the home without mentioning the Worthy Woman described in Proverbs 31. This Worthy Woman delights in her work. She enjoys making her home warm and welcoming, both to those who live in it, and to those who don't.
The heart of the home is just that--a heart. In a study of college students who were asked about the homes they visited, and which homes they felt most comfortable in, there was not one mention of the cleanliness or order of the home. All of the students felt the most comfortable in homes filled with love and laughter.
A good home is open to visitors, and shows signs of being cared for and valued, but most of all, it is a place where you can spend time with someone who has a loving heart.

More practically, what does a Worthy Woman do? In my case, a loving wife stands outside in the biting cold wind of winter, waiting in line with her husband to get a free scoop of ice cream.
Also, with her friends, I think a woman honoring to God and worthy of praise, is loyal, and even protective. (I have personally found that this quality that is so endearing is often unappreciated. Like when I rather violently shove my friends out of the path of a slow-moving, but still dangerous-vehicle. Or when I yell at my 30 year old friends to point their knives blade-down in the dishwasher.)

7 comentarios:

Teri dijo...

I like what you said about the home reflecting the heart. I think you're right that there is a more organic connection to the two; it's more than what you want to present. It is what it is.

Cherie dijo...

Good one Jen!

The Resident Writer dijo...

I am very proud of this post. I almost feel like it should be my last because I don't think I can do any better.

Teri dijo...

Your last? Nooo, your Bloggy is your own little cyber-home. It's warm and welcoming and I like when her doors are open.

Ebeth dijo...

Please don't even threaten to quit; that's for me to do and not you; quit, that is. Hiatus.

When a Picture Just Isn't Enough dijo...

You are so right-on, and this post gives me so much to consider as I examine myself. I definitely have so much room for improvement in this extremely important area!

You silly girl - you aren't allowed to quit posting! Such thoughts are not to be borne!

The Resident Writer dijo...

Thanks, you silly people, for encouraging me to continue in my personal publishing from home efforts.