Disparate housewives

At least one of two rather unpleasant things is likely to happen to a faithful wife who does not receive the assistance she needs.

1. She will break down. She will become clinically depressed, have crippling anxiety attacks, or otherwise become unable to function. She will require medication and/or therapy of some kind. This will put tremendous strain on the household which might demonstrate exactly what Mom does and why she fell apart. (NOTE: although a lack of marital support can cause a breakdown, a breakdown does not necessarily indicate a lack of marital support. Duh.)

2. She will withdraw. She'll decide it isn't worth it to keep asking for help and will stop relying on her husband. She will still respect and serve him as long as he provides for the family's basic needs, but she will no longer adore him, and they will grow apart. She may be able to redirect her affection to the children, and they will replace him as her primary source of affection. Or she may become dull and defeatist or hardened and resentful, fulfilling her tasks perfunctorily and minimally while holding onto the hope that once the children are gone she will be mostly free. The husband may consider this a relief in the short term, but eventually he will find that even though she's still there, she's no longer there for him. This may take a long time--she wants to adore him, so her heart will resist. But it will empty as she learns that although he is obeyable, he is not adorable. (And after all this--she may end up going the breakdown route, too.)

I think the CSPP bloggers have established their credibility in the Doctrine of Woman department pretty definitively. So I hope I won't be accused of being some kind of feminist creeper if I say that "traditional" roles can, like anything else, be caricatured in damaging ways. A wife who is dependable in carrying out her marital and maternal tasks in accordance with her marriage vows and the Scriptural ordering of family life deserves a response when she asks for help. If the family doesn't have a willing grandma or other volunteer assistant very close (less than 30 minutes away) and very available (most of the day, most days), the husband simply has to pick up the slack or the wife will break, whether suddenly and spectacularly or slowly and quietly.

Food regret

Such a bad feeling.

The fifth one didn't even taste that good.

Never without blood

Never without blood did the high priest enter the Most Holy Place for his annual exhilarating, terrifying task. Always he took blood, offering for the life of the people.

Not without blood did the Blessed Virgin bring forth the Life of the world,* that she herself, that all women, that all humans, together with all creation, might be saved through that most holy childbearing.

Not without blood did our own High Priest complete his work: he entered the Most Holy Place once for all by his own blood, having obtained eternal redemption. Indeed, so intense was his labor for the rebirth of the world that his sweat splashed crimson to the ground.

Never without blood do we strive, do we labor to bring forth new life. Sometimes, the blood is loss. Never is it meaningless, never is it nothing. Surely the Son of Man, whose conception forever sanctified the blood of the womb—surely He receives as precious, even holy, the blood offering of the womb. And surely He receives, He delivers, the littlest of His lost lambs with the utmost of tenderness.

Never without blood. And so we approach the altar for our own exhilarating, terrifying meeting with the One who gave, who gives, His own blood for us. May the sweet sharpness of that sacred bloodwine strengthen and preserve us, comfort and hearten us, even now and unto life everlasting.

*Yeah, I know: it coulda happened like the sanitized story we offer our overly curious preschoolers: “It was time and we went to the hospital and—would you believe it—there he was! Shazam! Just dematerialized from Mom’s belly and rematerialized in her lap!” But I’m inclined to think that Mary tossed her unleavened toast at the beginning of the pregnancy, had swollen feet by the end, thought she was going to die when she hit transition, and delivered our Lord in a euphorically terrifying rush of blood and pain.

Where did all these feathers come from?!?

While I am the victim of various pregnancy-induced neuroses, I have yet to suffer much from this one. I have, however, in the past experienced Sudden Paroxysmal Outbursts of Resentful Exasperation (SPORE) upon carrying a brand new baby from the Land of Perfect Sterility to Our Disgusting House.* Whee.

Out of love for my family, I work to thwart dirt-inspired SPORE by cleaning up a bit before the baby’s birth. My husband and children gratefully respond to this kind gesture by allowing me to waddle around after them yelling, “What is wrong with you people?!? KEEP THIS ROOM CLEANED UP!”

I heart cleaning!

Surely the end is near. Let the countdown begin.

*Tricksy hospitals with their antiseptic smells and crisp white sheets . . . every time I’m in one I manage to forget that, while that thing in the back of my fridge can no longer be called an onion, at least my house doesn't support a freeloading Staph.

I sincerely hope you've already seen this, but just in case

Hermit crabs and turtles

An article from First Things for everyone blessed with the gift of being spiritually cool.

The supposed demise of Christendom is the rallying cry of young, hip evangelicals . . . .

For them, culture is as dispensable to Christianity as a hermit crab’s shell is to the crab. The true essence of the gospel might don cultural attire when necessary, but only to just as quickly cast it off, seeking new garb to attract a fresh set of converts . . . . The Holy Spirit has found new and better habitations, like house-churches and theology-on-tap sessions in bars.

CPH $25 gift certificate giveaway

Leave a comment at the Lutheran Review!

Happy Hour: All Day, Every Day

Hey, I'm mixing some killer antibiotic cocktails here. Shaken, not stirred.

Wanna do shots? Bring your own teaspoon and I'll set you up.

Looking for something a bit more exotic? We've got the nebulizer going too.

Over and Out.

I crack myself up

One of my favorite routes to a good laugh is thinking about Future Self. You know, that poor middle-aged woman who lives in a house swarming with moody teenagers who eat nine times as much food as we currently go through and fill whole laundry baskets in a day and sleep in piles wherever they can find space and are starting to notice that no one else around here lives like this. And possibly also a assortment of kids and babies. LOL!

What's for supper?

Terminology

A while back Dr Heidenreich left some comments here that I enjoyed:

I'm afraid some of my common replies that talk about how we believe "children are blessings" fall far short . . . . The one I use the most is: "We believe in letting God plan our family." But that just comes across as naïve to people, if not wrongheaded fundamentalism - just "let go and let God." Blaahhgg!

Well said, sir. Well said. I feel exactly the same way. Don't get me wrong, I've got no end of respect for Michelle D., but when she smiles guilelessly at the interviewer and says, "We just believe children are blessings!" with those guileless eyes and that long guileless hair*, my guileful nose involuntarily wrinkles.

Seriously, this operation needs some non-platitudinous talking points FAST. Even my attempts to define the terms of CSPP make me roll my eyes: God-sized family? What is this, Heirs of the Anabaptist Sisters of Perpetual Parturition? Sorry, I tried to fix it. Blaahhgg!

Get on it, people. We're looking for something snappy. Epitome, not Solid Declaration. Use of the words "blessing" or "fruitful," references to arrows or quivers, or any suggestion of granting permission for an act of God Omnipotent constitutes an automatic disqualification.


*no cattiness intended. I have long hair.