Yesterday morning, reflecting on certain frustrations at my job of late, I said to my husband, "Maybe I can be a housewife..."
His quick reply: "Uh, uh. You can't be a housewife unless we have kids."
I tried: "But I could keep the house really clean and you wouldn't have to do any of it—you could do whatever you wanted."
"Hmmmm..." he paused.
Amazing how convincing the no-housework-for-you argument can be :-).
When I returned to reality, I thought about the importance of contentment. For the moment, becoming a housewife and escaping 8- to 5-woes seems next to heaven. But if I think on just a teeny, tiny big past the satisfaction of quitting, I can think of lots of problems with becoming a housewife.
Cleaning and cooking—and only cleaning and cooking—everyday would get old probably within a week. And then I'd start looking for a job because I simply cannot stand to be idle and feel useless (not that housewifery—a word?—is necessarily useless), which would promptly propel me out of my week-long homemaking career and into the workforce I had intended to leave behind for good.
Contentment in every area of life—not just in my not-always-delightful job—is so often difficult to come by. When I was single, a pastor told me that when he was single, he wanted to marry. When he married, he wanted kids. When he had kids, he wanted them to be old enough to vacation and play with. The quest for contentment never ends, he said, unless we make the choice to be content right now.
How's that choice made? Daily, I suppose. Every time I've purposed in my heart to be content for the long haul, it's never quite worked for me. Others probably have more discipline, but with just one day ahead of me, the decision for contentment doesn't seem as overwhelming. It's doable.
Now if I could just be a housewife...
9 hours ago