Ever seen Worst Cooks in America? My husband and I are watching it right now.
I’m pretty sure I should be on it.
The chicken isn’t cooked completely through (I may be a little infamous for that), things catch on fire (I haven’t gotten there yet..), you get the idea.
But hey, my husband said I get an 8/10 for cooking so far in marriage. And he isn’t dead yet! Neither has he died of the dust bunnies that are hiding at the end of a Wednesday before Thursday cleaning day. Rarely does he run out of clean socks; I try to do laundry every other week.
I remember in junior high my mom would hire me to do her housework. She had a schedule: Monday was sweeping and laundry, Tuesday was dusting, Wednesday was bathrooms, so on and so forth. I remember thinking, “How in the world does she do this?” My mom came to every sporting event, and I played all three, mind you, all seasons of the year. Double headers, tri-matches, you name it– she was there. She managed a household, kept house, made sack lunches, the perfect housewife.
Yet she seemed to transition perfectly. She always does. Apparently, that doesn’t get passed down automatically from generation to generation. I went from kid that lives at home with her parents to wife who runs the home. HELLO TRANSITION!
Luckily, college helped somewhat with the change. Although I didn’t have to cook every day, I did do some house (or should I say dorm?) work. I made a beautiful deal with my apartmentmate in the last year of college that I would do all the cleaning if she took out the trash. Because, you know, trash is just bleh.
Yes, it helped with the change, but the transition, not so much. I worked three 12 hour shifts the first few months of marriage, and I ended up spending more time away from home than at it. I would cry because I felt overwhelmed with the responsibility I was given to manage a home, job, relationships, and try to devotions every night without falling asleep on my Bible. From the outside looking in, I had it all together. From the inside looking out, I was miserable.
I think that’s how it goes with transition. We see it; we fear it, but we do it anyways. Change is usually forced upon us. Like I said earlier, we hate change and rarely do we choose it. It’s the process of learning and adapting that makes us miserable. But when we are finished and come out of it, the transition polishes us and makes us better people.
Transitions are trials. They are those obstacles that we are forced to tackle. No one went through more transitions than Job. He had his family taken away, all his wealth, his job, his health, and all he was left with was a wife who obviously wasn’t transitioning very well herself. I mean, she was over it. Done. She told Job basically to get over himself, curse God, and die (Job 2:9).
But not Job. He didn’t like the transition, he wasn’t dancing with joy over the fact all those things happened, and he also didn’t fake it either. He was miserable. But he knew the outcome. “But He knows the way that I take; when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold,” states Job 23:10. Twenty-one chapters later, Job knows that although the transition is a hard one, he comes out a better man than before.
I am no where near completing my transition from whatever I was before to a housewife. But I know I don’t want to be bitter like Job’s wife, I want to be better like Job. So I’ll continue doing the laundry that is currently waiting for me in my dryer, making grocery lists, and sweeping off the floors. Maybe sometimes I’ll even enjoy it! Because being a housewife may not always be an easy job, but it sure will be rewarding!