ramblings and questions about calling and domesticity

The Lord bids each of us in all life’s actions to look to his calling. For he knows with what great restlessness human nature flames, with what fickleness it is borne hither and thither, how its ambition longs to embrace various things at once. Therefore, lest through our stupidity and rashness everything be turned topsy-turvy, he has appointed duties for every man in his particular way of life. And that no one may thoughtlessly transgress his limits, he has named these various kinds of living “callings.” Therefore each individual has his own kind of living assigned to him by the Lord as a sort of sentry post so that he may not heedlessly wander about throughout life. …
It is enough if we know that the Lord’s calling is in everything the beginning and foundation of well-doing. And if there is anyone who will not direct himself to it, he will never hold to the straight path in his duties. Perhaps, sometimes, he could contrive something laudable in appearance; but whatever it may be in the eyes of men, it will be rejected before God’s throne. … From this will arise also a singular consolation: that no task will be so sordid and base, provided you obey your calling in it, that it will not shine and be reckoned very precious in God’s sight.

— from Calvin’s Institutes Book III Chap. X

I feel like I can always use further insight, even particular directions, as to what my calling as a married woman entails. I hope that is not an unhealthy “law-thirstiness”: a desire to “discover” and adhere to man-made laws that go beyond Scripture, in order to build a case before God and man that I am especially righteous. I’ve never been guilty of that before, but there’s a first time for everything. *ahem* Of course, this question, which essentially boils down to, “How do I use my time and gifts as a married woman in the 21st century?”, arises much more readily for a woman without children, whose constant demands pretty well answer the question before it can be asked (assuming there is time and energy to ask it). But I am not the only childless married woman here or in the potential (hypothetical?) audience, and perhaps my questions and musings will help you too. I simply want to know better what it looks like for a married woman to “keep to her sentry post,” and what it looks like to stray—not to judge others but myself. One thing I’m pretty sure of is that this seems to be yet another matter of wisdom rather than law—“yet another” expressing my natural aversion to doing the work of praying for and getting wisdom. Reading a book or an article would be much easier.

From my limited historical studies (more like occasional observations; I do always invite correction), I gather that even into the 1950s, when it was not absolutely necessary that someone—whether the mistress of the home or a trusted servant—be at home ensuring that the family had food and clean clothes (and had clothes, for that matter), the average young woman was either active in her family’s home and community, in a school of some kind, or busy with some outside occupation (such as teaching) up to the point of marriage. At this point, she regarded herself as fully employed in homemaking. She typically quit her job if she had one and took up the very happy duties of managing a home for her best friend. Of course the feminists in the 60s called all this into question, arguing that this supposedly noble aspect of womanhood was rather demeaning; it imprisoned a woman in her house and her life revolved far too much around the man, the domineering, self-serving, pig of a man who perpetuated this unthinkable inequality. Why shouldn’t the woman have the recognized, fulfilling career, while the man stays home to keep house and watch the children (if they must exist)? Well, why not?

Do we not as Christians have to deal with the fact that Eve was created as a “helper suitable to the man”—that “the woman was made for the man, not the man for the woman”? That this suggests at the very least a certain orientation towards serving her husband that her husband is not obligated to reciprocate? Is not the married woman called by God, in the very sense in which Calvin speaks, to manage the home and serve her husband and children with all the gifts and strength she has been given (Titus 2, Proverbs 31)? A thousand qualifications come to mind: chiefly that a Christian woman is also to be of real assistance to the church (Romans 16, etc.), to her parents and older relatives (1 Timothy 5, etc.), and to non-church friends or neighbors in need (simply part of being a Christian, besides the many “proof-texts”). She is still a church member, daughter, friend, neighbor. But she does all this as a married woman, very often drawing from the resources that her husband has earned, serving such people on behalf of him. She does it with his blessing, and with his guidance and oversight as to the time and effort committed to these abundant opportunities.

With that much clear, then, one of the more practical questions I have is about the role of domesticity in my calling as a Christian wife and homemaker. There are the inevitable chores involved in managing any home, like laundry, paying bills, and cleaning the tub. Then, thanks to technology, there is the “discretionary time,” when chores have been done. (I am sorry, homeschooling moms or any moms of young children; it probably feels like they are never done for you, and as an aside I think that unmarried or even married childless women in the church should be ready and willing to offer themselves as help when that is overwhelmingly the case.) So if you don’t have children to watch and/or teach, you could either get a job to fill up your time, or find other ways to invest in the home beyond the necessary chores. Those are the only two options that I can see, other than idleness, which we will consider an invalid option for obvious reasons.

On the one hand, you have the ideal of domesticity a la Martha Stewart. You put effort into and learn skills pertaining to all manner of domestic comforts, for the enjoyment of family and friends. Martha Stewart herself is no paragon of biblical femininity, yet I think this sort of domesticity, in its place, is worthwhile and commendable. I love that it values domestic happiness and peace, at least in a superficial way. I love that it affirms, contra feministas, the inherent value of housework or homemaking done to this end. One of my favorite excerpts from an old housekeeping manual echoes this: “A bedroom, in a way, represents the girl or woman who occupies it and cares for it. If it has an atmosphere of order and simplicity and repose, it is beautiful and tells of a personality that dominates worldly things and is not confused by them. … Everyone has seen a bedroom so full of charm that she longs to know the person who is responsible for it.” Surely we do well to appropriate the spirit of this domesticity even if we have no natural gift or even inclination for crafting paper lanterns and painting intricate designs on them, after filling each with the scented soy votives that we made last week. On the patio overlooking our 3-acre garden and arboretum out back. Etc.

Yet in defense of women who are less than attracted even to a toned-down version of such domesticity, a wife is only called to obey God and please her husband as she manages the home. Period. If God hasn’t prescribed craft-making, hobby gardening, or the cultivation of mad pastry skills, and the woman’s husband has not expressed an earnest desire for any of these (can you imagine a husband with a fever for more crafts? sorry, strikes me as hilarious), then it is up to the woman to decide whether or not these would be profitable for her family. So what I am sure of is that changing and sometimes arbitrary standards of domestic skills are not to be equated with good homemaking. “Order and simplicity and repose” can be preserved in a home without a Martha Stewart at its head. (Certainly the simplicity bit might exclude a Martha Stewart from even applying. End of MS jokes.) But it does require someone in the home, with a clear sense of her responsibility to preserve that order.

I have too many thoughts on this subject to corral, and many of them are way too uncertain and ill-formed for public blog material. As was hinted earlier, I am finding that much more of the Christian life consists of matters of wisdom—as opposed to hard and fast rules—than my lazy and legalistic flesh would like. I want my life—my daily work—to reflect biblical principles and priorities, but I do not want to endorse or even hold myself to a certain standard of domesticity or “home-centeredness” as if it were divine law. Surely biblical femininity is much more complex: both more elastic and more rigid, more liberating and more difficult, than the world and our tricky hearts would have us think. Discuss amongst yourselves, if you even have time to read this rambling essay.

what the well dressed house-mufti is wearing

I was going to ask for socks for my birthday — though probably no one but my mother would believe that I really wanted them.* But due to unforeseen and cataclysmically happy events, I get to go sock shopping very soon (you should see my smile as I type ‘sock’ and ‘shopping’ in the same sentence) — yea, not only that, but shopping for winter garb that is worn even above the sockline.  I was just realising this past week how much warmer it is than anything else to keep your already warm pajama pants on during the day and just put some other garment on over them.  And to wear two undershirts and a long sleeved shirt to bed and just throw another shirt and a pullover on over those.  And over all of this one could cast a light, and then a lengthy sweater.  And over that, a shawl.  And then one could wrap a blanket around one’s girth and tie it off with a scarf.  So that eventually one could emerge from the bedroom looking like an enormous mound of material with eyes, retaining underneath the warmth of the previous nights’ slumber for several hours, at least.  (Here I imagined myself emerging from the bedroom under half the things in my closet and some of the things on the bed, shaking my fist at the thermostat of the 68 degree apartment; shouting ‘BRING IT ON!’)  I was reading Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s account of the Turkish women’s clothing, and, except that their layers were light and gauzy, this seems to be very similar to how they were apparelled.  Very sensible of them, I say.  And not only that, but I have always liked the flowing upper garment over pantaloons under satin sheath tied with sash that can double as a bedspread, concealed by long flowing cloak which could double as awning over lawn party style for aesthetic reasons.  And I have to confess that I secretly have a purely pragmatic attraction to burkas.  They look *so warm*.  Plus, imagine slicing onions in those.  But don’t worry; I’m not going to convert just so I can wear their clothes (though they do say that considerations of a community’s ‘aura’ influence a lot of people’s decisions about being a credo or paedobaptist.  Unfortunately neither of those communities wear burkas.).

(I’m sure there is some steadfast grammatical rule which should prevent the awkward  ‘.).’ above, but given the extenuating circumstances of having two sentences in the parenthetical phrase, which is yet part of the sentence to which it is appended, I don’t really know what it is.  Laura?)

However I was figuring that my sole pair of pajama pants which is suitable for peeping out from under the hems of my skirts would probably not hold up for literally every day wear. So imagine my joy when I was told to come up with a plan of how to garb myself for winter.  I have drawn this sketch.

It should be fairly self explanatory.  Except that perhaps it’s impossible to tell from the artist’s rendering that my inner man is slathered in whale blubber.

I have also — no doubt against the laws of the religion of which it is an accoutrement — taken a picture of myself in a make-do burka.

I plan to slice onions in it.

The vital point of all this is, to wonder aloud if there are any suggestions on articles of clothing that are especially Useful for staying warm??  It should be obvious by now that I’m slightly impaired when it comes to getting in touch with my more practical side.  I have all the resources I need, barring simple intelligence.  So Help?

*Why is it that when you are little, everyone gives you presents which, I flatter myself, it takes some maturity to appreciate: but when you are mature, no one considers that you would now actually appreciate them?  What seven year old is really excited to receive underclothes and socks for its birthday?  And yet this is what all its aunts — who probably wish someone would give them underclothes and socks — wrap in enticing paper and give it.  Yet these same aunts are never heard from in the underclothes and sock department once one is oneself an aunt, able to give nieces and nephews Things Wrapped Enticingly in Paper . . . Dear Aunts, I now understand you.  And I feel like Orual from Till We Have Faces, when she understood why the gods refused to dialogue with her until she could say what she really meant.  What I really mean is — thank you.

And I know that I already said it, when I was seven; but I didn’t mean it then.