Joyfully Content ~Part One

Someday, my prince will come --but, first, I need a fairy godmother.

I'll be going about some monotonous chore that I've done a million times -we'll pick toilet scrubbing. I'll be scrubbing the toilet in my rags, bored out of my mind, singing, "So This is Love" in my lovely voice (or make "In My Own Little Corner" --Julie Andrews style, but with this amazing Aretha Franklin twist. Hey! It's my fantasy!), watching my pathetic expression (on the gorgeous version of the face that could have been) in the water below when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I'll turn to see her standing there: the fairy godmother come to change my life with a sweep of her magic wand! A mere twenty-four hours (and a few Rogers and Hamerstein songs) later, I'll be riding off into the sunset with my handsome prince, his big, amazing brown eyes (they're brown in every version I've seen, so I'm thinking that's the charming color) shining at the sight of me. In that one gaze, I'll be transformed from the boring toilet-scrubber I was twenty-four hours before to a radiant bride waving sweetly and innocently at my shocked stepsisters as I race off in that pretty white carriage towards my new life.

Of course, given the fact that the vast majority of us will not marry princes, and that I don't expect to be among the chosen few that do, eventually, the toilets in my castle (read: apartment) will need scrubbing. And as I won't be able to do it in the resplendent dress I wore to the ball, I'll need to change into some of my old rags, get on my knees, and have at it. Oh, I'll be married, yes; but on the other side of the threshold that strong-armed Prince Charming (just plain old Johnny, in reality, my heart though he may hold) just lifted me over lies a home much like the one I've already been living in, and even more responsibilities than I left behind.

I thought the best way to start of this series was with a theory that I've long held: I don't think most of us think about the "over-the-threshold" part -we get caught up in the carriage scene, where we're waving goodbye to our boring old life and stepping into the fantasy world. There's a reason why Disney movies stop at the wedding (and the cheesy sequels that come out ten years later don't count): to show us normal married life would ruin the illusion of perfection.

Marriage is such a beautiful union (Ephesians 5:22ff), a state that many of us (I'd venture to say most of us), Lord willing, will someday occupy. I believe that marriage is something that the unmarried of us should be thinking about -we should be praying and seeking the Lord's will in finding and preparing for a spouse, leaning on our parents' guidance during this critical time of preparation, but, also realizing that our single years are fleeting, and that this unique time of ministry will not be around forever (1 Corinthians 7:34-35).

But, let's face it: when daughterhood gets tough, when the day-to-day toils become monotonous or difficult, when we don't want to apply and stretch ourselves, when we're drowning in starry-eyed aspirations of romance, it can be easy to imagine a world where we are the queens of our own problem-free domains. In doing so, we start to view singleness as a less-than state.

Our idea of marriage starts to look something like this:

Johnny (Dan, Mike, Tom, Harry, Fabio, etc.) will come home from work to find you sitting on the couch reading to your adorable, well-behaved children. As he enters (handsome Irish -or Scottish, or Japanese, or Brazilian, or down-home all-American -devil that he is), you'll rise, and the children will scatter to their assigned corners of the room, cleaning up, setting the table, or just playing like the little cherubs they are. Johnny will sweep you up in his arms and gaze at you with the look that reads something like Elizabeth Barrett Browning's, "How do I love thee?" And he'll kiss you and say, "You are always new, the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest." In the circle of his arms, in the living room of your beautiful home, after his long day at work at his amazing job, with his six figure paycheck bulging in his back pocket, bills paid, pantry stocked, perfectly loved by a man in whose eyes you are flawlessly perfect... you heave a blissful sigh.

Now, I realize that this scenario is over the top, even for someone with the most romantic sensibilities (and, as an aside, don't get be wrong: I love John Keats). But did you catch the problem in that fantasy? It was very me focused. And that's the key: our ideals of marriage seem to focus all on us.

Something my mother has always taught me, though -a lesson I strive to embrace -is that marriage, like every other season in life, is a ministry opportunity. While I don't believe that a godly marriage should be devoid of that romantic love that we single girls tend to associate with it --that kind of love isn't the end of the story. Marriage is a stretching, sanctifying experience, and beyond the romantic facets of wooing, wining, and dining lie the day-to-day struggles from which unmarried young women are exempt. I want to talk about our false perception of Prince Charming in a later post, but right now, I want to mention that running our own homes isn't going to be any easier than the lives we have right now -in fact, some days, it's going to be infinitely more difficult.

This was illustrated for me about two months ago, when my entire family caught a nasty flu virus -and when I say my entire family, I mean everyone except for six-month-old Micah and me. While I do help out a lot at home, the full responsibility of taking care of my family rarely rests squarely on my shoulders (unless I'm babysitting or holding down the fort while Mama and Daddy are out of town). I've found that people who know my mom has lupus tend to cast me as the Florence Nightingale of the Baucham home (or the under-appreciated Cinderalla, depending on their agenda), I've got to say, they're giving me way too much credit. While it can be easy to hear a word like "lupus" and paint a picture of my mom bedridden and in and out of the hospital, very blessedly, that isn't the case -with the right diet and exercise regime, for her particular case, she's still the energizer bunny. On top of that, we've got two parents, and my dad is an active part of our lives as well. There are also two teenagers thrown into the mix. The ratio of children to adults is a balmy four to four right now, with Elijah (5) helping out more and more every day.

I didn't realize how much this arrangement spoiled me until everyone was down. Talk about a reality check! The Lord gave me a foretaste of what motherhood truly means (although I hope that the days I have to take care of six sick folks -four of them five and under- are scarce). I can imagine that Johnny (or Mike, or Dane, or Harry, or Julio) wouldn't look so charming doubled over and green in the gills. Diarrhea. Vomiting. Dizziness. Runny noses. Coughing. When I didn't get sick, I stopped to think of what the Lord might be teaching me: 1) I need to add a really strong immune system to my resume, and 2) although it was my joy to take care of my family, and I praised God that I wasn't ill, I loved the reminder that running a home is not always easy and romantic. When my dad was well enough to join forces with me, I was ecstatic.

No, my experience didn't chase me away from wanting to be a wife and mother. But it did help me in my resolve not to imagine my married life as Snow White gaily and easily keeping house while woodland animals serenade me and help me turn down beds. And it helped me to be grateful for these years of singleness to develop the character I needed not to go crazy while my kinfolk were falling like flies!

Home-making is a ministry, not a fantasy. A realistic picture of marriage shouldn't put a damper on our prayers for the Lord to prepare our hearts for whatever the future might hold; rather, it should give us a true vision for what we should be praying and preparing for, and how we should view the season that we already occupy: singleness is a ministry, too. Every season is an opportunity to glorify the Lord in the difficulties and in the triumphs.

From one single girl to many others, as much as I look forward to riding off into the sunset (trade that carriage for a Mustang and take out the evil step-sisters, and I'm all over that daydream) what I hope to have in a marriage, should the Lord choose to bless me with one, is so much more substantial than sweet nothings: I want to love the Lord my God with all of my heart -even when it's not easy to surrender every area of my life. It sounds simple enough, but it's no easy task, and it's more worthwhile than we could ever know. It's something I can start doing right now -and something that, by God's grace, I can continue doing, whatever the future may hold.

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