The Unnamed Contribution of a Homemaker

The baby and I were snuggling on the couch, when I heard a loud crash and thud behind me, followed by immediate screams. Somehow that three-year-old grandson had managed to tumble off of the barstool onto his head. I rushed over and knelt down, with the baby on one knee and the wailing boy burrowed into my other shoulder. He was inconsolable, until he turned his face around and saw his sister. His countenance changed immediately into one of deep relief, as he wrapped his arms around her and found instant comfort in her presence.  

She is five months old. 

I still cry every time I think about it. This tiny little female, who cannot yet talk or walk or play or color or sing, held sway over her brother’s heart. This is feminism at its finest.

“It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him,” God said.  

We help. Oh boy do we help. We make sure that man has clean underwear. We put on a pot of soup for dinner. Run errands. Bathe the children. Pay bills. Prepare for holidays. Change the sheets. We do, do, do, do, do. Housekeeping and finances and earning a profit and making Sunday lunch. We go, go, go, go, go. 

But dear friend, the greatest contribution you make as a homemaker is simply to be there when your husband turns around. 

When the world is crushing and he is inwardly wailing.

There is your face–your warm, loving face–and all of the gentle kindness that God put in your womanly heart. In that moment you don’t do or go. You just be. 

Comfort and love.