Wow. My younger self would have never written those words.
“Yes, I’m proud to serve my husband.”
I was the girl who grew up in a home with two loving parents who rarely argued (at least not in front of the kids). We went to church every Sunday morning. We were taught Christian values.
We were also taught to stick up for ourselves. And how to work hard. And how to not let people walk all over us.
I’m the youngest of four girls. My mother always worked outside of the home. It was the only thing I knew and I was certain my sisters and I would do that, too.
So why, then, am I OK with this whole “service” thing? Isn’t that completely opposite of what a strong woman is supposed to represent?
Pull up a chair, let’s chat a bit.
In 2004 when I married my husband, I was set on making my identity my own. Sure, I loved this man with every ounce of my being, but I was also a strong independent woman.
Or so I claimed.
I didn’t need a man in my life—I just happened to fall in love. And this guy was pretty great. On our wedding day I asked the pastor to announce us as Mr. and Mrs. Kyle and Leslie Means. Not Mr. and Mrs. Means.
Imagine my horror when he announced us as Mr. and Mrs. Kyle Means.
Dear sweet baby Jesus, do I not get a name now?
We did the separate bank account thing for a while, too. Because in my mind, if we shared something I would lose my identity.
Eventually, my heart shifted. Maybe it’s because I had no money to put into my bank account. But I think it goes deeper than that.
I know what the Bible says. Or, I know it says something about serving. I’m not going to lie and tell you I know what verse that is. I had to ask Google for the exact Scripture.
But I know what it means and I try to live it in my marriage.
Are wives supposed to serve their husbands? Yes. But don’t get your panties in a wad here, people. I’m not talking about waiting on your guy hand and foot while he shoves Cheetos in his mouth and wipes his cheesy hands on the couch. And Lord knows I’ll never serve my guy his favorite casserole with an apron around my waist, perfect hair, high heels and red lipstick.
(Well, one time I kinda did—but that was a totally different scenario.)
I’m talking about being proud to take care of your husband and your family. Not as his mama, but as his best friend. You know what I mean? Stick up for him. Defend him. Make him his favorite dinner every once in a while, can ya? Every six weeks or so, shave your darn legs. (OK, that was a reminder for me.)
It’s not rocket science, folks.
I have a feeling you’d want the same thing done for you.
It’s a partnership. At least that’s what service means in my home. We do things together. I serve him, he serves me. He gets the kids ready each morning and I’m there to make sure they are alive and well when they get home from school. I get bath and dinner duty if I’m home or it goes to the hubs if he’s home.
Sometimes, I even set the dinner table and light candles for my family and (shocking) even do all the dishes after too. And (AH!) I enjoy doing that.
Does that mean I have to kick my feminist card to the curb? No. But it does mean I have a pretty darn good marriage. After 13 years, I love this guy. Like, a lot. And our marriage is really, really good. We’re not perfect, but we serve each other, you know? We make sure of it.
We recently had an article go major viral on Her View and the comments? Good night. They were out of this WORLD. You would think the author was wiping her husband’s bum or something. Women were freaking out because she said she loves to serve her husband.
And guys, I only read a handful of the comments.
See, I’m not sure what happened, but somewhere along the line women got the word “service” mixed up here. When you step back and look, you’ll recognize that serving each other is exactly how marriage was meant to be. And I have a feeling all the good marriages—you know, the ones that last for years upon years—figured that out fairly quickly.
Ladies, take a look at your home. How much does your husband serve YOU? I bet you’d be surprised here. Maybe you too will find yourself saying, “Yeah, I get it. I’m proud to serve my husband, too.”