As I write today, which is probably a month or more before this posting, we are approaching three years since Mama left us for a better home.  It took over a year before I stopped thinking, "I need to call her and tell her about this."  It took even longer before the car stopped veering to that particular exit on the interstate.  And even now, friends still tell me they miss her as well, and share funny stories and a tear or two.
            We moved her up here when she was 87.  We were already dealing with our own age, health problems, and increasing disabilities so a five hour round trip to see about her even just once a month was becoming difficult.  Then after three years here, when living alone (her preference) even so much closer to us, was no longer safe for her, we had to go the assisted living route.  Her doctor said we lived too far from him and the hospital—about thirty miles out in the country.  Due to my Daddy's careful stewardship, we were able to find a good place in town, and between us and her church family, she was the most visited resident there.  We were told that she received more visits in a week than the rest of the community did in a year.  How sad is that for them? 
            We stopped by no less than twice a week, took her to every doctor appointment, and brought her out here for every holiday, Mother's Day, birthdays, and a few others days for good measure.  Let's be honest here:  it was wearing; it was time-consuming; it was inconvenient; it was expensive—especially the gas!  But so was I, not for a mere four and a half years as it turned out, but for 20!  Which doesn't count all the continuing worry parents feel after you are out on your own.
            When, after two weeks, it became apparent that particular hospital stay was going to be the last, I had only one last thing I could do for her.  I moved myself into her hospital room for four days, and then into her hospice room for the final four.  Sleep was impossible.  Eating depended upon whether anyone had brought something by.  I talked to her.  I answered the hard, almost impossible questions.  I held her head up for a sip of water and fed her yogurt—the only thing she could stomach—a quarter teaspoon at a time, a couple of bites at a time.  In the end, I just held her hand and waited for the last breath.  It was my final gift to her and I will always be grateful I could give it.
            But she gave me a final gift as well.  In those last four and a half years, I got to know her as a person, not just Mama.  I found out what a marvelous sense of humor she had.  She kept people in stitches—sometimes in the middle of church services!  She was full of compassion, especially for the people everyone else look down on.  She was friendly—I could leave her in a waiting room while I paid the bill and made her next appointment only to come out and find her chatting away with a perfect stranger, then wishing her well in her upcoming surgery as we left!  That's how close she had gotten in five minutes.  She shared with me stories I had never heard before—about her childhood, dating Daddy, and her early married years, a treasure trove I will always have. 
            And now I have great memories—of a person, not just a parent.  Perhaps too many of us expect perfection from a parent and cling to their mistakes, while we might more easily forgive a fellow human being for simply being "human."  In those last few years my mother apologized again and again for not being her idea of the "perfect mother."  I had to shush her with constant reassurances.  All those years ago she had to learn to be a Christian, a wife, and a mother all at the same time without the blessing of "growing up in the church."  Mistakes she made were more than understandable. 
           As she lay on her deathbed, she still worried about me.  "Get some sleep," she would say, not realizing that she had her days and nights turned around and I was up with her every 15 minutes all night long.  And she asked if I thought Daddy was still waiting for her.
            "Of course he is," I told her, "and right now he's getting pretty excited."
            All those gifts I would not trade for the world.  Don't throw away your chance to receive the same.  You will never regret it.
 
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!” And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home (John 19:26-27).
 
Dene Ward

A few years ago, some young parents we knew had a child whom they discovered was legally blind.  It was possible that nothing could be done for that child, even with glasses or lenses, to correct his vision.  Because I was a child who was visually disabled myself, I wrote this letter to them.  I thought it might also be a help to you or someone you know who has a child who is disabled in any way.  Feel free to share it with anyone it might possibly help.
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We were so sorry to hear about your little one’s condition.  When your child is hurt, there is nothing quite like the pain in your heart.  Any loving parent would instantly trade places to spare him.  We will continue to think of you and especially to pray for your comfort, and that your precious little one gets the help he needs, and perhaps even less disability than you have been told.  Our God can indeed work wonders.
            But for now, may I please be so bold as to offer you a little advice?  My current vision problem did not just suddenly start—I was born with it, but no one realized it, not even my parents.  In those days children were not checked as often or as completely as they are today.  As a result, my parents treated me exactly like they would have any child.  The first four years of my life I saw nothing but a blur of color, but I was the only one who knew that, and of course, I thought everyone was that way and did not complain.  I was, in fact, legally blind, yet I still learned to feed and dress myself.  They were able to potty train me.  I memorized quickly because I couldn’t see, and that has stuck with me, at least until now when age has affected it some.  Still I probably remember things better than most people my age.
            Even after they realized something was wrong, the doctor himself did not recognize exactly what the problem was, just that “she has really bad vision.”  You probably know something about magnification in lenses.  My magnification was +17.25 and that only got me to 20/40 on a good day, and that was not even the worst of my issues.  Yet I still learned to function.  When you can’t see well you notice things that other people don’t. 
            Even with correction I couldn’t see faces across a lawn or a parking lot or even a large room.  But I knew people by their walks and hand gestures.  If I had seen them earlier in the day, I remembered the color they wore.  I couldn’t read street signs, but I knew there was a tree on that corner, or a pothole just before the turn.  You adapt when your survival, whether life and death or simply getting along in society, depends on it.
            Even if I eventually lose it all, which is probable, I still plan to be independent as long as possible.  I will probably be a widow someday, but I do not want to live with anyone, or in some care facility, until it is absolutely necessary.  I feel that way because of how I was raised.
            You need to give your child that same spirit of independence.  One thing is good and I say this from experience:  since he was born this way, he will not know what he is missing.  Don’t you make him miserable by treating him like there is something missing.  The best gift you can give him is the one my parents gave me, even if it was accidental:  treat him like a normal child.  He is normal; normal for him!  Help him learn how to get along.  Push him.  Tell him he can do it, even when you aren’t sure he can.  You’d be surprised what can be accomplished simply because a person thinks he can.  This is the loving thing for parents in your position to do.  Babying him is not.  I will be forever grateful that I was not babied—it has made me strong and able to bear far more than most.
            Now comes the hard part:  don’t let anyone baby him, and that includes grandparents.  You may have to put your foot down once in a while.  Do not be afraid to tell them, “No.”  You can do it kindly and with respect, but you have to be the one who stands up for your child against anyone’s misguided attempts to shelter him.  He is your child and God will hold you accountable for his care.  You might need to remind them of that once in a while. 
            Treating him as a normal child will also mean disciplining him that way.  It is hard enough to scold or spank the little hands of a perfectly healthy child.  You must be strong enough to do this.  Your child is counting on you to turn him into a faithful child of God and save his soul.  If you let him have his way because of his “problem,” you are only creating more problems for him to overcome—you are not loving him like you think you are.  I am forever grateful to my parents for not turning me into a selfish, and self-absorbed, adult.
            God has a purpose for all of his children, and your little one will grow up better able to serve those who have disabilities than those who have none ever could.  He will understand and sympathize and think of things that other people do not—another thing that Keith and I have discovered as our disabilities have increased.  No one even thinks to consider what we can or cannot hear, can or cannot see.  Only the disabled give us that consideration. And thus the disabled are enabled to help others.  But he won’t perform that service if you raise him to think that he is the center of the universe because of his disability.
            Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you.  Do not be too proud to use Blind Services or anything else offered to you.  It is not sinful to take help.  It will be nice to know that someone who really deserves our tax money is making use of it.  And do not be afraid, or too proud, to ask for whatever help you need from your brothers and sisters in the Lord, including us.  That’s why God put us here.
            We are praying for you as you take this journey.  It will be hard at times, but other times it will bring you even more joy than the parents of the perfectly healthy children.  Just you wait and see!
 
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 2Cor 1:3-4

Dene Ward
 

After thirty-seven years on this property, you would think we had seen it all, but this summer had something new in store for us. 
            One evening in June, as Keith worked in the office, he looked out the west window and saw a red fox.  Obviously a large kit, what we would call an adolescent, he sniffed around exploring the place where we have our muscadines running along a fence wire, as well as a grape arbor to its immediate east sheltering a swing Lucas made in shop class oh, so long ago.  What was he after?  Worms, it looked like, which he dug up and ate again and again.  Later in the week we watched him run up the ditch to the east, always in the evening, several evenings in a row.  Then the fun started.  We caught sight of him out the office window again, but suddenly he looked up toward the woods just across the north fence.  We followed his line of sight and there stood another one!  It came over to meet him and they began to play, just like puppies, chasing one another around, knocking each other over and play-fighting.  Then we saw another—and another—and another!  Five of them running, cavorting, exploring, and having a grand old time as children will.
            They continued to grow and fill out as summer passed, and we knew that soon they would all scatter—they leave the den at seven months, after being born between January and March.  In our warmer climate, we assumed January was the likelier date.  And yes, now we see only one, a mature adult, and as far as we know it could even be one of the original parents.  But we were in for another surprise.
            One evening Keith once again spied the lone fox out in the grapes.  This time he was walking along them, pulling them off the vine and eating them!  When he finished that level, he stood on his hind legs and proceeded to eat the next "row" and so on until he had eaten as high up as he could reach.  We had wondered why this year's meager crop had suddenly disappeared.  Now we know.  Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vineyard…
Song of Solomon 2:15.  They certainly do.
            I studied the Song of Solomon under Homer Hailey so I learned what is called "the three person view."  I am quite aware that most others use the two person view—which I have tried again and again, but still can't understand.  My dear teacher told us all that the foxes represented Solomon trying to spoil the faithful and true love of the Shepherdess and her Shepherd boyfriend.  Whoever you think the foxes are, let me just use this metaphor today:  "the little foxes" are the little things that can hurt an otherwise sound marriage.  I sent out some feelers to several people, asking them for the little things they think can ruin a relationship.  Not adultery.  Not abuse.  Not addictions.  Little things.  The things we scarcely notice but which take a toll, day after day after day.  Today, let's talk about "the little foxes" they sent me in their answers.
            1.  Lack of respect and common courtesy.  I have heard spouses talk to one another like hired hands—hired hands who don't do the job well, in fact.  They demand, they order, they scold, they gripe, they insult.  I have even heard a Christian wife do this to her husband in public.  The same people would never think of speaking to a neighbor that way, or a colleague, even one they didn't much like.  Courtesy and kindness seem to be saved for strangers—or maybe it's for the people who pay one's salary.  A spouse doesn't pay us so we don't have to be so careful, I guess.  Could you please, thank you honey, what a great job, all go a long way in smoothing out the road of a sometimes rough life.  Don't make it worse than it has to be.
            2.  No communication.  Sometimes I see couples who might as well not live together for all they communicate with one another.  The solution:  Don't just talk to one another, but speak as friends and confidantes.  If you are not friends, why did you marry in the first place?  Do the things that make for friendship, and that means spending time together talking.  You should have the same goals in your marriage—helping one another get to Heaven.  Raising your kids so as to save their souls.  Working for the Lord together.  These things should give you ample time together to cement that relationship.  And good communication means you are not so likely to "imagine" ulterior motives.  We have certain times we set aside nearly every day, just to sit and talk.  That and a cup of coffee by the fire can mend a little rift that occurred a few moments or even a day before.  And be aware—little rifts can gradually become giant tears in the fabric of a marriage if they are not mended.
            3.  Unreasonable expectations.  We grow up on fairy tales and happily ever after.  Prince Charming always wears clean clothes and shaves.  The Princess always has her make-up just so.  No, they don't, either of them.  Life is not a fairy tale.  Life is hard work.  Raising children is really hard work.  Trials and tribulations happen. Sometimes he is sweaty and stinky from working outside—for you and the family!  Sometimes she is in old sweats with her hair all over the place from cleaning house, chasing kids, doing laundry, and myriad other things.  Grow up and don't expect otherwise.  He won't always do what you want, especially if you don't bother to tell him what that is.  Contrary to popular myth, men cannot read minds.  Contrary to popular retirement myth, she does not receive great joy from standing there watching you do your thing hour after hour.  Be reasonable.  Be realistic.  And back to number 2, talk about it.
            4.  Focusing on the things we don't like.  It has not been that long since I wrote an entire post on this one.  Can I just quote a little of it?  "I am sure that you have done it too, at least once in all these years, on a day when things were not going well and your heart was aching and your mind was in a whirl, you have said to yourself, "What was I thinking?"  About what, you ask?  About why you married that particular person.
            Some folks might say, "You weren't," thinking, that is.  But the truth is that you were.  You were thinking about how wonderful he was and all the sweet things he said and did when he was courting you.  That's all you were thinking about—the good, the overwhelming good, that wins someone's heart.
            And today, when you asked yourself that other question?  Well, today you were thinking about the bad, the frustrating, irritating, aggravating, thoughtless things he does, and you were dwelling on them over and over and over…stop focusing on the bad, the things you don't like about him or her.  Start remembering the good things he does for you, the sweet remembrances, the kind gestures, the handpicked wildflowers and the cup of coffee before you get out of bed.  And remember, he sometimes asks himself that question too, so give him some good things to think about today."
            Small things, yes?  But things that can make a big difference.  Many of us understand commitment.  We understand that God hates divorce (Malachi 2).  And our marriages are really not that bad, but they are certainly a long way from what they could be with just a little effort.  Sit down today and talk about it together.  We found out in a short time that those cute little foxes can destroy a vineyard.  Don't let them destroy yours.
 
Live joyfully with the wife whom you love all the days of your life of vanity, which he has given you under the sun, all your days of vanity: for that is your portion in life, and in your labor wherein you labor under the sun (Eccl 9:9).
 
Dene Ward

When my mother moved from a house into a one bedroom apartment it meant some serious downsizing.  We went through her things, pricing them for a yard sale, and the memories come flooding back as I handled them. 
           I can tell you what she served in every one of her serving dishes and which casseroles bubbled away in which pans.  I pulled a few things out for myself and last week I cooked a pot roast in her Magnalite roasting pan, used her pale blue plastic shaker to mix flour and water for the gravy, and then poured that gravy into her small blue bowl, just like she did for us Sunday after Sunday for years.  And I remember the Sunday, under her compassionate direction, we carted all that food to a neighbor whose husband had been killed in an automobile accident the night before.
            I emptied a file cabinet that held a folder for every major appliance in the house, plus its manual and even the sales slip with either her or my daddy’s signature on the bottom.  I found a letter sorter with “Gulf Oil” etched on it, a tape dispenser with “Gulf Credit Union” and its phone number taped to the side, and even a Gulf Oil hardhat with “Gerald Ayers” on the front of it.  And I remembered the people at that company who learned to respect a man who was honest in everything and whose language was pristine.
            I found a recipe card collection that I remember from my early teens, containing some of my favorite recipes.  Some are printed cards with color pictures, but others are handwritten, including one for “Rice with Backbone.”  Tell me where you will ever find that recipe anywhere else.  In fact, tell me where you will find backbone!  And I remembered all the recipes she made for company who graced our table, family, brethren, college students who loved having a home cooked meal, and the showers she hosted, the gospel sings, and the meeting preachers.
            And that’s not the half of it.  I found myself tearing up again and again as the memories came roaring in, memories of a loving family and an extremely blessed childhood.  How many times have I thanked God for the parents who raised me, who taught me right from wrong, who turned me into a responsible adult, and most of all, who taught me about God.  And here is the fruit of it all:
            My parents raised two daughters.  Each of those girls married a godly man.  Between them they have raised 9 grandchildren, all of whom are Christians.  Of the four married grandchildren, all married Christians as well.  And now seven great-grandchildren are being taught the same way we were.  My parents’ progeny speaks well for them.
            They were not famous.  They were not influential in worldly ways.  But each one of us carry memories of them that keep us on the right track, memories that inspire us and make us want to be like them.  No, they were not perfect.  Show me anyone who is.  But they did what was necessary to raise us in the nurture and admonition of the Lord and to teach our children and those children teach theirs what they need to know to serve God. 
            You are creating memories for your children.  One day, they will go through your things.  What will mean the most to them?  What will they think of when they see your signature, when they read a letter you wrote, when they pick up a bowl or a mug or even a wood-cased thermometer that used to hang in your shed by a piece of green twisted wire?  What have you taught them about serving God?  You have taught them something, whether you intended to or not.  Maybe it’s time to spend a little more time on the eternal things.
 
Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children's children-- Deut 4:9
 
Dene Ward

We have already discussed an adult child’s obligations to his parents.  What about the parents’ obligations?  As we have indicated by the title, this relationship is a changing one.  After a child has grown, gone are the days when the parent can speak his opinion freely and expect it to be instantly accepted.  Instant obedience as a child was required.  Not so when the child is now running his own life.
            In fact, my first no-no for parents of adult children is to never try to control their lives.  “Adult” means “responsible” and unless you are willing to admit that you did a poor job of raising them, you should now be ready to sit back and see the results of your training, what should be a pleasant and satisfying prospect.  Failure in this area is usually caused by parents who want the vicarious thrills of their child’s achievements.  It’s not about you and what you want any longer.  This is his life and we need to be adults who can accept that fact.
            Another important no-no:  Do not come between couples.  And do not separate them either.  When my son comes to visit, I expect his wife to come too.  I would never ask him to come alone, yet I have heard of that very thing.  Your child-in-law should never feel unwelcome.  My husband and I are a unit.  You want one, you get both.  The same is true for your child and spouse. I covered this earlier in an in-law series, but it bears repeating:  your child’s spouse should feel love and acceptance in the family.  It is nothing but shameful when that does not happen.
            Next, and yet another big one, do not manipulate your adult child.  Do not use guilt trips.  Put “No one loves me,” “I guess you just don’t have time for me anymore,” and “You never come to see me,” out of your vocabulary.  Recognize that your perspective may be skewed because you are not as busy as you used to be or you can no longer drive yourself a great distance, so time passes more slowly and intervals between visits seem longer than they actually are.  Recognize that your child has obligations, obligations that you taught him to fulfill, like those to God, his wife and children, her parents, and his work.  Just what exactly were you doing at his age?  Probably the same things s/he is.
            Do not make the holidays a source of pain for everyone.  There are now two sets of parents to spend time with.  Accept your children’s division of the time.  Believe me, they are doing their best, but too often both sets of parents want it all.  That simply will not work, and all your complaining does is ruin it for everyone.  They will grow to hate the holidays, and some of that is bound to rub off on you if you are the ones causing the problems.  Don’t allow your lives to be ruled by a calendar.  Work it out and make their time with you—whenever it is and for however long—something they will always cherish.
            And never, never, never use your grandchildren to get your way.  Anyone who uses a child is the lowest of the low.  Don’t even consider it.  And that includes deluding yourself that you are actually doing this in the child’s best interests, when it is obvious to everyone else that it is you who matters the most to you.
            Then there is the issue of losing your independence and their caring for you.  Sooner or later it will happen.  When the time comes, make caring for you easy and pleasant.  Stubborn refusal to follow doctor’s orders, take your medications, etc., will only cast a stumbling block in front of them as they try to fulfill their scriptural obligations, and you know what Jesus had to say about that.  Be realistic.  No one goes on forever.  (“Our outer man is decaying…”2 Cor 4:16.) When it is time to give something up, perhaps driving or living alone, do it gracefully.  Make caring for you the joy it should be to a grateful child.  Make your final years things they will miss instead of a relief to have over.
            This relationship bears obligations both ways.  I probably haven’t even touched them all, but these, and yesterday’s, are a good start.
 
Fathers [and mothers], do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged. (Col 3:21)

Dene Ward

Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honor thy father and mother (which is the first commandment with promise), that it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth.  Eph 6:1-3. 
          Sometimes it seems to escape us of all people, we who preach the innocence of children as opposed to inherited total depravity, that the above passage cannot be directed at unaccountable children because children do not sin.  Jesus, in fact, directed this command to adult children in Matt 15:1-9.
So how do we as their children, but independent adults at the same time, honor our parents?
          Starting with Jesus’ point in Matt 15, we care for them, and that may indeed involve financial support.  But if a widow has children or grandchildren, let them first learn to show godliness to their own household and to make some return to their parents, for this is pleasing in the sight of God...But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.  1Tim 5:4,8
         It may mean taking them into our homes as they near the end.  It may also mean completely changing the family dynamic, where you become the parent and they the children, doing what is in their best interests whether they want it or not, and even if it adversely affects the relationship.  What used to be their responsibility is now yours.
           Part of that care involves your companionship.  Try telling your wife you love her and then never spending any time with her!  Especially if you are down to one widowed parent, you are the one who can come closest to replacing what she has lost.  If a Christian is commanded to “visit” (Matt 25:31-40; James 1:27), surely a child is expected to.  If you live a distance away, regular telephone calls, emails, or letters if your parent eschews electronics, should be part of your routine.  No matter how busy your life, this should be on your schedule, like brushing your teeth or taking a shower.  You may as well spit in their faces as ignore them or put them at the bottom of the “if I have time” list.
          Honoring your parents may involve some forbearance and longsuffering.  They are slower now, in body at least, if not in mind.  Things that seem trivial to us may mean the world to them.  Respect them by tolerating those things equably.  Don’t stand there tapping your toes and heaving frustrated sighs.  They do notice and all you will accomplish is stealing that small amount of happiness from a life that is nearly over. We cannot claim to be the Lord’s disciple and do otherwise:  We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, “The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me.” Rom 15:1-3
            Honoring your parents literally involves your speech to and about them.
            “Whoever curses his father or his mother shall be put to death. Exod 21:17
            Consecrate yourselves, therefore, and be holy, for I am the LORD your God. Keep my statutes and do them; I am the LORD who sanctifies you. For anyone who curses his father or his mother shall surely be put to death; he has cursed his father or his mother; his blood is upon him. Lev 20:7-9
            Most of us wouldn’t stoop so low as actually cursing our parents, but how do you handle a disagreement?  How do you speak about them to others?  Is love and concern apparent, or just aggravation and annoyance?  What stories do you tell your children about their grandparents?  Do you spread your inability to get along with them to the next generation, even if you do feel justified, and so ruin any hope of a wonderful grandparent/grandchild relationship for them?  Remember, gossip is gossip no matter who it’s about.
            Honoring parents is a command we must obey as surely as baptism.  Too many times we rationalize our way out of the commandment just as our unbaptized neighbors do.
 
They were filled with all manner of unrighteousness, evil, covetousness, malice. They are full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, maliciousness. They are gossips, slanderers, haters of God, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless. Though they know God's righteous decree that those who practice such things deserve to die, they not only do them but give approval to those who practice them. Rom 1:29-32

Dene Ward
 

I spend very little time on Facebook, just enough to check on my children and some close friends and run the Facebook page for this blog, maybe a half hour a day total, some days much less.  Occasionally a link someone has posted will catch my eye and I will take a quick look.  After all, I am always hoping someone will link my blog posts, even the ones I don't link myself, so I am willing to spend a little time looking at others.
            The other day I caught one that caused an almost visceral reaction.  I wasn't expecting that from the title—something about raising kids.  I don't even remember who wrote it or who posted it, but I do remember the phrase that sent my heart racing and the blood pounding in my ears:  "the drudgery of raising children."  Surely the writer didn't mean that, I thought.  Then I remembered half a dozen posts by several young mothers who bemoaned their lot in life—"Stuck in the house with these kids, is this all there is?"
            Let me quickly add some reality to the mix.  I know what it is like to be a mom.  I have had to find ways to do housework, laundry, and cooking around the sleeping (or not) schedule of an infant.  I realize what it is like to have more than one in diapers at the same time.  I know what it is like to hang those diapers up in the steam bath of a Florida summer, sweat running out of your hair and dripping off your nose, hoping those flapping white squares will dry out before you use the last clean one.  I comprehend having to practically pack for a trip whenever you go anywhere for even thirty minutes, lugging diaper bags, extra clothes, books and toys, and baby himself, while hanging onto a purse and the hand of yet another all-but-baby.  I know the terror of holding a seizing child while your husband races down the highway at 90, wondering if that little one will ever open those big blue eyes again.  I appreciate what it's like to wonder if you and your husband will ever again have an evening out or a night alone—for us it was eight years before that happened after the first one was born.  I know what it is like to sit next to a small hospital bed, trying to sleep in a straight chair, jumping up every time your child whimpers, doing your best not to let him see you cry.  I understand the months and months without a good night's sleep and the utter exhaustion that causes you to simply pass out on the arm of the sofa in the middle of folding clothes while your toddler runs toy trucks and cars up and down your arms.  Being a mother is hard.  I get it.
            But all it takes is a look into those sparkling eyes, a hug that nearly strangles you, and a precious little voice calling out, "Mommy!" to make it all worthwhile.  When you see in your child the image of the God who made him, you know that the work you do is anything but drudgery.  It is, as is said so often it has become hokey, the most important work in the world.  You have been given a soul to save.  You have been entrusted with a mission that will determine the eternal destiny of a human being.  Do you see that word?  God trusts you to get the job done.
            When we allow it to become drudgery we have spent too much time making ourselves the center of the universe.  It is not about "Me."  It never should have been for a disciple of a Lord who gave up everything for others and expects his followers to do the same.  His work was always his focus.  If he had been as selfish as I am sometimes, he would have never left Heaven, never "emptied himself" of Deity, in the first place.  I am forever grateful that he did.
            And so I am forever trying to do what I can, not to repay him, for when we have done all we can "we are still unprofitable servants," but to pass along that gift to others, especially the ones he created inside this body of mine and gave me the privilege of molding into a person "fit for the Master's use."
 He never told me life would be easy, but he did tell me that Heaven would be.  I want to be there with my children—forever.  I am sure you do too, and don't you ever forget it.
 
​Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come. She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. She looks well to the ways of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her: “Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all.” (Prov 31:25-29)
 
Dene Ward

I have written more than once about society's demeaning of men in the entertainment industry—all fathers on sitcoms are buffoons who need to be rescued by their wives and children every week.  Go watch a few reruns of Tim the Tool Man Taylor on "Home Improvement" and tell me I am wrong.  But things have gotten even worse in the past decade.
            To prove the point, the BBC ran several experiments showing viewers violence against both men and women.  The violence against women was roundly condemned while the violence against men produced very little response and even some laughter.  On two British television shows, "The Talk" and "Jeremy Kyle Show", the audiences laughed about a woman emasculating a man and about another man being forced to jump off a three story balcony after an abusive partner locked him out.  Amazon sells tee shirts saying, "Boys are stupid.  Throw rocks at them."  (They really do—I found one.)  Then there is the hashtag "KillAllMen" which generated all sorts of misandrous comments like "Men are trash," "Being a man makes you an automatic failure," and "Go kill yourself and increase the male suicide rate."* A recent conversation with some of my Christian women friends certainly did not go this far, but a certain amount of disrespect for the male gender was evident nonetheless.
            In our culture it has become increasingly difficult to be a man.  A man must constantly watch every word he says and every action he does, walking on those proverbial egg shells, while the women around him can insult, tease, or even "bash" him, and somehow, no one cares.  So what am I to do for my poor husband?  How can I be the friend he needs and a haven to come home to?  How can I make his life easier?
            1.  First, don't be so sensitive.  He might need a lesson in why women don't appreciate male humor, but as a Christian who is supposed to love the man, maybe I need a lesson in being kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you (Eph 4:32), and letting love cover a multitude of sins (1 Pet 4:8).  Maybe I can be as strong a woman as I claim to be and not get my feelings hurt by every other word he says, leaving him wondering what he did wrong.
            2.  Second, realize that "different" doesn't always mean "wrong."  My husband has taken over a lot of the household chores since he retired.  He says that since he is underfoot, causing more mess and taking more of my time, that he should help out more.  He doesn't always do it my way.  More than once I have had to remind myself that just because he doesn't put the pots in the cabinet the way I do doesn't mean he is stupid or ignorant or even wrong.  There is no valid reason to constantly criticize someone who gets a job done just because it isn't the way we would do it.  Insisting on my way instead of compromising is not a sign of strength—it's a sign of stubborn arrogance.
            3.  I am sure you have heard the old joke:  If a man speaks in the forest and there is no woman to hear, is he still wrong?  I know some women who seem to think they have been put on this earth to correct men—from interrupting the stories they tell to correct even minor discrepancies to stopping every other word in a simple conversation to correct them or their grammar or their—anything and everything.  Is it really that important?  And are you absolutely sure that what you remember happening is the way it really happened?  We have kept a journal for 45 years.  When I go back to some of those first ones, I am stunned by how wrongly I remember things.
            4.  Be careful how you speak to or about him in front of people.  I have been horribly embarrassed by having a wife scold her husband like a child in front of me, and mortified for a husband when a wife told, not a funny story, but a humiliating story about him.  And these were Christian women!  Why do we do these things?  To make ourselves look better than he in the eyes of others?  What we really do is make ourselves another example of what not to do as a loving, supportive wife. 
            5.  Tell him how much you appreciate him. Our culture is doing its best to make our men feel useless, or even evil in some sort of generic way.  Haven't you heard of "toxic masculinity?"  For some women that is accomplished simply by his being male.  Don't fall in step with such ungodly behavior in the name of promoting women's equality.  Feminism in our culture is more about putting men down than raising women up.  Right now the only one who can make him feel like the man God meant him to be may be you. 
 
The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good, and not harm, all the days of her life (Prov 31:11-12).
 
Dene Ward
*All this information is reported in the blog counsellorinleeds.co.uk, written by Phil Mitchell, December 31, 2020 post, "Stop Saying Kill All Men."
 

Now Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lappidoth, she judged Israel at that time, Judg 4:1.
            Do you know anything about Lappidoth?  I know he was Deborah’s husband and that is all.  He is mentioned nowhere else in the entire Bible.  Yet because of his amazing wife his name was written down for everyone to read for thousands of years.
            No, it was not because God ordained that a wife have no identity without her husband, as some feminists might try to argue. Have you ever googled your own name or simply looked it up in your city’s telephone directory?  Somewhere in the world there is someone else with the same name as you, first and last.  Imagine how many there are with just your first name.  I can find six Marys in the New Testament alone. 
            It was necessary to identify people in the scriptures by their parents or spouses or children in order to make it plain who was being talked about.  There was at least one other Deborah in the Bible, the nurse of Rebekah, in Gen 35:8.  I imagine there were many other little girls named Deborah throughout Israel, especially after the time of Judges 4.  Miriam, after all, is the Hebrew for the Aramaic Mary, of whom we have so many in the first century AD.  Surely the great woman judge was a worthy namesake too.
            So what is the big deal about Lappidoth?  Just this—he was mentioned because of his wife, and he is respected because of his wife.  Whom you marry can make or break you in your career, in your reputation in the community, and most important, as a servant of God.
            How many times have you heard it said, or even said yourself, “He would make a good (elder, preacher, Bible class teacher, deacon) if not for his wife?”  God made woman so man would not be alone and so he would have a suitable helper in life.  David says, “[Jehovah] is our help” in Psalm 33:20, using exactly the same Hebrew word describing God as the one God used of woman in Gen 2:15.  Part of the help God gives men is the women who stand beside them.  There is nothing demeaning about being a tool in the hand of the Lord.
            Maybe the problem is men who do not recognize their duty to spiritually lead the family, “nourishing and cherishing” their brides, as Christ did the church.  Keith is the one who taught me how to study.  “And created a monster,” he always adds.
            Inevitably though, the onus falls on women who will not be led, who will not grow, who use their freewill instead to rebel against God.
            Jesus told a parable in Luke 14 about people who would not follow Him.  The point of the parable was the lame excuses people will make, but I can read at least one of those excuses in a different way.  When the Lord presents him an opportunity, I would hate for my husband to have to say, “I have married a wife and therefore I cannot come.”
 
A worthy woman who can find? For her price is far above rubies.  The heart of her husband trusts in her and he shall have no lack of gain.  She does him good and not evil all the days of his life.  Her husband is known in the gates where he sits with the elders of the land.  Grace is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears Jehovah, she shall be praised, Prov 31:10-12, 23,30.
 
Dene Ward

"He knows better than to do that in my house." (A Christian speaking of her husband.)
            This one I heard at a church potluck, and some might say it's not fair to use something spoken in an informal setting, so let me clarify the situation.  Seven or eight of us ladies were standing behind the long table, laden with all the wonderful dishes everyone had brought—from deviled eggs, layered salad, and broccoli salad to ham, fried chicken, lasagna, hash brown casserole, and a pot of pork laden collard greens to pecan, apple, and pumpkin pies, chocolate layer cake, Texas sheet cake, earthquake cake, carrot cake, Italian cream cake, and cheesecake.  As we stood there, having sorted and laid things out in an orderly fashion, people constantly passed in front of us, dipping, scooping, stabbing, and otherwise loading their plates.  We were not exactly alone and out of earshot.  And really, where does formal end and informal begin?  When people can hear what I am saying, I am influencing them whether I want to admit it or not.
            I once asked a class in a different time and place, "What is wrong with that statement?"  Half a dozen voices immediately spoke up with the obvious:  "It's his house too."  While I understand, and teach all the time, that the home is the woman's domain and he has no right to micromanage it (1 Tim 5:14), part of her management is making it a comfortable place that the entire family wants to be at not a photo shoot for House Beautiful.  If he ever strays because he found a woman who simply let him be comfortable instead of worrying about "messing up her house," this wife will carry some of the blame.  These are the kinds of small things that wear on a relationship and can eventually erode it to its bare bones.  Usually they are symptoms of something far more important as well.
            One of those things might be this other issue.  How exactly is this an example of a submissive and respectful attitude toward one's husband?  I say it again and again:  anyone who has trouble with submission has trouble being a Christian at all because Christianity is a religion of submission and service.  How can anyone read that scene in the upper room with the Master washing the servants' feet and not get it?  That statement at the top is simply disrespectful.  Period.
            So let's be careful about our attitudes toward our husband, but also what we say, where we say it, and who is present at the time.  Several younger wives heard that comment, which was made by a wife of several decades.  That afternoon, her light certainly did not shine.  It may even have put a few others completely out.
 
Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear— but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord…(1Pet 3:3-6).
 
Dene Ward