There’s something in the water on Facebook lately.
I’ve seen women sharing multiple blog posts along the same theme. “My husband is a neanderthal, but he works hard and has a good heart.” It’s the trope of every family sitcom of my youth but now guised as introspection.
For whatever reason, this recent series of independent confessions seems connected by a laundry theme. “If you want to love your man, wash his clothes.” The lists of foibles go beyond laundry, but apparently American husbands have created a growing epidemic of dirty socks and underwear not making it to the hamper. The post I read today even included a picture of a dude’s dirty socks and undershirt next to his bed.
The mommy bloggers hide their condescension pretty well. After criticizing in detail how their husbands fail at grocery shopping or completing their chores, the authors point their fingers at themselves. “I need to be less critical and just love the man God gave me, warts and all.”
Facebook readers agree. “I so needed to read this,” sits in the comment lines below the likes and loves.
Well, female Facebookers agree. I’ve not seen a noticeable amount of husbands clicking those hearts and thumbs up. For good reasons: (1) these pieces are aimed at women and (2) the premise isn’t flattering to men.
I’m not writing this to defend guys who don’t pull their weight or don’t work to love their wives better. It’s not that hard to put your clothes in the hamper, to wipe the toilet rim after you empty your bladder, to put the seat back down, or to load and unload the dishwasher.
If you’ve read any of the Love & Respect or For Women Only materials, though, you know why guys wouldn’t condone another dude being publicly humiliated in front of Internet audiences like that. It’s bro code.
It should be spouse code, too.
I’m grateful for a blogger wife who has never and would never write a post like this. I’m especially thankful because I’m somewhat the opposite of the husbands in these posts. I’m fastidious but too often bitter. I faithfully handle the laundry, but I’m intimidated to pray with Crystal. I very rarely have to be asked to do a chore, but I regularly have to be asked what expectation she didn’t meet. I write her poetry and coordinate romantic surprises, but I’ve also gotten in the way of some her her biggest dreams.
Thankfully—according to her—I’ve recently been getting noticeably better at this husband gig; but we’ve been married for 16 years. I’ve put her through a lot, even sometimes when I was operating out of good intentions. She has shown me unconditional love without documenting the Sisyphean task for other women to commiserate—even if other wives might be “inspired” by her words.
Instead, she has inspired the women she privately mentors by example and discreet conversations.
My wife has lived the lines sung by Ashanti:
So, let your man be the man when he’s in public,
Even though behind the scenes y’all be runnin’
Crystal’s also in the process of proving the Apostle Peter’s hypothetical scenario true: “Even if some do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives, when they see your respectful and pure conduct.”
According to Google Maps, my wife is sleeping more than 3,300 miles apart from me tonight after a day of ministering to rescued women in Managua, Nicaragua. At home and abroad, she’s inspiring women to love God, love each other, and love their husbands better. She could fill multiple blog posts with the stories of transformation and inspiration she’s seeing in people’s lives—maybe even mine. If that story is ever told, I’m thankful that I’ll be able to trust how she tells it.
