I came of age in the latter years of the twentieth century, in the decades of the 1970s and the 1980s, when the spirit of the feminist age had so entered into the customs of the people that it was no longer remarked upon, but was received as the natural order of things. Its words were spoken in the schools, and its counsels were heard in the entertainments of the day, and its judgments were repeated often, so that many received them without question. And I myself perceived it not at the time, but only afterward, when the years had passed, that my understanding of a woman’s life had been shaped by these teachings, even as clay is formed upon the wheel, until it seemed that no other form had ever been intended.
And it came to pass in those years that the stories set before us, whether in the moving pictures or upon the television, instructed us continually, though no lesson was named. For the daughters of the land were told to prepare themselves for independence, and to seek learning, and to establish themselves in professions, and this was counted wisdom. But of the keeping of a house, and of the ordering of a family, and of the faithful care of husband and children, these things were seldom spoken of as a calling to be desired.
In those days there were programs much loved by the people, wherein households were shown, yet the manner of those households was changed from what had been in former times. In one, a mother pursued her studies that she might enter a profession, while the labors of the home were given into the hands of a hired servant. In another, the care of the family was entrusted to one who had been brought in from without, and who received wages for the work that once had belonged to the wife and mother of the house. And this pattern was seen again and again, so that it appeared a small thing for a stranger to keep the hearth, but a strange thing for the mistress of the house to do so for her own.
Thus was the message set forth, though it was not spoken plainly: that the tending of a home was worthy when it was a trade, yet of little account when it was a devotion; that it was good to labor for the household of another, but of less honor to labor for one’s own; and that the better life was to be found not within the walls of the home, but always beyond them.
Yet there had been a time, not so long before, when another picture had been shown. In the stories of earlier years, the family was set forth as a thing to be cherished and preserved. The generations dwelt nearer one to another, and the burdens of life were carried together. The father was not despised, nor the mother made a figure of weariness and complaint, nor the children lifted up above their elders; but each had his place, and the peace of the household depended upon the faithfulness of all.
But as the years went on, these images were changed. The father was made foolish, and the mother troubled on every side, and the children spoke as though they were wiser than those who had brought them forth. And the house itself, which had once been shown as a refuge, was shown rather as a place of confusion, where none seemed fully at rest. And the people laughed, for it was meant to be laughter; yet the lesson entered in all the same.
These things work slowly upon the mind. For when a generation is told often enough that one path is higher and another lower, many will walk the higher path as it has been named, even if their hearts were inclined elsewhere. So it was that many women were brought to believe that a life given to home and family was a lesser life, fit perhaps for those who could do no other, but not to be chosen with gladness.
Therefore it is the purpose of this writing to say what is no longer often said, and to say it without shame.
It is no small thing to keep a house well.
It is no small thing to be a wife.
It is no small thing to bear and to raise children, and to order the days of a household with care and with diligence.
For there are some women to whom this life is not a burden, but a calling; not a failure of ambition, but the fulfilling of it.
Even now there are daughters who look upon the noise and haste of the present age and feel no desire for it, though they are told they should. They would rather build a home than a career, and keep a table than an office, and give their strength to the life of their own family rather than to the service of strangers. They would learn the arts that make a household flourish, and would count it no disgrace to do so.
Let them not be told that such a desire is foolish.
Let them not be told that such a life is wasted.
Let them not be told that honor is found only in the places the world praises.
For many generations were sustained by women who lived in this very manner, and their work was not forgotten by those who depended upon it.
My purpose here is to restore, in some small measure, the good name of the homemaker; to speak well of marriage, and of family life, and of the quiet labors by which a household stands; to give due place to the teaching of girls in the skills that were once thought necessary to every well-ordered home; and to set forth the beauty of a life that is simple, faithful, and steadfast.
This place is for those women who feel themselves called to such a life, whether they stand at the beginning of it, or have come to it after many years, or only now begin to see its worth.
Not all will desire this path, nor is it required that all should.
But for those who do, let it be spoken of with respect, and not with scorn; with seriousness, and not with mockery; and, when it is well lived, with gratitude, and even with pride.
