by Danielle Miller| June 13, 2017| To Wives
I had just gotten out of the shower, dried myself off and was standing at my dresser, rummaging through the top drawer to find something to put on.
I couldn’t find anything…
Being the “good” wife I am, I was way too busy chasing toddlers, wiping snotty noses, changing diapers, making meals, cleaning the house, and doing everyone else’s laundry to even consider washing my own so I would have clothes to wear.
Ok, so I did still have clothes… rather, AGGHMM, undergarments to put on underneath the clothes.
It’s not like I was out, out…
They weren’t the ones I prefer…
Standing there at the dresser, looking at the reflection and stretch-marked, stretched-out body staring back at me in the mirror, my eyes fell to the bottom drawer.
Ladies, you know the one…
The one you and I might have both forgotten about…
When I say we, you need to know I mean me, and yes, I forgot there even was a bottom drawer. In it was where I abandoned my husband’s favorite unmentionables and swapped them for the ones I now prefer as a mother of three little kids all still in diapers including an eight-month-old who is still nursing.
The comfy but tired undergarments that my grandma wore now live used in the top drawer, not at all envious of that forgotten drawer near the floor where they used to be…
Back before I had kids and was a wife still trying to win my husband’s heart.
Sighing, I stooped to that lonely drawer and pulled two articles of clothing out that, I regret to say, my husband would love to see me in and say doesn’t enough.
(Only when I’m..AGGHMM..out of clean clothes..)
Maybe he didn’t need to know I would be wearing them today, I thought. I didn’t want to be embarrassed or bothered… especially today when I felt anything but beautiful.
My husband was watching the history channel, and I was studying myself in the bathroom mirror moments later, getting ready for the day.
I felt tight… Constricted… Like I couldn’t breathe. But what was I suppose to do? I was out of everything else.
I was still wearing one of the three identical pairs of pants I seemed to live in these days and was grateful for them. But as I let my wrapped towel fall off my head, I noticed something in the mirror.
Staring back at me was the fitted black shirt I put on moments earlier in our dark bedroom with a sleeping baby, that read in bold, glittery and pink letters…
Victoria Secret Bombshell.
Before the mother-in-law’s of any of my good Christian friends get too huffy, I bought the shirt at Goodwill (who knows how much the shirt was brand new, and the only reason I bought it was because it was something I could put on instead of my husband’s work shirts.)
Ashamed, I had to admit that all of the things living unforgotten in that bottom drawer, I purchased from Victoria’s Secret back in the days when I would pay $40 for an article of clothing from a place like that. Ashamed not because the articles of clothing are indecent to wear for my husband but because those were the beginning days of my marriage when I was eager to wear something of that nature for him.
After brushing the knots out of my hair and thinking for a moment what I had the power to do, I stepped out into the living room and sat down beside my husband and told him that I love him…That I am still that same wild and free girl that he married four years and three babies ago…
What I’m about to say next may very well change your life and your marriage.
Your husband wants you to be his bombshell.
His children may have scarred your body, but you are beautiful to him and he has eyes for you. He’s dying to have his blushing bride delight herself in him and remind him of the love that resides in you for him.
Before you had babies, it was you and your husband…
After your babies leave the house, it will still be you and your husband…
As I began to paint my face with the cover-up I hoped would cover my imperfections, I wondered with conviction when I began covering myself from my husband. Where and when had he become second?
Where was his blushing bride? I thought. Could I even find her again or would she simply reside in a picture on the wall?
I asked the questions as though I really don’t know the answers.
I know the answers to each of the them probing my heart that morning.
It happened after I had kids.
After my hips, waist, and almost every other area of my body was stretch and traumatized by pregnancy and child brith.
Because sexy was the last thing I felt when I looked in the mirror, that little black dress got moved to the back of the closet, the red and black pumps were given to Goodwill, and the lace, pink, black, and every other color and pattern unmentionable, got moved out of sight. Forgotten.
It happened when screaming infants began demanding my attention at four o’ clock in the morning and the last ounce of free-time I had with my husband at night, I relinquished any consciousness I had left.
Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.
Children are one of the greatest sources of happiness in a mother’s life and for me, I can proudly and shamefully say at the same time, mine have become my everything. Before anyone might judge me for using the words children and shameful in the same sentence, let me explain.
Right underneath God as my Lord and Savior, should be my husband. Ladies I hate to say it..it is not your children and it is not yourself. I confess one of the greatest sins I have committed and struggle with on a daily basis—making my children and myself an idol.
I’m not suggesting that feeding my 7-month-old daughter breakfast at four am is a sin, but it is a sin when I put my children before God and my husband in the name of myself. Not only do I make my children an idol and struggle with putting God first on a daily basis, I make myself an idol when I put myself before my husband.
Essentially, I am serving and worshipping myself.
I’m not talking pure fatigue and exhaustion that any man would recognize and have compassion towards. I’m talking about an excuse to get out of serving my husband in the way I am called to by God as his wife.
Yes, as wives, we’re tired. Exhausted. Mentally, just not with it at times, But sacrifice is love.
Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
There are a million things coursing through my mind as I speak. Things that I have thought on more than one account and used as logical reasoning to withhold myself from my husband… I’m fat and I don’t want him to see what his wife really looks like in broad daylight… He treated me unloving last week and I’m going to treat him with disrespect today… After the day I’ve had, the temper tantrums I’ve had to endure, the mind I’ve lost over and over, the countless times I’ve picked up after him like he were one of my own children, he has the nerve to expect anything from me? Like, really! Him too!
I’ve heard my Lord and Savior whisper in the quietness of my raging heart each of those countless times, “Him too.”
I’ve found myself arguing time and time again, battling in the quietness of my heart and justifying myself in front of a holy God. And in the next moment I see the cross.
God seen me in my broken and wickedness. When I was dirty and undeserving; when I ran away from Him and refused to love Him. Not only did He know beforehand all the sins I would ever commit but in spite of them said, “Yes, even her.”
He gave His life for me and I am called to give my life to my husband.
Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God–this is your true and proper worship.
As I finished the final touches that morning and applied my favorite red lipstick, I smiled before being greeted by my husband a moment later.
Who but God could reinforce such profound truths by my running out of clean laundry?