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A couple of months ago my SM and I got into a little tiff
big, rip-roaring argument. I honestly
can’t remember what on earth started this one, but it ended with SM saying
something to the effect that it really ticked him off that I wasn’t the kind of
woman who went around picking up after herself at home even though I am that
kind of woman at work.
Well, that was enough to make me see red AND spots…and to make
me take a little drive to cool off so I wouldn’t say something equally as
inconsiderate in retaliation self-defense. As I was driving around some random neighborhood,
my thought processes went something like this:
“I am just not THAT kind of woman. I am the kind of woman who gets it done, just
not always right away because there is always something more important that
needs to be done right away. I am the
kind of woman who does the important things and catches up with the ‘picking
up’ later when the important stuff is finished.
I can’t help it that I’m just not THAT kind of woman. If he wanted THAT kind of woman, than he
should have married some solid, hyper-organized girl instead of this flighty,
creative-minded one! I HAVE to be that
kind of woman at work to keep things running smoothly, but when I get home I
want to just be me. To be chill and get
the important, creative stuff done and just leave the picking up until later if
I so choose. Can’t I just let my hair
down at home??? I’m just NOT THAT KIND
OF WOMAN!!!”
Almost immediately a still, quiet voice spoke to my agitated
soul, “What if you WERE that kind of woman?”
I had to pull off the road into some stranger’s driveway to
give my full attention to this disturbing thought. What if I WERE that kind of woman? What if I WERE the kind of woman who picked
up the stray leaf on the mudroom floor as soon as she saw it? What if I WERE the kind of woman who immediately
washed her coffee cup when she finished the last drop? What if I WERE the kind of woman who put a
half-finished project neatly away when she was finished with it for the time
being? What if I were THAT kind of
woman?
This was quite a revolutionary train of thought for me. I wish I could tell you I rushed home
immediately, ignoring traffic signals, stop signs and cross-walking pedestrians
in my hurry to apologize to my SM and promise him that I would never again
leave the unfinished Sunday crossword puzzle on the coffee table for days until
I could get to it later. I wish I could
tell you we straightaway patched things up with a kiss and a hug and a cuddle
and I miraculously metamorphosed into THAT kind of woman. But alas, reality rarely lives up to what the
Pretty Woman version would be. Instead, I waved cheerily at the perplexed
stranger whose driveway I was invading, and because I was still miffed at SM
(for whatever started the argument that I can’t even remember now) I went home
and crawled into bed, feeling almost as bad as when I left the house for my
therapeutic drive. We didn’t actually
patch this one up until days later (and, yes, I know what Ephesians has to say
on that subject).
But I did continue to quietly ponder that revolutionary
thought: What if I WERE that kind of
woman? Without saying anything to SM, I
started to ask myself that question on a regular basis. As I waited for the blender to churn out the
perfect morning smoothie, I would ask myself, “What if I were the kind of woman
who wiped the counters down while the blender is working its magic?” And then I did it. Or, “What if I were the kind of woman who
washed the love bug guts off the car as soon as she got home?” And then I did it. Gradually SM began to pick up on the little
things that were getting “picked up” and I can assure you he is one grateful
man, which translates to a kiss and a hug and a cuddle. But even more importantly, I am one grateful
woman—grateful that even after 45 years of being one way, I can still learn and
grow and improve and become a totally different way.
So, what is your “What if…?” moment?
