A Good Man is Hard to Find
On Monday afternoons, during the summer (spring and fall sometimes too – it’s central Texas) we sit outside on our front porch eating popsicles. Recently, K noticed our trashcan still in the street from the morning’s trash service and asked if we were going to get it. “Nope.” I told her, “that’s Daddy’s job.”
Trash responsibilities haven’t always been so designated, but soon after buying our home and moving in, it was decreed (true confession, by me) as Joshua’s obligation. Which he dutifully performs, as a loving and caring husband.
A good man is hard to find.
Am I saying only good men will take out the trash - because it is such a stinky chore? Well, yes, but no. A good man is hard to find, because women are clueless in seeking “good.” I’ve had just over 8 years with my “good man” and send daily prayers for many more. Another true confession? I am that clueless woman and God directed my blind blunderings to the real deal, a treasure of a life partner. If I may, these are a few things I’ve uncovered about a “good man” and how enriching these aspects are to my life.
- He takes out the trash - I am not a germaphobe, so what’s my deal with the trash? It’s a stinky, laborious weekly task I asked my husband to do for me and for our household. The chore has gotten worse since the initial request, babies will do that. Multiple times a week Joshua starts off his day – before work or breakfast, but not dressing – taking a full bag out to our receptacle. It’s a need in our family he meets cheerfully and accountably.
- He goes to work every work day - Our children love their daddy, and ask his whereabouts numerous times a day. The response is always the same, and K has begun answering J’s query, “at work.” There is stability in knowing where daddy is, that he’ll come home each evening, and that his attitude/love toward them is the same each evening. That tangible provision, plus the roof over our heads and food on our table, is the glue with which our family adheres.
- He can bathe two children - When I need an evening break, or (more often) am (t)asked to bake cookies during bath time, Joshua easily and confidently herds two stink pots to the bathroom and bathes them. He knows where the soap it, what splash methods are acceptable, how hot they like the water, and the clean-up game played to transform WWIII bathzone into orderly tub. He is intimately acquainted with any routine (not just bath time) in which he can participate.
This is not exhaustive, by any means. Yet they are a few things I honestly hadn’t considered (would this cute guitar player willingly join in household chores?), thought I wouldn’t want (life is about following your dreams, not working a job – completely separate blog post for that one), or took for granted (my dad was super involved in our lives, I thought team parenting was simply the norm).
As precious friends and family members chose life-mates and I attend glorious ceremonies celebrating the covenant of marriage, I find myself in hopeful prayer. Prayer that these couples are more mature than I, because in the end good men (women too, lest I be misunderstood) aren’t hard to find, they don’t exist. Good men are made through sacrificial walking with Christ, and though we ladies may not have a clue if our trash duty will end with our marriage vows, we can seek a man devoted to Christ.
