Issues of Identity

I think I just hit on something that has been bothering me for a while now. Every time I called myself a housewife, something inside me shrieked, hit something, and curled up in the corner to cry. I would like the world to know something:

I am not a housewife.

I do housework, it is true. I enjoy serving my family, having a clean kitchen, and making healthy, tasty meals. But that does not mean I have to find identity in doing those tasks.

If you spend some time at an engineering school (like I did) you may notice that there are engineers, and then there are those who are not engineers. Most of the engineers will have engineering majors, but some of them have humanities majors. Likewise, some students with engineering majors are not engineers. They were taking engineering classes, but that did not make them an engineer. If you've been there, you know what I'm rambling about.

I can sit in a pot of dirt without being a potted plant. Going to church does not make me a Christian. I live in Texas, but I'm not a Texan. (I'm a gypsy, remember?) I do housework, but I reject the notion that I am a housewife.

I am a daughter of God. I am a wife, a mother. I am an artist and musician. I am a free spirit. These are things I am. I refuse to be identified with that messy living room.

I know, this post reveals the lack of age and maturity that I usually try to ignore. With a few exceptions, most of my peers here in Austin are 5-10 years older than I am--that means you've had that much longer to figure yourself out and find peace in your identity. Did you realize I was 19 and had been married for 3 weeks when Robert and I joined Crossroads? Give me some time. I'll catch up, eventually.