When I was thirteen, I fake-married someone on a Lord of the Rings roleplaying forum, and the first thing he said was, Go make me a sandwich, woman.
Ugh, I remember thinking. Is that what being a wife is about? I don’t want it.
Ten years later, Thomas and I had just moved in to the house church and the previous leaders were still there for a few days to help ease the transition.
The husbands had gone on a trip to another state and were supposed to be back in a few hours, in the middle of the night.
Make sure you take good care of your husband, the other wife told me. That’s your role.
She wanted me to pamper him so he wouldn’t have to worry about anything but preparing sermons. That’s what she did for her husband. That’s what we, wives, were supposed to do.
Make me a sandwich, woman.
I was supposed to have a pure heart. To have no pride, no sense of self, no dignity. I was supposed to serve.
I didn’t mind serving guests, brothers, and sisters, but serve my husband? I felt disgusted.
Yes, I’m a total nerd.