May 10: It's National Wear Your Apron Day!

I'm wearing my apron.

It's about more than keeping clean while cooking dinner.  It's a subtle celebration of womanhood. 

It's claiming (or reclaiming) a domain almost lost in our society.  This domain--home, we call it--has been surrendered piece by piece to fast food joints, social clubs, satellite TV, internet, smart phones, and a million little devices and appliances that claim to to make our lives easier.  And yet the hub of all life--the home, has been whittled away.  It's scarce these days for families to sit around a table eating a home cooked meal, having engaging conversation, and priceless bonding.  Table linens and the good china are brought out only on special occassions and sometimes not even then.  Where are the cosy little nooks where mother and child snuggle together with a good book?  Where are the lazy afternoons laying on the lawn together, looking at the clouds?  Where do the young people go when they need a good cry?  Do they bury their faces in Mama's apron and know somehow that everything will be OK?

I wear my apron with pride.  It's my way of saying it's OK--in fact, it's more than OK, it's great!--to be "just a housewife."  I get to wipe the tears and bind up broken hearts.  I get to make messes in the kitchen and clean them up.  I get to wipe up spills and sweep crumb-covered floors.  I get to clean up after some fantastic little people who are worthy of all my hard work.  They are princes and priests and I am sowing seeds into the harvest of their greatness.  I am blessed to be able to have a place that is mine--to express myself in all the details, all the nooks and crannies.  A vase of flowers here.  A piece of homemade art there. 

This apron is my uniform.  It says that I am on duty.

What other profession in the world allows one the freedom of full expression?  What other profession lets you change directions in the middle of a project?  Let's put away the math books and bake some cookies.  What other profession pays you in the early morning warmth of a cuddly child who smells so sweet?  Can anything be compared to a child reaching into your apron pocket looking for a toy, a piece of gum, or a sticker and then looking up to you with eyes that say, "Thanks Mom" even if his lips don't?

I am a woman. 

I am a housewife. 

I am a cultural revoluationary. 

I am ready and on duty. 

When I put on my apron I feel empowered. 

Not all superheroes wear capes.  Some wear aprons.