We all have strengths and weaknesses. Things we do well and things we don't. A true partnership takes advantage of each party's strengths to cancel weaknesses, strike a balance and create something that is greater than the sum of it's parts. It requires each to contribute and even push past what they think they can do. It assumes an individual desire to learn new skills and a collective determination to work together. It knows no gender preferences only competence and willingness. It's a beautiful thing to be a part of.
I'm usually baffled by so called modern feminists. I always thought that the first real feminists were those Pioneer women who toiled, fought and died at their husband's side. Who took on any challenge, any task, any danger and damn anyone who disagreed with their choices. I find true feminists in the unwavering sharing of hardship and the acceptance of the idea of partnership with all that entails. Independent and yet realistic. Real feminists are wonderful beyond the ability of the the world's finest authors to describe.
Here is my feminist.
Tired, dirty and yet still with a beaming smile on her lovely face. She's a true scion of her Pioneer foremothers. Unafraid and imminently competent. Not just willing to work hard by her husband's side but joyous for the opportunity and confident in her own skills and abilities. Unconcerned about her femininity because she knows exactly who and what she is and how beautiful that makes her. My wife but not my property. My partner but not my slave. She can be counted on in any situation and that makes her strong. Capable of taking care of herself but always making sure I know how much she values our marriage and appreciates me for who and what I am.
Pour some concrete? Sure. You do the heavy lifting with your male body built for that chore and I'll do the rest. The very picture of a proud, confident woman. Surveying her work and pleased with the results. There is no task beyond her. No job she cannot tackle with the talents The Creator gifted her with and which she has honed and perfected over the years of her life.
I have my task. The bags of concrete are heavy and unwieldy. The mixing requires the strength and endurance the Good Lord provided to me so I could be the partner she deserves. Those attributes she knows she can depend on. They free her for her own work. Work she cherishes because she's a feminist. A strong woman who knows her own mind and takes a back seat to no one. Yet she understands where each of us can best contribute and doesn't resent what she cannot change even if she were of a mind to do so.
Ah beauty. Where can it be found? Some find it in the lunatic gyrations of the latest Hollywood sensation abasing herself across the screen for the delectation of her hordes of misinformed fans. Some in the ravings of a leftist icon who professes independence while prostituting herself for fame and public alms. I find it in the quiet confidence and competence of a woman who has shared every task that has come along in our lives. Yes, she is so very beautiful. The moment matters not, just the woman in that small slice of time.
And when the task is finished she takes joy in a shared success. A job well done. Together. 580 pounds of hand mixed concrete and I didn't spread a single trowel full. I did my part and watched as my beautiful partner did hers. I smiled inside as her pride beamed across her features. Who takes such prideful joy from a task like this? Perhaps someone who doesn't care about the job, only the opportunity, surely given by a loving God, to once again share a hardship with the fortunate man she shares her life with.
Maybe I'm missing something important. Perhaps as a man I simply do not understand. That may be but I do know what I love and what I respect. I love and respect my own dear feminist with all her strengths and all her weaknesses.
I wouldn't trade her for anyone else on the face of the Earth.