“These coppers, big and little, these brooms and clouts and brushes, were tools; and with them one made, not shoes or cabinet-work, but life itself. One made a climate within a climate; one made the days,–the complexion, the special flavor, the special happiness of each day as it passed; one made life.”
Willa Cather, Shadows on the Rock
Each craft has its tools. And those tools show themselves for what they are in the hands of the craftsman—in this case a woman. She knows how to use these tools because she knows what they are really for. She feels intuitively that her craft stands out from all others. She is intent on forming something much greater than cabinets.
The real fruit of her art is not tangible, even if the immediate products are. The cabinetmaker sees his hands give shape to something concrete and beautiful right before his very eyes. He quickly perceives how well he is doing, as well as when something has gone amiss. The woman of the home struggles to see the fruit of her work. Sometimes the concrete things she sees are not very beautiful. Or maybe she succeeds in making them aesthetically pleasing, but the deeper purpose remains elusive.
In no other art is there such a fine interplay, such a meaningful interweaving, of the intangible and the tangible. Such is the home, because such is human life. And a woman is at the heart of it.
Yet today it can be so difficult for a woman to discover and to practice this art—one that is so her, and so hers. Commonly ridiculed and undermined, or simply ignored, it is seldom seen for what it is, let alone reverenced, and cultivated. When still practiced, emphasis can tend toward achieving a certain look in the home, or even a certain performance of the children, missing the deeper reality. And this work in the home often remains secondary to achieving other more ‘serious’ objectives.
There is perhaps no other work so hidden, yet with such real fruits—both for those within the home and the broader community. This work is certainly not for a woman alone. Indeed, such wifery calls for and flourishes alongside a closely connected husbandry—an art similarly in need of rediscovery.
Willa Cather gives voice to what is well-nigh beyond articulation. The woman of a home has a genius—even if as yet undiscovered, even if different from her neighbor’s or her mother’s. She has a genius and an opportunity to make a climate within a climate—a work especially arduous when the broader climate is inclement.
By a studied attention to the concrete, grounded in a vision of the transcendent, and animated by a love of persons in all their richness, a woman crafts the special happiness of each day.
Willa Cather (American, 1873-1947) was a Pulitzer-winning authoress known especially for her novels of the American frontier, such as O Pioneers! and My Antonia. A personal favorite of mine is Shadows on the Rock, and the short story Neighbor Rosicky.
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“Yet today it can be so difficult for a woman to discover and to practice this art—one that is so her, and so hers. Commonly ridiculed and undermined, or simply ignored, it is seldom seen for what it is, let alone reverenced, and cultivated. When still practiced, emphasis can tend toward achieving a certain look in the home, or even a certain performance of the children, missing the deeper reality. And this work in the home often remains secondary to achieving other more ‘serious’ objectives.”
YES! My large family has always been treated as equal parts burdensome and queer in the eyes of secular society. And now, with the onset of this Orwellian crack-down on Covid, we are considered outright dangerous. I needed to read this today, Dr. Cuddeback. Thank you.
Justina, Thank you for this. May your all your efforts and your generosity bear the greatest of fruits.
I read this book, Shadows on the Rock, recently, and marked the page with this passage in order to copy it down later in my commonplace book. What you wrote today beautifully expressed what was going through my mind as I read those words. In fact, I loved the book for the very reason that it was filled with ordinary life, duties faithfully fulfilled. It recounted the simple activities that make a day, days which ultimately make one’s life. It opened my eyes once again to the gift of what often seems ho-hum and mundane. The potential for beauty to be found and created. I just keep going back to the thought, “one made the days. . . one made life.” What a mercy it is to have this brought to memory again-ordinary moments seem much less ordinary, but rather extraordinary when viewed in this light. Moments make up or lives. Moments lived well, grow into days lived well, which becomes a life lived well. Thank you for your reflections today. I will be praying that I remember this for a long time.
Emily, You have expressed this so beautifully! You have moved me to try to take this to heart all the more. Thank you very much.
I have worked full time for 2 1/2 years now, but was blessed to be a “stay-at-home-Mom” for 18 years prior. While I am still coming into the office (because I live next door), several of my co-workers are working from home. the women — married, single, empty-nesters –are finding how much they enjoy being at their homes, being able to home keep throughout the day. This is contrary to what the world says of women. My own plan is to work until vestment (another 6 months) and then transition back home.
As I clean, de-clutter, straighten, rearrange, I think of the lyrics to the U2 song “Grace” — “grace makes beauty out of ugly things”. I am setting the stage for life in our home, creating a space of refuge and comfort, a space to listen to and love God and each other.
Teresa, Indeed you are making a space set apart for the deep, simple things of life. I hope your transition back home goes well!