It May be Important!

The word "task" in our home is one to be taken seriously. When BabyMan tells me there's something he wants me to do by the time he gets home, he will sometimes end the request with "I'm tasking you on this, Sugar," that means I don't get to blow it off, or procrastinate until it's too late. It might be something he's noticed needs fixing or cleaning around the house, or getting in touch with my doctor about a physical problem I'm experiencing, or gathering information and data regarding a trip we need to take... whatever the task is, I am expected to give it top priority.

I'm usually pretty good at completing tasks. My motivation is always to please him, and a little to avoid punishment. But on those occasions when I fail to obey him on these things, I'm usually ordered to pull down my pants and bend over the bed while he takes the leather paddle to my behind. And during these times, he repeats something over and over like a mantra. "You gotta complete your tasks, Sugar. At some point it may be important. At some point it may be life or death!"

For a long time, I've wanted to look over my shoulder as I am posed over the bed taking my whacks and ask, "C'mon, Baby, how important can it be? You just wanted me to clean the kitchen tile grout. It's not like it can't be done tomorrow." Of course making this query in this position is not the best idea I've ever had, so I remain quiet.

But it just occurred to me recently how very important obedience is to BabyMan. I was reminded of a day several years ago when he preached a sermon on obedience to God. He illustrated through this old African parable:

A father was walking toward his grown son on a rainy day, and observed him talking to a friend of his as they stood under a tree to keep dry. Suddenly the father to his son, yelled out "Son, drop to your knees and crawl over to me immediately!"

The son, without question or a moment's hesitation, dropped to his knees, and crawled through the rain and mud over to his father who waited for him ten yards away. The friend, who remained under the tree was appalled at the humiliating way the father treated his child, and walked away in disgust.

The son looked up at his father and never attempted to demand an explanation. However, the father pointed toward the tree and said, "As I watched you, I could see from my vantage point that a poisonous snake was hovering over your head in the tree ready to strike you. I had no time to explain, only to command. Had you not obeyed me, you would have been killed."

This is what BabyMan's been driving at all this time. Although we did agree that he would help me keep on top of the housework, the task itself was never important enough to punish over. It was the disobedience that could tear us apart, as it was constantly in danger of doing before we incorporated DD in our relationship. He wanted me to trust him so completely that if he suddenly told me to get down in the mud and crawl to him, I would do it without question. And if I obey him on little things like the kitchen tile grout, How much more likely am I to obey him on something of great importance, or a matter of life and death?

I remember getting into a discussion with him after that sermon about the relationship of the father and son. There was an unconditional trust there, that, while admirable, I found a bit unrealistic. How many relationships are void of resentment, old wounds, mistrust, battle fatigue, and egomaniacal motivation? I remember thinking that trust and obedience like that has to be earned over time.

I've now come to the realization that BabyMan has earned my trust. Since we started ttwd in October of last year, he has never broken a promise to me, and never put me down in order to elevate himself. He has protected me, provided for me, and has taught me to communicate for the betterment of out relationship (although I admit that's something I still have to work on). And to be honest, this is who he was before October. But there's something about our new relationship that has caused him to grow as a husband and a human being that I'm appreciating more and more, and my willingness to submit to his every word had begun to reflect that appreciation. Why shouldn't I get down on my knees and crawl to him in the mud?

My reason for obeying his every word shouldn't be to avoid punishment, but to have him trust me the way I trust him. I can only hope that I've come close to that ideal.  So on average he has to reach for that paddle only about once a month for acts of disobedience as far as my "tasks" are concerned.

I'm workin' on it, I'm workin' on it!