Tanner’s vision brought us here. I just handle the income, the children, the house, the animals, and the content.
When I tell people my husband leads our family, they sometimes look confused. “But you run four businesses,” they say. “You homeschool the kids. You manage the homestead.” They don’t understand. Tanner leads with vision. I simply execute the vision. With my income. And my labor. And my 4:30 AM wake-up time. This is what it looks like when a husband leads a family, and it’s beautiful.
Three years ago, Tanner felt called to step back from traditional employment to focus on his purpose. He was working in insurance at the time, and his soul was withering. “I need to find my mission,” he told me. I said yes immediately. A wife supports her husband’s journey, even when that journey involves eighteen months of “discernment” followed by a YouTube channel about masculine intentionality that currently has thirty-one subscribers. Twenty-three of them are bots. He doesn’t know I know that.
The Rhythm Of Our Days
I wake at 4:30 to work on my Substack before the children rise. By 6:00 I’m making sourdough and filming content for my “Rooted Woman” Instagram. The bread funds our groceries. The Instagram funds our mortgage. By 7:00 the children are up and I begin our homeschool curriculum, which I designed, printed, and laminated myself. Tanner typically joins us around 10:30, after what he calls his “morning alignment practice.” He offers encouragement. “You’re doing great, babe,” he says, before returning to his office to work on his book.
The book is called Leading From Rest: A Man’s Guide to Intentional Presence. He’s been on chapter two for fourteen months. I’ve read chapter two. It’s mostly bullet points.
What Submission Really Means
Modern feminists think submission means weakness. They’re wrong. Submission means I choose to ask Tanner’s input before making decisions. For example, last month I asked if we should expand my soap line to include candles. He said, “Yeah, whatever you think.” That’s leadership. He trusted my judgment completely. I now make candles at 11 PM after the children are asleep while he watches documentaries about ancient civilizations.
My mother asked why Tanner doesn’t help with the candle production. “He’s holding space for the family,” I explained. She made a face I’ve learned to ignore. My therapist made the same face. I stopped seeing that therapist. Secular counselors don’t understand covenant marriage.
The Fruit Of Our Arrangement
Our children are thriving. Just last week, my daughter Rosemary drew a picture of our family. I’m in the center, very large, holding a laptop, a ladle, and what appears to be a chicken. Tanner is on the edge of the page, smaller, lying down. “That’s Daddy finding his purpose,” Rosemary explained. She’s four. She understands.
Some months are harder than others. In November, my Etsy shop brought in $4,200. Tanner’s YouTube channel made $11.47. He was so excited about the $11.47. “We’re building something,” he said. I agreed. We are building something. I am building something. And Tanner is here, in the house, while I build it. That’s partnership.
Last week he mentioned he might pivot from YouTube to podcasting. He’ll need equipment. I said yes immediately. A wife supports her husband’s journey. The equipment costs $400. I’ll make an extra batch of soap.
My grandmother never had to make soap at midnight to fund her husband’s podcast. But she also never experienced this kind of intentional partnership. I think she’d be proud. She’d also probably ask why Tanner doesn’t have a job, but she was from a different generation. They didn’t understand vision.
About the Author
