Candy blogs: I hate doing laundry. There’s a load in right now and I’ll probably let the buzzer go off the maximun number of times and forget about it until I’m looking for a clean blouse. So when I finally do the laundry, I hate little irritants during the process … like shirts that are inside out. My beloved husband always takes his shirt off at night in a way that leaves them inside out. The one final straw in the painful laundry process is to have to pull them all right side out as I’m folding them to put them away. Gurrrr
As I pondered this recently, murmuring (a mumbled or private expression of discontent) to myself about my thoughtless husband, I heard the Spirit say quietly … serve to honor him.
My husband has loved me since high school. And, boy, a lot has changed since 1977! In the beginning of our marriage, his expectations were much different. But over the years he has come to accept me for who I am. He doesn’t ask for much. I always tell women that men are simple creatures who are made happy by having full stomachs and clean underwear. In return, he is thoughtful in countless ways.
And yet these are the two areas that I have complained about and struggled against most over the years. I’ve never enjoyed cooking but always cooked as long as we had kids at home. When our daughter left for college I made a deal with Scott that I’d be cooking a lot less. He hesitantly complied and has stood by his end of the deal. And he doesn’t complain about the laundry. He only timidly asks if I’m out of underwear yet.
In spite of my distaste for cooking and laundry, he has always been a thoughtful husband. He hasn’t demanded perfection. He always asks if he can bring me anything before leaving the kitchen. I have to remind myself to do that. He has made hundreds of treat runs. I will seldom leave the house after I’ve settled in for the evening. He keeps our computers and printers up and running even though he’s been doing that all day at work. I believe if you turn it on, it should work. And if it doesn’t, make it so. He is the official volunteer vacuumer. He puts gas in my car. He happily thanks me for every cup of coffee and meal I serve him. He hangs up his towels after a shower and carries my dishes to the kitchen. He knows I don’t like mayo or tomatoes on a sandwich and orders them that way for me. He takes control and offers comfort and strength when he sees me faltering. He gives me a realistic perspective when I’m too emotional. He constantly tells me he loves me. He holds me in his arms at night. He is a generous lover. I could literally go on and on with this list of thoughtful, loving actions toward me.
The list makes me ashamed of my trivial mumuring about cooking and laundry. Is it really too much to ask to fuss with a few shirts now and then? Am I really that much of a “princess”?
“It is absolutely clear that God has called you to a free life. Just make sure that you don’t use this freedom as an excuse to do whatever you want to do and destroy your freedom. Rather, use your freedom to serve one another in love; that’s how freedom grows. For everything we know about God’s Word is summed up in a single sentence: Love others as you love yourself. That’s an act of true freedom. If you bite and ravage each other, watch out—in no time at all you will be annihilating each other, and where will your precious freedom be then?” Galatians 5:13-15
Serving my husband honors him for who is he in my life. Serving him doesn’t inhibit my freedom as a wife or as a woman … it expands it! The thoughtfulness of my husband makes me want to serve him. My serving him makes him want want to be thoughtful of me. We both feel loved and cherished. I have tears and goose bumps!
You probably mumur over different subjects than cooking and laundry (excuse me while I put a load in the dryer and start a new load in the washer …). But whatever they are, I encourage you to take some time to get perspective on what is reasonable and what you’re being a princess over. None of us live in a fairy tale. Let’s find and be grateful for the ways our husbands bless us. We chose them, after all. There is honor in serving.
For those reading from somewhere else: