Kindness First

Image by Pavel Jurča from Pixabay

My morning devotion quoted Ephesians 4:32. “And be ye kind one to another; merciful, forgiving one another, even as God hath forgiven you in Christ.”

Ouch. I’m falling short on this virtue.

My husband is nearing 80, and after his near death with Covid back in 2020, his stamina has decreased, requiring me to pick up more of the household chores.

I don’t mind most of the time, but little things are annoying. Dirty dishes in the sink when the dishwasher is empty. The unmade bed and breadcrumbs on the kitchen counter, he doesn’t seem to notice. Do I sound like Martha?

Why are those small things so annoying? My husband isn’t insensitive to my feelings. He genuinely doesn’t think about doing those little tasks. But on top of other things, they become overwhelming, especially when I'm tired.

After a long chat, we both vowed to do better. He’s making more of an effort to help with the little things, and I’m working on remaining cheerful (or at least not grumpy) when feeling overwhelmed. After all, some things can be put off for later. (That’s hard for this clean freak, but I’m working on it. )

I love my husband. He’s not perfect (then neither am I), but he is the perfect partner for me — despite these little things. 

I pray you have a blessed holiday season, one filled with kindness and hope and joy. Amen.

Small Things

Photo by Nathan Lemon@Unsplash

“Do small things with great love.” Mother Teresa.

They seem small, but perhaps they aren’t to the recipient.

A good friend introduced me to my church family. A small gesture to her, but a huge one for me.

I lost a small cross pendant I had for years. My husband surprised me with another, larger and prettier pendant. His sweet act touched me deeply.

A stranger gave me a guardian angel pin so I wouldn’t feel alone during a low moment in my life. I gave it to a friend facing cancer treatments. Later, my daughter gave me a beautiful Black Hills gold replacement. Not wanting to part with her beautiful gift, I bought several pins to give away.

Another stranger stopped and prayed with me when I needed prayer the most. The closest I came was telling a stranger I’d pray for them.

The list goes on.

What about you? Have you been the recipient of small acts of love that made a difference in your life? Have you done the same for others?

Dear Lord, may I be the doer of small things done with great love. Amen.

Limitless Kindness

Image by Hucklebarry from Pixabay 

It seems some lessons need to be learned over and over. Since my husband’s battle with Covid last year, I’ve taken over more and more of the chores. His stamina is better, but still not back to the pre-virus level. Most days, I do fine. Others, when I am feeling tired and overwhelmed, I tend to be a little crabby. I don’t always voice my grumpiness, but I am sure my body language does.

I’ve been trying to change my attitude and ask my husband to help more, but that flaw most women carry often gets the better of me. You know the one. We think others should know what needs to be done and should offer to help without being asked. Not that my husband doesn’t volunteer now and then, it’s the now and then I get irritated with, especially when I’m cleaning off the counter for the hundredth time and find more dishes in the sink after I emptied the dishwasher.

Overall, they are small annoyances, but they build and fester.

Well, God told me what he thought of my attitude.

Good Morning, Lord by Joseph T. Sullivan: “God has done so much for me, how can I express my thanks? By living a good life, honoring God in all that I do. Let me be a part of your love, Lord, in limitless kindness to those around me. Let me seek better ways to be thoughtful and kind.”

Those words reminded me of a story I once read about oil, which I have shared here before. In Streams in the Desert, L.B. Coleman tells a story about an eccentric old man who carried an oil can with him wherever he went. He lubricated every squeaky gate and door he encountered. When asked why he did this, he replied, “To make the way easier for those who come after me.”

Isn’t that really what following our faith is about, aside from sharing the Good News?

Jesus called his disciples (and us) to be servants, not masters, to give with a joyful heart. My kindness should have no limits, this includes how many times I clean the counters or dishes from the sink. If I’m not so intent on grumbling over my chores, I am more open to seeing the kindnesses others do for me, including my husband. He may not do the dishes as often as I wish, but he carries out the garbage when it’s full without my saying a word. He takes Cooper out more than I do. He mows lawn, washes windows, does his own laundry, keeps the truck running, sprays for insects, wrangles the bee traps, and the list goes on, tons of things I don’t have to do.

He gives me hugs and kisses, tells me I am beautiful, thanks me for everything I do for him, and most of all, tells me he loves me. Every. Day.

Thank you, Lord, for pointing out the beam in my eye and showing me how to ignore the splinter in my husband’s. I am sure we will have this conversation many more times, and in anticipation, thank you for your forgiveness in advance. Amen.

 

 

 

Logs, Splinters, and Nits

This morning while I was emptying the dishwasher, I grumbled. I was thankful my husband helped clean up the kitchen the night before, but he didn’t load it the way I prefer. For one instance, I want the knives pointing down, but he places them up. They are visible enough to avoid their points when I am unloading, but I still make the request that he load them my way, sometimes graciously, sometimes not.

Same in other situations. I appreciate his help, but it’s easy to find logs, splinters, and nits if things aren’t done according to my preference.

As I’ve aged I’ve gotten a little better at appreciating rather than complaining, especially after my brush with breast cancer, but I still slip up now and then and God lets me know, often immediately, as he did this morning.   

My first reading was from 1 Corinthians 13: 13: “And now there remain faith, hope, and charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity.”

Charity in words, deeds — and thoughts, giving someone the benefit of the doubt, not judging motives or finding fault. 

In my devotion, Living Faith, Melanie Rigney stated, “Remember, God is God and we are his servants, not his judges.”

When things don’t go my way, or people act or do things different from what I think is proper and just, I’ll try to remember God has not appointed me judge over anyone, least of all Him. 

Your will, Lord, not mine. Amen.

Love is Kind, Patient, and Sometimes...

In accordance with my seven-day challenge of Love Your Spouse, I have resurrected this story.

RV’s are a wonderful way to travel, but they are the perfect test of marital love. The challenges abound in the best of circumstances, but after a long day of moving, they explode into another dimension.

Our relocation from sunny Arizona to cooler Idaho went smoothly, considering, until we decided to winterize the RV. We dropped off the U-Haul and drove over to the storage lot. The instruction manual said it would only take five minutes, so what could possibly go wrong?

My husband peered at the valves. “Now which way do these go?”

I repeated the instructions.

Straightening back up, he said, “I’ll will hook up the hose, if you’ll open the faucets.”

That moment things began to go wrong. Water poured out of the faucets.

I made a quick exit back out to my husband. “We forgot to drain the lines when we drained the tanks, and there’s a lot of water running out of the taps.”

“Well,” The Love of My Life said, “It’s clear water. We’ll just run it into a bucket and walk it over to the dump station. That would be much easier than re-hitching the trailer and pulling it over there.”

“We don’t have a bucket. You took all of them into the house.”

My One and Only sighed, and then winked. “I told you we should keep one bucket in the trailer.”

It was an old joke between us, his way of admitting I had been right and he was wrong.

I looked up at the gray sky. The sun was hovering near the horizon. A gust of wind blew through the lot, carrying a cloud of leaves, papers, and grit.

.

I hunkered deeper into my coat. “Let’s come back tomorrow with a bucket.”

“No, I really want to get it done tonight.”

“And how are we going to do that without a bucket?”

“Let me think a moment.”

Before I could protest, another cold gust of wind blew an old bucket out from behind the neighboring RV. A quick inspection deemed it usable.  

We were lucky, the fresh water tank and both grey tanks contained very little water, and dumping them went smoothly and quickly. However, our luck turned sour when we opened the black tank. A thick, odorous black muck oozed into the bucket.

The Love of My Life stated the obvious. “It appears we also forgot to flush the black tank.”

I said nothing. My mother told me if I couldn’t say anything nice, not to say anything.

Next came the Really Big Mistake.

My Beloved announced, “Well, there can’t be that much left. We’ll just drain it into the bucket like we did the grey tanks and walk it over to the dump station.”

I watched the sludge pass the halfway mark, then the three-quarters mark. When it neared the rim, My Soul Mate shut the valve. We both stared at it, willing it to disappear.

The Man of My Dreams announced the scariest plan I ever heard him say. “It’s too heavy to carry. We’ll have to haul it over to the dump station in the truck.”

My stomach rolled. The storage lot was unpaved and filled with potholes and bumps. Coupled with a fully carpet lined truck bed, I had a sinking feeling this plan probably wouldn’t turn out well.

However, My Once in a Life Time Love had it figured out. “You sit in the back seat and watch. If it starts to slosh too much, holler, and I’ll stop.”

Oh, I’d holler all right.

We inched the truck across the lot to the dump station. I was amazed. My Darling did a fantastic job. Only once did the goop sway close to the rim.

Back at the trailer, we paused, staring at the Black Water valve. How much was left in the tank?  

The Light of My Life set the bucket down and opened the valve. More sludge poured out. He turned the valve off. “I don’t really want to try that again, do you?”

My facial expression must have given him my answer, because then he added, “Okay. We’ll hitch up the trailer.”

The sun sank below the horizon and the temperature dropped several more degrees. I was certain I had frostbite on my both hands and feet by the time we hitched the trailer and pulled it over to the dump station.

Once again disaster struck. The coupling on the dump station hose didn’t fit our flush valve.

My Dearly Beloved had another solution. “I’ll just take the hose through the bedroom door to the bathroom and flush the tank that way.”

I remained silent, but envisioned water spewing in every direction, soaking everything it touched. However, the Man Whom I Adore managed the process without any further mishap, and forty minutes later, we had the trailer back in its storage spot, the hitch and the towing equipment put away, and we were once again reading the instruction manual.

All we had to do was pump the anti-freeze through the water lines, but our hose wouldn’t fit into the antifreeze jug.

My husband looked sideways at me, then back to the antifreeze jug. “Sweetheart, would you go see if there is anything in the trailer we can use?”

“We took about everything out of the trailer, right along with the buckets.”

“Well, there might be something…”

I found a foil casserole pan just deep enough, I hoped.

And yes, from that point, the procedure took five minutes.  

The Man Whom I Adore More Than Anything made another announcement: “Let’s get a burrito at that little place I saw just up the street.”

I gritted my teeth. For the last two months, My Beloved failed to recognize any other fast food choice. I was certain if I ate one more burrito, I would not only look like one, I’d turn into one.

I gazed at My Nearly Beloved.

He said, “On second thought, let’s just go home.”

Good man.

 Love is: patient, is kind. It is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. (1 Corinthians: 13: 4-8)

Still on the Hook

It seems I have yet to fully grasp ( or maybe fully embrace) the commandment to love my enemies. References to this directive abounded everywhere I looked this last week. They were in my devotionals, on the Internet, even in the historical novel I am reading, constant reminders to be patient, kind, and loving in return for insults, aggravations, and general rudeness.  Well, I tried. I truly did. So what part am I still missing?

In my devotional, Good Morning, Lord, Joseph Sullivan pointed out that attitude is most important. I should be gracious and courteous when responding to unpleasant and uncertain moments. "Smile at the testy waiter, the high strung executive," and one of my personal daily challenges, "the impetuous, horn honking motorist."

I spend my morning commute writing bumper stickers.  A few of my favorites:

If you want to reserve this road for your personal use, you must call 48 hours in advance.

I have the legal  right to go the speed limit.

Yellow does not mean speed up.

That red light is not a suggestion.  

Am I instead to smile and say a prayer for the guy who just cut in front of me and then slowed down, forcing me to stand on my brakes? And the big truck riding my bumper so close I can't see his headlights? I am to smile and think sweet thoughts, pray even? And the clerk at the check out who acted like she was doing me a favor by taking my money?  I am to be gracious in thought as well as deed? And what about that woman who appears to spend her nights thinking of insults and innuendos to slap me with everyday? As my daughter would say, my feathers were a bit ruffled at the thought. 

Well, Jeremiah 18:20, my next listed reading, answered that question. ....Remember that I have stood in thy sight to speak for them and turn away thy indignation from them. The foot note said this was spoken in the person of Christ. He loved (and died) for those who tortured and killed him. He not only was gracious and loving, He defended those men who treated Him far worse than I have been treated. No one is whipping me with a cat of nine tails and no one is hammering nails into my flesh.

Then the light came on, and I finally got His point, the full message.  Outwardly I may manage to remain polite, and I might be managing my temper better, but I am making judgments. I have failed to remember the old adage, hate the sin, love the sinner. My head hangs in shame.

However, as Jesus told me in The Divine Embrace, it is not how many times I fail, it is how hard I try. It is the effort that counts. And with that in mind,  I will work on an attitude adjustment, try not to judge the driver of the big four wheel drive riding my bumper. I will try to be patient with the older driver putting along twenty miles under the speed limit. I will be gracious and pray for the caustic woman I must deal with every day, and all the other challenges to my vow to love my enemies in whatever form they take.

I don't need to be doormat, but my response should not be anger and judgment. I need to rely on my prior lessons and stand silent to unfair insults, remembering their judgment of me isn't as important as God's. After all when I finally cross over into eternity, it will be His opinion that matters, not theirs. I do need to speak up for injustices when necessary - and forgive often.

However, as in The Woman's Prayer, I am about to get in the car now, about to go to work, about to run errands at the local market, and a whole host of activities that will set me up as a target for rudeness, and try my patience. I need your help Lord, for I cannot do this on my own. I know. I've tried it my way, and it isn't working.