Six or so years ago, not long at all after we met, Isaac and I went to a dinner party hosted by some friends. Conversation around the table quickly settled into a sort of game: we went around the table, one person at a time, and everyone else at the table got to ask the person of the moment any question (with some veto power allotted to the person in the hot seat, of course).
When it was my turn to answer, one of the guys there asked what my favorite thing about Isaac was. I had no hesitation whatsoever: "he washes my dishes."
When I met Isaac, I had 50+ piano students, driving 500+ miles each week to teach in their homes. I was out of my apartment a lot. I ate a lot of fast food. When I did eat at home, it could easily be days before I washed dishes. I grew up with a dishwasher, I've never had to wash dishes, I hate doing it. Almost from the very beginning, Isaac took over the job. He'd come over in the evenings, after my lessons, and pop straight into the kitchen to clean up.
And so I didn't have to think for a second. That was absolutely my favorite thing about him.
When I thought about it later, though, I realized how awfully selfish that sounded (still sounds!), I stopped to consider it a little more thoroughly. I don't generally think I'm a terribly lazy person, and I certainly wasn't just glad to be out of a job I hated.
What I really love about my husband is his attitude. He wants whole-heartedly to show his love by serving me however he can. (Hello, love languages.) He found out right away the thing I hate to do most, and he took over it. And while "acts of service" isn't necessarily the love language I hear best, I'm not at all oblivious to the sacrifice he made then, and continues to make today, to complete that chore for me. Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of it, but I really do feel honored by his willingness to serve in that way.
I'm thinking about this tonight because he's camping with our church's junior high kids, and I'll be on dish duty myself for the next few days. :) Every time I think, "man, I miss Isaac . . . I have to go clean the kitchen!", I'm reminding myself that it's not the lack of a chore I miss. It's the servant heart, the faithful service, our familiar routine of companionship as he stands at the sink and I sit at the table and eat snacks. (Hello, glimpse into our real life.)
When it was my turn to answer, one of the guys there asked what my favorite thing about Isaac was. I had no hesitation whatsoever: "he washes my dishes."
When I met Isaac, I had 50+ piano students, driving 500+ miles each week to teach in their homes. I was out of my apartment a lot. I ate a lot of fast food. When I did eat at home, it could easily be days before I washed dishes. I grew up with a dishwasher, I've never had to wash dishes, I hate doing it. Almost from the very beginning, Isaac took over the job. He'd come over in the evenings, after my lessons, and pop straight into the kitchen to clean up.
And so I didn't have to think for a second. That was absolutely my favorite thing about him.
When I thought about it later, though, I realized how awfully selfish that sounded (still sounds!), I stopped to consider it a little more thoroughly. I don't generally think I'm a terribly lazy person, and I certainly wasn't just glad to be out of a job I hated.
What I really love about my husband is his attitude. He wants whole-heartedly to show his love by serving me however he can. (Hello, love languages.) He found out right away the thing I hate to do most, and he took over it. And while "acts of service" isn't necessarily the love language I hear best, I'm not at all oblivious to the sacrifice he made then, and continues to make today, to complete that chore for me. Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of it, but I really do feel honored by his willingness to serve in that way.
I'm thinking about this tonight because he's camping with our church's junior high kids, and I'll be on dish duty myself for the next few days. :) Every time I think, "man, I miss Isaac . . . I have to go clean the kitchen!", I'm reminding myself that it's not the lack of a chore I miss. It's the servant heart, the faithful service, our familiar routine of companionship as he stands at the sink and I sit at the table and eat snacks. (Hello, glimpse into our real life.)
Good men turn into good daddies.
P.S. We do have an actual dishwasher, but in the past year or so we've gotten pretty particular about not putting plastic in the dishwasher, so all of the kids' cups and plates have to be done by hand.
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