He doesn’t bend well.
A week and a half after hernia surgery, John is still sleeping in his chair. It gives him enough dip so he doesn’t have to stretch his incision too far. Sleeping in a bed just hurts.
He’s spent time in that chair. Driving isn’t easy yet. He’s done it for short distances, but the long times sitting straight up are also uncomfortable. His twenty-year-old stick shift isn’t his best friend at the moment.
Being the kind and congenial wife that I am, I’ve tried to help him as much as I can. Getting him the things he needs, serving his meals in his chair, making him comfy in his uncomfortable state.
I’m trying to be kind and upbeat. Working all day and coming home to make dinner, however, isn’t me at my best.
Let’s just say I’m nice…till I’m not.
There are those occasions when he asks for a drink of water and the response in my head is, “Get it yourself.” I usually stop before it comes out of my mouth.
I’d never want to go through what he went through, what he’s experiencing now. Not that kind of pain.
Every now and then, however, I find myself wishing I was sitting in that chair and he was serving me.
I don’t mind serving people. I find real joy in helping others. Serving is a gift we give folks out of a genuine desire to provide for their needs. There’s a sense of authentic contentment in doing for others without expecting anything in return.
Until I feel like I’m being treated like a servant. With no appreciation for services rendered.
John hasn’t done that. Yet his discomfort is bringing out my neediness.
What about me? When is it my turn to be served?
As selfish as that sounds, this is where we all live. Entitlement and self-centeredness drive our wants and desires. If I’ve done so much to help others, I want my efforts reciprocated.
“I deserve” lurks at the very core of our human nature.
People deny it, say they’re doing things for the greater good when their own desires are barely masked by altruism. It’s a way to be recognized for their “selfless” decisions.
We all want to be recognized for what we do.
I’m not pointing fingers. I recognize my own selfishness and self-serving behavior.
I prefer not to have anyone else point it out to me.
When Jesus came to earth, He did so to fully serve. To help those who couldn’t help themselves. Leaving the glory of heaven, He came to give His life up for us, that we may be acceptable to a perfect and pure God. To enter heaven, we, too, must be perfect and pure.
Not something anyone can accomplish alone.
Jesus didn’t come to be served by us, but to serve, to give of Himself, to do for us what we can’t do for ourselves.
He never tires of His loving service.
Guess I need a little more of Jesus and a lot less of me to not crab when I serve John.