June Cleaver I am not

I’ve mentioned in this space a few times that it’s tax season and so Mr. Z works long hours. And while it’s not the ideal way to begin a marriage (four months next week!) I’ve been quite convicted about  keeping the proper perspective. I really do try my best to keep the house afloat (no we don’t live in a house boat) without Mr. Z’s help because frankly, if I was working like he is, I wouldn’t want to come home at 10:30 at night and then feel like I needed to empty the dishwasher, fold laundry, etc.  Although I do have this horrible habit of getting the mail and setting it on the counter but not opening it, so he does still have that waiting for him  (ha!).

I think the most valuable lesson I’ve learned in this season thus far is that my discipline, or lack thereof, doesn’t just affect me, but it also effects him. When I decide I’d rather watch TV or read a book, or spend useless hours on the Internet rather than fold clothes, change the bed sheets or prepare dinner for our usual Friday night routine, in that moment I’m wasting future time that I could be spending with him when he’s not working. I know, DUH Captain Obvious.

I wish I could say doing this, trying to be disciplined, means when I’m home doing these things I’m simply dancing around the house in delight, so happy I can serve my husband this way. You know, all June Cleaver like with a neat little apron humming sweet little songs, perhaps whistling as I work, thinking, “isn’t this just delightful?”

Nope. Definitely not. Instead there are times when I resent the IRS and want to run into an agent and simply berate him because you know it’s his fault my husband has to work so much. Or, I may conjure up images of myself barging into Mr. Z’s office and telling all his coworkers they need to step it up so I can see him (I may be just a little biased in thinking he is doing ALL the work). The best is when I consider figuring out a way to hire a cleaning lady without him ever knowing… Ah, deceit, nice one Linds.

I digress, the point: I want to make it clear that I’m not trying to sound holier than thou. I’m certainly not. And in fact, the other day I was praying “Lord, I know he appreciates all this. He tells me all the time and the look in his eyes when he comes home and finds me in bed screams I love you deeply and adore you. I know that is a HUGE blessing and I thank you Lord. But could I just get flowers? Maybe just one? Something for the hard work?”

And then, right then and there I sensed the Lord say, “Marriage is not about quid pro quo. It is about selflessness and giving yourself no matter what is given back. Keep serving your husband. You will find joy in that.”

And as always, God was right. I find joy in knowing Mr. Z is cared for and he doesn’t have to fend for himself. I find joy in knowing he can do his job better knowing Mrs. Z will be waiting for him and taking care of things. It is a joy to serve him in this way. I’m only human, and resenting the situation is normal, but I don’t need to camp out in the resentment.

Needless to say when I came home from church the other day these were waiting for me:

As well as a dozen more pink ones. I love Mr. Z and I love my God.