"I live to serve."
These words were muttered under my breath without the faintest sincerity about serving. I had spent the entire Sunday fluttering between laundry, paperwork, cleaning up, dishes, cleaning the house, online shopping, taxi driving, disciplining and the like.
I had been serving all day, and frankly I was getting tired of serving.
But as I said those words to a child who had asked for my assistance, I pondered my calling for a moment. Serving my family often feels thankless. Do this, mom. . . help me, mom. . .drive me here, mom. . . the list goes on and on. But whether or not I am validated in my calling on a daily basis doesn't negate my calling. I am nonetheless still called to serve my family - my children and my husband, and even further, my extended family, friends and church family.
But wow - sometimes it's mighty hard to do. I often just want to serve myself, thankyouverymuch! If I had had my druthers this particular Sunday, I would have spent the entire day in the sunshine, reading a book and snoozing. Instead it was filled with all sorts of mundane bits of domesticity. And I felt weary from it.
But one of my tasks that day was to reach out to someone who had lost a child. And even amidst the weariness I was feeling that evening, the juxtaposition of my feelings of frustration against the feelings of a grieving mother was not lost on me. The very things that were chafing at me that day were the very things that were taken from her because of her loss. She longs to serve that child once more, but must wait now until they are reunited in heaven.
May I no longer mutter the words "I live to serve". May I rejoice in them, thankful for the blessing of having the opportunity to do so.