In the early years of my marriage, I often thought about how my husband should serve me. When my feet hit the floor in the morning, I thought very little of him and his needs.
As a strong-willed and determined woman from an early age, it’s taken a lot of wisdom, growth, maturity, and lessons learned over our last 13 years together to realize the depth of my selfishness. I’d be lying if I told you I’m done learning. I often have to step outside of my comfortable bubble to study his world.
I’ve learned that it’s the little things in our marriage where I can serve him better and take more notice—like ensuring his favorite stainless steel coffee mug is washed, put away in our coffee cupboard, and ready to grab the next morning.
I know it sounds like such a simple act of service but as someone who also struggles with orderliness, in the past there were numerous times he’d be looking all over the kitchen for his cup but couldn’t find it anywhere.
Was his preferred cup drying in the dish drainer? Was it sparkling clean in the dishwasher? Or was it sitting on the countertop with a tiny rim of yesterday’s cold coffee stuck to the bottom (oh no!)? Sometimes the cup was found, but where on earth was the lid? These were the mysteries he and I had to tackle many mornings among our children and their own altercations.
As you can imagine the frustration he felt heading out the door to take our kids to school. The morning routine with four young kids is a three ring circus as it is! I’d even blame things he couldn’t find on our kids. Which don’t get me wrong, did happen a lot, but not always.
Lately, it’s taken an opening of my blind eyes to see the pride in my heart. To see my own lack of organization and discipline. I’ve realized I can help him in this area. I don’t need to watch him struggle when I can do something about it—especially if I’m the one who unloaded the dishes.
I’ve had to destroy the mindset that says, “He’s a grown man and can figure out the morning coffee himself.” I’ve realized my hardened heart in not seeing the gift of managing our home and ensuring it’s a place of order, peace, and functionality. I’ve confessed to God the pride in my heart that says being a helper to my husband means I’m weak or inferior.
It’s taken humility and understanding to see that it’s a joy and blessing to serve him in the little things just as he does for me all the time. To dwell on the fact that he’s fully capable of doing it himself, but I’m happy to be a support and encouragement so that he can have the best day possible.
Coming alongside my husband and lifting him up, is in fact, a high and noble calling. Doing it with grace, joy, strength, and courage is even more worthy. It’s what my husband needs. It’s what my children need to see in our love for one another.
I can be my husband’s biggest supporter—not just in the grand moments, but also in the monotony of daily life and demands. Because gladly serving him in the seemingly insignificant areas really is no small thing.
It’s never easy to admit my own selfishness. Battling my stubborn, sinful nature is hard work. But as I humble myself each day, I’m making steady changes and getting my eyes off myself.
I haven’t told him I’ve been more intentional about knowing the exact location of his coffee cup—that can be a secret between you and me. Maybe he’s noticing there’s a little more order in the shelves? But I do see a difference in the morning rat race when he can grab that loved mug and go—with no spills or stains—ready to face whatever challenges the day throws at him.
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