Day 305: Change of Plans

On Sunday (7/29), I had an act planned–I intended to give you 15 minutes to talk about whatever you wanted while I gave you my full attention. I’d done this before. I wanted to do it again because I’ve been convicted lately about my listening habits (I’ve written much about this).

However–and this is a big however–as soon as I parked the car at our place, you informed me by cell phone that our oldest daughter had smashed her teeth on the bathtub and that we needed to take her to the emergency room. So, we took her.

She was brave in the ER, much more so than us. The doctor told us that he couldn’t do anything but that we should see a dentist in the morning. By Monday afternoon, we had a daughter with four less teeth, stitched-up gums, and an adorable new smile.

I did manage to commit my act of love on Sunday, though. Late, late on Sunday night (Monday morning, really), I Facebooked you a message telling you that you handled the teeth situation well and that you acted bravely. When you read this, I think it really affected you because you kept thanking me for the note and saying that you didn’t know why I thought you were so brave because you felt like a wreck the entire night.

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Day 116: Reflections on Sacrifice

On Sunday, I spent a long day at church, then had to work for several more hours when I came home. I didn’t want to commit my act of love for the day because I was so tired. The only thing that compelled me to commit it was my desire to be consistent with 365.

So, between working at church and home, I trudged up the stairs, bleached the bathtub, and prepared a bath for you. You didn’t want a bubble bath, so I left out the bubbles, but I did light a fragrant candle and place it by the tub.

I planned on watching the baby while you took your bath, but the baby was asleep, so my job was easy–to let you take your bath in peace. You did. You also gave yourself a pedicure. Then you came downstairs refreshed and relaxed.

365’s forced me to make changes to my day, and even my lifestyle, in order to show you (however imperfectly) love and kindness. These sacrifices, though momentary and light, have prompted me to reflect on Christ’s sacrifice for me. The personal and tangible nature of my (small) sacrifices has made me realize how personal and tangible his sacrifice was. Christ, a real person, gave up his position in heaven to suffer and die in space and time on my behalf. He felt the pain of whips, the weight of the cross, and the sting of nails; the pain of wrath, the weight of sin, and the sting of betrayal. Compared to his sacrifice, (understatement alert!) mine is negligible. But the point is, Christ’s love for me has become more real as I’ve felt some of the pain (and joy: more on that later) of serving you.

What’s more, my deeper understanding of Christ’s sacrifice for me has resulted in my greater desire to sacrifice for you. I suspect this cycle will continue—as I serve you more, I’ll understand better how Christ served me (my Lord served me? How unthinkable!), which understanding will compel me to serve you more.