Acts of Service vs. Acts of Love

Maybe you don't see the difference, but to me, there is a difference between an act of service and an act of love.  Sometimes they merge, but many times they are two very distinct works.  Then there are the times when acts of service become more like, well, acts of duty.  It's possible that is the distinction I'm trying to make.

For me, my acts of love center around food.  Cooking and baking are my gift (my friend Kelly calls me a "feeder"), and I love being able to share that with others.  It's not only what I want to do, it's what I'm called to do.  God provides the food and the people, and I just help Him make it happen.  *"Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in it's various forms.  If anyone speaks, they should so as one who speaks the very words of God.  If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God maybe praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever.  Amen."  1 Peter 4: 10-11*  Take my work at the center, for example.  Even if I weren't thanked on a regular basis (which is not the reason I do my work there--Jesus has called me to be His hands and feet), the actions of the people I have the blessing of being able to serve tell me how much I am needed there.  And not to sound arrogant, but I don't think just any person would do.  The way my friend "R" smiles as I serve her favorite tea and toast her bagel just right--that's love.  I love her smile, I love the joy on her face when I've fixed her Lady Grey just right, I love that she feels my love in that one simple act.  And I love being able to do that for her.  When my friend "C" stops by and wants just a cup of my best coffee, a slice of whatever I've baked just for them, and stories about her two favorite Furr children--it warms my heart.  And my dear Mr P, where would I be without him?  The day he came by when Pastor B wasn't there for visitation, and Mr P said he came by just to see me?  Wow (because really, I love this dear man, and that was a huge step for him)!  I am honored to be a part of their lives, and I am blessed by all they share with me.   I often find myself thanking them for allowing me to serve them, and for allowing me into their lives.  I have learned so much from my guests (and not just these three), and they all have such places in my heart.  No kidding, I would clean the toilets at the center for my guests--for all of our clients.  I even take out the trash.  And I don't complain about any of it either.  When the rest of their lives are in upheaval from grief, loss, loneliness or whatever  happens to be going on, our clients can be assured the center will be in order.  They know the coffee will be brewing, the food will be served with love and the tea, should they want it, will be hot.  They know the conversation will be lively, the tissues free-flowing, and the hugs earnest, long and meaningful.  Our hugs and smiles convey things that words simply cannot.  When I leave, I have a tremendous gratefulness in my heart for these people that I simply cannot describe.  Everything I do, I do out of a love, out of a gratefulness for their lives, and out of an honor to be able to serve them, and serving my Father at the same time.

Notice I used the word serve several times?  That's because working at the center is not only an act of love, but it's an act of service to my God.  It is something He has called me to do.  It's how I praise Him, how I show Him how thankful I am for what He has created and blessed me with.  *"And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him... Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters." Colossians 3:17, 23* He 'rewards' (strictly for lack of a better word) me by bringing His people to me, and just when it looks as though the food might run out, He does His fishes and loaves thing, and there's always plenty to go around.  I will make the distinction here though--my service at the center is not out of a begrudging duty.  It is, in a way, out of a duty to my God, but never out of a begrudging duty.

Another act of love, and of non-begrudging duty/service, is feeding my friends, their kids, and anyone else who comes my way in need of a hot, cooked-with-love meal.  Two of my favorite people to feed are Sharon's boys.  Last night was creamy chicken with rice soup; one boy ate 3 bowls, the other ate 4.  I also served some fresh french bread I'd just made, and you'd have thought it was gold.  They polished off an entire loaf by themselves!  I love to watch them eat, I really do.  They're good for my self esteem.  I served chocolate chip cookies for dessert (I found brown sugar!) and I warmed up plate, after plate, after plate of cookies.  It made me grin like a fool that I could feed these kids like this. When I told Sharon (and texted her a picture of the near-empty bag of cookies that had been full) about this, she said "YOU WARMED THEM UP????  THEY ARE SO SPOILED!"  Someday I'll make a terrific grandmother....  Again, watching them inhale my food conveys things that words simply cannot.  Sharon's boys are always polite, always remember their manners, but watching them enjoy my food conveys more than words ever could.  And when Sharon texts me that my food feeds her soul?  My heart sings.

One other job I have at the center is providing bread and dessert for our monthly pastoral luncheons.  This has become something I enjoy doing, again, because I love the smiles on the pastors' faces as they eat.  During my first luncheon, as one of our pastors took a bite of my bread, he closed his eyes, asked everyone to be quiet for just a minute, and slowly chewed.  When he was finished with his first bite, he declared there is nothing better than fresh baked bread, and it had been a long time since he'd had any (yes, he got his very own loaf the next month).  Another month I made a from-scratch cake with homemade frosting.  One pastor asked if the cake was from scratch, and another playfully smacked his shoulder, saying, "Amy made it!  Of course it is!"  I love how much joy my food brings.  The pastors are able to move on with their business and not worry about their meal, or a place to meet, because of the center, and the food Sue, Joan and I provide for them.  

I do a lot of baking and cooking for families in need, usually families in the midst of grief and loss.  No, my food will not bring back their loved ones.  But what it does do is convey that they are loved and cared for, whether I know them or not.  For just one night, it's one less thing they need to worry about.  They are in no shape to convey a thank you or a smile, and most of the time I just leave it on their doorsteps.  Most of them I will never meet or hear from, some of them I continue to follow from afar when their stories have especially touched me, but it's not about being thanked or meeting them.  It's about doing what I can to make their lives a little warmer.   It's about being Jesus to them.

When I saw our mail carrier out delivering mail during Hurricane Sandy, I knew she deserved more than a paycheck.  This woman needed love!  In the form of bread, of course.  The next day I left a loaf of banana bread in my mailbox with a thank you note for her dedication.  Yes, delivering mail is her job, but you know what?  She could've called in sick, or with any other excuse, but she didn't.  She left the sweetest thank you note for us, signed by all the workers from our post office.  My bread may have made her day, but she will never know how much her note meant to me.

I also love feeding my grandmother.  Her face, the sounds she makes as she eats and enjoys my food, it says it all, even as she's talking about my "exquisite meals."  It was the same with feeding my grandfather.  The week he died, I took some of my lasagna in to him, and his joy is something I will hold in my heart forever.  He was sick, and I knew at the time he couldn't fully enjoy it, nor could he eat as much as he normally would've (the man could clear a casserole pan!), but just being able to take that to him was what I selfishly needed to be able to do for him.

When we give, we receive back tenfold.  We are blessed in our giving, but that is still not why I do it.  Again, I do it because it's what God has asked me to do.  As a Believer, it's what I'm called to do to share Christ with others, to encourage them, and to bless them.  *Therefore, if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind.  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.  Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others." Philippians 2:1-4*

The question for all of the above, of course, is: Would is be more difficult to serve if they were less grateful?  I'm sure it would be, yes.  BUT, it's what my Father has called me to do.  He's called me to obedience.

Which leads me to the other side of service and obedience.... So, now the hard part--the service that is out of "because I have to," less out of anything else:  My family.  Lately, serving my family is just that:  service.  It's a duty, it's a job.  Yep, we're going back to "woe is me, I feel taken for granted."  It's hard to serve my family.  I take my job as a mother and provider very seriously.  I make an effort to provide good, wholesome, and tasty meals my family will appreciate.  I used to find such joy in experimenting, trying new things, serving them and making nice meals.  Not so much lately.  My husband watches his waistband, so to watch him weigh, measure and carefully dole out the meals I work hard to prepare, or when he says he can't eat a particular item or meal because of the content,  it hurts my feelings.  When my kids whine "We're having that again?" or "I don't like that!" it hurts my feelings. The one night out of many when dinner actually comes out of a box and Noah sighs, "Oh good, finally, a good meal we can all agree on," usually sends me from the dinner table straight to bed in tears.  Those are the nights I've run out strength to fight, I'm hurting more than usual from everything I do (for them), and I just can't take what they think are jokes or even compliments. When Shawn came home last night and saw "just" the chocolate chip cookies for dessert (FYI, I seldom serve an actual dessert around here unless it's a holiday, special occasion or we have guests, so chocolate chip cookies should've been a huge treat to him) and said something about hoping we'd have something yummy like the chocolate meringue cookies with chocolate ganache since Jake and Ben were here, it hurt my feelings (especially after watching him carefully measure out his soup).  He thinks he's joking, calls me oversensitive when I become upset and doesn't understand why I'm hurt, but it really stings.  When one of them drops something on the floor, or their mess is left in the kitchen (my workspace) with the attitude of "Oh, the maid we don't have, otherwise known as MOM, will pick it up," it stings.  I deserve better.  I am better.  I deserve the respect of having them understand that they need to clean up my workspace when they're finished (after all, I don't mess up their rooms while they're at school), or pick up their other messes. Being a SAHM is a very thankless job much of the time (I've determined most people don't see it as a job because it doesn't come with a paycheck, but let's be real--it's a career), but it doesn't have to be all of the time.  Would it be easier if they were more grateful?  Absolutely.  Does it mean I have to be an less obedient to God, as He's called me to this life?  Nope.  I used to try hard to thank Shawn for the hard work he does for our family, but I've kind of lost of a lot of passion in that, and a lot of things, towards my family, over the past several months.  It's difficult to keep banging my head against the same cabinet door when I continually receive the same results.  Many of the things I do around here I used to do out of love, because I wanted to.  Now, I do them because I have to and because no one else will.  Now, I do it out of duty.

Do I need to grow up and get over this, understanding this is just the life of a SAHM and housewife?  No, I don't think so.  Well, maybe a little.  I don't believe I need to settle for the same dysfunctional and miserable life that made my mother cold and bitter, though.  I believe there is something better around the corner for all four of us.  Some of their attitude, I've created myself by enabling them.  Yes, I absolutely need to make changes in my own attitude, but I do believe it's a two-way street.  They need to see what I do, and be grateful for that.  They also need to do some of these things on their own, and when they don't like it, just be quiet about it.  For my part, I need to return to doing things with love.  I need to return to treating my family with the respect they deserve, treating them as I treat my guests at the center, as I treat my friends and their children, as I treat others I feed and love.  God has called me to motherhood, to be His hands and feet to these children and my husband, and that is part of my act of service to my Father.  I need to do it because I want to, not begrudgingly.  Because with my family, I'm forgetting the most important rule of all, *"Let all that you do be done in love." 1 Corinthians 16:14*