I thought about being mad. For about ten minutes I slammed the cupboard doors a little harder then necessary and avoided the living room where I could hear my husband and our roommate playing some game on the Xbox. After all, he had been home for 4 whole hours before I even got there and yet the dishes were still stacked on the counter and the bills were unopened on the table. It was like I was the only one who even saw the slop pile that was our kitchen and cared anything about it. It was like they thought of me as their maid and just expected meals to magically appear in front of them, plated and ready to fill their selfish little brat bellies. Jerkish mean freaking MEN.
Of course they didn’t acknowledge or probably even hear the “subtle” hints of the bitterness boiling under my lid.
And then I realized that I could either barricade myself in my room and leave the mess in an attempt to teach them a lesson.. or I could take the next half hour and wash the dishes, cook dinner and smile at my oblivious husband who shows me love in just about every way except the ones that I ask him to.
Is it more important to make a point or to be a pleasant person?
Do I take the time to acknowledge the things that he does do for me or only recall the things that he doesn’t?
Am I supporting his strengths and forgiving his faults like I painstakingly wrote into my vows?
So I chose love. I chose gifting my little family with a clean kitchen and a nice dinner, smiles and laughter and fellowship rather than a disgruntled threat that I wouldn’t be their slave any longer. Because I will serve them both and unconditional love doesn’t have a dish washing quota.
And tonight after work when I walked in to the smell of bacon cooking and the sight of a manly husband making BLTs for our dinner I can know that even though some days it may feel like it, I’m not the only one caring and serving and loving around here.