Sacrificial Giving

I ironed a shirt this morning. I haven't ironed in years and it took a little bit of excavation to find the ironing board and get it fired up and ready to go.

I'm not really an ironing hater. Like doing the rest of the laundry, I kind of enjoy the warmth rising off the clothes, the fresh scent of fabric softener and the opportunity to just be quiet and reflect on the task at hand. My mom taught me to iron when I was about 10 or 11. I still do it the same way she taught me all those years ago – start with the collar and shoulder yoke, move on to the sleeves (with the front side facing up), and finally arrive at the front panel with the button placket working your way around the panels until you come to the other side.

Mindless, but strangely satisfying work.

Suddenly, while standing there this morning I remembered an incident that I hadn't thought about in years. I must have been about 12 years old and I was in the dining room of our house in Georgetown. The ironing board was set up so that I was facing the wall and staring at the wallpaper covered in the images of a hunter on horseback that covered the walls in that very formal room. There was a large laundry basket at my feet, overflowing with my family's wrinkled clothing.

Like any good 12 year old, I was complaining. Bitterly. Without ceasing. I must have been getting on my Dad's nerves because suddenly he appeared in the doorway. He was angry and started talking to me in a low voice. Of course I don't remember his exact words but the gist of his message was this – when you love someone you willingly sacrifice your selfish wants and wishes to do whatever is within your power and abilities to make their life just a little bit better.

I probably didn't fully understand that lesson at the time. I must have quit complaining though, mostly because I don't remember the trauma of a spanking after that. But, the message certainly stuck with me.

As I ironed my shirt this morning I thought about our frozen pipes last weekend and Scott's willingness to drive to Findlay late into the night just to help. He gave up his entire Saturday to re-plumb our utility room – for nothing more than a hug and some hot tea.

. . .when you love someone you willingly sacrifice your selfish wants and wishes to do whatever is within your power and abilities to make their life just a little bit better. . .

As I walked out the front door this morning, wearing my freshly pressed shirt, I saw a roll of decorator weight fabric – 13 yards of it – propped up on the porch next to the mailbox. It made me laugh out loud. On his way home from work last night Scott left it there for me. He needs curtains and he doesn't know how to sew.

. . .when you love someone you willingly sacrifice your selfish wants and wishes to do whatever is within your power and abilities to make their life just a little bit better. . .

But here's the funny part.

Sewing curtains doesn't feel anything like a sacrifice.

I can only hope that plumbing on a Saturday didn't either.