cheerful service

My moral compass did one of those small about-faces last Monday.

It was one of those times when there's a task to be done, and some doubt about who's going to do it: you or your husband (or housemate, or friend, or colleague, or fellow church member).

This was a marital grey area: taking the kids to school. Most of the household tasks come with a label attached - my job, his job - but this one's up for negotiation. Monday morning, it fell to me.

I was driving the kids to school, grumbling away in my mind: "Why should I have to do this? There's so much traffic! It'll take me forever to get back! I've got people coming over, and I need to clean the house! I could be cleaning the house right now!"

I dropped the kids and turned the car for home, when it occurred to me (I'm a bit slow) that I could adopt a different attitude.

I could replace one internal monologue with another: "Steve's working hard at the moment, he's stressed and tired, and here's a small way I can help him."

Not much, I know. But better by far. For with this attitude I honour God, who calls me to cheerful and loving service.