Merry Christmas Eve. What a sweet and tender time of year. It's a time when everyone seems a little more generous, and a little more thoughtful. There are food drives, and clothing drives, and gifts for neighbors and visits to nursing homes. Everyone pauses a little to look outside of themselves and to reach out to lift and help another. That's probably my favorite thing about this season.
However I have a problem. It's with the service I try to do. When I set out to serve I end up so blessed myself that I am not too sure who served whom.
For example a couple days ago I was asked to give a dear sister a ride to the doctor. I got up and drove to her home where I was greeted by the biggest, warmest hug. I then spent the next couple hours playing chauffeur but really I had the most delightful time. I laughed so much, and learned so much and just was so grateful for the time I got to spend. I even learned "the secret to a happy marriage"~ which I plan on putting into action. I was lifted up much more than I helped.
Example 2, this morning we went to clean the church. The kids weren't too excited but I figured what better way to start off the Saviours birthday than but getting His house clean? J had some friends spend the night, and they were up late :) so I had to DRAG them out of bed. They were cheerful and sweet once awake. Then we got to church and met with some more friends and cleaned and had a nice time. Many hands made light work. Matt brought donuts, and the kids played with friends, and H watched the babies and again it was more of a blessing to me than a service for someone else.
Example 3, we take goodies to someone. They reciprocate and theirs are tastier and so exciting to receive.
Example 4....I could go on and on.
It is such a joy to serve, I love it, but if I am so blessed where is the sacrifice?? Sort of a rhetorical question.
Note to self, and posterity: serve often, it makes you happy.