One Sunday, I noticed a police officer sitting a few rows ahead of us at church. I turned to my husband and commented about it. I noticed him, because he was in full uniform. My husband said, ” I bet he is the officer who was directing the traffic into the church. He probably comes in after everyone is in, and heads back out before service finishes”. My husband was right, as he did slip out at the end before our end of service prayer.
In the car, I brought it up again. I said something along the lines of that being pretty cool that he did that. My husband replied “People do it all the time. When ever I work on Sundays, if I’m near a church I stop in for the service.”
He did? How did I not know this? I’ve been married to the man for 16 years and I had no clue!
My husband really dislikes working Sundays, but it happens. The cycle the guys through, so everyone has to do it at some point. It never dawned on me that even though he was at work, he would sacrifice his lunch hour to slip into a service at “any church USA”.
I was super proud of him. When I asked why he didn’t mention it, he gave me an answer I’ve heard before “Do not let the left hand know what the right hand is doing”. My husband’s choice to attend service when working on Sundays was about his personal relationship with God & not for man’s approval. Swoon. I love that man. He can make me crazy, but when he gets it right… boy does he get it right.
Not only was I proud of my husband, I was feeling very… VERY… convicted. For years, when my husband has worked on Sundays, the kids and I stayed home from church. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go, but it was a lot of work to get the kids up & moving on my own, get out the door on time, and get them checked in at the church. Not because it really IS a lot of work, but more because I am NOT a morning person. I need his help in the mornings, more than he realizes. Sometimes just to be the calm to my storm.
So, it was easier to just stay at home. Let the kids sleep in. I’d read my bible or do a devotion. I would watch the video of the service later in the week, so I could keep up.
With the conviction stirring in me, I realized … ultimately… this was all just an excuse. I knew I could do it, I just didn’t want to. I didn’t want the hassle. Yet my hubby was willing to give up his lunch hour. Humph. This would have to change.
And it did. In small steps. I blessed to have a teenager in the house, so it began with me. After all, isn’t that where change has to begin in the first places… within? It started with my getting up and getting ready on my own… sometimes even going to the earlier service. Then it evolved into including which ever kids were ready to leave when I was, because I refused to argue with anyone while trying to make this change. I knew it had to be a “good attitude” change, and if the kids got me frustrated by taking too long or making us late… it was only going to give me an excuse to stop. Eventually, we were all going.
Now we rarely miss outside of illness, out of town, and those things that can’t be helped.
Change has to start somewhere, sometimes it is big … and other times it is small, step by step. Moving forward. Trying harder. Being better.