My friend Carolyn has three sons. Steve, Mike and Paul. Every time something breaks, one of them knows how to fix it. All it takes is a phone call. Her friend Judy has rheumatoid arthritis. She keeps a list of things that need to be done and when her sons Jeff and Chris come to see her they start right in doing the things on the list.
My son Scott occasionally calls and asks "What do you need done?" He changes light bulbs. He hooks up my hoses. He goes to get me plants and puts them in the ground for me. The other day he showed up with a spray bottle of bug killer and went to work on the squash bugs.
My daughter Becky cooks for us. Packages it in portions for two and freezes it so that I won't have to cook. Saturday she made us a peach pie to die for.
My oldest daughter Pat is always willing to spend as much time as it takes on the phone to relieve my frustration when I can't figure out what to do with this computer I bought. "Go here. Look on the right side of the page. Press the orange button." Sometimes it takes her hours to help me. She didn't inherit patience from me. The whole computer thing drives me nuts.
When I had chemo, my youngest son Jon took a week of his vacation time, came and cooked for us, carried me when I couldn't walk. Shopped for groceries.
These are the four children that I could have wrung their necks when they were growing up. Who knew they would turn out okay.
Service is my love language. Psalms 127:3a, 5a, "Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord:….Happy is the man (woman) that has his quiver full of them."
I don't brag on my kids and don't like people who do, but talking about service prompts me to make an exception. I doubt they know how much we appreciate them.
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