I was listening to a gentleman the other day talking about the difficulty he was having in being sensitive to his wife’s needs.  My mind immediately reminded me of the days that I struggled with the same thing.

 Not too long ago, whenever I had to do something for my wife, it felt like a sacrifice.  This was especially true when I was tired from a long day of providing for the family, and I was laying in bed.  There I would be relaxing and looking forward to dozing off into a long night’s sleep when my wife would ask me to do something for her that required me to get out of bed. 

“How could she possibly be so selfish?” I would angrily wonder to myself as I lay in bed telling her that I was not going to do what she asked.  Other thoughts came soon after:

• “Why can’t she do it herself?”
• “Why does she have to bother me?”
• “How lazy can she be?”

Finally, after a couple of minutes of seething in the bed, I would reluctantly and begrudingly get up, shuffle off to do what she asked me, all the while muttering under my breath about it.  The funny thing is that I considered myself serving her while I behaved this way, and I expected her to respond as if I had served her.

The truth of the matter is that I was making a sacrifice, not serving her.  Since I viewed what I was doing from the perspective of how it impacted me, it really was a sacrifice.  I was giving up my comfort and rest for her benefit.  That fits one of the literal definition of a sacrifice – (v.) to surrender or give up, or permit injury or disadvantage to, for the sake of something else. 

I didn’t appreciate the difference between service and sacrifice.  Whereas sacrifice focuses on what I give up, service is about what I give.  When I truly serve my wife, I am concentrating on giving her what she needs or wants.  My motivation in serving is to add to her life.  In the example I gave before, instead of hearing her request as an imposition on me, I began seeing it as a cry for help.  Asking me to do something for her usually was the result of her inability to do it herself because of her own exhaustion after a long day of caring for our children and supporting our household.

I would lack integrity if I told you that I am serving my wife 100% of the time.  Two days ago she asked me to get a couple of pain relievers for her while I was laying in bed, and I fell back into my old mode.  From the time I flung back the covers in irritation to the time I flopped back in the bed exasperated, I muttered under my breath about not being appreciated for having worked 12 hours that day then coming home and making dinner.  It took me a while to calm down and reflect on the day she went through.  (I just went and acknowledged to her that and asking her forgiveness for sacrificing instead of serving her.)

There is one thing I do that helps me switch my outlook from one of sacrifice to one of service.  When my wife asks me to do something for her, I ask myself this question: “How will doing what she asks help her?” 

This question immediately puts me in her shoes and gets me to look at things through her eyes.  I can see her long days full of activities that benefit me and the children – cleaning the house, buying groceries, doing the laundry, and preparing for school and other activities.  Once I recognize how much she has done for me and the family, I feel so selfish in refusing to respond to her request.

It also forces me to ask another question – “Why shouldn’t her needs be more important than mine?”  As her husband, am I not the one who has taken on the stewardship of her environment?  There is no else in the world in a bettter position to make sure her needs are met than me.  Since I am best suited to fulfill her needs, each time I do so I am living up to the commitment I made to her when I married her and performing my duty.  The proud men and women who serve in our armed forces would tell me that performing my duty is a service, not a sacrifice.

The next time your wife asks you to do something for us, take the opportunity to decide to serve rather than sacrifice.