leftovers
The enticing aroma of fresh baked bread wafted through our van as I raced across town to deliver the meal I’d promised to a new mom buried in diapers and sleep deprivation.
“Can we get out and play for a while?” Josh asked when I explained that we were headed to the home of a family they knew well.
“No,” I replied. “We’re just dropping off a meal.”
“Why?”
“Because Sarah has a new sister at her house, remember?”
Josh had crunched his face in a show of disgust. “I bet she wishes she got a brother like me.”
Lizzy rolled her eyes in obvious disagreement.
And Maggie began to fuss in her car seat.
Hannah covered her ears and moaned from the back of the van.
“Doesn’t Sarah’s mom know how to cook?”
I laughed and replied, “Of course she does, but she’s pretty busy with the new baby right now.”
“Like you were too busy to play with me today?” Josh asked.
I glanced at my brown-haired boy in the rear-view mirror and recounted the dozen times I’d shooed him out of the kitchen with a weak promise to play soon.
Obviously, I’d yet to make good on my promise.
I was about to proffer a game night but the thought of the dirty dishes still piled high on my kitchen counter stopped me. By the time I cleaned up the remains of the day, I would have to assume the role of bedtime warden.
I pulled into my friend’s driveway and grabbed the stack of steamy dishes from the seat beside me.
“I’ll be right back,” I assured my passengers with a salute.
By the time I’d passed off the lasagna and cuddled the new baby, my own crew had grown listless and crabby.
“So what are we having for supper?” Lizzy inquired after I’d toted the four-course meal up the front steps and delivered the dishes to the family beyond the door. “I don’t know,” I mumbled as I slipped back into the driver’s seat and headed the van towards home with four hungry children buckled in the back. “I guess we’ll just have left-overs tonight,” I answered as I tried to remember what odds and ends waited in our refrigerator.
“I really like lasagna,” my eldest whispered to himself as the fragrance of the just-delivered meal still tickled our noses.
I have to admit, that when it comes to kindness my own family often gets the “left-overs.” Oh, I’m not just talking about lasagna versus hamburger helper; I’m talking about seizing opportunities for kindness in the world at large, yet missing daily chances to put compassion into action right in my own home. I may write a poignant and encouraging article for the readers of the magazine who purchases my work, but moments later fail to speak a much-needed encouraging word to my daughter whose sullen attitude is a plea for kindness. I may volunteer time in my son’s classroom and extend help to an overworked teacher, but then fail to ease the load of my own husband when he steps through the door after a long demanding day at work.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not intentionally offering the “better part of me” to the world beyond my roof; but if I’m not careful, it happens without my even recognizing n the inconsistency. It is much easier to offer a “one time act of kindness”- a day of volunteerism at school, a hot meal delivered to a friend, a note of encouragement scribbled to someone who is struggling- than to consistently day in and day out respond kindly to the incessant barrage of needs that present themselves within our own homes.
Perhaps the key to consistent kindness in our own home is consistent communication with the King of kindness. After all, He’s the gourmet producer of fruit dishes and He never seems to run out of helpings of compassion. Consider praying this prayer next time you find yourself offering the ones closest to you mere left-overs: Dear Jesus, I have to admit, I’m running on empty when it comes to kindness at home! There doesn’t seem to be enough of me. But I know there is always enough of you. Please show me how to receive the kindness you have for me… and then out of that fullness, to share kindness with those I love most (Morgan 97-98 Naked Fruit).
