Remember those housewives of the fifties? June Cleaver springs to mind. Okay, I know, I know -- none of us are June Cleaver, and a lot of us don't want to be.
But in June's defense, she did have a point. How often do we bend over backward for neighbours, or people at work, or help out a stranger at the store? Well, I hope we can say sometimes. You know, those random acts of kindness that make the world go round, pay it forward and all that. But then we get home and the sweet tone becomes a harsh yell, the willingness to help goes out the window and we shriek "I'm busy -- do it yourself!" I'm guilty of it as much as anyone.
I want to be a little more Cleaverish. I'd like to remember that my husband and children are a blessing. After all, if we can treat people we barely know with kindness, can't we do that much for our nearest and dearest? I am constantly reminding myself that my family and I are a team, not enemies. Whenever I feel my ire rising at my husband, I stop and think -- why don't I want to help him? Is there any good reason not to iron his shirts or take out the teeny bag of trash when it's full? The only reason that comes to mind is pride, really, and that makes me feel pretty low.
So I iron the shirts, not because he asked me to, but because I want to. Martha Peace, in her book The Excellent Wife calls it going the extra mile. I choose to do deliberate acts of kindness to those I can have the most impact on. And who knows just how far that will go.
