It has been rainy in West Virginia the last couple of days. We’ve even had some thunderstorms, which I dearly love. I remember really missing them when I lived in Colorado. The thunder doesn’t roll there like it does here. The rain held off till Mr. FixIt and I were finished changing the oil in both trucks. I sat on the mechanic’s stool, looking up at the sky when it started to sprinkle and asked God to please hold off for an hour or so. He was so gracious to do so. Thank you.
I was very disappointed. We had everything set up. I got the truck up on the ramps with Mr. FixIt’s guidance, and I got down under the engine and set to work. Try as I might, I simply could NOT loosen the plug in the oil pan. I couldn’t get in a good position to get leverage. The battery pack for the headlamp sat on the back of my head wrong and kept getting in my way. And for some reason, I didn’t like the feeling of that truck over my chest on the plastic ramps Mr. FixIt has. His metal ones were stolen and I just didn’t trust plastic to hold that truck up off me. It gave me the heeby-jeebies.
Mr. FixIt took my place and, with some difficulty, finally got the plug out. I got BACK under the truck and tried to loosen the oil filter and it wouldn’t budge. I hated to admit defeat, but i just don’t have the arm, wrist, and hand strength I used to have. I climbed back out and sat on the stool handing Mr. FixIt what he needed, when he needed it. When he was finished, I held the funnel while he poured the oil in.
“I’m sorry.” I said, dejectedly. “I just couldn’t do it.”
Mr. FixIt looked at me with soft eyes and said, “That’s ok, baby. That’s what husbands are for.”
For one second, the feminist reared up in my head…then I stopped. I looked at this kind, gentle, yet strong man and said…
“Service. That’s your love language, isn’t it?”
He smiled and went back to the task at hand. I didn’t even offer to try helping him when we got his truck up on the ramps. We just chatted as he told me stories or pointed out the differences between the two trucks and their filters. I sat on the stool, smiling and sending up a big “Thank You” for my many, many blessings.
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“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” James 1:17 NIV
Sometimes we just stop and let things happen with help from someone. Blessings flow in that release. For both.
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My husband’s love language is service, as well. He takes care of our home and our cars. He is such a BIG blessing!
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My husband’s love language WAS service as well. He’ll be gone for 2 years next month and a day, and my gardens are filling with weeds. He would do so many chores before I even woke up, I never knew just how much he actually did until he was gone. My back and arthritic hands keep me from doing even a portion of what he accomplished. He is missed in soooo many ways!
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