Just don't take it too seriously--I'm guessing here!
Someone recently reminded me of Gary Chapman’s “love
languages” and that got me thinking.
In case you missed the love language fad in the mid1990s,
Chapman uses the term to describe the various ways people express love to each
other. We all have languages that mean more to us—ones that we tend to use more
often to show love and believe more easily when a loved one uses them to show affection
for us. They are:
gifts
quality time
words of affirmation
acts of service
physical touch
I can tell you without hesitation that my primary love
language is acts of service, with words of affirmation coming in second. But I
have hang-ups—because after forty plus years on this earth, I just do—and so
I’m not good at compliments. “That was a nice dinner” makes me uncomfortable.
“Thanks for making dinner” makes me glow. Weird, aren’t I?
But, on the day I happened to think of love languages for
the first time in decades, one question kept popping up in my mind: Is “acts of
service” as a love language an advantage or disadvantage when you’re a parent?
It’s pretty easy to see how it would help. Primary
caretakers perform many, many acts of service. It’s nice to be able to see them
as expressions of love instead of sheer drudgery. It’s also a bit of a fairy
tale—I don’t manage it all day, every day. But I definitely think it gives me
an edge.
It also probably explains why I’d rather fold laundry or
pack lunches than do my three MDC’s (Most Dreaded Chores): clean the oven,
scrub the shower floor, do yard work. It’s really hard to turn those into an “I
love you.”
Anyway, while performing my parental task of driving kids to
activities (I love you, honey!) and then waiting to take them home, I overheard
two parents deploring a video game (rhymes with Spineshaft) and how it’s too
dark, it’s too awful, and it’s ruining kids today. I did the internal
sigh/chuckle you do when you disagree, but secretly wonder if you’re ruining
your kids by letting them play it.
Then, as we all left the building after the activity, I held
the door for my kids. Now, I’ll hold the door for anybody. It’s an awesome act
of service that makes me feel good to give and receive. It’s a moment to say,
“Here you go” or “Oh, thanks for that” and smile. A moment to see someone as a
person.
On this particular day, it was pouring rain, Florida-style.
In buckets. I held the door for my kids while getting soaked and preparing to
dash to my car. Guess what? Both the video-game-hating parents and their kids
wandered through the door, too—without hurrying, without saying anything, without
attempting to take it from me, without even looking at me.
You know me, so you can guess what I did. I didn’t let the
door slam in their kids’ faces. But I did sigh/chuckle again.
I don’t think the problem is Spineshaft, people. Maybe, in
the end, good, old-fashioned acts of service will do more for my children than
a video game can take away. I hope!
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