dancing at home

For several months now, life circumstances have provided me with a lot of time at home. My wife and I have three young children, so this is a good season of life for a “tag-team.” Annie and I do a lot of trading off in order to allow each other time for various pursuits, like devotions, exercise, cleaning, and any number of other tasks. As much as I would like to say that I have loved every moment of it, I can’t . . . because I haven’t. This arrangement has been very challenging at times. On any given day, I will find myself washing dishes, cleaning floors, making beds, picking up toys, changing dirty diapers and soiled clothing (sometimes for the same child within the same half-hour). I am faced with the persistent plea, “daddy, will you play with me,” which any parent knows is excruciatingly painful to turn down. The action and the noise and the needs are unrelenting. And although I love my children and thoroughly enjoy spending time with them, living continually in their presence can be exhausting. At the very least, this time has served to deepen my appreciation for the high calling of any parent who chooses to make their children their life vocation. Marketplace employment is far less demanding!

One other effect of this extended time at home relates to the dance of lowliness. I’m starting to think that home may be the hardest place to perform this dance well. Limbo dancing is easier for me, I think, among strangers or mere acquaintances than it is among my loved ones. For some reason, it can be really hard to humble myself in service of my wife and of my kids. Although at times it can be joyful to do so, I find that often it requires an act of the will that goes contrary to what I really want in the moment. I can find myself mentally asserting my rights, and recounting the list of “good deeds” I have already performed on behalf of the family. I may weigh out in my head a measure of the time I have spent with the kids in a particular week in comparison with the time my wife has spent with them (by the way, if I am honest, she has always spent far more).

An analogy that Annie and I have discussed on several occasions involves two people riding a tandem bike. If you have ever ridden a tandem bike for any extended distance, particularly if you have ridden in front, you know how easy it is to become convinced that YOU are doing all the work. You can’t see behind you, and it can easily feel like the person back there isn’t peddling at all. This is especially true when trying to work your way up hill. In fact, on the few occasions that I have ridden a tandem bike up hill with someone else, I have found myself getting ticked off inside at the laziness of my riding partner . . . even though I really have no idea how hard they are peddling. It was revealing to me, after the first time that Annie and I rode a tandem together, when she explained that she had felt the same way about me. So, here we both are, peddling as hard as we can, and thinking that the other person is just sitting back and enjoying the ride.

Living family life together as parents of three can be just like that! I think I’m doing all the work, and she thinks she’s doing all the work; and we both end up frustrated that the other person isn’t pulling their fair share. And this is where the dance of lowliness kicks in. The moment I decide to keep peddling no matter how hard she is peddling; the moment I decide to keep serving no matter how hard she is serving; the moment I decide to keep loving no matter how much love I feel coming my way, I have shifted from a stressful labor to a joyful dance. And the longer this season at home lasts for me, the more I am learning about turning labor to dancing with the help of humility.