Reflection 6: Choosing Not to Keep Score

I’m standing at the kitchen sink right now, washing dishes—which I don’t love doing. The window in front of me looks out into our backyard. After a long day at work—an hour and forty five minute commute, which I love him very much for—Forrest came home and asked the question he always asks: “What can I do?”

What I wanted to say was, “Start dinner. Let’s knock out the chores.”

But instead, I said, “Nothing. Go play with our son.”

It’s February, so it gets dark fast. By 6:15 it’s almost night. And I stood there at the sink watching them through the window—just the two of them outside together.

And I felt two things at once.

Part of me thought, I wanted to go out there. I wanted the break. I wanted to be the fun one. There’s that little voice inside that says, “That’s not fair.”

Marriage can feel like that sometimes. We talk about being equally yoked, but if we’re honest, it’s almost never perfectly equal in every moment. Sometimes one person pulls more. Sometimes the other does. That’s just part of it.

My husband works hard. He drives far. He provides for us in ways that stretch him. He does more than he probably should most days.

It would be easy to keep score. Sometimes I do—quietly, in my head. But tonight felt like one of those moments where I could choose not to.

So I washed the dishes. The chore he usually does. And I watched my son play with his dad—the dad he absolutely adores. And instead of resentment, I felt something else rising up.

Love

Gratitude.

Perspective.

Because what wasn’t fair was the Lord dying on the cross for us. And yet He did. So me standing at the sink, letting my husband have that moment outside, feels small in comparison.

Sometimes love looks like giving up the break. Sometimes it looks like doing the dishes. Sometimes it looks like choosing not to keep score.

And tonight, standing at the kitchen sink, that felt like more than enough.