He's a hard-working man. In the fields by 5:00 a.m., constantly moving, facing the elements. He's gotta be hungry. I watched my mama serve him well. Good, warm food when he came home from the fields.
And when I got older, I did the same. She'd tell me, "Your dad's gonna be home soon, hon, fix him up some lunch. And don't forget the ice water, napkin, and silverware."
I did it, and gradually, I think, she didn't have to remind me anymore. I just knew he deserved it.
Now I've the gift of a husband of my own. He gets up early on a Sunday morning. He may not be facing the great outdoors and large dirt fields of labor, but he's got work. Spiritual warfare, many needs and duties.
By the time he gets home, the children and I have eaten both breakfast and lunch. He's gotta be tired and hungry.
It's in me. I can't even help but have a plate of food ready. Silverware and water, too, though I get lazy with the ice most of the time. He deserves it.
It's to no credit of my own. I inherited it by years of example and training. I wonder if my grandmother ingrained it into my mom, her husband coming in from the fields hungry. And her mother before that?
Oh, the power of example and training. Its effects carry on from generation to generation.