It’s been said that when we raise boys, we raise them to be either husbands or sons. Their parents train them to either serve others, or expect to be served by others.

Nate and I were privileged to have four sons, and as parents we fell somewhere between those two goal posts. Parental pampering feels good at the time, because we get to take kids to Hawaii, give them motorcycles and bee bee guns, put piles of gifts under the Christmas tee and offer pizza, ice cream and cash. Although it makes for a rip-roaring-happy childhood, it doesn’t do much to promote thinking of others ahead of yourself.

As a wife, I was fortunate in that Nate’s parents raised him to be a husband rather than a son. Although he lived through college and part of law school before marrying, once he became a husband he didn’t expect me to take over any of the chores he’d learned to do for himself: laundry, dishes, ironing, making coffee, running errands, even cooking meals. (His cuisine was limited, hamburgers and hot dogs, but from the start he offered what he knew.)

After we had a baby and I became a stay-at-home mom, he could easily have abdicated all his domestic efforts. But until he crawled into his bed for the last time last fall, he put every item of his dirty clothing into the hamper, kept neat drawers, offered to iron his own cotton business shirts, made all the coffee, took out all the trash and brought me a glass of bedtime water every night without fail. (See “Forgetting and Remembering,” Nov. 14.) Often I’d round a corner and find him bent over in his suit, his tie swinging with the effort to wipe up a spill or get rid of a sticky section of floor, not seeking credit from anyone. Most impressive, however, was his faithful clearing of the table after every dinner, putting the food away and then doing all the dishes. He did that until his disease dictated it was time to stop.

When I think of the tedious, never-done-for-good chore of washing dishes, it reminds me of when Jesus washed the feet of 12 men. That task required finding and carrying a heavy water basin, enduring the smell of dirty feet, making a watery mess, kneeling down, working while hunched over and cleaning up afterwards. But most significant was that it required self-humbling. Jesus, Lord of all, modeled servanthood for us, with perfection.

Our boys watched their father through their growing up years, observing his quick willingness to help at home, even after a high-pressure work day downtown. As they’ve grown older, I’ve seen this same character quality pop up in them, a priceless piece of Nate’s legacy to his boys. If their father was still with them, he’d say, “It’s good you’re helping a little.” And that’s how he saw it, as simply a little help.

Although Nate sometimes spoiled his boys, part of what he did well was showing them how to help in little ways that were a big deal to those he served. And I should know, because the one he pampered most with all his serving… was me.

”Whoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant.

(Matthew 20:27)