Being Easy to Please Makes People Want to Please You

If only everyone could be so agreeable.

My husband and I went to see my elderly dad a few weeks ago. While we were there I noticed that his favorite shirt had two big tears in each arm at the elbow. Though he had ironed on some patches and also done other alterations to the shirt, it was in tatters.

"Pop, I can sew that up for you while I'm here," I said.

He perked up. "Really? That would be great!"'

So off we went to his room to find the sewing kit in one of his drawers. While he was searching for it, I turned my head towards his open closet. It was packed, packed I tell you, with shirts. Beautiful shirts. New shirts. One even had a gold thread running through it just in case he was invited to a royal ball or something. Mouth open, I pointed to the closet.

"Uh, Pop?" I said. "Why don't you just get rid of this one and wear one of these other ones?"

"Okay," he shrugged. So I found one with buttons on the pockets just as he liked and handed it to him.

"Sure! That'll do," he said and put it on. Problem solved.

Not for the first time, did I notice how easy to please my dad is.

Not for the first time did I wonder if this indeed was his secret to success in love.

Up until recently, Pop has never lacked for female company. Seriously never. He had a series of sweethearts in college before being happily married for forty years to my mom. After she passed away, he met a nice widow his age and had a happy marriage with her which lasted nine years until she died.

After that, he had a companion for several years until she contracted Alzheimer's. They went around together—much of the time buying men's shirts apparently. (Probably because he always had on that old shirt.)

I can tell you as his youngest daughter that I get why women like him. He has a grateful, uncomplicated heart. He's just as happy wearing old clothes or new, eating canned soup or the daily special at his favorite diner. When his second wife died and her kids came and took the dining room set, he shrugged and then went out to buy a new table and chairs.

"That was our agreement," was all he said. No rancor. One table and chairs are as good as the next table and chairs. I like to do things for him because he's so undemanding and so happy with whatever efforts I make.

Being easy to please makes me want to please him.

He's not much of a complainer. He concentrates on the possibilities of things rather than on the negatives. He grew up on a farm in Maine where the New England thrift gene is as common as rough hands. In fact, when we agreed to retire the shabby shirt, he studied it for a second and said, "Now, what am I gonna do with all that extra fabric?" I laughed because of course, he wanted to turn it into something. I took the shirt home thinking I would just throw it out. (He has clutter issues.) You know what? I couldn't.

So I called him the other day. "Guess what I did with your torn shirt?" I said. "I used it today to line baskets to plant flowers in. And..." I added, hoping to impress him further, "I grew the flowers from seeds I gathered last year." I further bragged that the baskets were lying around in the basement for decades and the potting soil was last year's replenished with a free cartload of manure from my son in law—also from Maine. I wanted him to know that I had made something beautiful out of all that leftover stuff just by reimagining it. And I learned it from him.

Most people don't think that way. We live in a disposable society. We want everything bright and new and preferably gift wrapped. Maybe we think it reflects on us. Having shabby stuff means we're shabby. Having beautiful stuff means we're beautiful.

We don't feel that way just about our stuff. We feel that way about our relationships.

When a relationship gets old and stale, we want to trade the person in for a bright new one, preferably younger.

But this is misleading. It's actually the people who are content and grateful with what they have who are happy. It's those who are always looking for prepackaged perfection whether in stuff or people who are never satisfied.

As Christians we should know better. All things are passing. Nothing in this world is perfect—even the shiny new stuff. A new shirt is dirty by the end of the day. A new car is "preowned" as soon as you drive it off the lot. A new relationship is exciting for about a month.

That is how our fallen world is. Our challenge is to take the imperfect things, situations, and people in our lives and reimagine them. Being able to be content is a godly trait and an attractive one. When you're easy to please, people like to please you.

Take life with a grateful and open heart and you will surely make something beautiful out of it.