I am his biggest fan. I am his roadie, his groupie, his fan club president. He sings specials in church. He is my favorite singer. Period. He has never had the ambition to pursue singing on a larger scale. He is content to sing at church whenever the opportunity arises. He sings for his Lord. He sings to help others see who Jesus is in his life, ever hopeful his song will lead a lost soul to Christ.
I am his grunt on home projects. I fetch the tool or the light. I hold this or push right there. I go behind and try to get the tools and mess picked up and put away when I can.
I am his housekeeper and chief cook and bottle washer. I like doing that, too. He appreciates what I do and how I cook and says so. Appreciation expressed is a nice thing to hear.
Some menfolk were talking about their wives’ projects. I commented that he is my project. Looking after him, tending to things, keeping up with business matters, stocking supplies, tagging along. It is what I do. What I want to do. I want to love like crazy. I want to surround him and our family with love and affection. No other agenda.
I was visiting with a lady at a crawfish boil. She was a fun, happy character. She and our husbands were talking about the toilet seat issue. She asked me to take her side in the discussion and I declined. I simply don’t think that I have more authority than my husband. I should look before I sit. She liked that I took his side. He is my best friend. Of course, I take his side. Even if he is wrong, I will take his side.
It has taken many years of married life for us to get here. I knew early on this is the way I wanted it. I knew I wanted him to be the man in charge. I promoted the idea and prodded him sometimes to make him understand I wanted him to take control and let me play the supporting role.
My reward for what I try to do and the way I try to act is knowing he does not lead a life of quiet desperation. He does not dread “dealing with” me. He knows he can make whatever decisions and choices he wants without discussing anything with me. I not only do not interfere in his business, I usually don’t even have an opinion to share when he asks for it. I trust and believe in him in so deeply, I will go with him into the gates of hell never asking why.
He is in no way perfect. I get my feelings hurt from time to time. He is one of the only people on this planet who has the privilege of hurting my feelings. Sorry, but no one else really does. (Except my children. But, don’t tell them. I wouldn’t want them to know if they did hurt mine. It would hurt theirs.) Some people make me madder than a wet hen, but they don’t hurt my feelings.
He keeps me from going too far. I am a little wild and a little crazy. I have a tendency to get down and depressed. He reins me in and keeps me safe. He is my hero and my favorite celebrity. I am his biggest fan.