husband

Black and Blue

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At times, my heart becomes black and blue from the concerns that come my way.  I find myself overly concerned about my children, about home things, about him.

I say “overly” because I believe worry to be a futile waste of energy.  I want to be concerned enough to pray for them, to spend time helping them, to tell them I love them, to gently guide or present another view.  But, to be so concerned that I become fretful is not a good thing.  It shows lack of faith.

I confess I have been overly concerned about my son and his wife during their recent travels and their island move in progress.  They are managing just fine.  He is just more relaxed about everything than I am.  I like having a detailed plan and definite commitments for big things like they are doing at the moment.  He seems to fly by the seat of his pants, like his father.  They are both successful men and have each other for conferring and helping when needed.  I need not worry a bit.

I encouraged my daughter to try to refrain from becoming distressed about situations in her life.  In fact, I have been doing that a lot recently with her. She is getting married, moving, changing jobs, all this summer.  Just one thing at a time.  Patience.  His timing is perfect.  Regarding a loved one’s illness, I simply said, find out what you can and pray.  Not much else to do for the situation right now.

I am not so very worried about him today.  Things are going well for him.  I am always trying to feed him healthier foods.  He is trying to like it.  I told him I don’t want to be a widow for my last 30 years, since I intend to live to 102!

As for myself and home, I got a few things done.  But, I was too late to salvage one project.  It will have to redevelop.  I am set up to do it now, though.  Our yard is looking so good.  The grass is green from all the rain.  Even in the flower beds!  The rain has been steady recently limiting the opportunity to work on some things.

I started a special project the first of June.  When I get more done on it, I will talk about it.  I don’t want to diffuse my energy and focus by discussing it yet.  Suffice it to say, things are going.  Not as quickly as I would hope, but I am not losing confidence of the final result coming sooner rather than later.

Yes, my heart gets black and blue.  But, then I recall what I have survived and to what I have to look forward.  And my heart feels better.  Great thing about it, I don’t have to wait for the bruises to fade.  Just a moment and the miracle of Mercy can make it rosy red again.

There is one black and blue I love to look at over and over.  On a special day, in the middle of the ocean, where molten rock once met salty sea, I found a perfect black and blue:

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His Biggest Fan

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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.

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