I am continuing the process of reducing the items in the house and deep cleaning every inch. I have had a slight delay.
My Beast has been sick for two weeks. He is still home recovering. I was able to resume more normal activities this week. Even with him here.
I never do house-keeping chores when he is home. I will wash clothes or do the dishes, but not much more than that. That’s no problem when he is working, but this is week three of him home. I don’t really know why I don’t like to work on my bigger chores when he is home. I just never did when we first married. I was home full time the first nine years so I was used to working when he was out of the house. He doesn’t do house work or cooking or anything like that, so it’s not as if we cook and clean together. Our arrangement suits us and is nobody else’s business.
What progress have I managed? Yesterday, I cleaned his bathroom thoroughly top to bottom using a toothbrush when needed. And both the iceboxes have been cleared up and cleaned today.
Today also had some special time. He and I went to the lease and filled deer feeders. It’s late getting done. Last week he was in the ER with post-plague pneumonia. He finished his meds yesterday, so he figured it was time to get something done. We took the tractor and used it to haul the corn to the feeders. I rode sitting up on the side with him like we have done for so many years. It’s one of my favorite things to do, going with him on the tractor or the buggy. It was especially nice today after his having faced off with the plague and won.
We give all the glory to our Lord. His help and healing are what we prayed for in faith. No. He isn’t completely over it. But the Lord is completely involved with us.
A lot of men think they are tough. They think they can handle anything life throws at them with a wave of their hand. When things do get tough, they back off. They hide behind the guise of being civilized or well-mannered. Most hide behind fear of repercussions. Some hide behind a wife, letting her muddle through and then they can sit back and believe they could have done it better if she hadn’t interfered.
I know a man who is tough. He is Rambo with a machine gun slung over his shoulder with barrel blasting tough. He is the beast in the front of the pack when it is time to kill. He has a throwback hardness to him that harkens to the days of hand-to-hand combat with swords and knives, Braveheart fashion. If he believes you are loyal to him, he will do battle with Hell for you. No dragon is too fierce for him to face. If he senses a lack of loyalty, he will throw you to the dogs. With no remorse.
His is the type of man who caught hold of the first ship heading west to new unknown lands. The same type who forged through the swamps of the coast, the forests further inland and the mountains and plains that lay beyond. Seeking a place without class restrictions, without societal rules. His type herded cattle up dusty death filled trails. A payday and a good meal his reward. To have gotten the job done, his reward. To have survived when others fell, his reward. He binds his wounds with his own will to move forward. He has no back down in him. He raised children with no back down in them.
He has a temper and sometimes a short fuse. He has no patience and no desire to develop any. He yields only when he chooses. His is an iron will. Webster’s has his picture next to “stubborn”. He has on more than one occasion told me “They can’t eat me.” He respects inner strength and power. He expects people to show up and to do what needs doing. He rubs people the wrong way because he calls them out on their façade. He is not impressed with wealth or social position or education or political power. He guards himself and his small tribe closely and fiercely. Tread near with caution.
There is another side to him. He loves Jesus. He loves his children and their children. In fact, all children love him. Baby whisperer, I call him. Babies and children love him at first site. He says it is because they have the same priorities. Eat, play, sleep. That is true. If he sees someone in trouble, he reaches out to help. He can’t stand to see vulnerable people be left to the wolves.
He isn’t sentimental or romantic. Not for him moonlit strolls on the beach or candlelit dinners at some special place. The first has mosquitoes and the second is just plain silly to him. He wants to see his food when he eats. He did allow our children to subject him to a vow renewal for our 30th anniversary seven years ago. He would never be mistaken for a gentleman. He is out spoken and tough. Yet, I do have a collection of love letters and jewelry and a jeep among other things.
Despite his own personal tragedies, he lives life full throttle. He expects everyone to do the same. His world is clear cut and black and white. No gray areas. He is rock solid. He is the man God gave me. He relies on the Solid Rock and I rely on my Rock. If a dragon comes my way, he is the one who kills it. He is not afraid to do what real beasts do. If he even thinks someone is messing with his children, he loads up for warfare. He will charge the gates of Hell to protect them. Anyone who causes them distress is at risk of his charge.
When I am faced with tragedy and heartbreak, he stands in the gap between me and engulfing despair. He puts me in check with his immovable stand of faith. Yes, he experiences concern over situations; he flips a switch and it goes right up in the flames of faith filled prayer. I would have completely destroyed myself by now without him. Others laugh and wonder how I “put up” with him. I don’t know how he “puts up” with me. He makes me want to be stronger, tougher, braver. He makes me want to live life full throttle. To laugh at the dragons and wave them off with my hand. To send fear up in the flames of faith filled prayer. Until that time comes, I will lean on him for protection, for courage, for intercession.
He is a beast. He is a warrior. He is a battle-scarred man who loves God. He is tough, hard and full of love. I am so blessed to call him mine. And so blessed to be his.