My husband really stinks at remembering special days. For years, Christmas, Mother’s Day, birthdays, and anniversaries always seemed to sneak up behind him as if they changed every year. Those tricky little devils just jumped around on the calendar to spite his best intentions of getting it right the next year.
As you can imagine, for many years I lamented my plight. If only he would make a priority of those special days and make me feel like a queen! Something happened, though, as I aged, and our love ripened through years of marriage. I saw other couples—masters of Valentines and anniversaries—drift apart. Many stayed married, but they certainly didn’t seem to enjoy one another. I noticed cracks in the veneer of their relationships, and quite a few called it quits.
Then I took inventory of the man who has loved and cared for me every day of the year for over twenty-seven years now. No, he’s not perfect, but he made a point of studying me, of learning who I am and what I need. As a result, he rises every morning and earns the money our family needs to function, and through years of my own part-time jobs, he made it possible for me to be at home and teach our four children. He washes dishes and mows the lawn–he has mastered the diagonal checkerboard on our little acre; he mops floors and changes diapers—grand-babies now, but his own little ones back in the day. All of this, he does without the fanfare of celebratory cakes and candles.
He nurtures my spirit and intellect by intentionally finding ways to stay connected to me. He suggests books for us to read and discuss, calls me just to say he loves me, and generally does the ordinary “every day” thing with excellence.
So the next time I get a last minute Mother’s Day card scribbled to “you” from “me,” I plan to say a little prayer to thank God for my very excellent, Every Day Husband.
…and that’s the view from My Front Porch
Photo courtesy of Karner Blue Photography